#fic: the strings of fate

[planetkiimchi]

the strings of fate | l.mk

no. 5 of my song collection (requested!)

featuring: mark lee x gn!reader, chenle

word count: 7351

warnings: arson, fire, burning, people die in the fire, death (funeral), rooftops (?) if you're scared of heights, there's mentions of nudity but not described, swearing, you'll probably hate me for this fic but idc

playlist: anaheim - niki; 10:35 - tate mcrae; psycho - jun; adelaide - johnny orlando; let me go - hailee steinfeld + alesso + florida georgia line + watt; after you - gryffin + jason ross + calle lehmann; haunt you - x lovers + chloe moriondo

summary — when mark lee, student council president of riize highschool goes missing, you’re the first suspect. as his best friend and well-known crush, you stood to gain the most from it. you’re also vice-president, and with mark gone, you’ve stepped up to be the president and predicted valedictorian. all eyes are on you, and one wrong move can send you to your downfall. but who’s that lurking in the shadows, tugging on the puppet-strings of fort irwin? the city is small, but you feel smaller as things go spiralling crazily out of control. OR mark loves you more than anything else in the world, but you're too broken to receive his love.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

5 months ago — if i could, i’d freeze this moment, make it my home

“Mark?” You peeked into the room, footsteps resounding in the hollow space. Mark had promised to meet you at the auditorium, but he wasn’t there, leaving you stranded in the middle of the school in a dark room with only the dark red seats to keep you company.

As you turned to leave, you heard a muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like someone landing on the carpet floor. You looked behind you just in time to see Mark removing his mask, breathlessly calling after you, still clad in his Spiderman outfit.

“Just as I thought I’d been stood up,” you told him.

“Nope. In fact, I would have been early if someone hadn’t tried to mug me on my way here. It took some time to get changed and wrap him up in spiderwebs before I dropped an anonymous tip to the police station.” As he spoke, Mark reached into his back pockets, which were luxuriously deep and could seemingly fit as many things as Doraemon’s bag.

“I brought you the book you said you wanted,” Mark said as he pressed it into your hands. His smile was contagious, and you couldn’t fault him for having a heart of gold. It wasn’t his fault that he wanted to make things right, so you forgave him for it.

“Aren’t you gonna get changed?”

He blushed and made some vague motions with his hands before settling on, “Yeah. If you could just- turn around?”

You turned around swiftly, lips pressed together as you tried to ignore the hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You fiddled with the book in your hands, the thumping of your heart making it difficult for you to hear when Mark told you he was done.

He gave you a thumbs-up, and you saw his mask hanging out from the open pocket of his bag. You walked over to him, tucking the mask inside and zipping the pocket up before reaching up, tiptoeing slightly to reach his head, and smoothed out his hair.

He shook his head slightly and wiped the sweat off his brow with a grin. “Better?”

“Better.”

“Since we’re already here, why don't we take advantage of the projector and watch a movie?”

You hesitated, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “I’m a little busy,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck as you thought about the countless assignments you had piling up.

Mark smiled disarmingly and extended his hand, shooting webs from his wrist. They reached the control room, hitting the “on” button. The screen blinked on, showing the default screensaver. “I didn’t mean it as a question, more like an invitation. I know you’re still not over Chenle, so I thought this might cheer you up.”

You were given little choice when Mark slipped into one of the back seats, procuring popcorn from his bag like a magician, patting the seat beside him as he projected his Netflix account onto the screen, and “Little Women” started playing. You couldn’t lie, you had a soft spot for that movie, and seeing it playing was all it took for you to cave in and slump into the seat next to him, dispelling all thoughts of work from your mind.

“Are you supposed to be using your student council pass to get access to the auditorium for a movie?” You asked curiously, reaching for the popcorn.

Mark passed you the box with a dismissive shrug. “If they didn’t want me to take advantage of it, they wouldn’t have given it to me. Perks of being liked by the teachers, I guess.”

That was Mark Lee for you. Handsome, smart, popular—well-liked by both the student body and the faculty. He was perfection in a nutshell, and his heart was yours. You only regretted never being able to give him the same.

3 months ago — you’re all i want to, want to know

Dangling your feet off the rooftops, breeze soft against your skin as you watched the sunset. Yellow waves of light washed over the red sky, turning it gorgeous shades of orange and pink and purple, if you squinted hard enough.

The sky was a vast expanse of intangible matter, the whispers of the wind calling out to you. Instinctively, you reached out for it, hands grasping at thin air. It felt like it was just out of your reach, and you leaned further, hands outstretched…

You forgot that you were on the rooftop, stomach rising to your throat as you fell from the building, scream caught in your throat which was squeezed so tightly you could barely breathe.

Every second of the fall was torture. You could feel the air rushing past your face, hard enough to chafe but not dense enough to cushion your fall. Your hands flailed about, scrabbling for something to hold onto, desperately searching for holds to grab onto, until you felt a tug on your back.

Mark lowered himself to your height, and you found yourself swinging like a pendulum from the top of the building while Mark leaned into his pants like he was going rock climbing with his friends for leisure, fully trusting his webs to hold him up.

“You good?”

You nodded, gulping nervously. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…

Mark seemed to sense your fear, one hand wrapping around your waist reassuringly. The concrete touch of his arm against your back calmed you, and you inhaled deeply while staring straight into his eyes, refusing to look down for fear of how high up you were.

“You know, if you wanted to swing around town, you could’ve just asked.”

Your face dropped as you glared at him, your grip around his torso never loosening even for a second. “Ha ha, very funny. Please bring me back up before I throw up.”

“My pleasure.” Both of you shot up suddenly, and you almost collapsed in relief when your feet found hard ground again, but you made sure to move far, far away from the edge that time.

“I think I’m happy just staying here,” you said cautiously from the middle of the roof, as far away from all the sides of the building as possible. You knelt down to feel the ground, afraid that it wasn’t sturdy enough, before falling into a cross-legged position with a grunt.

Mark bent down to sit beside you, guiding your head onto his shoulder as he rubbed your back comfortingly. “I know it’s scary, but hey, the sunset’s worth it.”

Its beauty was almost comparable to Mark’s.

2 weeks ago — i can tell you mean it when you kiss me slow

Your hand tightened in Mark’s as he ran gleefully towards the ferris wheel, dragging you along behind him as he stood in line for the ride.

Autumn was all around you, in the air as auburn leaves drifted past on a breeze, gently gusting over your hair and leaving you feeling chilly but not cold. The crunch of your footsteps against the ground, the smell of apples all around, the earth heralded the third season of the year.

Mark’s figure was stark against the rest, dressed in all black against the neutral tones of fall, taller than everyone else. Mark was your rock, and sometimes he seemed a little larger than life.

The queue moved slowly, but Mark kept you entertained with silly jokes while it inched forward, and you found yourself lost in the sound of his laughter. It sounded muffled to your ears, like you were hearing it while you were submerged underwater. How could you bring yourself to hurt someone like him?

Your knuckles whitened as they gripped the side of the carriage tightly when you boarded the ferris wheel, eyes staring straight ahead—anywhere but down—while you fought to calm your racing heart.

“It’s not too scary if you look at me, right?”

You had to admit that he was right. If you focussed only on Mark, the world disappeared into a blur of white lights and cloudy skies, and the ground felt solid under your feet.

It was a reassuring thought to know that Mark had your back. So when you reached the top of the wheel, sky-high above the rest of the world with no weight on your shoulders, and Mark kissed you, you kissed him back.

You kissed him like your heart didn’t belong to someone else, like you didn’t care if it hurt him. Because you selfishly wanted his heart, even if you could never reciprocate his love for you.

1 day ago — but please don’t ask me, the answer’s no

You woke up in Chenle’s bed, his hands tangled in your hair while you wrapped your arms around him. The blanket was at your feet, having been kicked off in the night. Chenle’s breathing was peaceful, and the steady rise and fall of his chest pulled you out of your trance.

Chenle had done nothing to Mark, yet he had unknowingly hurt him again and again. You kept coming back to him even after you had broken up, slipping into his arms after shitty decisions late at night, clothes strewn over the floor as you willingly hurt yourself again and again.

To Chenle’s knowledge, you were single, and it was true—to a certain extent. You didn’t love Chenle, and he didn’t need to love you either. You had come to a mutual agreement that he would keep you warm on lonely nights, and there would be no questions asked.

In the mornings, you would leave, and there would be no expectations of breakfast or loving words when you woke. 

And so, you became a ghost of yourself, hovering in spaces just long enough for you to be seen before vanishing again, never happy or satisfied.

You pried yourself from Chenle’s hands, slipping into your clothes, running your hand through your hair in the mirror before rinsing your mouth and washing your face quickly. You left no traces of yourself behind, save for the guilt-ridden kiss you left on Chenle’s cheek with a sad smile.

Mark didn’t know what had happened when you met him that morning, reaching out to envelope you in a hug when you stiffened, pushing him away with a grimace. “Don’t- I don’t want to do this to you, Mark.”

He raised his hands in surrender, but you could have sworn heard his heart shatter, the pain in his eyes too much for you to bear. You turned towards the school, firmly avoiding his gaze as your lead-filled limbs brought you further and further away from him.

now — in a perfect world, i’d kill to love you the loudest

mark: can we talk? mark: i feel like there's something you're not telling me mark: i'm always here for you, you know mark: even if just as a friend

(i don’t know if that’s enough for you)

The messages he left on your phone burned a hole through your pocket. You didn’t want to answer them, but you didn’t want to ignore him either, so you opted to climb into a cab and asked it to take you to an isolated area just out of town. It was close enough for Mark to go to, but only as Spiderman. If he took any other form of transport, he would arrive too late.

you: 📍live location you: come over you: please

“Y/n?” Mark was in his Spiderman suit, eyes shielded by the mask. You couldn’t decipher any of his mixed emotions, but you saw his fingers twitch slightly before he reached out to touch the fence that separated you, hesitance laced in his voice. He sounded unsure, afraid even.

“Are you okay? What are you doing out here?” You had never heard Mark scared before. To you, he had always been the brave one, the one who walked first in haunted houses and killed insects while you screamed and leaped away. He wasn’t afraid of heights or those he fought against, and he seemed to shrink in front of your eyes when he was afraid.

“Can you come over to this side?”

Mark scaled the fence and dropped silently in front of you, cautiously moving towards you as his hand reached to pull his mask off.

“What’s going on?”

Mark felt somebody grab his hand, pulling him towards them with his face away while they held him in a chokehold. He felt a needle poking into his neck, injecting anesthetic into his bloodstream. He went limp in his captor’s arms, and was gently laid on the ground while his captor reached for their phone and stopped the recording.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered as they anonymously sent the video of an unmasked Spiderman to the news station they could count on to deliver their news the fastest.

but all i do is live to hurt you soundless

Mark came to in a dark room, hands tied behind his back. He tried to move his feet, and found that they were also tied to the legs of the chair. Defeated, he slumped in the chair, breathing heavily as he surveyed the room. It was small and empty, and he was the sole occupant inside it.

Welcome, Mark Lee. I hope you make yourself at home. With that, the speakers crackled and went quiet.

Chills ran down Mark’s spine as he heard the voice playing. Where were you, and why couldn’t he remember anything? His mind was foggy and he couldn’t remember a thing, except for your text. He remembered receiving it, and going to a shady, isolated place….

Could someone have kidnapped you and taken your phone to trick him? The idea of it caused his throat to seize, heart thumping painfully inside his chest.

The clanging sound of a door opening startled Mark, and he strained to see where the door was. He heard metal grating against the floor and the thump of footsteps, coming face to face with a masked silhouette. The white of the mask was a stark contrast to the dark cell, and it was the only thing Mark could make out.

A spoon clattered to the floor as the silhouette knelt down and set a tray of food on the floor, the water in the cup sloshing out at the impact. The silhouette’s voice sounded robotic when it spoke.

“I will untie your hands, and you can reach down to take your food. This will last you until tomorrow, so ensure that you don’t finish it all in one sitting. If you struggle or try to escape, just know that you won’t like the consequences.”

Mark’s hands felt numb, and he winced at the feeling of pins and needles as the blood gratefully rushed to his wrists, and he rubbed at his sore shoulders. He bent down gratefully to take a bowl of rice and meat from the ground, and when he sat up again, the masked person had vanished like a wisp of smoke.

say you see i’m lying, babe, and let this go

Mark was going insane. An entire day of silence was enough to drive a man to the brink of insanity, but Mark was just barely holding on. He had estimated the length and width of his cell, tried to write it down and realised that the best way was to write it in his food; hopped around, trying to stand up, and fell multiple times; and was growing bored.

He counted the seconds it took for him to breathe one full breath, then held his breath for as long as he could, then glanced back down impatiently at the analog clock he had found on his food tray.

If it was telling the right time, then 12 hours had passed since he had first woken up in his cell. He had fallen asleep in his chair during what he hoped was nighttime, but woken up with a crick in his neck that had been irritating him the entire day.

It didn’t feel like daytime, although it was supposed to be past noon, simply because there was no natural light filtering into the cell, and the only way he could see was by the light of the clock’s hands and numbers, and the dim light coming from what he assumed was a corridor outside his cell.

Mark drummed his fingers against his lap and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. He had eaten breakfast when he woke up, then lunch just after noon, but his water was running low and his parched throat itched.

It was odd, he thought, that the food that he had been given actually wasn’t that bad. It was simple, but the meat wasn’t as hard as he had expected, and he had been so hungry that he had scarfed it down in one go.

He was just about to risk hopping over to the door of the cell and yelling for help when the speaker that had scared him the night before suddenly crackled to life.

Fort Irwin is a little small for mysteries, but the latest case of Spiderman had everyone puzzled. Mark Lee, 17, was reported to be missing yesterday evening. According to reports from 35.7Hz Radio, the unmasked Spiderman circulating on the internet is exactly the same boy that has gone missing.

However, the hero was spotted swinging by a Target today, persuading a teenager to return the goods they had shoplifted from the store. Has Mark simply run away from home but felt obligated to continue enforcing the law, or has he been kidnapped?

And, more importantly, if Mark Lee has gone missing, then who is his replacement Spiderman?

Mark’s heart dropped as the speaker went silent. There had been a video of him being unmasked in his Spiderman suit? But he hadn’t even worn it in the past 24 hours—oh. Mark looked down at himself to check that he wasn’t wearing it anymore, finding his own clothes on his body.

Odd. He had only brought his phone with him when he went to find you, and he never wore his regular clothes under his suit. However, the clothes that he was wearing were definitely his—they even smelt like the laundry detergent his mum used when she washed his clothes.

If he was wearing his own clothes, then where had his Spiderman suit gone? He craned his neck to the side to look for it, immediately wincing in pain when he felt the burning pain sear through his neck. He had completely forgotten about his stiff neck.

He rubbed his neck, and the door creaked open, the masked silhouette standing there. “Good afternoon,” they said casually, picking up the empty bowls and cutlery from the floor. Mark had been bored enough to stack them up, so it was an easy task for his captor to collect the items and place them on the tray.

“If it were a good afternoon, I would be at home doing homework,” Mark snapped.

i can never promise you tomorrow

“Watch your tone,” his captor said. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”

“They’d find you,” Mark said, but he wasn’t very sure that they would.

“I don’t need to set my hands on you to drive you crazy. In fact, you’re already halfway there,” the silhouette sneered, and Mark could hear the contempt in their voice. He shuddered at the thought of going crazy, knowing that the boredom would surely drive him to do things he never would if he were in the right frame of mind.

