#has it hit me that im graduating? not really

[tipytap]

something that my school district does is when you graduate high school you do a little prade through the elementary school you went to and some fourth(?) grader ran up to me when i was walking by, noticed my blue hair and said screamed “DONT LISTEN TO EMO MUSIC!!!!”

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[bonestrouslingbones]

suddenly realizing that if i do end up actually following through on majoring/minoring in computer science / graphic design respectively i can never ever tell anyone what got me into it. "oh i made an arg by frankensteining a bunch of custom blog themes together on tumblr dot com for an undertale au roleplay event and realized the html was more fun than the roleplay" just shoot me dead like genuinely

[elvenking42]

.

[jihyolesbian]

ok why is she texting paragraphs in the groupchat that "we need to start cleaning the kitchen more" like girl be real. you know i deep clean it myself every 2-3weeks but it's a big kitchen and multiple people use it i can only do so much

[bipidin]

I love going out with friends, but it almost always ends with me having a breakdown in my car afterwards

[pinkslaystation]

No longer a memory [Simon 'Ghost' Riley]

You are reading: [Part 2] Read [Part 1] here! Word Count: 1.4k You viewed Simon as your friend, but clearly he did feel the same.

When Ghost was asked about his emergency contact, he mentioned Soap's name.

"You can't put down another soldier, mate. Gotta be yer ma or summit." His higher-ups informed him.

"Why no'?" He grumbled, leaning against the wall in the dingy office.

"Wot if you're on a mission with 'im? Wot if he's injured too? Hm? Just do me a favour and put down yer missus, will ya."

Ghost rolled his eyes in annoyance, slamming the door shut as he walked out. With an important mission coming soon, it was vital that everything was in order before they left.

He just doesn't get it. Why does a skilled killer like him need an emergency contact? He's only been fatally injured once, and when they contacted his previous emergency number back then, was it really a big deal with someone at the nearest Maccies picked up?

Gaz frequently laughs at him, "Tried to call your mother, ordered a quarter pounder instead." It's a running joke in the team.

Ghost skims through his phone contacts, and he's embarrassed to see how few numbers he has: 5 being his teammates including Gaz, Soap and Price, one being KFC, one being his mother which he had saved under Slag. He scrolls up and down rapidly, debating to himself, should he just give them a fake number?

No...they'd find out again.

He clicks under the spam numbers.

His eyes shift to a familiar number.

It was yours.

The monotonous ticking of the clock paired with the irregular typing of the keyboards were burnt into your brain unknowingly. You've lost count of the number of days you've been in the menial job now, your first job since graduating university. How long have you been with that company, 2 years? 602 days now? You're counting the days 'til the weekend but even during that, you've got no one to come home to.

What a pathetic life.

Sometimes you wonder what Simon was doing in that exact moment was he working like you? Was he also in London? Did he...think of you, the way you think of him? It's possible he's forgotten, I mean after 5 years you've lost contact with the majority of your classmates- so much for best friends for life.

You check your phone, 9:28 P.M. 2 more minutes and you're running out of there.

By the time it hits 11 P.M., you're tucked away in bed a movie playing the background as you're aimlessly listening to reddit stories on TikTok whilst watching a minecraft speedrun.

You switch to using Instagram, by that I mean stalking. Your friends seems to be growth further away from you, one sending you an e-invite to their wedding, one welcoming their 1st child into their families, and yet you're still hung over about the last day of secondary school. The way the last time you had seen him had been in form, when he glances at you walking in late. The way his hands would purposely linger against yours when you were asked to hand out sheets to the class.

The mere thought of him jolted you. That, and the sound of your phone ringing.

It was an unknown number.

There's a hitch in your breathing. Was this a sign? What's the phrase, speak of the devil and he has appear? Was it perhaps...Simon?

You wait for a minute before picking up, not wanting to come across as desperate.

"...Hello?" You murmur.

"Hey." The voice is harsh and cold. It reminded you of Simon.

"Simon?" You whisper, a smile appearing on your face.

There's a pause on the other end of the line.

"What? No- Alan. From Accounting. You left some documents here at work, they seem important. You gonna pick 'em up?"

You blink. Once again your're stuck in another fantasy. In what world would it be Simon? The man who couldn't even reply to your texts in summer holidays. The man who wouldn't even attempt to return a full smile when you locked eyes in the corridor. The man you shouldn't have feelings for. Because, well, it's not like they were ever reciprocated.

What a pathetic life.

Alan, the dickhead from Accounting interrupts yet again. "Yo, you there? Wan' me to bin them?"

You sit up in your bed, sighing deeply uncomfortable, "Pull up your pants man, I'll be there in 30, Jesus. Just leave them on my desk."

Question. What's short but intense, most people dislike it, but you find it thrilling? One would think a conversation with Simon. But the answer is: London traffic.

You'd assume the usually busy roads to be dead and empty at 11:30 P.M. ish, but you're heavily mistaken, my friend. Seems like London nights are the life of the party. Driving past busy clubs and lit up pubs, whilst listening to One Of The Girls by The Weeknd [SUCH A GOOD SONG-] made you feel like a movie star in a coming of age film.

One where the guy gets the girl.

Of course, the majority of the drive you've being beeped at, or you're doing the beeping, but it's what really appealed to you when making the move to the heart of London. Life moves on whether you want or not, might at well be at the capital of England. Though sometimes you feel you're more likely to run into Simon in the north...

By the time you reach the entrance of your workplace, you begin regretting your outfit decisions, making eye contact with yourself in the reflection of the glass doors: A black hoodie and flared joggers. Nothing wrong in the clothing of course, but compared to the Data Analysts and Investment Bankers that are judging you right now, it makes you feel like the smallest person in the room.

Just a elevator ride up, grabbing your shit, another ride down, brisk walking to the car, and you can go back to the comfort of your bed. Easy, no?

You're in the elevator finally. The weird look from the receptionist really was the cherry on the cake.

Soon enough, the doors open again at the 9th floor, and you're met with the dark room of your department, which only had 2 of your colleagues slaving away at their desks, one which you're 99% sure is rotting away as they type on their keyboard.

You briefly nod at the two as they look up from the elevator doors opening, to which they returned.

Where's that file, where's the fucking file. You mumble to yourself, sifting through all the papers from your desk. The rotting lady looks up to you, shushing you for the noise.

Yeah, if only you had the courage to shush your toxic-ass husband...You think. Soon we'll hear your reddit story next to some trashy ass run on Subway Surfers on Tiktok...

The way down the elevator was excruciatingly slow, which was odd considering it was working perfectly fine 5 minutes ago.

The doors open again, at the 8th floor and 3 analysts walk into the once quiet elevator, and now you're face to face with the loud chatter of clients, and business meetings and...who left a mess in the men's toilets...

A phone rings again, and the analysts all search their coats, thinking it was theirs.

Not me.

Neither.

How is there service in this elavator-

Someone coughs, and you open your eyes from drowsiness, the 3 business musketeers silently urging you to pick up your from and rid them off that irritating ring tone.

Silently apologising, you bring your phone out of your hoodie pocket. It's another unknown number.

With no hesitation this time, just pure frustration and fatigue, you pick up the call, "Alan, I swear to God, if you're calling me again-"

Correction. There is service in the elevator. It just wasn't good.

The line breaks at the other person on the phone speaks.