“You should show me your face.” It was a weak attempt, but Mark didn’t want to hear anymore about his future loss of sanity, and he wanted to at least be able to identify the culprit if he ever got out alive.

“You’re changing the topic. And I don’t think I will,” the captor said. They grabbed the back of Mark’s chair and forcefully turned him around, facing him away from the door as their footsteps retreated out of the confines of the cell.

Later, the clang of a metal tray on the ground informed Mark that his food and water had been replaced, and he found that it had come with a chamber pot.

‘cause i have yet to learn how not to be his

Chenle’s hand traced lazy circles over your back until you turned to face him, legs intertwined in his.

“How are you- what do you think of the… y’know, the Mark situation?” He asked hesitantly. It was crossing some boundaries, that was for sure. Your and his relationship was meant to be free from emotional baggage, romantic gestures, and only meant as a way of comfort for both of you.

But at the end of the day, Chenle and you had dated once. Even if you had hated him for a while after the breakup, and he had ignored you for a good couple of months, he did still care about you, although he didn’t know how to—or whether he should—show it.

“I’m dealing with it,” you responded curtly. The truth was, it hurt more than it should. You were being investigated by the police, and when they found the last texts you had sent to him, it didn’t help your case much. The best you could do was to defend yourself, telling them that you had really only been in a bad place and wanted a friend to comfort you.

What they forgot was that he was still your best friend, and even if you didn’t love him back the way he loved you, he was still important to you. You didn’t want him to come to any harm, though it might seem differently to some.

You were, after all, vice-president on the student council. Now that Mark was incapacitated, you were the acting president. Besides, Mark’s crush on you had never been a secret, and half the student body thought that you had taken advantage of his crush on you to get rid of him.

His parents were the most worried, and you could barely look them in the eyes, knowing that you might have been the reason that Mark was missing. They didn’t suspect you, fully trusting you as Mark’s friend, but you didn’t want to let them down if the police found that you had led the kidnapper to Mark.

Mark’s exposed identity was also an issue. You and his parents had known since he decided to create an image for himself, but he had always wanted to keep it private for two reasons: he believed that good deeds did not need to be rewarded, and he was shy.

He didn’t want people to think of him differently because he was a “hero”. You admired him for that, but you also hated him for it. That he could be so noble and righteous, and you hated the jealousy you felt when you saw him walking around school and waving at everyone.

Superhero student council president Mark, who was only missing a lover in his otherwise perfect life.

this city will surely burn if we keep this as it is

Riize Highschool has been set on fire. 5 bodies have been recovered, and the number of injured individuals is 36 and counting. Authorities are working with the school to investigate the source of the fire. It is suspected to have been an arson attempt.

Mark’s mind ran wild with questions. Who could have tried to set the school on fire? Why? What was going on in the world, and why had his “replacement” not done anything about it?

His hands itched for something to do. The cell seemed to grow smaller by the day, the space constraining him and shutting him in. If he couldn’t escape soon, he would explode, and all the parts of him he’d tried hard to keep hidden would be on display for all to see.

He tried to pull his legs from the metal chains strapping him down for the hundredth time, pushing away from the back of the chair until he lost his balance and fell face-flat on the floor.

Blood dripped from his lips from where his teeth had torn skin, and he tried to push himself up from the floor. But the exhaustion and the weight of the chair on his back combined made it difficult, and his arms quivered from the effort.

He lay on the ground, breathing unsteady as he wondered if it was really better to be left in there alive or to leave the world peacefully.

i'd give anything to stop time

Mark missed being able to walk. He missed the sensation of sun on his face, of light reaching his eyes, he missed the freedom of not being trapped in isolated boredom the whole day. He missed his family and his friends, and most importantly, you.

He missed the curve of your neck and the warmth of you when you leaned into him on a cold day. He missed the way your waist felt in his on the rare occasions you let him hold you, missed your smile when you laughed at a silly joke on your phone.

He missed the way your face lit up when you saw him, missed sending you texts between classes, he missed everything about you. And he realised that lately, you hadn’t even felt like friends anymore.

Mark. You have fifteen minutes to leave this cell. You have been given all you need to leave, and I suggest you do it quickly.

Oh, by the way, your beloved Y/n is also trapped here. If you don't rescue them and leave in time, you can imagine what will happen.

Mark couldn’t tell what was going on in the cell, but it seemed to him that he could smell gasoline and smoke. His head whipped towards the door, seeing a flash of silver in his peripheral vision. A pair of wire cutters lay on the floor near the door of the cell, and he lunged for it, hands shaking as he tried to cut through his chains.

It was hard work, and his arms were tired and sore, and he struggled as he tried to free himself. When the second chain finally snapped, he dropped the wire cutters on the floor as he leaned back, spent.

But the reminder of you in danger spurred him on. He stood up shakily, fumbling for the key on the floor, and his trembling fingers only made it more difficult to unlock the door. As soon as he did, he stepped out into the hallway.

Smoke drifted in slowly, illuminated by the lights along the corridor. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was getting thicker by the minute.

“Y/n!” He yelled, voice hoarse from dehydration and misuse, desperately hoping that you would answer.

He almost collapsed from relief when he heard your voice. “Mark?”

“I'm coming! Please just keep talking, okay?”

“Okay.”

He ran down the hallways, your voice keeping him company as he searched for you.

“I miss you. I’m tired. I want to go home. Mark, we’ve all been worried sick while you were gone. I hate the responsibility you shoulder even more now that I know what it feels like, and I can’t believe you had to go through all of that. You’re insane for holding out for this long and I’m so glad you’re alive. Most of all, I miss every part of you. I’d give anything to have you back.”

“You sure about that?” The proximity of Mark’s voice filled you with relief. You turned towards the sound of his voice, and the blindfold over your eyes was the last barrier before you got to see him again. You heard the creaking of the door hinge and felt Mark’s hands land on your shoulders before he wrapped you into a hug.

As soon as he removed your blindfold, you were taken aback by how exhausted he looked. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes, his face gaunt and the cheekbones that used to be covered in a soft layer of fat seemed like a thin layer of skin over bone. His body, which used to seem taller and bigger to you just a week ago, had grown skinnier. He wasn’t taller, but somehow his body proportions looked off. He was smaller, taking up less space.

The outgoing, cheerful, popular Mark was gone — he had been replaced by someone a little awkward and unsure of himself, having grown used to living in fear.

You were in no place to comment on his appearance, however. Neither of you were in great shape; you were trussed up and your wrists were red from struggling against your bonds. Your ankles were bound tightly with rope, and it was clear to Mark that you had not been meant to stay there for long.

“We have to get out of here.”

“Yeah, no shit. Do you have a map or something? What’re you gonna do, navigate us out of here?” You were taken aback by Mark’s tone, and hurriedly amended your statement.

“I know there’s something in this room that you’re supposed to take. I was told that I would be able to get us out. Can you search the room?”

Mark scanned the room quickly before his eyes landed on you. Without a word, he knelt down in front of you, searching your pockets thoroughly. Your jeans pockets were empty, but there were a few surprises hidden in the thick folds of your hoodie.

“Got it,” he said triumphantly. He opened up his hand, and in his palm lay a few crucial items. His phone, car keys, and a sticky note.

“These are my car keys… how?” While Mark looked between his car keys and his phone, the gears in his mind whirring as he wondered how it could be, you snatched the sticky note from his hand and read the message aloud.

“Drive home, and never come back. Your car is outside. Leave.” The note ended on that threatening note, messy handwriting trailing off into a scrawl scratched across the page. Smoke drifted into the cell and you grabbed Mark’s hand.

“Run!”

As if on command, you saw the pathway lighting up. At the end of the corridor, a door opened up into light and with it, freedom. You ran toward it, the fire lapping at your heels. Although it hadn’t touched you, you could feel the blistering heat of it on your back, and the first thing you could think to do was flee.

The signs of freedom continued to greet you in the form of Mark’s car, and you ran over to the driver’s side while he unlocked the doors.

and drive around anaheim at sun down

Mark was blinking furiously, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while you sped off, unused to the influx of light. Luckily, you hadn’t been in darkness for long, so you adjusted quickly enough to be able to drive safely.

You sat in silence like that for a while, and Mark leaned across to stare at the building, watching it go up into flames.

You said nothing as you turned on the highway, heading towards Anaheim. It was your hometown, and though it was a little out of the way, at least no one you knew would be there. For the time being, both of you needed some peace and quiet.

When the main road branched off, you took the first exit, finding yourselves next to a grass field. You shifted the car into reverse, parking along the side of the road and turning towards Mark.

“C’mon,” you gestured to him over your shoulder and went outside the car, feet sinking into the ground as you laid back onto the grass.

The sun had set on the drive there, and you could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, the small visible crescent shyly waving at you. You grinned back in response and felt Mark plop down next to you, one of his arms snaking under your neck and settling on your shoulder.

to teach my mind to put you first

Even if it was Mark’s hands around you, all you could think of was Chenle’s lips on yours and his hands in your hair, and not a single thought your restless mind conjured up was of Mark.

You wanted to rip the grass from the soil and scream into the void. Why couldn’t you just love him back? After all that Mark had done for you, all he had sacrificed for you, all he had given up just for a sliver of your heart? Why did your traitorous heart despise him so?

Perhaps it was because you didn’t deserve him, and despite all the selfish greed you harboured, you knew deep down that Mark deserved so much better.

here you are, a hero

Mark had grown comfortable next to you, breathing quietly as he let loose of every muscle in his body. He could feel every knot filled with tension dissipate, could feel the pain of every cut and bruise on his body finally sinking in, almost as if he’d been too scared to register it.

"Mark-"

"Y/n-"

"You go first."

"No, you."

“I want to kiss you” was his confession, blurted out like a bad choice from the depths of his subconscious, said aloud before he even had time to think it through.

“I’ll try hard not to make this feeling a crime,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you tenderly, tears falling silently down his cheeks.

You knew you were only putting salt on the wound when you kissed him back, claiming the parts of his heart you had known were yours all along. You knew he liked you, and you hated hurting him but you never wanted to lie to him. You didn’t want Mark to think you loved him when you didn’t. Though you’d done so much to him, you didn’t ever want Mark to have his heart broken by someone who told him they loved him when they didn’t.

Not with all of their heart, at least. You did love Mark, platonically, but the important parts he wanted were the ones he couldn’t have, the ones that belonged to someone else.

You could feel Mark’s sadness piercing through your heart, his tears saltier than the dead sea. He was so genuine, so raw with his hurt as he kissed you, you almost caved and told him you could give up on Chenle. Almost.

But you couldn’t- you couldn’t do that to him.

you wanna be my new home

He pulled away, and as you stared at him, the pale yellow glow that emanated from him seemed to grow brighter before it faded. Mark, your guardian angel, who had fallen from glory and had been reduced to naught but a shadow of his former self. Everything that had made Mark stand out was gone.

And it was all because of you.

You had first started to want to know how to make Mark's webs synthetically when he first used his powers on you for target practice. His webs were long and unwieldy, and uncomfortable to use. You had been curious to see if you could possess those powers too, perhaps better than Mark.

The point where your intentions went from harmless to harmful was when you were about three-quarters of the way through the process. Mark had told you that he had won a scholarship that you had been eyeing.

It had been a tiresome period of jealousy for you, constantly feeling outdone by Mark. Him getting the scholarship you wanted had been the tipping point for you, and you were jealous that it seemed like Mark had the perfect life, while you were always competing with him. Sick and tired of it all, you had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Your turn,” Mark said, interrupting your thoughts. “What did you want to say?”

“It was me, a week ago, that knocked you out and kidnapped you. I had been planning it since you had gotten that scholarship I had wanted, and by the time I realised that I wasn’t upset with you any more, it was too late. You had been gone for 3 days and I didn’t know how to let you leave without anyone figuring out that it had been me.

“I wanted to come clean, yet I was scared of the repercussions. It took me a few days to come up with a plan to get you to ‘save’ me so you wouldn’t suspect me, and I would burn the place down so no one would ever know.

“I wanted to live your life, Mark. I wanted to know what it was like to have everyone adore you, to be at the top of the world, carefree and loved. I was sick of hiding in your shadow, I wanted to know what it was like to be a hero, to no longer settle for second best.

“But after experiencing it? I don’t think I want that life. It’s not for me. The amount of pressure you must have been under every day of your life is not something I envy. I understand now why everyone admires you. You’re worthy of that, and I’m not.”

Your palms were clammy with sweat, unsure how he would react. “I’m sorry for all I did. I hope now you understand why I would never be worthy of your love. And I hope- I hope that you won’t love me anymore in ways I can’t return.”

You didn’t know what you had expected from Mark, but it definitely wasn’t acceptance, much less his forgiveness.

When he said, "It's okay," you looked at him in confusion. What was he talking about?

"What you've done is in the past. We're both here now, aren't we?" At that, you understood. It was because he was Mark Lee, angelic and purer than you could ever hope to be, with a heart bigger than the universe. Only he would be able to forgive you after everything you had done. You nodded, and when you stood it felt like your feet were weightless against the cotton candy clouds soft under your feet.

but baby, let up

By then it was getting late, and the sun was starting to set. Mark had been silent for a while, and though it worried you, you had other concerns. The most important one at the moment was how you were going to get back home, because you were still stuck on a little road in Anaheim when you lived all the way in Fort Irwin.

It was late at night and Mark’s phone was dead, so you handed him your phone to ask him to navigate. It was an unfamiliar place and you couldn’t wait to be back in the comfort of your home, and you wanted to get Mark back to his parents as soon as possible.

Deep down, maybe you wanted to prove that their trust in you wasn’t misplaced, wasn’t unwarranted. But when you slipped your phone into Mark’s hand, it was freezing cold, and when you turned to look at him, it sent shivers down your spine.

“Mark?” He disappeared before your eyes with a sad smile, fading into nothingness while you grasped at him in a panic, refusing to believe that he wasn’t real. Your attempts were all futile as your fingers met with cold air until all that was left of Mark was your memories and regret.

i won't ever recognize these roads

You sped back after that, unsettled and afraid. If you hadn’t saved Mark, then your guilty conscience wasn’t cleared after all. How long had you been hallucinating him? Had Mark ever been real, or was he simply a figment of your imagination? How much of your reality could you trust?

Your foot on the accelerator never let up, speeding across the highway with a sinking feeling in your stomach. If Mark was real all along, and you had kidnapped him, but he wasn’t there with you, then there could only be one possibility…

'cause i am lost, but not in you

“Chenle,” you managed breathlessly while Chenle looked at you in horror. He was dressed in pajamas, as if he had been about to sleep, and you knew you were a mess.

Your wrists were red from struggling against the bonds that you had tied for yourself, an effort to make your kidnapping look real to Mark. Parts of your hair had been singed in the fire, and you smelt strongly of smoke and sweat. Your clothes were stained brown from the wet soil of the grass fields, and your shoes were falling apart.

“I think I killed him.” You wished the revelation would hurt, but Chenle slamming his door in your face hurt you more. You sank to your feet, defeated, back against his door as you sighed.

Perhaps it would be better if you ceased to exist, too. At least in hell you would get the punishment you deserved.

epilogue.

The sky burns bright like ochre, burnt umber streaks like autumn. As if on cue, as the coffins are lowered side-by-side into the earth, thunder rumbles across the sky. The sky weeps as if haunted by memories, harbouring the guilt of the murderer and the pain of their victim.