"He- Co- It's an emergen- He- -mon Ril- -jury-"

"Huh?" You respond, partially not hearing as the line breaks every now and then. but also because the other 3 people decided it was okay to talk on full volume.

You try once again, "I'm sorry I can't hear you."

"Missi- crash- 3 dead- -husba"

You snort, you wish these 3 analysts were dead right now-

"-Rile- Come- t- -ocation- sen- -by text- -sband-"

The line goes dead, and you're stuck staring at your phone with more confusion than you had started. Husband?

What was that? Wrong number? No, they had addressed you by your full name. You couldn't hear much, but from what you gathered...an emergency? I mean, that alone you could tell from the shrill from the speaker's voice.

The elevator door opens again and this time, it's the ground floor and all 4 of you walk out. It looks like the scene where the rich, popular characters make a grand entrance, straight out of a K-drama, except one person clearly missed the memo about dressing formally.

You check your phone's call log, debating whether to call them back.

Before you can lock your phone and shove it back into your phone, it dings again, a text from the very number. They've given you a location. A quick search on your phone, shows you google images of an army training ground. You check the time. It's just past midnight.

Looks like you're going on an adventure.

The drive to the army grounds was shorter than Google Maps had said, and now you're parked on the side of the roads waiting for the gates to be opened.

Theories are racing through your head right now, who do you know that's in the military currently?

Your coworkers? No.

Your university friends? No.

Your secondary school classmates? No.

Simon? Can't be.

The gates open, and you drive to the 2 men standing by the doors to the building, one is dressed like a doctor, the other? Like Stalin.

You get out of your car worried, "Hi, someone called over the phone?"

"Aah, yes. Mrs Riley. A pleasure to meet you. I mean I didn't think you were even going to come." He turns to the doctor.

You don't fail to hear the words exchanged between the both of them.

"What if she works at Maccies as well...she's dressed like it-" he murmurs, smiling at you widely.

The doctor on the other hand, seems to be more tense about the situation, "Sir, can we just send her in already, it's 1 A.M., I got a family to go home to-"

"Wasn't your wife cheating on you though-"

"Sir- How do you know- Okay, Miss. Mrs... Riley, was it?" The doctor turns to you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "No. Um, no. My first name's not Riley, it's-"

"Will you just follow us. Please."

The inside of the building was almost the opposite than the outside, a loud brightly lit environment with crowds of doctors and nurses rushing around, compared to the silent dark grounds.

"Sorry, where are we going exactly?" You question, as the two men walk in front of you.

"You're handling the news better than I expected, Riley." The military leader (?) notes.

What news?

"What news?"

There's no follow up answer, instead they lead you to a quiet corridor, just outside a room, to which they gesture you to open. The doctor reads from a file, "He's going to be fine, just a few cuts and bruises-"

You interrupt, "I'm sorry?"

"What he's trying to say- we found him unconscious, seems like he inhaled too much of the gas. Thought he was in grave danger. Wasn't responding to anything. Broken rib cage, but he'll be fine. He always is, this man."

The doctor agrees with the solider.

"Indeed, a few months of bed rest, and he's be back in better shape."

The two stare at you, as you look at them with an unreadable expression.

"...And...I'm here because?"

They share a confused look.

"You're his wife, no? His emergency contact? That's what Simon said at le-"

"Si-Si-Simon?"

One second you're at home, the next you're a work again, and now you're in the bathroom with your head in your hands, sitting on the toilet lid, panic pulsating through your blood. For some reason, you can't find it in yourself to tell the truth, that you're not Simon's wife, so instead you pussied out and excused yourself to the nearest bathroom.

The good thing is, the 2 men believe you're crying over Simon's injuries, the bad thing is that he's awake. And he's been made aware of the call to his emergency contact: his wife.

"Good to say you mate. Called your wife. Sensitive one, that. Rushed-"

Simon breaks out of his dazed look. "Wife?" He barks.

The doctor shares a knowingly glance to the solider, Simon's higher up. "Yes...the one under your emergency contact?"

"Wot- Oh. Er- Yeah." Simon clenches his jaw, rubbing his temple, "Did she pick up or sum-"

"No Simon, she's here. In the bathroom."

The minimal colour in Simon's pale bruised face drains out in a click, and he's staring dead straight in front of him. For a second, no one talks, there's no movement, not even a breath is exhaled. Simon's not religious but he prays the 2 can't hear his beating heart thumping rapidly.

How was do when he sees you? A smile? A wave? A 'haven't seen you in so long'? No...he selected spouse when he put your number down for his emergency contact, if anything, he's got a role to act in front of the staff and higher-ups.

There's a knock on the door that breaks the silence. The door creaks open awkwardly, and a small head peeps out.

Simon's breath hitches.

When your parents instructed you to get out fairy land, you did. You were called delusion by your friends throughout adolescence, and you're teachers feared your expectations in life were always too high.

You remember the first time your parents told you the story of how they met. In your mind it was a romantic story, two doctors meeting together for the first time in the hospital, locking eyes and blushing furiously when their fingers touched through gloved during a high-risk heart transplant surgery. So when they mentioned that it was mere 'marriage of convenience' type relationship to you, your belief of love at first sight hit the iceberg of reality and sunk. Sunk deep.

So mustering the courage shouldn't be that difficult, right? Love doesn't exist...

The first step into the hospital room felt like walking into every exam hall you've ever entered in your entire life merged into 1...times 10. Nerve-wracking was an understatement.

Your goal was to just lie and act at his wife, play pretend and hope Simon plays along with it. It's all acting.

A marriage of convenience, you could say.

"Hey, Si-"

Your breath breaks, cutting off your own words as your eyes lock with Simon's. The room seems to shrink, and the bustling noise from the hospital corridor fades into the background. Simon's gaze is intense, his usual stoic expression softening for a brief moment. It's something the doctor and the soldier haven't seen, given the 5 years of knowing SImon.

He reaches an arm out, without speaking a word.

"Oh, erm." Taking his hand, he gently drags you, motioning you to sit on the chair beside his bed. Small electric shocks course through his fingertips and into yours, a warm feeling bubbling through your chest, and you can't help but smile at the way his eyes lock onto you, as his fingers gently caress your hand.

Simon’s grip tightens ever so slightly as you sit down, his touch simultaneously reassuring and questioning. You swallow hard, nerves prickling your skin. It feels like a minute has passes by the 2 spectators in the room feel like their watching a slow-burn romance movie.

The soldier clears his throat, breaking the silence. "We’ll give you two some privacy," he says, gesturing for the doctor to follow him out. As the door clicks shut behind them, the heavy silence continues to fall over the room.

Simon’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gesture that feels both foreign and familiar. His mask of stoicism cracks, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath. "I didn’t think you’d come," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. Your heart rate increases with every word he speaks, the hints of his northern accent peaking through the harshness of his voice.

You smile. "Well, here I am," you reply, attempting to sound casual despite the thundering of your heart. "Guess I couldn't ignore the call of duty." Your attempt of a pathetic joke makes him grin.

Simon interlocks his fingers with yours, and you swear your body changes to manual breathing. "SImon...You don't have to act, they're not here..." You mumble.

Simon chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, usually so guarded, now seem to search yours for something unspoken. "I'm not acting... and...I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What for?" Both of your hands gently hold Simon's and you notice the way just one of his hands dwarf both of yours.

"That day...the last day. I tried to come, I swear, love. I was late-"

"I waited for you Simon." You blankly state. Simon freezes at the slight frustration in your voice, "I waited so long for you, hell, the teachers nearly kicked me out."

Simon nodding understandably, grinning slightly at the thought.

"I know. I asked our form tutor, missed ya by 15 minut-"

"Then why didn't you call me Simon? Hm?"

The lack of response let's you continue, the heat from your hands warming Simon's.

"I called you, I texted, I reached out to your friends-"

"-but it's difficult when I had none, right?" Simon cuts you off, his eyes urging you to look at the situation from his perspective, "The moment I saw you in that classroom on that first day, you were the only person that smiled at me. When I forgot my lunch, it was you that shared with me by your desks. Fuck, it's always been you, and I was too fucking embarrassed with myself to even be around someone as perfect as you."

Simon squeezes your hand as he continues.

"I didn't want you to be seen with me, because...you deserved better, love. You've always had. Good grades, good school, good life, didn't was you to be dragged down by a dick like me." He huffs out, turning away, "Signed up for the military that day, y'know. Remember when you said you wanted to just give up on your dreams of uni and jus' join the army. Just use all your frustrations on a gun or sumthing... I bulked up over that very summer."

You stifle a warm tear as it escapes and runs down your cheek.

"Wanted to be someone for you, swear down. So I signed up for the military...and I- that day. I was going to tell you...and ask you out."

Raising your eyebrows, you feel the atmosphere shifting, he continues.

"Yeah," Simon chuckles, reminiscing, "Wrote a letter cos I didn' know how to get my feelins across. But uh, I was too late. And when I asked your friend, and they told me you were moving out for uni...I just thought it was better to let my feelins die out. Didn't wan to drag you down any further..." He mumbles the last part.

A mix of emotions flood through you as Simon's words settle in the room. The weight of the years apart, the misunderstandings, and the unspoken feelings hang in the air. You take a deep breath, wiping away the tear that escaped earlier.

"Simon," you begin softly, your voice trembling with a blend of sadness and hope. "You never dragged me down. If anything, I felt lost without you."

Simon's gaze shifts back to you, eyes searching for any hint of resentment or anger. Instead, he finds warmth and understanding, a look he's not seen in years. "I thought you'd be better off without me. That you'd move on and find someone who could give you everything I couldn't."

"But I never wanted someone else," you confess, your voice firm despite the quiver in your heart. "I wanted you, Simon. Even when you weren't there, I kept hoping you'd come back. Do you know how many times I've looked at my phone hoping it was you that was calling me?"

Simon laughs, moving ever so slightly closer to you, his thumb continuing to stroke your hand, his touch grounding you both in the present moment. He takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

"I'm here now," he says finally, his voice steady. "And I'll call you ever chance I get. Don't want to waste any more time."

You squeeze his hand in response, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Neither do I."

Simon presses a chaste kiss against your forehead and you lean against him.

"The name Riley really does suit you, y'know." Simon whispering into your hair.

"One step at a time, Si." You whisper back, burying your smirk into the crook of his neck.

Maybe your parents were wrong, maybe love at first sight does exist.

Outside the room, the 2 men straight in awe at the couple. The doctor sighs, "No more trouble in paradis-"

The solider nudges the doctor, "You wish that was you, huh."

me rn

tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife, @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint , @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es, @delta98-idk, @spankmydepression, @yourfavbabigirl

[thepringlesofblood]

the vibe im getting from FHJY is that this is the season where they really lean into the high school aspect. that probably sounds bonkers since its called Fantasy High, but like. hear me out.

Freshman year, they come at high school from the "John Hughes" "80s teen movie trope" vibe, which is to say different from the real-world experience of high school.

it works great! operating in that frame of reference makes everything flow really well, and hits all the high-school-related-media notes in a very satisfying way while putting its own spin on it and not getting bogged down by the actual slog that is high school in reality.

there's still a lot of more modern inspo, but it stays in the kinda expectation-suspension-tropey area of how 80s movie high school works.

Sophomore year is spring break! I believe in you! They're not at school! They're on an adventure!

They lean into being a teenager and coming-of-age themes a lot (obvs), but the only big reference point to the institution of high school is that it'll be worth 60% of their grade.

A huge point, to be sure, and the exact kind of objectively unfair but somehow not against the rules shit that happens in high school, but not the main driving force of the season.

arthur aguefort also does a bunch of wack shit but it's more fantasy than it is high school although its a lot of both.

they lean into adventuring as a set career path much more, with the school giving money for hirelings and offering a basic incentive for other students to go, so that's a loose connection to the real-world career counseling high schools have, but again, not the main thing.

VERY Important though: we are now very much in the present. The viral shrimp party, livestreaming Kalina, online banking, the epic of Gorgug building a cell tower? this isn't john hughes 80s town anymore, this is now. (at least in Solace).

Junior year

almost everything in the trailer is about academia

we've got the cool doodles-in-the-margins style art and intro

in the interviews and BTS (so far), the cast have talked a lot about what they were like in high school (not the 80s)

and the precedent that The Seven set where the MacGuffin was getting their GED? It's time.

we're getting into what is actually hell about high school - the institution itself. the arbitrary standards that academia in the US holds, and how it leaves behind, punishes, and fails its students in its extremely important role of preparing them for life as an adult.

i could talk about this all day, but personally for me the quote from the trailer that shot me back to my junior year of high school was "You have perfect grades, and it still might not be enough for you to graduate"

riz's arc this season is shaping up to punch me in the academia trauma and personally i can't wait for the catharsis

Brennan has shown time and time again that he Gets and wants to tell stories about the ways in which the US education system affects, hurts, shapes, traumatizes, changes people, and how they survive and recover from it and make their own lives. I for one am so so ready to see that reflected with the bad kids.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (9)

In which Aubrey gets interviewed...

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

ellemagazine posted

ellemagazine Our June edition features Aubrey Yang on her directing debut, the trajectory of her career and new friends in Formula One. Full article linked in bio.

tagged: aubreyyang

liked by formula1, olliebearman, mckennagraceful and 80,944 others

view all comments

user1 ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BARK BARK SHES SO FINE

aubreyyang thank you for having me Elle! always a blast 💋

-- aubberieloverss MOTHERRR

dior.n.goodjohn ILY UR SO BEAUTIFUL AND ETHERAL

-- aubreyyang stawpp ur making me blush

formula1 thank you for the shout out! hope to see you in the Ferrari paddocks soon 🏎️

liked by aubreyyang

-- f1wagsupdates BAHAHA f1 admin ur brave for that one

lilymhe prettiest girl

-- aubreyyang me and dior miss u tons! can't wait to see u soon

mvertsppdudu can ollie fight ill catch him in the paddocks

ELLE MAGAZINE

NEW ISSUE

INTERVIEW WITH AUBREY YANG

Aubrey Yang, the multi-faceted actress debuts her talent and grit for directing and screenwriting in her short film Pelt, winning the Best Screenplay and a notable nominee for the Best Film during London Film week. Since we've last seen her at Elle New York, she has turned 18, nearing 19 now, and made some drastic changes to her life.

Since her film, Yang has not been in any other production as talent, but teases us with a new project "that's coming soon, don't worry". She adores her new found love for being a creative, and is scouting to get her hands on more projects in Hollywood on that side of the camera.