The land sings its heart out, crickets chirping and nightingales drifting by as the sky darkens. Chenle tightens his grip around the chrysanthemums in his hand as he watches the disfigured silhouettes descend.

He doesn’t know what to do. Mark Lee had been a friend of his. Granted, not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And to think that his fuck-buddy had killed him in cold blood was a burden he wasn’t sure he wanted to bear.

He breathes in and sighs. Even if he loved you, it was too late to change the course of things. All that had happened would have happened some way or other, and all he could do was try to right things in his own way.

Chenle watches on in silence as the families of the bereaved pay their respects. He’s hidden under the shelter of the umbrella, drawn to his eye-line so no one can make eye contact with him. He observes silently as the families mourn their loved ones, not knowing that the two best friends hadn’t been kidnapped, but that one had killed the other.

When you had showed up at his door, Chenle had the fright of his life. Your pants were dotted with blood, tears streaming down your cheeks. When he heard what you had done to Mark, his first instinct was to deny it. He slammed the door in your face, head spinning, stunned by your confession.

There was nothing else he could have done.

He could not have stopped you, headstrong as you were, heading back the entire way to Mark’s deathbed, where you hugged him tightly as flames enveloped you, burning away all traces of your guilt.

When the authorities found you a day later, the forensics seemed to match up to logic—the unknown killer had killed both of you, burned you to erase their footsteps, and you two had huddled together in fear during your last moments.

He kneels to the ground and weeps with the sky, umbrella dropping to the side as the downpour drenched him and the earth as if they were one. His sorrow would melt into the soil if it could, but as it could not, it remained heavy in his heart.

Onlookers would see a grieving boyfriend, crying for his lover and friend. It was not far from the truth, but nothing they thought would come close to what had really happened to the unhappy dead.

If only they knew the truth.

fin.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

[keferon]

Guess who spent two days trying to understand how to draw a kiss

Based on amazing incredible gut wrenching Mistakes on Mistakes until..

[sapphoherselz]

hi do you ever wonder if wyamack EVER met the Foxes before their time? I'm talking any age, any time in their lives, especially the ones where they really needed a paternal figure to help them out or get them out of trouble?

like he goes grocery shopping and sees this quiet kid trying to stuff as much food in his pockets wo being noticed? but David of course does and the kid is already taking a step back, looking at him with pure terror in his eyes as if he's seeing just another person that can hurt him but of course that doesn't happen. what does happen is that david offers to pay for anything the kid wants and then starts asking question like that's one nasty bruise you got there, want to tell me what happened? and then out of nowhere the boy's mother appears and starts tugging the kid away in a not very gentle manner and David tries to interfere but they're hurriedly walking away before he can get the words out of his mouth (he has to physically stop himself from going after them because that would just frighten the kid more)(he goes back to the same grocery store at the same hour for an entire month, hoping to find this short kid hiding somewhere and maybe tell his mother exactly where she can put her hands)

or maybe he's walking home late at night and sees this kid sitting on the sidewalk and he approaches cause shouldn't you be at home? wouldn't your parents worry? do you want to give them a call, you could use my phone but the kid tenses so much that David takes several steps back and starts talking about everything under the blue sky trying to get him to calm down. when that eventually happens, they end up sitting (with some comfortable distance) next to the other in utter silence, until the kid goes "I don't want to go home" and David is like. okay. we can stay here for as long as you'd like. the night is young and I have snacks in my pockets. did I tell you already that I'm an exy coach? what do you mean you don't know what exy is- no I'm not making that up, it's a job and I have it! they even pay me for it! (he ends up falling asleep in a sitting position and wakes up alone, the marble next to him having long gone cold) (he doesn't even remember if he had managed to make the kid smile or if his eyes were playing tricks on him) (if he starts walking home later than usual just to sit on a lonely sidewalk for hours then it's his business and no one else's)(and yes he does bring with him all of the snacks he thinks the kid would like) (no he didn't spend minutes choosing them)

like something something the red string theory something something everyone is always connected something something

[it-happened-one-fic]

Come My Way - Silver

Author Notes: So, this was certainly a thing. I started writing this after the Diasomnia chapter while listening to AmaLee's cover of "Come this Way" from the Inuyasha anime and it kind of spiraled from there. I decided I'd play with the entire red string of fate thing despite it being rather heavy-handed in terms of romance since Prefect and Silver have some interesting ties within the storyline which I have considered writing an analysis of for my analysis blog. (plus I do find the red string of fate to be quite romantic at times and it was a nice tie in for all the other Inuyasha stuff) I came back and edited this fic to the original version of the song "Come" that is seventh ending theme of Inuyasha. All in all, the fic ended up long, but I still found it intriguing enough to post since I didn't have a fic in particular planned for this week. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader /sfw /fluff /some drama /romance /spoilers for Diasomnia chapter

Word count: 2584

Fated love was something that seemed to only occur in fairytales. An amusing thought for someone from the country of the fae to have. But to Silver, the idea of meeting someone he was fated to be with despite the many obstacles life could hold was beautiful, but also rather improbable.

Especially when he considered his narcolepsy.

It was almost like a fond dream, perfect and wonderful, until he awoke and the dream was shattered.

And yet, when he first saw you, Silver felt a glimmer of something akin to recognition. 

But he knew, for a fact, that he had never met you. There was no way he could have since you were from an entirely other world that was supposedly devoid of magic.

So Silver had initially shrugged that strange sensation of familiarity off. Deciding that you probably just had one of those faces that looked incredibly similar to someone else’s. 

But he’d still wanted to get to know you. Out of curiosity, if nothing else.

The mere idea of even meeting you soon seemed to be perfectly impossible, though. Because it was like the world itself was endeavoring to keep the two of you apart. 

And maybe it was. You weren’t from this world, and, if Silver thought logically about it, perhaps it was best if he didn’t talk to you. 

Maybe he didn’t need to let whatever this pull was that seemed to draw him inevitably towards you have its way. After all, if he were already so intrigued by you without talking to you, then he didn’t see how it could get any better once he did get to know you.

And then, if you did as you no doubt wished and went home, he would be left alone.

Alone and empty, he feared, if the sensation that he was close to meeting someone beyond important to him that swelled within him every time he saw you was anything to go by.

Initially, he’d kept his thoughts to himself. Better that way, since he didn’t want to bother anyone else with the strange, foreign feelings. But when he started seeing you in his dreams, always distant but ever present and seemingly unreachable. That was when it had gone on long enough.

Lilia had smiled at him amusedly when he’d explained the strange sensation that he knew you despite having never met you and the urges he felt to speak to you. To get to know you.

It was as if the ancient fae had already known, and he even nodded like he was completely unsurprised as he’d spoken. His tone oddly pleased, “I had wondered if this would happen. They do remind me of you, after all.”

Silver had felt his eyes widen at his father’s words before he shook his head in confusion, “How are they like me?”

Lilia had laughed aloud at his son’s words, rubbing Silver’s head like he was still a small child as his eyes gleamed with amused fondness, “Why, you’re both diligent, reserved, good children. Humans who don’t judge others by their race and who are capable of forgiving even the greatest of evils. You both serve as a sort of light within the darkness to the hearts of those you touch.”

Silver had felt himself smile, shaking his head at his father’s words but knowing better than to deny what he’d said. Lilia had always doted on his son, and even if Silver didn’t agree with the image he painted, Lilia wouldn’t accept his refusal.

Lilia had sat down next to Silver on the bed, his eyes narrowing with amusement, “Let me tell you a story from another land far, far away.”

Silver had focused on his father’s words, frowning slightly in determination to remain focused without falling asleep.

“In the same land that holds the great Loong dragons, there is a story of a red string.” Lilia had spoken in a soft voice, the one that always lulled Silver to sleep but also held the greatest of secrets.

“No one knows what spinning wheel weaves this string; perhaps it is the wheel of life itself. But legend has it that this thin strand of red ties you to your fated one.”

Silver had nodded, not surprised by the contents of the legend. It was much like other stories that revolved around fate, but he tilted his head nonetheless, “A single string seems an odd choice for a tie that binds.”

Lilia had nodded, giggling slightly before he continued, “It is, isn’t it? But that fragility hides incredible strength. Just like how love can seem fragile, but can weather even the greatest of storms, this single thread of red string is strong. No matter the distance, time, or circumstance, it will remain strong.”

He’d blinked, his pink eyes gleaming in the darkness like some sort of omen. A subtle reminder that there was more to Silver’s father than met the eye as he finished, his voice dropping and having caused Silver to still ever-so-slightly, “Perhaps it could even stretch across worlds, should fate will it.”

With only those words, it became beyond clear what Lilia had met when he’d started his tale and how it connected to Silver’s trouble with you. Silver had shook his head slightly, smiling softly, as he’d realized what Lilia was doing. It hadn’t the first time his father had teased him about romance.

“Father, I don’t think a thread of legend is what is causing me to be fascinated by Y/n,” At Silver’s words, Lilia had nodded. Smiling to himself, like he knew a secret that no one else knew anything about.

Lilia’s hands had found Silver’s, and the ancient fae had looked down at his son’s hands, calloused from the use of the sword, as his own rough thumb had slipped over his son’s pinkie finger, the smile on his face spreading, “Perhaps not… Perhaps not.”

The days wore on, and Silver had thought very little of the discussion he’d had with his father, even as you remained an ever-present thought in his mind.

And then he’d finally interacted with you. 

It had seemed more like an accident than anything. A small blip in the plans of the world as time itself had seemed to slow around the two of you, and you blinked at him in quiet surprise before you smiled.

It had been a very brief interaction, with you almost bumping into him in a doorway as he’d started to enter a classroom. You’d backtracked quickly, laughing slightly as you apologized and moved out of his way even as he’d assured that there was no problem and that he should have been paying better attention to where he was going.

And after that, Silver had found himself bumping into you more and more. Spending time with you between classes. Waking up to find you sitting next to him, like you were protecting him. Before long, he was even walking you back to your dorm.

“Silver, it seems you’ve befriended the Child of Man. You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with them,” Malleus’s smile had been beyond smug as he greeted Silver one day when Silver had only just gotten back from walking you to Ramshackle dorm.

Silver had blinked at the prince’s words, half-startled, before he nodded, “Yes, Y/n and I have been helping each other with classes.”

It was strange, in many ways, to use an evasive remark when Silver had known he hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but something about the way Lilia had smiled at him from around Malleus. His large eyes, narrowing with amusement as he looked at his son, that had Silver faltering.

“They are quite charming, aren’t they? It seems they have won over most of the school by now,” Malleus’s fingers had brushed across his lips as if he were trying to hide the amused grin that stretched across his face.

But his words were true. Silver seemed to have been the last one to reach where you were, and now that he’d been standing next to you, he’d noticed something.

You worried about and for those around you. A little bit too much, in fact. 

Silver suspected that was why you’d wound up in so many situations, to the point where you were something of a celebrity within the school. One that was either hated or loved depending on who you spoke to.

But you went out of your way to help those around you and did your best to keep up with your peers, even though there was no way you could truly succeed in the magic-related classes.

It was like you were running from something and using everything to distract yourself from whatever that thing was.

And perhaps that was why Silver hadn’t been surprised when he’d found you asleep on your couch, where you’d passed out before he’d shown up to study with you.

The fact you had been asleep wasn’t odd; you’d been falling asleep during the day more and had mentioned not sleeping well at night before. What had been concerning, though, were the marks of dried tears on your face that had caused Silver to frown as he’d knelt down beside you.

Because that was what he had been worried about even then. That you weren’t letting yourself rely on others and were instead pushing yourself to support everyone else and avoiding your own problems.

For someone who’d been magically transported to a world that wasn’t your own, you seldom mentioned your home and took a surprising amount in stride.

He’d remembered how you’d looked when Leona had overblotted. Grimly determined and afraid. But Silver had suspected that fear had been less in regard to your own potential injury and more for Leona himself.

He hadn’t said anything, though. Silver knew when someone didn’t want to talk about something. But he also knew that if you ever needed him, he would be here. Right by your side and waiting.

You hadn’t come to him with your troubles, though. Instead, you’d bore them in silence all the way up until shortly before Silver’s entire world changed.

That day, you’d been different.

“Y/n, what is it?” You jolted from your fidgeting motions, as if Silver’s soft voice had startled you, and you’d looked at him with wide, almost fearful eyes that had caused him to frown.

You’d relaxed, though, something that he’d wondered about even then. Was it a natural reaction or forced?

“I… I just feel like something’s going to happen,” Silver had tilted his head at your words, so unlike how usually laid-back you were.

“How so?” You’d met his gaze as he spoke and kept his voice soft and carefully controlled as he’d leaned forward and towards you.

“Do you believe that dreams can sometimes predict things?” Silver had felt his eyebrows raise at your words, and at first he’d honestly thought you were teasing him. But a single glance at your expression, worry-filled as it was, had told him everything.

“Fa- Lilia has spoken of prophetic dreams and people who can see things before; why?” You’d nodded at his words, looking away as if you were deep in thought.

And after a brief moment, you’d looked back toward him. A forced smile sweeping across your face that was nowhere near as natural as the one you usually wore. 

Your hand had found his, surprising him slightly as a tingle had seemed to shoot through him at your mere touch as you’d spoken, your smile softening as you’d seemed to reassure yourself, “I just hope everything stays like this.”

Your words had lingered in his mind, playing on repeat like an omen, until the day had come when Lilia told him he was leaving.

That was when everything had shattered, and suddenly, somewhere in the back of his mind, Silver had wondered: Was this what you’d been worried about?

He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask or even see you until after everything had happened.

Lilia’s farewell party had come; Silver had confessed everything about his feelings and frustrations to Malleus, and then Malleus had overblotted.

Silver knew he was lucky, though. Lucky that, in some small way, you’d warned him. And lucky that the very moment he’d fallen asleep, he’d known something was amiss.

It had been subtle, but in the midst of the slightly off, too-perfect world that was his dream, he’d felt it. A gentle tugging at his pinkie finger, like a thread was wrapped around it, was being pulled.

The sensation sent a jolt through him, and Silver turned, his eyes widening as he caught sight of a bird trailing a strange rainbow light. And then he knew what was wrong with everything that surrounded him.

Where were you? 

If this were a perfect world, you’d be here. And the fact you were missing was why he’d felt so empty. Because you were nowhere to be seen. Almost like you’d never existed.

Light seemed to flash around him, like stars guiding him forth as he ran forward, chasing that rainbow bird and following that invisible thread that seemed to pull him onwards.

It was a sensation he recognized and was familiar with. He knew who lay at the end of this path, even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on.

Somehow, someway. You were calling him, even if you didn’t know it.

Silver had vowed very few things in his life. To defend Malleus, to care for his father, and to protect those dear to him. And finally there was the silent, unspoken oath that now pushed him forward from behind, as the promise of your presence pulled him onwards. The oath he’d made with himself to stay by your side.

It was a selfish oath that he’d made without entirely realizing it until now.

Instinctively, he closed his eyes as he burst forth through the edges of his dream and into the corridor of dreams that would lead him to you. And he saw something he’d never seen before. 

Something he now suspected his father had seen a long time ago, all those days ago when he’d first told him about that legend about fate and threads.

It was a thin red strand, so fragile-looking, but pulled taut as it connected him to something further down the invisible path before him. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where that thread would lead him.

So he ran. Shouting your name even as he burst forth into a new dream. One filled with inky shadows as it crumbled to pieces around you.