Her studies continue at New York University and she is set to graduate early, next year. When asked about her ability to balance school and work, she smiles knowingly and tells us that "it's important to take breaks, but more importantly, I've chosen things I love to do".

During these breaks, Yang is often seen with fellow young actress Dior Goodjohn and international pop sensation Olivia Rodrigo. But 18 has brought a new hobby: Formula One.

"I met Lily [Muni He] and Alex [Albon] at a gala, and we hit it off. They're like my parents" she answers adoringly. She has been seen multiple times in both the Williams and Ferrari garages visiting with fans and learning about the mechanics of racing.

"I've met some wonderful people; I never really got to be a regular teenager because I was working and going to university early. They've really helped teach me about having fun and letting loose."

Next year when we inevitably feature her lovely face again, we'll see the new changes to her life.

MESSAGES

ollie

I read ur article it was great

sad I didn't get a shout out tho :(

aubrey

sorry boo

PROMISE TO GIVE YOU ONE NEXT YEARR

ollie

okay :)

anyways r we still on for the trip?

aubrey

yes mr. bearman

ollie

I was thinking Charles and Alex might want to go w us

aubrey

YESSS MY FAV MONAGESQUES

ollie

gotta go but talk later? ☺️

aubrey

kk cya bearman

ollie

bye yang :)

MESSAGES

alex 🖼️

cou cou chérie!

(hey dear)

aubrey 🎬

AHH ALEX J'avais l'intention de t'envoyer un texto ! On part en voyage en Europe ?

(I was meaning to text you, are we on for the Europe trip?)

alex 🖼️

yes but I have smth to ask

aubrey 🎬

um not the English what's wrong

alex 🖼️

DO U LIKE OLLIE

aubrey 🎬

UM BYE WHY

alex 🖼️

bc I have to watch him text u and its dégoûtant

(disgusting)

aubrey 🎬

bro idk

dior thinks we like each other

its just hes becoming such a good friend

he makes me smile

and hes so sweet and kind and gentle

hes not like any other guy ik

alex 🖼️

its going to be such a long trip 😔

aubreyyang posted on their story

olliebearman replied to your story

cute 😊

aubreyyang

ikr shes my cousins baby

olliebearman

oh

very cute

wanna play 9 ball on message

aubreyyang

YOURE ON

bearyfast_04 posted

bearyfast_04 I think im ready to be a father

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, leosdad and 10 others

leosdad fatherhood is hard

-- landoakabob u have a dog

-- leosdad u take that back hes my son

pastryboy SIR U ARE 21 WDYM CHILDREN

-- bearyfast_04 but look at her 🥰

-- arthuranddw another fallen soldier

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[oreharuuu]

A Glimpse of Mercy

Summary: The boy you once knew from your small town has changed. But has he really change from his past? Or did he hide everything from you since the beginning?

Pairing: yandere!san x reader

Warnings: yandere behaviour obvi, obsessive behavior, graphic description, dark themes, cursing

Word count: 10.8k

A/N: umm hi? pls forgive me for not updating in a WHILE. i didn't forget about this acc i promise, just had a lot of stuff going on and ofc i still love our boys <3 hope y'all like this long ass oneshot, pray for the hongjoong one to finish quickly as well :' thx u for everyone for the support and comments while im away

Tags: @starillusion13 @cqndiedcherries @wooyoungjpg @miriamxsworld (comment below if u want to be in the permanent tags!)

The cold gush of wind hits you like a ton of bricks as you exited your school, shivering as you tried to keep yourself warm by hugging yourself. You eyed the numerous students chattering away with their friends, making you look around to search for your friend in the midst of the unknown faces.

When you spotted your friend, Iseul, near the entrance gate, you slowly walked towards her before stopping yourself. You smirked when you noticed the tall boy she's been talking for the past few months, quickly snapping a photo before walking away, wanting to not disturb their moment.

You sighed when you walked quietly to where you parked your bike, buying bungeoppang near the market before eating it as you observe the quiet atmosphere. Your small town just outside of the city was nothing special nor exciting, that's why almost everyone moved out when they can. A few stayed as to live with their family, but only a few instances such as yourself, living with your mother and aunt.

Iseul wants to get out of this 'shit hole' as she deems when she graduates high school, already applying for a scholarship. You on the other hand, can't even imagine yourself in the future on what you could possibly do. Your mother never went to the city, only working as a farmer. Your aunt did go, going to university to get a degree yet she can't even get any work after graduating, getting paid as a bartender before she quits to help your mother.

Deep down, you're scared of failure. Your whole life you're only a mediocre student, good yet not astounding grades and not having a big social circle like Iseul. You can't imagine going to the city to actually live there for a few years just to be met with failure when you can't even get a job, thus making you move back to your old town.

That sounds like a nightmare.

Forcing yourself out of the bad thoughts, you jogged to where your bike is, before stopping yourself when you notice the broken chain. You groan loudly, looking around to find the culprit only to find no one standing near you.

You placed the half eaten bungeoppang inside your bag, assessing the broken chain as you tried to think on what to do. This bike was your only transportation. Sure, you could use the bus but you're already so low on money that you'd rather risk walking by foot to school everyday.

You sighed, perking up at the sound of the bus stopping near you, the temptation of going home and leaving the old bike here is already growing. But you squashed that feeling when you remembered that it's your mother's bike.

The sound of quiet footsteps reached your ears, you glancing back before making eye contact with a boy. He seems startled, quickly moving around before walking back the opposite of you. He's around your age, maybe he knows one or two things about how to fix the bike.

"Hey, school boy! Can you help me?"

The boy stopped in his tracks while you wait for him to do anything. Thankfully, he walks back to where you're crouching, eyes downcast as he moved the plastic bag containing...oranges? To his other hand.

The boy seems familiar, his uniform shows that he's another student from a school nearby yours. The red scarf hides almost half of his face, only his sharp cat like eyes showing to you.

"Can you help me?" You asked, noting how the boy's ears turned slightly red before shaking his head. You sighed, standing up as you looked at the bike with frustrated eyes. You glanced at boy once more, finding him staring the broken chain a bit too hard. You look away, hiding the amused smile growing on your face.

"—fix it."

"Eh?" You asked, not hearing what he said clearly. "What did you say?"

"I think I can fix it."

"Thank you for your help," You say as the both of you walked side by side, your bike now temporarily fixed. "I can't imagine leaving the bike there on its own. I mean, it's my mom's bike after all but still! It's really old and I think we should buy another one...maybe."

You secretly glanced at the boy, not sensing any noise of acknowledgement or any head nod towards what you've just said. You pursed your lips, softly nudging his shoulder with yours. "You don't want to talk to me, huh?"

The boy's eyes only widens slightly, before looking down. You huff playfully before you remembered you haven't even asked his name. "Hey, what's your name? My name is (name)!"

You waited for any response from him, sighing in disappointment when he didn't say anything back. You stopped when you've reached your house, the boy stopping as well as he nervously looks back and forth between you and the house.

You're yelling internally deep down, wanting the awkward moment to end. Maybe the boy's too shy, and you feel bad for forcing him to talk when you just met him a few hours ago.

"Soo, thanks again. I'll just...go home now," You say as you slowly walk with your bike in tow, closing your eyes in embarrassment at the interaction. Hurried footsteps stopped you in your tracks, eyes widening when the boy placed one of the oranges inside your hand.