“Y/N!!” At his shout, you looked up. Your eyes wide from where you stood in the center of the collapsing dream, clutching Grim to you.

“S-Silver!” You faltered, having to stop yourself from stepping towards him as you slowly ran out of space to stand in as Grim yowled something that came out garbled in his distress as Silver reached out to you.

“Hold on to me! Both of you,” There was no hesitation in your motions as you grabbed onto his hand, and he wrapped an arm around you as he pulled both you and Grim up against him. 

The words of his spell held new meaning as he spoke them with you at his side, “To the person I met someday, to the person I will meet one day….” He glanced down at you, now knowing that you were that fated person.

“Meet in a dream.”

[fabled-lady-twilla]

Shiga in 99.9% of the scenes I've written for my ShigaDeku Soulmate AU fic, lmao!

He's like… ugh I don't wanna sit through any boring PLF meetings plotting to take control of all Japan, I just wanna grab my green-haired boyfriend/reluctant hostage and run away to my room. Heh.

Anyways! Under the keep reading link below is an excerpt from a flirty, slightly spicy scene between Izu and Shiga that happens later on in my fic. It's where they're past the chaotic, angry, violent 'enemies to lovers' stage of the story and Shiga has just discovered that he can touch/manipulate what I'm calling a 'soul-cord' in my AU, which is basically a spiritual link that connects two soulmate's souls together and helps them find each other.

The idea of a soul-cord comes from the concept of the 'red string of fate' and is basically a floating metaphysical cord/thread/string (not 100% sure what I'm calling it yet) woven from strands of each soulmate partner's soul, binding their destinies together and ensuring that always meet. By default, a soul-cord wraps around each soulmate partner's pinky finger, but this can be changed.

The thing is, with the way I integrated the soulmates trope into this AU along with Quirks, only soulmate partners with Quirks can see/interact with their soul-cords. By the time the main story line comes around, Izu has lost OFA and Shiga still has his Quirk (Decay). So, only Shiga can see/mess around with their soul-cord but both of them can feel it. Which is why Izuku is like, what the actual fuck is going on right now in the scene below lmfao. 🤣

Also, do you think the name 'soul-cord' is a good name for this? Or would 'soul-thread', 'soul-string', 'soul-braid', 'soul-weave', etc. be a more fitting name for it? I wanna know your opinion!

Pretty pretty pretty please let me know what you thought of this scene and if you'd like to see any more ShigaDeku excerpts! If you'd like to be added to the tag list for the story, please like, share, comment, or send me a PM. Thank you for reading! ❤️❤️❤️

Keep reading for 900+ words of flirty, slightly horny ShigaDeku interaction below:

“Is there a problem?” Izuku said, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared up at the other man. Tomura’s attention had been honed in on him since breakfast and Izuku had finally had enough of it. "You’ve been staring at me all morning. If you’ve got something to say to me, either say it or leave me alone."

Tomura leered down at Izuku through a half-lidded gaze, crimson eyes glinting in the soft orange lights of the hallway. Paying explicitly close attention to the way their silvery blue soul-cord looped around Izuku's pale throat over and over and over again, all nice, tight, and pretty. Right where Tomura wanted it. Right where it looked the best: wrapped around Izuku’s pale, freckled neck.

Right where it belongs, Tomura thought possessively, his cock twitching in agreement in his pants. The same it had been doing all morning long, causing him to have to constantly readjust his slacks.

The longer Tomura ogled him, the more Izuku’s frown deepened, and Tomura noticed the younger man’s glare taking on a heatedness that caused the green in his eyes to darken, contrasting beautifully against the silvery blue soul-cord wrapped around his neck.

Oh, yes. Tomura could definitely get used to this sight.

"Just admiring my handiwork," Tomura finally said, offering a wolfish grin with far too many teeth.

"Handiwork? What handiwork?" Izuku asked, brow furrowing with suspicion.

Tomura's only answer was a slight quirk of his lips.

Suddenly, Tomura thought of a wonderful idea, and his grin took on such a quality of wickedness that Izuku was immediately put on guard.

It was never a good sign when Tomura smiled like that. If that manic grin was directed at someone else, it meant someone was about to harassed, maimed, or something much worse. If it was directed at Izuku, it meant Tomura was up to something no good and Izuku, willingly or not, was about to find out exactly what that ‘something’ was.

Tomura backed away from Izuku, watching as the distance between them increased the floating length of their soul-cord. Tomura grasped the slack and gently looped it around his hand multiple times until it was almost completely pulled taut.

“What are you doing?” Izuku looked at Tomura like he’d lost his mind, what with his waving his hand around in the air like a lunatic. “Looks like you’ve finally gone completely insan—"

Without warning, Tomura roughly yanked their soul-cord towards himself, like he was yanking a dog backwards on a leash. Izuku found himself being jerked forward by an unseen force, tripping over his own two feet and nearly tumbling to the floor were it not for him crashing straight into Tomura's chest.

Izuku’s eyes widened in shock. Not only from what had just occurred but from the feeling of something warm, ticklish, and wispy stroking the length of his neck as Tomura made strange hand movements in the air.

Bewildered, Izuku ran his fingers over his Adam’s apple and around the back of his neck, where the warming sensations were the strongest. He grabbed at nothing, could feel nothing, only adding to his growing confusion at what the actual hell was going on. Did Shigaraki get a new Quirk?

Tomura hummed, seemingly delighted. He made another quick hand motion, fingers circling around nothing and making to grab at something in the air before pulling it closer.

Izuku felt it again, even stronger than before. A thick, deliciously warm pressure around his neck, not quite cutting off his air supply but toying the line of doing so. He couldn’t stop the flush from entering his cheeks at their sudden, close proximity, nor the shiver that ran down his spine at the feeling of something so snug and… protective closing in around such a vital part of his body.

Izuku bit his bottom lip, chewing at worryingly.

Tomura ate up the sight of Izuku’s nervous arousal with a quiet sort of hunger. With their soul-cord still looped around his hand, Tomura softly, ever so slightly, pulled it just a bit tighter.

Izuku gasped, pretty green eyes growing to such a comically large degree that Tomura could not help but let out a mean laugh at his expense, entertained by the younger man’s reactions.

“You!” Izuku hissed accusingly, snapping out of his stupor and narrowing his eyes into angry little slits, “What the hell did you do to me!?”

Tomura grin grew so wide and predatory it nearly split his face in half. “Maybe if you’re a good boy today and don’t get into any trouble, I’ll come by your room later tonight and tell you all about it.”

At Izuku’s utterly scandalized face, Tomura smirked. He swiftly untangled their soul-cord from his hand right as Izuku forcibly pushed against his chest, propelling himself away and out of Tomura’s grasp.

Izuku grunted from the force of his back thudding against the wall of the hallway. He splayed his hands against it and quickly but cautiously inched himself along the wall away from Tomura, mouth slightly parted as he stared at the other man with an expression that was so distrustful Tomura couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement, his canines popping out past his cracked lips.

“D-don’t you ever do that to me again!” Izuku managed to stutter out, the words coming out way less confident and threatening than he wanted them to sound.

But god, this unhinged man-child was quite literally driving him up the wall and Izuku wanted no part of anything to do with Shigaraki Tomura.

Izuku took a couple of cautious steps backwards, regarding Tomura like he would a rabid wild animal he didn’t want to turn his back to lest it pounce on him.

Tomura just stared back, crimson eyes gazing at him with an intensity that frightened Izuku more than anything else that had just transpired between them.

Izuku noped out and made a break for it.

Swiftly pivoting on his heel and rounding the corner, Izuku fast-walked down to the end of the hallway towards his room, Tomura’s raspy laughter reverberating off the walls and following him every step of the way until he slammed the door shut.

[thedemonofcat]

Ever since Jaskier was a small child, he had the ability to see the red strings of fate. He noticed the string of the old gardener sever just before the man dropped dead.

When Geralt went to Yennefer, Jaskier saw their strings intertwine and tangle together. He saw the tangle become a knot when Geralt was with Ciri.

Jaskier knew everyone's fate because he could see their strings. Tragically for him, Jaskier had no string of his own.

Jaskier had no fate.

[satashiiwrites]

Jersey Boys, Chapter 3

Title: Jersey Boys, Chapter 3

Fandom: Hawaii 5-0, 911

Pairings: eventual McDanno, Buddie

Summary:  In the midst of his divorce from Rachel, Danny Williams runs into a kid on the run from everyone and everything, changing the course of both their lives. 

Tags/warnings: playing with red string of fate theory, alternative universe, Danny adopts Buck by accident, Steve insists on shared custody, and Eddie would like everyone to know that he can be enough for Buck. Not quite a NavySeal!Buck story but has elements of it.

It becomes a regular thing. Danny stops by Joe’s for lunch most days and then does dinner there five nights out of seven—often when Grace is with him. Evan is magic with kids, and when Danny asks him if he has any younger siblings, the kid gets quiet and then admits he’s the youngest in his family, making Danny wince as he’d kinda forgot about the older sister Evan had previously mentioned. 

The kid doesn’t need to take out a billboard saying he wishes he did have younger siblings—it’s written all over him. Kid had been lonely a lot but is afraid to ask for someone to find him worth keeping around. 

Danny is starting to get a better picture of the kid’s formative years and wonders if he can get the kid’s parent’s address so he can call in a few favors and give them the what’s what on how fucking screwed up they are to have made Evan run away from them. 

The kid’s grown on Danny; he may be more than a little protective of the punk.

Read chapter 3 here on AO3

[hauntingofhouses]

yeah taimizu IS toxic and off putting actually ‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️

EDIT: TO BE CLEAR THIS IS A POST IN FAVOUR OF TAIMIZU!!! I AM A DIRTY TAIMIZU SHIPPER!!!!!

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Five Times The Supernatural Ruined Stiles's Dating Life And One Time It Helped It

Masterlist | AO3

Stiles swears that the Nemeton and Supernatural things in Beacon Hills are trying to ruin his love life and it's succeeding.

Sterek

~12k

One

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Stiles looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he was overdressed for a first date. Lydia dressed him so the answer was probably yes. Stiles looked at his phone on the dresser. He was definitely overdressed if the gang found the missing kids, Leshy and needed to fight.

He sighed deeply. The supernatural had ruined a lot for Stiles. He missed so many high school experiences because he had to help save Beacon Hills god knows how many times. He went to college close to help protect the town. He didn't apply for the FBI academy because he'd have to move to Virginia. He was stuck because of it. Could he get just one night without a huge issue? One night– he didn't even need all night, just a few hours– so he could go on a date?

Emma was so smart and funny and pretty and she thought Stiles was funny and he would listen to his rambles in their study group. Stiles already felt bad because he'd had to cancel at the last minute three times because of different issues. He had to blame work.

Stiles sent a text to the pack group chat, getting confirmation that nothing had happened yet, and flipped to text Emma.

He looked in the mirror one more time. He felt stupid. Lydia had insisted he wear a button-up and suit jacket– she even made him buy new because what he had was unflattering– with dress shoes. She mercifully let him forego a tie and said he could wear nice jeans. He was Lydia-approved. He hoped it wasn’t too much.

Stiles met Emma in the restaurant parking lot. She was wearing a summer dress with a cardigan and Stiles smiled. “You are destined to be a teacher,” he joked and Emma chuckled.

“You think,” she asked, locking her car. “I was actually thinking of changing my major to psychology,” Emma joked.

“Elementary Ed looks too good on you,” Stiles teased as she walked over. “Maybe if you did a library science.” Stiles held out a bag of assorted mini chocolate bars and Emma laughed. “I thought they would be better than flowers since you keep candy in your bag!”

Emma took the bag of candy with a smile. “You mean the candy you eat?”

“No, look,” he said, pointing at the bag. “There’s a bunch of peanut and almond candies. You eat those!”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you, Stiles,” Emma chuckled, fitting the candy into her purse.

They walked side by side to the restaurant door. He made a particular effort to keep himself between his date and the road. It had rained earlier and Stiles was used to being soaking wet and freezing cold after years of hunting random creatures in the preserve that had so so many creeks and streams.

Stiles opened the door to the restaurant, holding it open for his date. “After you,” he said and she smiled as they walk in.

“I’m glad we could finally find a day that works for both of us,” she said. She linked their arms with a smile when Stiles joined her inside.

Stiles gave a nervous smile, following the hostess. “Ya, I’m really sorry I had to cancel before. Work, ya know,” he mumbled, his face growing red.

They sat down and looked at the menus but she was quick to pick the conversation back up. "What do you do for work? Didn't you say you were a babysitter or something," Emma asked, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

"Uhhh, kind of," Stiles said, trying to come up with something.

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean, kind of," she asked leaning forward. God, Stiles felt dumb with her eyes on him. She was smiling softly, waiting for him to tell her more like he was the most interesting person in the world.

"Well, I mean," he cleared his throat. "I help… individuals with," Oh they were going to kill him for this, "special needs navigate difficult situations when others can't," he explained just vaguely enough to sound like an actual job and not that he was traipsing through the woods with a pack of werewolves hunting dangerous creatures.

"That's so cool," she said, smiling brightly at him. "So, like, do you work with special needs kids or adults more?"

Stiles tried not to cringe. They dealt with too many kids in danger. "Adults mostly."

He bit the inside of his lip when Emma praised his “good heart”. He wasn’t so good. He was a mess. He’d killed more supernatural creatures than he could remember by now. He absently felt for his phone but caught himself before he checked it. It would buzz if they needed him. It would ring if it were an emergency.

“Have you sent in your applications yet,” Emma asked and Stiles gave her a confused look. “You told me before that you were going to apply for the FBI Academy…”

Stiles faked a smile. “That. Ya, right…” He was a killer. Stiles had killed “monsters” that used to be human, that had lives and families. How could he ever be FBI when he’d killed people? “I need to work in the field first,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing the condensation off his glass of water on the table. He didn’t lie. It was a half-truth but no werewolf would find the lie but… but Emma was human. Most people were

Emma smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing things as a police officer,” she said kindly like she could sense Stiles’s unease– she might of, Stiles forgets how preceptive other humans are.

“Thanks. I—” Stiles started and his phone rang. He instantly pulled his phone up and stood when he saw it was Scott. He looked at Emma and she frowned. This was it. The choice he made now would determine where this was going. It… It was going nowhere. Stiles answered the phone. “Hey, Scott…”

Emma sighed. Stiles wanted to feel bad but there were missing kids trapped somewhere in the woods and he really couldn’t. How selfish was he that he had a date planned when there were missing kids? Scott hung up and Stiles pulled out his wallet.

“I’m really really sorry, Emma,” he said, digging for cash. “Look, get yourself something to eat and I’ll call you later okay,” Stiles said, holding out sixty dollars.

Emma gave him a tight-lined smile. It was forced and angry. “You’re skipping out on our date for work?”

“I know. I’m—”

“Just– ya know what,” she sighed. “You obviously don’t have space in your life for a relationship right now. I don’t think– Goodbye Stiles,” Emma said and stood up, holding her purse tightly. “You don’t have time for one date. I can’t…” Emma walked out of the restaurant.

Stiles groaned, dropping a ten on the table for the drinks they never got. He rushed out of the restaurant. He wanted to keep a distance between himself and Emma so he didn’t seem like a creep but he really had to hurry. He was ten minutes away as it is.

Stiles hurried to the jeep and sped out of the parking lot and toward his friends. He saw Emma just sitting in her car when he drove off. He felt like such a douche, knowing he blew his one shot with this freaking awesome girl.

He got to the preserve, barely getting the jeep in park before jumping out. He grabbed his mountain ash bat and turned toward the woods. His eyes caught on the person waiting that the edge of the trees.

“A bit overdressed, aren’t you,” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked Stiles up and down. It made Stiles’s stomach turn, it always had. He chose to act as though it was fear still but he hadn’t truly feared Derek for a long time.

Stiles scoffed. “You pulled the short straw again,” he mumbled, walking toward the werewolf. The pack had long ago set up a system in which the humans would have a designated guide to bring them to the fight if the others had to head in without them. It seemed Derek kept getting volen-told to be the guide when Stiles was late.

Derek shrugged. “They give me the shitty jobs,” he grumbled with just enough infection to tell Stiles he was joking. It was a gift, Stiles was the Derek whisperer.

“Watch it. I have a bat,” Stiles said teasingly, pointing the– actually pretty useful– bat at Derek. The treat was meat with a roll of Derek’s eyes. Stiles sighed, resting the head of the bat on the toe of his shoe. “I wish the supernatural could be a little more considerate of the rest of us. I’m supposed to be on a date,” Stiles huffed, gesturing to his clothes as Derek lead him into the woods.

“I take it they didn’t take ‘sorry, I have to go fight a Polish monster that kidnaps abused children’ as an excuse,” Derek scoffed and Stiles smirked.

“Nope,” he said. “I told her that I work with special needs adults and had to go to work.” Derek gave a disgusted huff and Stiles smirked.

“Why didn’t you say you worked for animal control,” Derek asked.

“Holy shit, I could have said I work for animal control,” Stiles groaned, smacking himself in the forehead.

Derek huffed a laugh. “We aren’t too far behind the others,” Derek said.

The conversation ended there. They walked deeper into the preserve. Stiles watched Derek’s breathing change when he would try to pick up the pack’s scent. Derek walked beside Stiles, getting closer the longer they walked. Their arms brushed together and Derek tensed. Stiles gripped his bat tighter, knowing a tense werewolf wasn’t usually a good sign. Usually but not always; not when they’re trying to keep their cool around a person they like.

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Two

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Stiles was the worst boyfriend ever. He was horrible and terrible and awful and deserved every insult in the book after this one. He white-knuckled the steering wheel.

It was nine pm on February fourteenth and there were no flowers to be spoken of anywhere. He was supposed to have dinner with his boyfriend Spencer and had yet to see him the whole day thanks to a rouge Wendigo hiding and killing along the hiking path the high school track team used.

Stiles had to rush home and shower to get off all the blood, dirt, sweat and god knows what else. He had to change into nice clothes and drive eight minutes to Spencer’s apartment. Stiles knocked on the door and stood awkwardly, waiting for it to open.

It opened and Stiles was the fucking worst person ever. Spencer’s eyes were red and puffy. He was wearing baggy sweats, his usual put-together self far away. “You’re three hours late.”

Stiles cringed and nodded. “I know. I’m the worst and I tried to get you something but there wasn’t any candy or flowers—”

“Probably because it’s nine pm on Valentine’s Day,” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t even text me!”

“I didn’t have service,” Stiles muttered. “I tried but—”

“Work. Ya, know,” Spencer sighed.

“I’ll do anything. Just, please forgive me?”

Spencer seemed to think it over. “Can you guarantee me two nights where you absolutely will not miss or run out on our dates?” It was reasonable. Any real job should give you the ability to make that promise but… Stiles wasn’t talking about a normal job.

Stiles didn’t answer and Spencer took it as all the answer he needed.

“You’re married to your work and that’s coming from a workaholic. Until you can put us before work at least once, I can’t do this,” Spencer told him. He looked at Stiles and bit his lip. “Let me know when that happens, okay?”

Spencer closed the door. That door closing felt like it knocked the breath out of Stiles.

The walk down to the jeep felt like the longest journey of Stiles’s life. He was going to be alone on Valentine’s day. He didn’t want to go home. Chances were that his dad and Melissa were having dinner and if he showed up, Melissa would ask what was wrong and he’d ruin their night. Scott and Isaac and Lydia and Cora were having a double date movie night. Stiles’s roommate had made it very clear what he’d be doing with his girlfriend in their apartment. He definitely didn’t plan to hang out with Liam and Hayden or Mason and Cory. Malia was god knows where. Theo was… well, that involved spending time with Theo.

Stiles would be alone in the jeep on Valentine’s Day because all his friends had someone to spend it with. All except Derek.

Stiles put the jeep in gear. Maybe they could be lonely together.

As usual, the door was unlocked by the time Stiles made it up the stairs. It was probably unlocked the second the jeep pulled onto the street because of how loud the old girl was. Stiles walked in and kicked off his shoes.

“Not spending the time left on this shitty day with your boyfriend,” Derek asked, not even looking up from his book.

Stiles groaned, “ex-boyfriend,” and crossed the room to sit on a beanbag he’d brought over a while back. “Seriously, I swear the supernatural creatures of the world are out to destroy my love life…”

“This one lasted longer than the others. What was his name? Steven… Simon…”

“Spencer,” Stiles huffed, starting to smile before the weight of the situation started to weigh on him again. “He said that if I could promise two nights I wouldn’t have to leave, we could stay together.”

“Then take a few nights off,” Derek mumbled, still looking at his book even though he definitely wasn’t reading anymore. More than anything, he just didn’t feel like seeing Stiles’s face, knowing he’d be love-sick or heartbroken.

“I can’t do that. What if you need me,” Stiles groaned and rubbed his face, not noticing how Derek perked up slightly. “What if there’s something that the pack doesn’t know how to fight and I have to do research?”

“We can figure it out.”

“Because that worked so well last time,” Stiles scoffed, referring to the whole Ghostrider situation. “And that’s not the point! I have to be here. This is my life now and if I date someone, they’d have to be okay with me randomly running out! I can’t put myself into a relationship fully because my mind is always on you and the pack and what happens if you get hurt or die or get kidnapped because that’s how my life is!”

Derek hummed, “and being a werewolf doesn’t change things for me? For the pack?”

Stiles threw his hands up, “but all of them are dating people who know! They’re dating people in the same situation.”

“Danny—”

“Danny figured it out himself and we have been dragging the poor dude into this shit slowly for years.”

“Then you already have your answer,” Derek grumbled and Stiles huffed a laugh.

“Oh ya, I either narrow my dating pool to supernatural creatures– be a real-life monster fucker– or tell another human about this and get myself sent back to Eichen House, pass.”

“Didn’t seem to mind when you were with Malia,” Derek muttered and Stiles thought there was an almost nervous edge to the words.

Stiles sighed. “Well, ya but my back always looked like I’d been mauled by– well– a coyote,” he said, a chill running down his back at the memory of how it burned when his shirt rubbed against the deep cuts. “The issue with that idea is the low number of friendly monsters to fuck.”

Derek shut his book loudly. He stood up, laying his book in his chair, and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m making coffee.”

“Two cups, right,” Stiles asked, watching Derek walk into the kitchen.

He looked around the room. Derek had (finally) furnished the apartment. He even used the upstairs bedroom instead of treating the space like a studio apartment. And yet, no tv. Stiles’s eyes settled on the only thing of interest in the room, Derek’s book. He knew Derek liked to read but he mostly read biographies. Any of the other books in the place belonged to the rest of the pack since it was kind of their home base. Derek had put the book cover down but the back of the book did not look like a biography. Stiles scooted his beanbag to the couch, picked up the book, and looked at the cover. His jaw dropped. That… had to be one of Cora’s. It was such a cliche cover. A tiny human girl and a giant, ridiculously buff guy with icey blue eyes. The color of the eyes threw him. Icey blue like Derek.

“Branching out into new genres I see,” Stiles mumbled, looking down at what was most definitely a fucking werewolf romance that he remembered Cora had deemed scarily accurate. “You really need to get a tv, man. This is a new low…”

Stiles opened the book to the page Derek had been reading and blinked heavily in shock. He kept reading and… wow, okay. Stiles read until he saw Derek walking back out of the corner of his eye.

“This is… Cora was right,” Stiles said, huffing.

Derek took the book from Stiles, trading it for a cup of coffee. “The author definitely seems to know about real werewolves and not the other crap in the genre,” Derek said, sitting in his spot on the couch, Stiles sitting in front of him in the beanbag.

“So,” Stiles tilted his head back to look up at Derek, “you were just casually sitting here reading porn?”

Derek almost choked on his coffee and Stiles leaned forward, covering his cup, to avoid any possible spay of hot coffee. “What,” he rasped after managing to swallow his drink.

“It’s porn with plot. That’s what those books are and I’m assuming it’s kinky shit since it belongs to Cora,” Stiles added, looking between the book and Derek’s face, which was getting redder.

Derek rubbed his eyes and sighed. “It’s a series,” he mumbled. “Coraleft them here when she finished reading them…” There was a long silence as Stiles watched Derek expectantly and Derek tried to gather his composure. He looked at Stiles and swallowed. “Do you want to read the first one?”

Stiles took a breath of disbelief before he spoke, looking at Derek in confusion. “Are you asking me if I want to sit here and read dirty werewolf books with you?”

“The main character is Bi?”

“You think I’ll want to read it just because I’m Bi,” Stiles asked with a smile. He let the words seep in as Derek seemed more and more uncomfortable. “Fuck it, I’m in.��

Stiles stood up and walked over to the large bookshelf, looking for a similar cover. He turned, about to ask where the book was and found himself face to face with Derek. He was very very close. Derek looked him in the eyes and Stiles’s mind was filled with memories of Derek shoving him against walls menacingly.

This was far from menacing.

Derek’s eyes flicked up from Stiles’s as he reached up and grabbed a book from the shelf. He looked back at Stiles, bringing the book down between them. “It’s right here… I didn’t tell you the title,” Derek said, handing Stiles the book.

Neither of them moved when Stiles grabbed the book. Derek looked down as their hands held the book. He looked back to Stiles’s eyes and let go. He took a step back and Stiles felt like he could breathe again. Derek turned and went back to sit on the couch.

Stiles was slow to do the same. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Derek. He looked at the book and shook his head. It was such a cliche cover only slightly different from the other. A tiny human girl and a giant, ridiculously buff guy with golden yellow eyes and no shirt. The color of the eyes threw him. “Wait, the werewolf on that cover has blue eyes,” Stiles said, pointing to Derek’s book. “Is it a different person or does he, ya know…”

“You’ll find out in the second book,” Derek said with a smirk.

Stiles groaned. “No! Just tell me,” he whined.

Derek hummed, a sly smirk crossing his face. “I’ll give you three options and you have to guess.”

“Will you tell me if I’m right,” Stiles asked, turning to face Derek.

“I haven’t decided,” Derek said and Stiles groaned.

“Fine! Give it to me,” he huffed.

Derek nodded, looking at Stiles’s book. “Option one, he has to mercy kill another member of the pack. Option two, he kills another werewolf that wanted to kill her. Option three, an ‘evil witch’ attacks them.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “A darach by any other name would suck as much,” Stiles groaned and Derek chuckled. “I fucking hate Darachs.”

“Which one do you think it is,” Derek asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

“The evil witch thing is too specific,” Stiles scoffed, leaning back. “You could have come up with better choices.”

“What makes you think I didn’t? What if more than one is right?”

Stiles glared at Derek. “Then you’re a dick.”

Derek nodded and opened his book again to read.

“You’re not going to tell me,” Stiles yelled and Derek shrugged.

“You read fast,” he said and then promptly ignored Stiles.

Kind of. He only half ignored him. It’s really hard to focus on reading when the person next to you is reading something you suggested. Everytime Stiles would hum or gasp or chuckle, Derek wanted to know what he’d just read. He wanted to put his book down and ask or lean over to see for himself. He held back laughter when Stiles started to move around, effectively wafting the smell of arousal through the room.

It was even funnier when the smell of confusion started to mix with the arousal and then overpowered it.

Derek glanced over a Stiles adn saw him tilting his head. “Well,” Derek started and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, “I was going to ask where you were but know I know.”

Stiles looked at Derek in confusion until, slowly, the embarrassment clouded his face. “Oh shit. Fuck, I forgot you could– This is your fault, you know!”

“I’m sure,” Derek muttered. “Shut up and read.”

Stiles glared at Derek but opened his book again. Like that, the day passed. Stiles smacked Derek with the first book when he’d finished it. Derek looked down at Stiles, who had turned himself to sit upside down on the couch at some point in the last few hours.

“That sucked,” Stiles grumbled and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, it was really good but the ending sucked! I need book two!”

Derek rolled his eyes, checking the time. “What you need is food. It’s almost eleven and all we’ve had is coffee.”

“So,” Stiles objected. “Order some pizza and give me book two.” Derek didn’t answer him and stood up. “You have no food! I looked in there at the meeting the other day.”

“I do know where the store is,” Derek said, taking a cardboard pizza out of the freezer.

“Oh my god, I love you– ” Stiles said, red faced only because of the blood rushing to his head. No other reason. He sat up and cleared his throat, “in a… totally platonic pack member-to-pack member sort of way.”

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Three

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Stiles walked into his girlfriend’s apartment. Cecily peaked around the corner from the kitchen, her dark curls swaying as she hurried to him. She kissed Stiles and closed his eyes. He felt cloth cover his closed eyes and he pulled back. He was blindfolded. He grabbed at it, trying to rip it off. His breathing started to speed up. He couldn’t get it off. Alarms were going off in his head, making his hands shake.

“Stiles,” she said nervously, helping him pull the blindfold off. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry! Are you okay,” Cecily asked, holding his face in her hands.

Stiles looked up at her and shook his head. “Please don’t do that,” he mumbled, letting his head fall forward against her. He was safe, he had to remember that. He was with his girlfriend and everything would be fine. There were no creatures attacking them or hiding just around the corner. He was safe.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hugging him loosely. “Let me turn stuff off in the kitchen and we can relax for a bit, okay?” She let go of him and Stiles pulled back, chewing his lip.

He watched her walk away. He took his shoes off– a strong rule in her home– and waited. She returned and hugged Stiles again. Cecily led him into the living room. He sat down and she stood by awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know it would freak you out this bad…”

Stiles was still shaking. He couldn’t quite get his breathing under control. Memories of being trapped, of being kidnapped, of white cloth bandages covering his body, of having no control over his actions, of the Nogitsune, of the Darach, of Ghost Riders, of drowning, of nearly getting killed again and again and again. It was like his body was preparing to fight for his life.

Cecily rubbed her arm. “I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled.

Stiles dragged his eyes up from the floor to look at her and suddenly felt underdressed. Cecily was wearing a blue dress that made her dark skin seem to glow even in the apartment’s poor lighting. Her brown eyes were lined in a matching blue and a smokey eye. She was wearing her favorite silver necklace– the one he’d tried to save to get matching earrings for but he’d come up short. Stiles had just thrown on a button-up and slacks. He’d hardly brushed his hair and Cecily had obviously spent plenty of time on herself. She was tall and beautiful and Stiles was so far out of his league with her.

Stiles nodded. “Ya, ya… I, uh, just don’t do that again,” he mumbled, rubbing his hands together nervously. He could still feel the fear in the pit of his stomach. “What’s this surprise,” he asked trying to seem chipper.

Cecily’s smile returned. “Are you sure you’re okay,” she asked again and Stiles forced a smile. He nodded and she grabbed his hands to help him up. “Close your eyes and promise you won’t peek.”

Stiles closed his eyes and swallowed back the rising nerves. “You won’t let me run into anything, right?”