"San," He utters gently. "My name is San."

You smile softly at him, but before you could say anything, San walks away with hurried steps. "Nice to meet you, San! Thank you for helping me!" You scream loudly, giggling when you see San glancing back and forth at you.

When San disappeared from your sight, you continued your walk towards your house, the slight dirt from the orange makes you question as to why San even had dirty oranges in the first place.

Entering your house, you notice how quiet it is, your mother's slippers nowhere in sight nor your aunt's running shoes. You shrug to yourself before entering the kitchen, placing the singular orange near the fruit basket your mother received from her friend. Noticing the small note on top of an old takeout your aunt probably ordered two days ago, you assume that's going to be your dinner.

A normal occurrence in your household is your mother staying with her friends if she's not working, probably to talk and gossip. Your aunt is a different story though, you never know what exactly she's doing on her free time, and she never really told you either. So you kept quiet and let her be. She's an adult after all.

Heating up the food and eating it alone in the living room whilst watching TV was also a normal occurrence for you. You're used to it because ever since you're young, your mother rarely ate dinner. She doesn't really like eating anyways, especially inside a house that holds a reminder of her past.

Your aunt sometimes joined in, asking you here and there about school or maybe reminiscing about her old life in the city. Either way, it usually ends up with her drinking away her regrets.

You shivered, clicking your tongue when the kitchen window was slightly open. It's already getting dark, the only lights you see are the ones from the nearby house or you could say mansion, by how big it is compared to the other houses in town.

You remembered San walking towards the mansion's direction. Maybe he lives there? You never really see anyone besides two men, but you did overheard your mother one day about a woman supposedly living there.

Placing down your food on the small foldable table, you turned on the prehistoric TV that's probably already there before you're born. You didn't find anything interesting though, so you picked a random news channel before eating your food.

A few hours into eating, a small knock came from your front door, making you pause from peeling the orange San gave. You glanced at the clock, too early for your mother and aunt to come home. Plus they never knock anyway.

"Coming!" You yelled, slowly walking towards the entrance before opening the door slowly. Surprise is probably written all over your face when you see San standing there, his gaze flickers down when he notices you staring at him.

"San?" You questions. "A bit of a surprise visit, don't you think?"

"Sorry, I—Uh, if you don't like me here—"

"Nonsense! What's up?"

His posture became tense, so you glanced down at the plastic bag he's holding tightly. A bit too tight in your opinion.

"I-I need a place to eat, my house..."

"Your house?"

"It's, um, not a good place to eat right now," San finishes, looking up towards where the big mansion is located.

Turns out you're right all along.

"Oh, you live there?"

"Yeah, but I can't stay there right now."

"Can I ask why? You don't have to answer me if you're not comfortable, of course," You gently added, not wanting San to feel pressured. He shrugs, shifting from one foot to another. "Just some stupid argument between my father and...my uncles."

You hum, glancing back at your house before finally deciding. "Yeah, sure, you could eat at my house." You hold back a smile when you notice San's slumped posture turned straight right away, as if he's not expecting you to say that. "R-Really? I can eat here?"

"Sure, but my house is a bit cramped because of junk. If you want, we could eat at the veranda. Not to brag or anything but the view is beautiful."

San lets out a small smile, tilting his head which made your heart squeeze at how cute he is. "Really? I never really notice."

"Meh, it's something," You shrug, opening the door wider, inviting San to follow you inside. "Come on, my food's getting cold."

San nods hesitantly, murmuring a small 'excuse me' before slipping out of his shoes before he just stands there, waiting for you to walk first. You giggle at him, showing him where the veranda is before excusing yourself to grab your food.

"Pretty, right?" You ask as you sat down besides him, looking out towards the view of the city. Your house is located a bit further than the city, your house shows the perfect view of the small number of lights the city shows. It's somewhat calming to you, mix that with the sounds of cicadas and you have the perfect night to just clear your mind.

"Yeah, it's calming."

You hum, glancing as San takes out a small container, pulling out a sandwich before eating it in silence. You followed suit, offering small bites of food to him when you notice he only brought his sandwich. "Did you make it yourself?"

"No, my...eomma made it."

Noticing the tense tone in his voice, you only hum in acknowledgement before continuing to eat. It's nice to have someone eating with you, the silence isn't uncomfortable, both of you appreciating each other's presence in silence. It's kinda funny to you that you're comfortable enough to invite a boy you just met a few hours ago. Then again, it's partially because your mother nor aunt is here to bother you.

"Thank you for letting me eat here," San quietly says, playing with his fingers nervously as he waits for your response.

"It's fine. I quiet like having someone here to eat with," You smile. "Plus, you're a good company. Well, better than my mother and aunt anyway."

"Really?" San sounds excited, before he coughs as he looks away, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "Sorry! That sounds rude of me—"

You laugh, patting his back in a friendly manner. "No, no, it's fine. I'm thinking the same thing as you."

You didn't notice how red his face is after you patted his back, but he did let out a small laugh, joining you before you both fell silent once again.

"Do you, uh, do you mind if I could eat here? Not always! Just when...home gets a bit too tiring," He asks, looking at you with hopeful eyes that it almost made you want to ask what exactly is going on in his house.

"Sure, but it's better if no one's here except me. My mother will deny any visitors this late at night while my aunt will just ask us about anything to annoy us."

San lets out a small laugh, which made you smile as you notice the dimple on his face. He really has a nice smile. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind."

"How 'bout this," You say. "We exchange phone numbers, you'll text me if you have a situation, and we'll agree on where to meet up to eat together. Maybe we could eat somewhere else if my mother and aunt are here."

San nods enthusiastically, shyly grabbing his phone before you enter your phone number. "So, we got a deal?" You offer your hand to shake hands with him.

"Deal," He smiles, grabbing your hand gently before shaking it. Inside your mind, you hope whatever relationship you have with San will last longer than whatever you had in the past. Deep down, you want to have someone else besides Iseul to hangout with. But you've never had the chance, until now.

Fast forward a few months, you and San are still going with the promise. It's nice to have someone to talk too, even though San usually just sits there and listens to you. You felt bad to be the only one talking, since you mostly tell stories about your family and Iseul. San tells you that it's fine, he didn't mind one bit that you're the only one talking.

You did ask him once about his family. Yet the tense posture and tone made you realize just how uncomfortable San is on about his family. So you never asked about it to him again.

Turns out, you and San are in the same year, but he's in another school that's considered by your school the 'enemy'. Probably because of the football feud both of the school has. But you didn't mind, the feud is mostly contained to the football team.

Iseul asked you about San one day, claiming that there's a boy from another school that's been hanging out around the school recently. And she's shocked to see you know about the boy.

"Choi San? He's in our year? He looks younger though!"

"Yeah, that's what I first thought as well. But he claims he's in our year," You shrugged, playing with one of the dolls Iseul has on her bed.

"Mystery solved! I was wondering why he's wandering around our school anyways."

"What do you mean?" You curiously asked Iseul. So far you've never encountered San around your school, only bumped into him once when you're buying groceries after school.

"Well, Jihwan told me that he's been seeing a boy from the other school a few times. He thought the boy was in the football team but he's never seen him before."

You hum, thinking back from the conversations you had with San. "No, I don't think he plays football. He likes drawing, so I guess it's not his style."

"Ooo, an artist," Iseul cooed.

"Oh, shut up!" You whine, playfully shoving Iseul before each of you grabbed a pillow before proceeding to hit each other with it. It felt nice hanging out with Iseul again. Although you did feel a bit weird after coming here, like there's someone staring at you.

You dodged the pillow Iseul throws when you catch a glimpse of black moving outside of her window. You frown before walking closely to the window, opening it slightly to see nothing outside.

"Why? What's wrong?"

You turned back to her, already sensing her panic rising when her tone wavered from your hard stare. You quickly masked it with a smirk, not wanting Iseul to hyperventilate just from a shadow. "Ha! Did I get you? You're so easy to scare."

"Asshole!" She screeched before pouncing on you, tickling your sides as you tried move away from her grasp. The squealing laughter from Iseul made you not realize the snapping of a branch outside, nor the figure running away into the darkness.

"San? Is that you, boy?"

San flinched, slowly looking towards the source of the voice, finding a man sitting in the darkness. San noticed the red stains covering his shirt right away, the man slowly wiping a bloody knife clean.

"Yeah. It's me, appa."

"Where were you, huh? You made Seokjin all worried," The man pointed towards a closed room. But from the screams emanating inside the room, it's obvious his other father is inside with his...mother.

"Sorry. I was out helping a friend."

"A friend?" The man, Taecyeon, whistled with a smirk. "Don't tell me you've found a girl to fuck?"

San felt annoyance rising inside his body at how his appa talked about you, but he composed himself as he shakes his head. "No, a friend wanted me to help them with their homework." He lied through his teeth.

Another man, Byungho, typing away in the darkness, chuckles lowly as he blew a puff of his cigarette. "Yeah, whatever you say, kid. Go wash up, you don't have school tomorrow. We need to train for your first mission! How exciting is that?"

San nods as the two men laughs, Taecyeon ushering San away so they could start training. San ignores as the screaming intensifies, throwing his school bag carelessly as he huffs. He glances at the lone picture hanging on his wall.

Five men. One woman. One boy.

His appa is Taecyeon, the so called leader of the assassin group. The others? San only calls them as his uncles, even though he knows they're all not really related. Seems like almost all of them owes something to his appa, but they stick together throughout the years for some reason.

His eomma is a mystery. San notices very early how different they are. He has no similarities to his eomma nor appa. But that really didn't matter, he loves his eomma nonetheless. Yet the abuse she suffers everyday makes him wonder why she hasn't run away when she's usually all alone in the house when they're all busy.

His eomma only smiles tight when he ask her about this, changing the topic swiftly that it made San feel guilty. So he tries to be the good son that his eomma always dreams off.

"Sannie?"

San whips his head towards the now open door, his eomma hiding half of her face with it. But he always notice the blood and bruises anyway.

Always.

"Appa's already waiting for you. Why don't you go wash up so he doesn't get mad at you? Hm?"

"Okay, eomma."

San watches as the door slowly closes, making him sigh as he cracked his neck to ease the tension. He needs to be careful after almost getting caught by you. He's training as an assasin like his appa for God's sake! He can't even walk quietly without you noticing.

What a loser.

Maybe he does need the extra training his appa suggested. Sure, it could be useful for missions in the future. But what's most important is so that he could always be with you without you noticing.

"Hey, did you hear the news?"

You hum, doodling away on your notebook as your teacher excused himself to the toilet. "What news exactly?"

"You know Mr. Huang? The one who lost his child a few years ago?"

"Yeah, I know him."

"He's dead," Iseul whispers. "Like...murdered. Not because of some natural death, literal murder!"

You frown, looking at Iseul with concerned eyes. "Iseul, how do you even know that?"

She shrugs. "I heard from the lady next door. Said that police from even outside of the city came here because of how gruesome it is."

"Wow, that bad?"

"Real bad," She mumbles. "My dad told me to stay away from the area since apparently the government is handling it."

"Wait, what about his wife? Is she—you know, dead?"

Iseul thinks silently for a few seconds, before shaking her head. "Not that I know of. The lady did told my mom that Mrs. Huang survived the whole ordeal, but she hasn't woken up yet."

"Poor woman. Already losing a son and now her own husband," You grimaced at the thought.

Rumor has it, both Mr. And Mrs. Huang's son was kidnapped in an apparent ransom act. But when they paid the money, their son never came back to them. Some say he's dead, even Mr. Huang. But a few still holds hope that the boy is still alive to this day, and Mrs. Huang apparently still believes that.

People gossip about how her son's room stayed untouched for the past few years. How Mrs. Huang once went mad at her own friend when they entered the room without permission. Soon after, her mental health started declining, making her stay at home most of the time.

"—from your lover boy?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your head. "What did you say?"

"I said—have you heard from lover boy?"

"Shut up, Iseul. And no, I haven't heard from him for the past few days."

"You really should just visit his house," Iseul remarks softly as Mr. Kim entered the classroom again. "Didn't you say his house's near you?"

You never really say this to Iseul, not even San. But you did once visit his house to ask for his whereabouts. The result? Only a blank stare from the woman who answered the door. Her makeup barely covers the bruises marking her face, making you realize why San didn't want you to find out what's happening inside his house.

"Yeah, maybe I'll go after school," You replied back, knowing deep down you're hesitant to even step onto his family's land ever again.

Biting into the juicy meat, you hum happily as you munch on the braised beef your mother cooked a few hours ago. Your aunt is watching TV, laughing away on some random game show you haven't heard off. Your mother ate silently across you, her eyes empty as usual before she softly coughs to get your attention.

"(Name)? Have you ever stepped foot to the Choi's residence?"

You stopped chewing, looking towards your mother where she holds a grimace. "Um, no. I've never—"

"Answer me truthfully, girl."

Sheesh, she's really mad. Your mother rarely says that to you, only when she meant serious business only.

"I have. But only once! After that, I've never went there again."

Your mother hums, her grimace gone, changed into a more somber expression. "From now on I forbid you to go there, okay?"

"But—"

"No buts," She glares at you. "I don't care what's happening inside of that house, but what I do care is about your well-being."

You huff. "Why are you like this anyway?"

"Something happened. A few police came to the house this afternoon asking about the certain people living there. Turns out it's about the case of Mr. Huang, they suspect the killer—or killers— are living inside of that house right now."

Your eyes turned wide, mouth hanging open as your mother clicked her tongue before closing your mouth with her hand. "Don't do that. It's disgusting."

"Wait, hold on—what do you mean suspects? Are they suspecting everyone there?" You ask. Is this why San hadn't replied back to you?

She only shrugs. "As far as I know, the police are still investigating it. But...they have a strong evidence against the people living there."

"Strong evidence?"

"No clue. They didn't tell me anything again. What they did tell me though," Your mother paused her chewing as she thinks of her next words. "Is that whoever killed Mr. Huang was not only one person."

"A group then?"

Your mother shrugs. "Maybe. They're trying to find some of the stolen goods from his house, like jewelry and expensive items. And police started to search here when they got a tip from someone that one of Mr. Huang's expensive vases were found outside of the house."

God, this only made you more panicked as you tend to overthink about every little thing. San not replying to your texts, him disappearing for a few days. And apparently he's living with murderers? Then again, this should not surprise you ever since your first and last visit to the house.

"Go to sleep," Your mother tells you as she cleans the table. "You still have school tomorrow."

You can't even talk back to your mother, saying that tomorrow's Saturday, but you follow her order nonetheless. Too busy thinking about San in your head.