“No. I’m not that mean and I don’t need you bruised up when we go see my family later,” she said and Stiles almost opened his eyes in surprise.

“When are we going to see your family,” he asked nervously. He was on patrol tonight and they either had a chupacabra or vampires in the woods at the moment.

“Tonight after dinner,” she said, stopping Stiles from walking any farther. She let go of his hands and he could hear her moving around. “You can open your eyes,” Cecily said excitedly.

Stiles opened his eyes and had to stop himself from laughing. “Is that Pasta Express,” he asked with a huge smile.

Cecily smiled with him. “You’re dating me for my brains, not my cooking skills,” she told him, setting two boxes on the candle-lit table. “I did try to do homemade pasta like my mom does but I might have burnt the sauce and caked the stovetop with it.”

Stiles bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh and pulled out a chair for Cecily. “It’s perfect but one of us is eventually going to need to learn how to cook,” he joked.

Cecily hummed, “I vote you learn,” and sat down.

“We could do a cooking class together,” Stiles suggested.

“Can you get out of work long enough for that,” Cecily joked. “It’s like Beacon Hills has a never-ending stream of dangerous animals,” she sighed and Stiles nodded because she was all too right.

“Speaking of… I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the party your family is throwing. I signed on for a night shift so we could do dinner,” Stiles told her, and Cecily’s smile fell.

“I thought you had the night off?”

“Split shift,” Stiles muttered

“My mom spent all day setting up an amazing party for our anniversary,” Cecily told him. “You said you would be off tonight for dinner.”

“And I am,” Stiles retorted. “You said dinner at six and I don’t work until nine. I figured we could have dinner, I’ll help with dishes and then we could watch a movie before I go to work.”

Cecily twirled her fork in the pasta on her plate. “Can’t you call out this one time,” she asked.

“I would if I could,” Stiles told her. Yes, he should not go on patrol where it’s his job to make sure nobody else died because of a murderous creature living in the woods of Beacon Hills that could definitely make it into the town and kill even more people.

“It’s just that… this would be the third time you skipped out on something with my family because of ‘work’,” she said slightly accusatorily, taking a mouthful of her pasta.

Stiles picked at his own food but couldn’t bring himself to stomach it. She was right. He felt like a horrible boyfriend. He was a horrible boyfriend. Maybe he should just tell her. If she knew he was trying to make sure people didn’t die, maybe she’d reconsider.

“There are a few rabid coyotes living on the edge of town,” Stiles told her. He saw the way Cecily struggled to swallow the bite of food she’d taken. “We need more than one person for that so I have to go. People could get hurt.”

Cecily laid her fork down, the topic must have killed her appetite too. “But why can’t it be someone else? You have missed date after date. You’ve had to leave early almost every time you didn’t miss them completely. You can never stay here. You come home looking like someone beat the Hell out of you regularly… If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a wife and kids or were in the mob or a gang or something,” Cecily huffed. “And I don’t think it’ll be better when you become a cop.”

Stiles was going to say something but he knew she was right. It would never be any better. He looked down at his bowl of pasta. He couldn’t stop helping. He was supposed to protect Beacon Hills and he couldn’t stop doing that.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed.

His phone rang and he was quick to grab it. The look on Cecily’s face told him all he needed to know. He’d seen it so many times. He was about to lose her. He was about to lose all of this. Better make it quick.

Stiles answered the phone and stood up. Cecily stood up too and it began. Telling him to come back. Warning that this was the last straw. Telling him exactly what he was doing wrong. Listing other times he’d done this same thing. Another warning. Stiles ignored it all and walked to the door. He pulled his shoes on and looked up to see Cecily down the hall.

“That damn job pulls you away from everything,” Cecily yelled, tears brimming her eyes. “Stiles, I swear to god, if you walk out that door again then it’s over.”

“I have to go,” was all Stiles could say. He opened the door and left.

Only when a grumbled “she sounded lovely” came through the phone did he realize who called.

“Where are they, Derek,” Stiles asked, not in the mood.

“Come to the apartment. We're gathering supplies," Derek told him and hung up.

Stiles groaned and rubbed his face. He walked to the jeep, thinking about what Cecily had said. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Why was Stiles the one stuck in the middle of this supernatural cluster fuck? Because Stiles was the idiot that dragged his best friend out of bed and into the woods at night to look for a dead body.

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Four

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They had gotten better about treating wounds since they started. Deaton was practically obsolete at this point. Between Stiles, Lydia, and Scott, they could stitch the pack back together on their own.

Isaac laid on the tile bathroom floor– it stained the least– and Lydia put a thick bite strap between his teeth. Scott and Liam held Isaac down and looked at Stiles. Isaac had fallen into a tiger trap pit filled with wolf's bane. As such, Stiles was going to have to burn and stuff wolfsbane into the deep stab wounds. Deep wounds, meaning the ash would have to go as far in as the spikes had.

Stiles’s hands were shaking as he tried to light the lighter. He had plenty of wounds himself, not the least of which was broken ribs. It was hard to breathe and each breath send shooting pains across his body. He was trying to ignore the pain and focus on the delicate task at hand which only served to fuel his anxiety.

A hand rested on Stiles’s shoulder and he almost moaned from the relief as his pain was slowly drained away. He closed his eyes and took a deep, painless breath. His hands slowly grew less shaky. He glanced behind him and saw Derek looming over their group wearily. He had taken the brunt of the attack and was still healing. Even so, black lines ran up his arms, leaching away Stiles’s pain.

“You don’t have to—”

“Issac needs your help. You can’t help in that much pain,” Derek grumbled, leaving no room for argument. When Stiles was steady enough, Derek stopped pulling away the pain but his hand stayed.

Treating Issac’s wounds was a long and painful process. Even with Scott and Cora holding him down, there were moments Stiles thought he might jump up and kill him for it. Something they learned the hard way was that severe pain made people and werewolves lash out, even if you were trying to help them.

It took over an hour to get everyone back to a point of semi-health. Hours that meant Stiles was late to his boyfriend’s Christmas party.

Stiles sighed, looking at the numerous missed texts from Harvey, the last of which read not to bother showing without a good reason.

“Trouble in paradise,” Cora asked.

Stiles walked into the kitchen where everyone had congregated now that they were healing. He looked down at his clothes– what was a brand new sweater and slacks– and asked “On a scale of one to ten—”

“Negative a thousand,” Cora told him harshly. “And it’s not just your clothes.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles grumbled at her.

Corashrugged. “I’m sorry. Did you want me to lie because you have a black eye, fresh stitches in your eyebrow, and Issac’s blood is still on your hands and clothes.”

“Actually, I think that might be my blood,” Stiles muttered.

“Point is, your man would be pissed and might actually call the cops if you showed up like that. You at least need a shower and a change of clothes,” Cora said, sliding off the counter. “You shower. I’ll raid Derek’s closet.”

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, ask,” Lydia piped up, sipping her mug of tea to soothe her throat.

Eric snorted, “if he had any objections, he’s have made them known already.”

Stiles didn’t bother to argue with her, it would have been pointless anyway, and headed for the bathroom. He paused to look at himself in the mirror, leaning closer to see the damage. He touched the skin around his new stitches and winced. Maybe he’d get pity points for getting beat to shit.

Ya, Harvey would kill him for showing up like this to family Christmas. His parents already hated Stiles for ‘making their son gay’ and he really didn’t feel like dealing with their disgusted looks. Stiles took a breath. He wasn’t doing this for them, it was for Harvey.

He got in the shower, not letting himself dwell on the fact that even that thought didn’t make him want to go. Stiles just wanted the feeling of dried blood gone and put on clean clothes– Derek’s clean clothes– and to lay on the couch with his pack.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and it opened. “Clothes,” a gruff voice muttered. Derek. It was quiet, only the sound of running water filling the room. Stiles almost thought Derek had left, then he cleared his throat. “So, you're going to see Harry?”

Stiles scoffed in amusement, “his name is Harvey and his parents are having a Christmas party.”

Derek scrunched his nose. “Christmas isn’t for three weeks.”

“They have family in town or something,” Stiles said, carefully washing the blood off his face.

“You don’t want to go,” Derek said plainly.

“Nope.”

“Then why are you going?”

“Because I lo–” Stiles stopped. Did he? “Because Harvey wants me to.”

Stiles turned off the water and reach out of the curtain just enough to grab his towel– he didn’t remember hearing the door shut– and dried his hair carefully. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He looked at Derek, waiting for him to get the hint.

“You could stay here. The others want to have a game night,” Derek shrugged.

“I would love to, big guy,” Stiles said with a smile, “but I don’t need to piss Harv off anymore. He might kill me anyway if I don’t come up with a great excuse for all this.”

Derek hummed, “deer have been crazy lately. Lots of accidents happening…”

Stiles laughed, “thanks Sourwolf. Now get out.”

Derek ducked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Stiles locked the door and shook his head with a smile. He stared blankly at the bathroom floor. What if he did lie? Surely Harvey couldn’t be mad if Stiles had hit a deer on the way and jacked up the jeep. Then again, that meant Stiles wouldn’t be able to drive the jeep until it ‘got out of the shop’ and that was just too much to commit to a lie.

An hour later, Stiles stared at the huge house blankly. He didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want the disapproving looks or the backhanded remarks. He didn’t want to hear another ‘oh, we must have forgotten’ when presents come out or get a two-dollar gift compared to everyone else’s expensyve ones. He was tired of being treated like a nuisance or as less than them. They were snobby and rich and horrible.

He put the jeep in gear and started back to the apartment he shared with Harvey. He trudged up the stairs and looked around. He couldn’t help but scoff at the stupid expensive furniture Harvey had insisted on and started packing what little belonged to him.

He was carrying one of his bags to the door when Harvey walked in. Stiles ducked his head, not wanting to face him.

Harvey huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t fucking believe you,” he said. “What? Were you fucking your side piece? Is that why you missed my parents’ party?”

“What are you talking about,” Stiles asked, walking back to their room to pack more of his clothes.

“Oh, don’t play stupid,” Harvey said, following Stiles to the bedroom. “I knew you were lying, nobody works that fucking much, I just didn’t think you were cheating on me!” Stiles looked at Harvey in shock. "I'm not an idiot! What, did you think I wouldn't notice that you came home in different clothes? In Derek fucking Hale's clothes?"

Stiles frowned, more confused than ever. "How do you know Derek?"

"I followed you! I knew you weren't at work."

"Obviously not long enough! I work with Derek! Us and some other people we work with met at his place so we took fewer vehicles!"

Harvey scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure you did. You don’t even know what day I’m talking about."

"You're an ass! Can't you see my face," Stiles said, pointing at his eyebrow. "I had to get fucking stitches! How do you explain that if I'm cheating on you?"

"Considering your new boy toy has been a murder suspect more than once—"

"Don’t fucking talk about him like that," Stiles said bitterly, throwing his clothes in the bag. "I'm getting my shit and leaving. We're fucking done."

Harvey scoffed, "my parents were right about you," and walked away.

Stiles didn’t answer no matter how much he wanted to. It wasn’t worth it. He just packed his stuff and put it in the jeep.

He sat there feeling lost. He was back to living with his dad until he got a new apartment. Was it him? It really seemed like it at this point.

Everything was a mess. Was there any point in him dating now? Or ever? He had to put the safety of the city at the top of his priorities; not dates, not sleep, not school, not family, not even himself.

Fuck it.

He drove to Derek’s apartment and walked up the stairs. He flopped down on the couch between Scott and Derek and groaned.

"Just fucking shoot me if I ever try to get an apartment with someone again," Stiles groaned.

"It would probably be easier if you told them or, better yet, date someone who already knows," Lydia said. "That's what we did."

"Ya, Derek said that too," Stiles muttered.

"Have you maybe stopped to think that I might know what I'm talking about," Derek asked.

"No. Not, really," Stiles said sarcastically. "Think about it! Who would I end up dating then? Huh, Derek?"

Theo snorted and Liam shook his head. Stifled laughs ran through the room and the side conversation and mumbled comments went back to usual.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. He was with his friends so who gave a shit about a stupid boyfriend? He opened his eyes, intending on forgetting about his dumpter fire of a love life, and he saw Hayden sitting in the armchair with Liam and painter her nails while he held the polish bottle. He rolled his eyes. Forgetting about dating is easier said than done when your entire friend group was in a relationship.

Worse yet, he couldn’t even wallow in his pity silently because they could all tell.

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Five

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Stiles knocked on his boyfriend’s door. He shifted nervously as he waited. The door opened to reveal his smiling, fantastic, sweet, boyfriend.

“Hey you,” Evan said with a smile. He looked Stiles over and saw how nervous he was. “Is everything okay?”

“Ya,” Stiles said, not looking very sure of his answer. “Ya, everything’s good. We just– I need to tell you some things and…”

Evan’s smile fell. “Okay,” he opened the door more to let Stiles in. He stopped him with a hand on his chest right as he crossed the threshold of the door. “I have two questions but I’m going to sound like an ass for the first one…” Stiles nodded and Evan took a deep breath. “Did you… you didn’t cheat on me, right?”

“What,” Stiles asked, his eyes going wide. “No! No, god no.”

“I figured it was a stupid question but, you know… Question two: are you moving away? Because other than those two things, I think we can make anything work, and moving might not have to be a big deal either if… Are you moving,” he asked softly.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Stiles said, starting to feel more at ease. They could make it work. Evan said they could make anything work. Maybe telling him about the pack wouldn’t be so bad.

Evan kissed Stiles and he could taste the hot chocolate Evan had been drinking. He was so warm and sweet and Stiles pulled him closer, savoring the moment in case it was the last.

All those fears came rushing back. What if Evan thought he was crazy or he hated him or he called him psychotic or a lier. The feeling of Evan’s hand resting on his cheek pulled him back from the fear. They could make anything work.

Evan pulled away to breath and laughed. “You look fucking drunk off one kiss,” he teased, pulling Stiles further into the apartment.

“Let’s sit down. I have something important to talk to you about,” Stiles said, noticing that Evan was starting to pull him towards the bedroom. “Maybe in the living room?”

Evan stopped and looked at Stiles sceptically. “Promise you aren’t proposing first,” he said.

Stiles shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Do you want me to… soon,” Stiles asked in confusion.

Evan thought for a moment and answered, “no. Not until we graduate, at least.”

Stiles nodded, leaning in to kiss Evan again. They walked back to the living room and sat down together. Stiles chewed his lip, not sure where to start.

“I’m not crazy.” Great start Stiles. No crazy person ever says that. Evan huffed a laugh so maybe Stiles hadn’t completely screwed up. “I’m about to tell you some really unbelievable things. You won’t want to believe them because of how unbelievable they are but you should believe them because they’re true.”

“What?”

Stiles should really be better at explaining this by now. What he did know was that it was better to run through all of it and take questions at the end. “Supernatural creatures are real. All of them; well, pretty much. Werewolves, Banshee, Kitsune, Vampires– all the things that go bump in the night are real. My friends– Scott, Derek, Liam, Isaac, kind of Malia– they’re all werewolves– I mean, Malia’s a werecoyote. Lydia’s a banshee and Kira’s a Kitsune. And we all fight evil supernatural creatures that try to kill or take over Beacon Hills because this thing called the Nemeton is attracting all of them here after Scott and ME and this girl Allison all died a while back and reactivated the magic and… Please don’t give me that look,” Stiles said, looking at Evan. He was giving Stiles the you’re insane but I’m more scared than worried look.