Entering your room, you softly closed the door only to be surprised by a hand covering your mouth. You scream loudly yet the person behind you shushed you gently. "Please, (name), be quiet."

San?

"San? What the fuck?" You whisper aggressively as he slowly drops the hand from your mouth. You gasp when you're met with the sight of him being bruised and bloody, his eyes tired as his posture turned from tense to weak.

"Oh my—what happened?!"

"Um, can I sit first? I don't think I can't stand much longer."

You quickly usher him to sit on a pillow you throw haphazardly on the floor, pointing at him with hard eyes as you open the door. "Wait here. Don't move. You need to answer questions first before you're off the hook."

He sheepishly smiles, giving you a thumbs up. "Sure, I'll wait here."

You exited your room quietly, walking slowly towards where your mother kept a small first aid kit near the bathroom. Placing it under your arm, you notice your mother and aunt are too busy doing their own thing. You took this advantage to walk quickly to your room, closing the door and locking it before you turn to San.

"First question, how did you get into my room?"

"Um, the window was opened and your mother's here. So I just—" San motions towards the open window, making you huff as you closed the window shut before covering it with the curtains.

"Second question, what the fuck happened to you?"

"It's...a long story."

"We've got time." You glare at him. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so talk."

San lets out a small laugh before he quiets down, nervously playing with his bruised hands as you sat down in front of him. "I'm very private on family matters. I don't want anyone to find out about it, but let's just say I reached a breaking point when I discovered some...new informations."

You pause, before dabbing one of his cuts with curious eyes. "New informations?"

He eyes you silently, the silence didn't really made you uncomfortable, but his gaze did things to you. You've never been this close to him, usually him keeping a distance whilst you respect the boundaries he put.

"I don't want to tell you any of it."

"Can I ask why?"

He hissed when you clean the cut near his eyebrow, apologizing quietly as you continue to work on his wounds. "Do you know what happened to Mr. Huang?"

You frown and eyed San with suspicion, dropping your hand towards your lap as you nodded. "Yeah, I'm sorry what happened to him and his wife. I heard she's still alive."

San sighs, quickly rubbing his eyes as you notice the lone tear escaping. "Yeah, I'm sorry for him too."

"Why are you crying for a man you don't even know?"

He stayed quiet, looking away before he glances at you with hurt in his eyes.

"Why? What's wrong?" You whisper, hesitating to hold his hands.

"(Name), I'm a killer."

Your heart dropped, eyes wide as you tried to comprehend what he just said to you. "W-What? You're joking, right?"

San shakes his head silently, still eyeing you with his hard gaze. You laugh nervously, inching yourself away from him as he stayed in place.

"Choi San, this better be a joke. And if it is, it's not funny!"

He sighs, grabbing something out of his pocket before slowly sliding it towards you. "What do you see?"

It's a ring, and it looks pretty expensive from its appearance. "A ring?"

"Look closer."

You silently move closer towards it, eyeing it suspiciously as San snorts. "Why aren't you touching it?"

"Because I don't want to, San! Ever think of that?"

You huff, eyeing the ring on the floor before you noticed a hint of dark red on the ring. You bit your lip, glancing at him as you pointed towards it. "Is that—is that what I think it is?"

"You mean blood? Yeah, it is. But that's not what I want you to see. Look closer, inside of the ring."

His nonchalant response should've made you bolt the fuck out of your room, but you cast away the fear, moving closer again towards the ring.

And that's when you notice it.

A small carving inside of the ring. Initials.

'H.J'

It quickly clicks to you as to who owned the ring.

Huang Jeongcheol. The man who just got killed.

You stand upright quickly, already moving towards the door when San grabs you by the waist. Holding his hand towards your mouth, he shushed you gently as you scream and bite at his hand.

He placed you on your bed, pinning your hands with only one of his hands. You wonder to yourself, has San ever been this strong? From his appearance, you don't want to sound mean, but he looks like a normal school boy who doesn't like to workout nor doing sports.

"(Name), please listen to me. I know you're scared of me right now, but please listen to me. I'm begging you right now to please believe me because after this...I don't think we'll meet again for a long time."

You stare at San with distrust, but you can't help but feel a tad bit of sadness when he looks so dejected at you.

"The family that I know all my life—lied to me," He started. "They used me, trained me to be their apprentice, to kill people."

San looks away, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at you. "They're not my real family. They never have. Especially after what they've pushed me through, to kill my own father."

You frantically move your head, allowing his hand to move away. "W-What? What do you mean?"

"I've always wondered why Mr. Huang cried at me when I stepped forwards to kill him. I just...did what the others did—kill them to get rid of the evidence," San whispers.

"But then, I started to get uneasy at seeing the house. How it all felt...familiar. And when I saw myself with them in pictures, when I was young—" San laughs wetly, tears running freely down his face. "—I knew, I instantly knew that I just killed my father. My own biological father! I thought I was hallucinating all of it but then I saw how the little boy is wearing my favorite jacket. The one that I own! I can't, I just—"

"Woah, San, calm down," You whisper as his breath became more erratic. You slowly raised his hand towards his chest, allowing the other one placed against your own. "Follow my breathing, good, that's it. Breathe in and out slowly."

"I can't stay here anymore," He whispers after his breathing became normal again, making you frown in confusion. "I killed one of them," He interrupts you. "I told him to tell me the truth, yet he persist that I'm better living with them. And that my father, my biological one, deserved to die."

You're lost for words, you don't even know what to say to him. You only hold his hand tighter as a sign of comfort. But you don't know if you're actually comforting him or yourself.

"I need to go, (name)," He slowly stands up, moving closer to your window to peek between the curtains. "It's not safe for me to be here after what I did. Especially for you."

"F-For me?"

"Yes," He stares at you with hard eyes, yet you can see how his eyes glisten with tears. "I can't let them hurt you. You—I care for you. I appreciate all of the nights we hung out, talk about stupid things and our dreams away from this small town. I want you to achieve your lifelong dream, but that can't happen when you're always the target of a group of killers."

"Why am I a target?" You ask with a quivering tone, fright creeping up on you as San looks on to you with pity. "Please, San. Tell me. Why am I the target?"

"Because they know I'm always here every night."

You can't stop the whimper coming out of your mouth, yet you remember your mother and aunt are still outside. You cry silently with your hand covering your mouth, kneeling to the ground as your breath became erratic.

"Am I going to die? I don't want to die, I can't die, San. I'm scared," You sob silently, crying even harder when he puts your face to his shoulder, his hands holding you tightly as you weep more and more.

"I know," He whispers, tucking your hair back as he hugs you tighter. "That's why I need to lure them away from this town. I don't need any of them in town."

"What? What about your mother?"

San pursed his lips, looking away as he sighs. "I was too late. I can't...protect her."

"Isn't she in the hospital?"

San shakes his head slowly, grasping your hand in his as he exhales a shaky breath. "I was too late, they reached her first."

You bit your lip as you imagined the only blood related family San has now is already dead. You flinched slightly at his hand brushing the tears away from your face, the hand slowly moving your face towards him as he pecks your mouth. A light one, but you've never kissed a boy—or really anyone—before.

You gasp in surprise, finding San smiling softly at you as he placed his forehead to yours. "I love you, (name). I don't know when or where, but I hope we'll meet again soon. Promise you'll wait for me?"