Evan looked like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t. He thought it was a joke except that Stiles was acting so serious. He swallowed a lump in his throat and took Stiles’s hand in his. “Stiles, are you being serious?”

“Yes,” Stiles said firmly. He was terrified of what would come next. God, Evan thought he was crazy. He thought Stiles had lost it was was definitely going to want to have him committed or something.

Evan nodded and took a deep breath. “None of that is real. There is no such thing–”

“There is and I can prove it,” Stiles said, pulling his hand out of Evan’s to grab his phone.

“Are you on something? Like, did you get high or take some halucenegenics when you went camping with your friends,” Evan asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, look,” Stiles said, showing Evan a picture of some of the pack in bate shifts.

Evan finally laughed, his head falling in his hands like Stiles had just told him the funniest joke ever. He looked at the picture and smiled. “That’s really cool makeup but… why don’t they have eyebrows,” Evan asked. “What, is this for a film class?”

Stiles sighed. “No! It’s not a class and it’s definitely not makeup but I’m glad someone else noticed the eyebrow thing,” Stiles huffed. “No, Evan, it’s real.”

Evan’s smile slowly fell. “You really believe all of this, don’t you?”

“Please trust me! You can meet Scott and he can show you. Or Danny! Danny’s human but he knows all about it!”

Evan nodded, sitting up and subtly leaning away from Stiles. “I’m going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can: you need to talk to someone– a professional– about what you just told me,” Evan said, starting to pick at his nails. It was a nervous habit he’d almost kicked; he only did it was afraid now.

“I mean, probably. I’ve died twice and come close to it god only knows how many times.” Stiles huffed. It felt almost easy. It felt like a weight had fallen off his shoulder now that he could speak honestly even if he sounded insane. “I haven’t had a normal life since, what, sophomore year of high school when Scott was bitten.”

“I’m… going to call your dad, okay. You stay here,” Evan said and stood up. Stiles stood up too.

“Why are you calling him?”

“Stiles, you’re sick. I think it would be best if someone drove to somewhere where you can get help, okay,” Evan said gently, standing up and walking toward his kitchen.

“I’m not crazy,” Stiles yelled, following his boyfriend. “I can prove it to you if you’d just– I can facetime Scott and he can show you! His eyes ruin pictures! They turn red and he grows fangs and hair on his face—”

“That’s not real,” Evan yelled back. “You are delusional! You’re brain is- is making things up! It’s not your fault but none of that is real!”

Stiles froze. Was he crazy? What if he had made up that last six years? What if he really was delusional? What if… “No, ya know what, call my dad! He knows the truth. He’ll tell you the same thing I did, are you going to say he’s crazy?”

“You convinced your dad that– Stiles, you need help,” Evan said, his voice shaking. “You’re freaking me out. I don’t know how to help.”

“Trust me! For five minutes, trust that I’m not crazy,” Stiles sighed.

Evan shook his head. “You just told me that monsters are real and you want me to believe you?”

“I just–” Stiles growled out of irritation. “I told Derek this was a horrible idea,” he huffed.

“Stiles, I—”

“Can I do anything to make you believe I’m not fucking insane,” Stiles asked in a huff. Evan shook his head and Stiles took a raged breath. “Okay… Well, I’m not lying so,” Stiles huffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Then we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Stiles, you need help,” Evan said softly.

“But not for what you think,” Stiles told him. “I love you but… this just isn’t going to work.”

Stiles left Evan’s apartment and sat in the jeep. He felt tears starting to roll down his face. He was embarrassed and frustrated and scared and just… lost. How was he ever supposed to find someone to share the wild, unpredictable, insane life he lived with someone if nobody would give him a change or believe him when he tried to explain? It was almost like the world wanted him to be alone.

Stiles wiped his face and went where he knew he’d be welcomed in the mess of a state he was in. He went to Derek’s.

Like every time before, the door was unlocked. This time, Derek wasn’t on the couch with a book. This time, Derek was at the door when Stiles walked in. No doubt he could hear Stiles’s frantic heart rate, the pained emotions rolling off of him and the scent of tears on his clothes.

“You got a tv,” Stiles commented, holding back tears. He could see Derek’s eyes searching for injury or blood, anything to warent the amount of distress Stiles was in.

“What happened,” Derek asked.

And, fuck, Stiles couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I told him,” Stiles mumbled in a broken voice, tears filling his eyes at the words. He sniffed, rubbing his eyes as discretely as he could. “I knew it would happen, that he’d think I was fucking crazy but… Why does it hurt so bad?”

Derek walked back to Stiles with a fresh cup of coffee. He must have started it when he unlocked the door. He stood, waiting, watching.

“He’s amazing, Derek. Evan is so… He’s funny and patient and fucking gorgous. His perfect black hair and green eyes. The way he listened and never made me feel like I was too loud or talkative and that smile.” Stiles huffed a sad laugh. “He always tasted like sugar because of that damn sweet tooth.”

“Stiles,” Derek grumbled.

“No, you’re right,” Stiles mumbled. “He sucks! He didn’t even give me a second to explain and just instantly went to me being crazy! He was gonna call my dad and tell him I needed help! What kind of person just passes the buck when their friend– their boyfriend infact– needs help? You wouldn’t do that– I mean, you might have in the past but you just don’t do that to a friend!” Stiles looked at Derek, the sadness changing to anger the more he thought about it. “I tried to prove it to him and he didn’t want to listen or see it. He just wanted to get crazy-fucking-Stiles out of his apartment!”

Derek listened to Stiles rant, placing a hand on his back to gently guide him to the couch. Derek sat on the couch and grabbed the tv remote. He nodded along with Stiles’s rambling as he clicked around to find a movie. He squinted at the screen, trying to read the titles with Stiles in the way.

“And the worst part of it is—” Derek clicked play. “Is that New Hope?” Stiles sat down on the couch with Derek, his eyes on the screen.

It was like pushing pause on Stiles’s brain. Stiles was watching and quoting lines from the movie; he’d watched hundreds of times. He’d say his favorite lines louder than others. Derek found himself smiling at Stiles. It used to annoy him that Stiles said the lines along with the characters but it started to grow on him. Now he found it almost endearing.

They watched all three movies– well, Derek did. At some point during The Empire Strikes Back, Stiles laid on the couch like he would with the pack. His head was on Derek’s leg and his feet were over the arm of the couch. Stiles fell asleep halfway through Return of the Jedi. It was how Derek had learned he actually did like Star Wars, watching them with Stiles and still watching when he feel asleep.

When the movie ended, Derek moved to grab the remote and turned it off. He set the remote down, his hand going back to where it had been before– playing with Stiles’s hair. Derek picked up his book and started reading again.

With the movie off and the strange silence of the apartment, Stiles was drifting in and out of sleep. The feeling of someone playing with his hair helped him fade back to sleep even in the deafening silence. He squinted his eyes, looking into the black sceen of the tv reflecting his own image back to him. He could see them on the couch. He closed his eyes, feeling like things were finally right, He opened his eyes again, remembering where he was, and his heart rate jumped. Derek. It was Derek playing with his hair.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, lowering his book. The hand in Stiles’s hair stopped, moving away.

"Huh? Oh," Stiles mumbled, sitting up. "Ya… Ya, I'm fine." He rubbed his eyes, not even thinking about the response. Ways to pass a werewolf lie detector.

Derek glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost two. You might as well go to sleep.”

“What about you,” Stiles asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

Derek took a deep breath. “I don’t sleep much,” he mumbled.

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Six

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“Of fucking course it’s a Darach! All the animals are acting weird with runes randomly appearing near by? Darach! And I said that! But does anyone listen to Stiles? Noooo! It’s all ‘Scott, what do we do’ and ‘Lydia do you know about this’ and ‘Peter do you know’ and ‘Let’s just charge in and GET OURSELVES KILLED’!””

“Okay, Stiles. We get it. You were right,” Malia mumbled.

“Again! I was right again,” Stiles said. “For once, why can’t it be gnomes or a ghost? Hell, at this point I’d take pixies!”

“If you’r so smart then what should be do,” Malia asked, glaring at him.

Stiles looked at her, deadpan. “The same thing we do everytime there’s a Darach, load up on weapons and Mistletoe.”

“That’s great and all but we don’t know who it is,” Scott said.

“Why don’t we just follow the invitations,” Lydia asked, holding up on of the red envelopes that had been left on the pack’s porch and Stiles cringed.

“Oh, so we’re going with those being a part of this and not actually being Stiles and Derek’s wedding announcements,” Theo asked, as pompous as ever.

“Shut up,” Liam grumbled.

“Stiles and Derek are hardly friends. I don’t think they plan on getting married anytime soon,” Scott scoffed.

“Definately not getting married,” Theo muttered, “Derek made the smart move and ran. Not that I blame him,” he said, looking at Stiles.

*************************

“I fucking hate Darachs,” Stiles mumbled. “They always choose the worst hide-outs.” He scratched his arm. He was getting chewed up by chiggers and mosquitos as he followed the werewolves through an especially grassy area in the woods.

“Shut up and pick up the pace,” Theo grumbled, pushing Stiles from behind him. He was especially bitchy today. Stiles didn’t see why, he wasn’t the one covered in itchy, bleeding bug bites.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Someone needs to get laid,” he mumbled, earning a warning growl from Theo. Stlies almost laughed. Being growled at is a lot less threatening when you had seen the person whine like a kicked puppy because the person the were cuddling moved.

The pack crept deeper into the forest, they could hear music. It grew louder and more clear the closer they got. Drums and gongs and a woman singing rang through the forest. They shared a look of confusion as they drew closer.

There was a clearing in the woods. Even if you didn’t know it was there before, you couldn’t miss it now. It shown with daylight in the dark forest. It grew warmer as they drew closer. The clearing was full of color and light. When they got close enough, they could see a young woman singing and dancing in the clearing. She wore a long red dress, her gold bracelets and necklace jingling and clinking together as she danced. Her black hair was pined up. The whole clearing was filled with red leaves and golden decorations, blessings of happiness, as a cold spring breeze filled the rest of the forest.

“You should distract her,” Theo whispered to Stiles and he looked at him like he was crazy.

“What? No way!”

Lydia shrugged, “it is your wedding.”

Stiles looked around at the group, hearing no objections. “You’re going to feel really bad if I get sacrificed. Again.”

He stood up, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his favorite grey hoodie and started into the clearing. It was like walking through a portal. It felt weird and disorrienting. He looked back and saw no signs of the forest behind him. He looked down at himself to take note that he was still in tact.

His hoodie and jeans had been turned to a red and gold Chang Pao Ma Gua. He felt strings and cypress leaves in his hair. Gold bracelets jinggled as he moved his hands. “What the Hell,” he sighed.

“Ah, the boy who walks with wolves,” the girls said in Middle Chinese, looking at Stiles excitedly. “Where is your wolf?”

“I have no clue what you’re you’re saying but I don’t think it’s good,” Stiles said.

“It is good, child. I have brought you hear to show you and bridge a gap you won’t by yourself,” the woman declared in english, looking about. “Where is your wolf?”

“My what,” Stiles asked.

“The wolf,” she said patiently as if she was speaking to a little kid. “Where is he?”

Leaves rustled as the pack stepped into the clearing. None of their clothes changed as they stepped in which was so stupid, why was it just Stiles? The woman looked at each face and shook her head.

“No, no. Not that one. Where is your wolf, dear boy,” she asked calmly. The woman took Stiles’s hand in hers. Stiles didn’t pull away, feeling a kind of calm as she held his hand. When she touch him, strings appeared. Green and Blue and Black and Red strings each tied to one of his fingers appeared.

“Holy shit,” Stiles yelled.

Scott moved forward, placing a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Are you okay…. Whoah. What the…”

“Uh, Dude. Can you see this,” Stiles asked.

The woman lifts the red string with a finger, she hums at the tension in the string and smiles to herself. “Strange. I thought he’d be here,” she hummed.

An arrow whizzed through the air and stuck into the woman. As close as she was, the the feather at the end of the arrow brush Stiles as the woman moved. She straightened up and looked downa t the arrow quizzically.

“Sorry Stiles,” Hayden said, cringing. Sometimes Stiles wished she’d stick to claws.

“Mistletoe,” she whispered, pulling it out of her chest. “What a silly choice,” she said with a smile looking at the pack, spotting Hayden who had readied another arrow. “Dear girl, what do you think I am?”

Stiles looked at the woman. “You’re not a Darach?”

“A Darach?” The woman laughs. “Silly wolves, I’m not a Darach. I’m Yue Lao.” Her eyes landed on Kira among the pack. “Gekkahyoujin for the little fox.”

“Isn’t Gekkahyoujin an old man,” Kira asked, trying to recall the stories she’d been told as a child.”

“Gods are not bound to one form my dear,” the woman, Yue Lao told her.

“Why are you here,” Malia asked.

Yue Lao looked up at her. “Isn’t it obvious? Look around, dear child! This was to be a wedding. Look up at the beautiful moon and see. You will understand soon my child.”

Without another word, the woods was left bare. The pack was left to look around in bewilderment. It was all gone in a second.

“Uh, dude,” Scott said.

Stiles didn’t pay any attention to whatever Scott was trying to point out, to struck by how the strings remained tired to his fingers. His gaze came to his wrist and saw red clothing. He pulled at his hoodie and noticed it had been turned red.

“Aw man,” Stiles sighed.

After a conversation with Kira and a few minutes of research, it was obvious what they were: Strings of fate. He knows what the red is but he can't see who it’s is attached to. The others took more to figure out. Blue is friendship. Blue strings connect him to most of the pack. Green is for relatives. Black makes him sick. He has two black strings that look like they were cut. Black means the person your string was tied to died. They all have black strings. Scott has the most.

He’d noticed that all of his strings looked like thay had been knotted, so had Scott’s. He wondered if it had something to do with the whole dying and coming back thing Sophmore year.

Stiles learned he could tell when someone he was tied to was close. He joked it was his own supernatural super sense. He decided then that he didn't want to meet who his red string was tied to until all this supernatural bullshit was over– meaning never.

Time came and went. Derek had yet to come back, something about a Kanima in San Francisco. Stiles started to like sitting in the park, watching people. He smiles when he sees couples with red strings that connect them tied in a neat bow. He’d learned that that bow was a turning point. For some it was marriage or a kid or almost losing each other. He cried the first time he watches a string snap and turn black. The person didn't notice.

When the pack learns what he can see, they ask about their strings. Stiles refuses to tell Scott he doesn't have a red string. He's pretty sure Scott's red string turned black.

Stiles was sitting in the park when he got a text from Derek that he’s back and Stiles shivers. He can't imagine the number of black strings he has. So, Stiles avoids seeing it. He only talks with the pack through calls and texts. It’s strange. He had grown used to spending time at Derek’s. It was like he realized how much free time he really had.

Stiles froze the first time he felt the string get really tight. He knew they were close so he ran. He ran as in the opposite direction so he dind’t have to know. Anytime his red string tightened, he went in the opposite direction no matter how his heart aches to know. He wants so badly to have someone to love and be loved by. But meeting the person he was meant to be with felt too risky. His supernatural baggage had destroyed so many relationships and he couldn't risk this one.

Seeing the world wrapped up in strings got overwhelming. Seeing people's loved ones silently slipping away was wearing on him.

Stiles found himself walking through the preserve with a bottle of Jack far too many nights. He was trying to escape other people. He didn't know why he was there instead of his room but he was. He doen’t know why the preserve felt safe, it wasn’t. Ever type of monster and big bad had come through the preserve.

He was out one night and found the clearing what they’d met Yue Lao. He drunkenly giggled to himself. It was about a good a spot as any to lay down and drown in his sorrows. He'd blame the alcohol for numbing him to the tightening of his red string but he felt it, he just didn’t care. He was too tired, too overwhelmed, too drunk, too done with it all.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t move when he started hearing footsteps. Stiles lifted his head as the string tugged on his pinky and saw Derek walk into the clearing.

Stiles dropped his head back to the ground. "Of course, it's you," Stiles chuckled drunkenly, slowly shaking his head. He closes his eyes, feeling dizzy.

"Are you going to be able to find your way home later," Derek asked, walking closer.

"Sure," Stiles slurs. He could feel how close Derek was but refused to look at him. He didn't want to see the black strings hanging off of him. It would hurt too much.

"Any reason you won't look at me?"

Stiles hums. "The world's spinning too much," he mumbled. It wasn't a lie, just not the whole truth.

Stiles had learned werewolves couldn't tell the difference. If something was objectively true and you believed it was at least partially true, they couldn't tell. That and them not being able to accurately tell lies over the phone were major tools in Stiles's arsenal.

Derek sighed that annoyed sigh he always did when the pack did something stupid– like a disappointed parent Stiles thought. Derek would believe the half-truth, Stiles knew that for sure. It was very believable at the moment. Stiles probably reeks of alcohol to the werewolf. He'd managed to spill some on himself when he broke the seal. Stiles could tell his breath smelled of the stuff.

Derek looked around the forest. It was teeming with life. It was unsettling that Stiles had seemingly unknowingly laid himself on the ground not far from the Nematon. Were it anyone else, Derek would have already left them to fend for themselves, but it was Stiles.

"If you don't plan on dying out here, you might want to head back," Derek said, watching the treeline as much as he watched Stiles.

Stiles groaned. "Come here, Derek," he sighed.

He heard the leaves crunching as Derek walked closer and Stiles smirked. Derek grunted, falling back on his ass. Stiles laughed to himself. He’d surrounded himself in mountain ash for the very reason of being in the preserve. The image in his head was too good not to get to see the real thing.

Stiles opened his eyes, using his hand to help him balance as he rolled to his side, and looked at Derek. His laughing quickly ceased, his mouth going dry. It was like all the air had been knocked out of him. Stiles thought it would be the black strings that hung heavily off Derek that would throw him but that red string… Stiles’s eyes followed the tight line of red string from Derek to his hand.

When Stiles’s brain caught up to what it was seeing, an avalanche of thoughts and memories piled onto him. It’s Derek. Of course, it’s Derek. He went to Derek every time someone kicked him to the curb. Derek didn’t need Stiles’s chaos dragging him down. Derek had let Stiles rant to him for hours. Derek was more than out of his league, he was out of Stiles’s universe! Derek had played with Stiles’s hair when he fell asleep on him. Derek was still trying to get used to letting people in. Derek had never turned Stiles away when he showed up at random. Derek had been burned by relationships every time he tried. Stiles had abandoned his dreams and let his lovelife fall apart to help Derek and the pack. Derek didn’t need to worry about Stiles’s human ass all the time. Didn’t he already? Wasn’t Derek the one pulling away Stiles’s pain while he was stitched up after fights? It was stupid and would never happen. Stiles had yet to see the strings be wrong, though. They were always right in the end. It didn’t matter because Derek deserved better! He deserved more than Stiles. He deserved someone who knew what was going on. Someone who would be helplfull in protecting Beacon Hills, not someone who was one good hit away from death. He was seven years older than Stiles! Stiles was a child next to him. Derek shouldn’t have to play babysitter for a stupid, talkitive, hyperactive, loud, annoying—

“—iles! Stiles!”

Stiles was staring at Derek, at that stupid string. His breathig was fast. It was hard to take a full breath– hey, when did that happen? Stiles squeezed his eyes closed again. Fuck his head hurt. He could feel his pulse against his skull. Stiles dug his fingers into the dirt beneath him. Breath. Calm down, breath. He opened his eyes, trying to ground himself, and saw Derek fighting to get through the mountain ash surrounding him. He closed his eyes again, his hand sweeping out of it’s own accord and breaking the circle.

Leaves crunched and shifted as Derek crawled the last bit of distance between them. He Pushed Stiles to sit up, a hand pressed to his back to hold him up and the other on his arm.

Stiles opened his eyes, he wanted to see the red string, just to be sure but not before– “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbled, turning away from Derek and Barfing all over the forest floor. Stiles leaned into Derek, feeling him tense. Stiles huffed a laugh, looking down at Derek’s hand next to his.

And a little red string tied in a neat bow.

Stiles smiled at it and, just as quickly as they appeared, all of the strings were gone.

“Derek?”

“What?”

Stiles took a breath and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything…”

This time it was Derek who laughed. “Gonna have to be more specific than that,” he said.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek tensed for a moment and then relaxed next to Stiles, pulling him closer. “I know I love you.”

“Just had to one-up me,” Stiles huffed a laugh. “As romantic as this is, could we maybe not end up having our first kiss by a pile of my own vomit?”

Derek nodded, helping Stiles stand up. “Believe me, you won’t have to worry about doing any kissing until you brush your teeth and sober up.”

[iwanttobestarchaser]

hold my hand red string of fate au is up!!

chapter one and two are now officially up!

chapter one you guys have already seen, but chapter two is the first proper chapter, coming in at almost 4k words!

new chapter every sunday!

[planetkiimchi]

I just finished ‘the strings of fate’ It was sooooo gooood.

I read into it blind (I forgot to read the summary haha)

I wasn’t expecting that ending. I liked it very much.

hii thank you for this !! i'm so glad you enjoyed it <3

[nerdylizj]

“Some choices aren’t ours to make,” Katara whispers so quietly that he isn’t sure if she’s speaking to herself or to him. “Sometimes fate chooses for you.” Or, Katara and Zuko dream of what could have been.

Prologue: green-

[livetogether--diealone]

"It was a little bit like I was looking at my younger self.”

@f1blrcreatorsfest -> week 3: creative layouts

[timebom]

those who beat the odds call it fate

💙 *・.。* Timebomb Red String of Fate au ゜・* 💚

i.

"Are we sure Powder’s not lying about having a soulmate?”

Forcing her eyes away from the red string tied around her little finger, Powder turns to glare at Mylo.

Vi, who is helping Ekko train on the boxing machine, is interrupted by the comment, too. She pauses the machine. "Shut up, Mylo.”

Mylo raises both hands, his palms towards Vi. "Hey, I think it would be a positive thing if she didn’t have a soulmate!” he continues. "That way she can’t jinx her own fate.”

Keep reading

[downybirbs]

My page art for @newscoozines, couldn’t resist bitter marspero hehehe 😊💙🍭

[mx-myth]

Okay hear me out red string of fate mlc au (rough timeline) (you only see your string(s) and who they connect to but no one else's)

(This is long as fuck actually)

Li Xiangyi who grows up in the streets with two strings. One is red and sometimes he thinks about following it to see where it leads but he never does. He meets shan gudao and eventually gets picked up by his shifu (I forgot what he calls him in the show, so) and at some point learns that the grey string tied in a bow on his opposite hand means his other zhiji hasn't been born yet.

(Lxy doesn't think anything about this until one march morning years later the string bursts into colour and unravels forward when he's training (you can fight me on this but fdb is ABSOLUTELY a spring baby born in the morning. Something about the coming of new life and the dawn of a new day and how that's what he symbolises). Because of the mostly-romantic connotations of strings he's guilt-ridden over his zhiji being a decade (or thereabouts? I don't remember the actual age gap in the show) younger than him before he forcibly puts it out of his mind)

Fast-forward to when he meets qiao wanmian. They become close friends and basically everyone thinks they're fated. But a-mian sits him down to quietly tell him that she has no string, none at all, that they really aren't fated and never will be. And lxy, who, in the nights he lies awake, still is guilty about being ten years older than his youngest zhiji (he doesn't know whether his other one is older or younger than him, the string was already red by the time he was old enough to retain memories), lies and says he doesn't have a string either. But he wants to court her because he loves her. That part, at least, is true: li xiangyi loves qiao wanmian.

And then he starts the sigu sect and eventually meets di feisheng. Their first meeting is only in passing but they lock eyes and lxy sees not only the moment when it registers that they're zhiji but also the moment when dfs sees that he's walking arm in arm with a-mian. They both walk away none the wiser to each other's identities.

It's only when they meet for the first time as di-mengzhu, leader of the jinyuan alliance, and as li xiangyi, the number one swordsman in the jianghu, and cross swords does lxy truly realise what this means. Their string spools out between their bodies, fluttering away between their swords, as he realises that he and this zhiji of his are on opposite sides. That their string is the only thing that connects them across their unfathomable chasm.

(It isn't. Lxy doesn't know it but dfs admires his swordsmanship. Dfs thinks they have a lot in common via neili and fighting techniques and their devotion to their crafts but he thinks that lxy knows this. He doesn't say anything about it because he assumes that lxy knows this and also because it's common knowledge he and qiao wanmian are going to get married. So lxy never knows)

Afterwards lxy becomes consumed with red strings of fate. He obsessively starts searching for stories where the zhiji turn out to be enemies. He finds almost nothing (most of what he finds is enemies to friends, or worse, enemies to (friends to) lovers, and all of it he throws out in disgust) and in his frenzy he begins neglecting his relationship with a-mian.

The ultimate betrayal comes when lxy learns that dfs killed shan gudao. A-Mian just recently broke up with him and that combined with his zhiji killing his shixiong is what does it. It spells the beginning of the spiral of li xiangyi.

Switch to di feisheng. He'd thought they had an understanding and sigu sect and the jinyuan alliance were approaching peace talks but suddenly lxy is killing his members left and right. He has no idea what this is about until jiao liqiao congratulations him on killing shan gudao. He grunts in confusion but everyone talks it to mean he did it. So dfs just had to roll with it.

There's nothing he can do about it. Dfs sends people to investigate sgd's death and trains. There is a real and oncoming war soon and so he issues a challenge to duel lxy on the eastern sea.

(The war comes anyway)

(Di Feisheng loses something on that ship anyway)

He spends the next ten years while he's in seclusion recovering thinking about it. About lxy, the bright, brilliant zhiji who was never his. About the fact that he killed his own zhiji. About the moment when, as he sank into the water, he'd closed his eyes and thought that following his zhiji to the underworld wouldn't be so bad.

Execpt that li xiangyi isn't dead. His string isn't white, is still as red as the robes he wore, and it still leads somewhere he doesn't know. Dfs takes a sort of pride in this. Of course lxy wouldn't die in their duel. Of course he's strong enough to come out of it alive.

He doesn't really think about his xiao-zhiji at all, except when he touches that string and wonders if lxy is also connected to this person. He wants to meet them someday to test their skills, to take them to meet lxy. In seclusion dfs makes that deal with himself - he'll make his zhiji meet, and then he'll leave them with each other, because for all he knows, li xiangyi still hates him.

(I picture it going dfs > lxy/llh > fdb age-wise, with dfs only being a some months older than lxy/llh. But neither of them know that because of their childhood circumstances)

He leaves seclusion with this goal in mind.

And then he figures out - as a six-year-old, no less - that his zhiji have already met each other. That they've been traveling in tandem for months and have been solving cases. That li xiangyi is for some reason li lianhua (he knows why. The first thing jiao liqiao had said to him was congratulations on killing li xiangyi). That this stupid naïve little puppy named fang duobing is his xiao-zhiji.

Llh treats fdb kindly. He's mischievous and he teases fdb about inconsequential little things and dfs burns, because he still remembers lxy vividly wanting to kill him. He burns because this is side of him he's never seen and he burns because his xiao-zhiji is already used to this and he burns because he wants that too.

Whether he forgets that after he writes li lianhua's name on his hand doesn't matter then.

Switch to fang duobing. He's really fucking annoyed by the fact that no one is telling him anything. He's been traveling with llh for months, but despite the fact that they both know they're zhiji he won't talk about it. He won't even answer any questions about that kid.

Fdb isn't an idiot. His strings have been red ever since the day he was born. No way is some kid not even half his height his zhiji. The math doesn't work out.

(This is terrible, llh thinks. Of course he knows dfs has been alive because his string never turned white. Of course he recognized that little face as dfs' before he even saw the string connecting them. Of course he realised what was up as soon as fdb started pestering him about that kid and whether or not he has another string. Of course he knows dfs must've clocked it too.)

Fdb is severely skeptical when the Iron Head Slave or whatever llh claimed he was shows up and llh tells him they're old friends. But he's delighted to meet his other zhiji formally - right up until the point when they have their first chopstick battle over the food. At that point he becomes exasperated, and then he becomes ready to throw down once they begin arguing over who gets the guest bed.

(Fdb believes in respecting your elders but dfs is showing him absolutely no respect so guess what? He can sleep on the floor. Not even his handsome looks will help him win the fight)

(They end up squished together on the bed, both of them fuming because llh told then to just share)

(He and dfs never talk about their string, but they both observe enough to be able to tell that they're both connected to llh. They don't talk about this either, but sometimes llh will do something especially stupid or crazy or clever and they'll Look At Each Other)

(And then they can't about it, because A-Fei is learning from scratch)

But then he learns that A-Fei (who used to correct him when he playfully called llh da-ge, saying that he was er-ge and that fdb should be calling him da-ge, and fdb had gotten so tired of him and llh fighting with their eyes that he just straight-up called him gege with his most shit-eatting grin, to which dfs stared at him before dragging him outside to beat his ass) (who, after he lost his memories, would sleep in the bed with him with their backs against each other, and fdb loved feeling like his zhiji thought he could watch his back, and even if A-Fei was a stupid early riser and his half of the bed was always cold when he woke up it meant that he could always smell breakfast cooking downstairs) (who, after all, fdb felt like he was finally understanding) is actually di feisheng, villain of the jianghu, he feels like everything they'd had together was built on lies. He asks llh if he knew, if he knew that his (their, their zhiji, but llh still won't talk about it) zhiji was dfs, and then he has to go on with the knowledge that he was the only one kept in the dark.

And then when he learns that li lianhua was li xiangyi all along it really dawns on him then. His zhiji have known each other for years (and everyone thought they had killed each other on the eastern sea, and something about that is so wrong that fdb can't even think about it) and never told him the truth. They said that they were friends (llh said that) and that they knew each other for years (llh said that) and everything he knows about them is based on lies of omission and half-truths (that llh told him). He's torn and he's hurt and he's angry, angry at himself and everyone else.

(If he had known though, would things have stayed the same? Would he have laughed the same way if he knew the man he was wrestling in the dirt with was dfs, would he have still made the same suggestions on how to improve in cooking if he knew the man making the food was li xiangyi?)

(it isn't until li lianhua/li xiangyi are gone, though, that he realises that dfs was used by llh in the same way that he was)

Except that when li lianhua dies, there's two people who have to look at a red string that's supposed to be white.

(Switch to li lianhua. He crawls back from the underworld but what does he have left? The strings on his fingers are red, red like happiness, and aren't those two better off without him anyway? He's finally burned all the bridges of all of his relationships. It's time that he start over again.)

(Except that he stumbles upon the Lotus Tower anyway. He stumbles upon Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing and even as he asks them why they still even want him, he's crying, reaching for them, and there's tears on all their faces.)