You closed your eyes, holding his hand tighter as a sign of promise. "I will. I'll wait for you."

The cold wind hits your body roughly, making you hug your thin coat tighter as you weave your way between people to get to your apartment. Readjusting the mask you open the building door as you nod towards the owner of the building, an old man who likes to smoke at late hours.

He nodded back before you walked slowly towards your designated floor. You avoid making eye contact with your neighbor, ignoring his staring as he waters his plants.

Such a weird habit. Who waters their plants at night?

Closing and locking the door, you sigh loudly as you pulled the mask from your face, brushing your hair away from your face as you lazily throw your shoes near the door.

So much has happened in the past five years.

Well, not that interesting to be honest in your life. Ever since he left.

San quickly left after the promise you've made to him, you staring at his back as he walks towards the darkness. Never to be seen again.

You've held on to the hope of him returning maybe for a year. Going about your day, ignoring the whispers from people around you about the murders and a missing boy. Paranoia started to slowly grow because of what he said to you, about being possibly killed.

Before you realized that it's all an empty promise and lies.

Then again, you were both young so you can't really blame younger you.

As for older you, or yourself currently, you're now living in the big city! Sure, you may be having a bit of a trouble handling money for university, having to work two part time jobs while studying, living in a small shitty apartment; but you're alive at least. And that's what matters.

Kicking what seems to be paper, you picked up two envelopes, one familiar and one you didn't recognize. You decided to shower first, grimacing at your sweaty skin as you quickly entered the bathroom.

Grabbing the convenient store bento on your way home, you smile as you open the first letter from your mother. Your relationship kinda got better when you left, feeling that deep down your mother missed you. She's just awkward on showing it to you.

Now, the other letter.

It's more high quality, more smaller than the one your mother sent. You looked for any names or address, but nothing. You chewed as you opened the letter, finding a small written letter.

Hello. You might not recognize me now, but I'm finally at a place where I feel I've accomplished enough to ensure your safety. I'll see you soon.

You frowned, looking at the back of the letter to see if there's anymore writing. When you see none, you folded the paper back to its envelope before chucking it towards the mess that is your desk.

A lone paper slips past you, probably from the envelope. You grabbed it only to get more confused and creeped out because it's a drawing.

Of you.

Tossing the drawing alongside the rest of the letter, you contemplated on what to do.

You don't know who it is, probably the letter was sent to a wrong address or it's someone messing with you. Then again, you don't really know whoever would waste their precious time on you anyways.

Cracking your neck with a sigh, you continued to eat before deciding to sleep in for the night. You're not that busy tomorrow, only a few classes and one part time schedule at the convenience store. You laid down, charged your phone, and closed your eyes as you waited for sleep to come by, waiting for tomorrow for you to repeat the same cycle.

"Hey, (name)," Your coworker, Chaemin, greeted with a tired smile as you nodded back in greeting. "I'll go change, wait here."

You hum, standing behind the cashier as you waited for him to finish. Nothing much happened today. Classes went by as normal, a few friends invited you to a party but you sadly declined as you're now working, and that's it.

Entering the staff's room as Chaemin exited, he bid you goodbye as you changed into your uniform. Grabbing your phone before exiting, you held back a yawn as you sat down behind the cash register, looking around the dead and empty convenience store. You don't expect much customers this late at night so you proceeded to play a new game on your phone.

Not long after, a ding was heard indicating a new customer, making you glance up, eyebrows raised in confusion as to who just entered.

A man, wearing a dark grey three piece suit, holding a briefcase as he slowly walks towards the drink isle. Who wears black gloves anyways?

Not something you would see this late at night, but it's better than some drunkards yelling profanities all around. You realized you're staring too hard on the man, flicking your gaze towards your phone once more as slow steps rang throughout the store.

"Excuse me?"

"Y-Yes?" You replied back with surprise, not expecting the man to talk. You noticed the man smiling as he holds the drink in his hand, smiling slightly making you notice the small dimple on his cheek.

He's pretty handsome, you'll give him that.

"Is this the 'buy one get one' drink promo?"

"Yes, but you can only buy the same flavour to get the promo, sir."

"Sir? Do I really look that old to you?" He chuckles softly, grabbing the drinks and continue to look around to grab snacks.

You scratched your head in embarrassment. "O-Oh, sorry. Just formalities and all for me, you know?"

The man hums, walking towards the you as he placed the small basket on the counter before smiling at you. "No worries, don't be scared. Just jokin' with you."

You smile politely, scanning the items before stating the price, accepting the cash as you tried to ignore his hard stare at you. Sure, he's handsome and all but he's just a passing customer that you'll soon forget in a few days. Besides, nothing exciting ever happens to you anyway.

You waited for the man to go away, surprise in your eyes as he slides one of the drinks to you. You looked up to him, pointing at the drink. "Um, what's this?"

"A treat."

"For?"

He shrugs with a smile, "Just something to make your day better."

"Alright...thank you?"

"You're welcome," He replies softly, grabbing the plastic bag that seemed so out of place with the rest of his outfit. As he exited the store, you squinted your eyes when you saw a flash of red splatter behind his suit.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your eyes in frustration and tiredness. You really do need to fix up your schedule or you'll pass out anytime soon.

Blood?

You thought that one encounter was going to be the last time you'll ever see the man. That's what you had in mind as you've worked through your other part-time jobs, just going with the flow.

It's a surprise when the man entered once more, greeting you with a smile. His suit is immaculate as ever, black with unopened buttons at the top, sleeves rolled as he walks around the store.

"Rough night?" He asks, sliding the drink to you as he finished paying.

You shrug, thanking him halfheartedly as you open the drink given to you. "Just tired."

"Well," He starts. "I hope tomorrow will be a better day for you. You never know what's going to happen, huh?"

You know those words were supposed to make you feel better, but somehow, it only does the opposite for you. You nod with an awkward smile. "Yeah, sure."

"Goodnight then—" He squints behind his glasses, reading your name tag. "—(name)."

"Goodnight."

You stare at his retreating back, noting no sights of red splatter on his back. That is, until you're eyes reached his shoes that you notice the red small imprint it left behind.

Yeah, you're definitely not going crazy from sleep.

"What?! You've never dated anyone in that big of a city?" Iseul hissed through the phone, making you scoff at her. "Uh, yeah? Too busy making money so I could live the next day is pretty important to me, you know?"

"Oh, I know. I didn't mean it that way."

"No," You held back a yawn behind your hand. "I kinda agree with you here. I just—I don't know, I don't have time? Sure, dating sounds like a dream for me. But I'm afraid I'm to busy to manage a relationship and I'll get dumped."

"That's why communication is important!" Iseul replied back with vigor. "Look, I'm not going to force you but my boyfriend has a friend there, coincidentally, that's also single."

"Is that why you called me?"

"No! Well...maybe," She laughs nervously. You smirk in amusement but told her to go on.

"Right! His name is Donghyun, goes to the same university if I'm not wrong. He's older around three years than you. Sounds good?"

"Uh, any other information that you know besides that?"

"Sorry, I don't really know the guy. But, my boyfriend says that he's really nice. If you're down, I'm gonna give your number to him."

You sigh, thinking about the dangers of meeting a stranger for a date. Then again, you really need something other than working your ass off in your spare time. You contemplated for a minute, before cutting off Iseul's rambling on the phone. "Hey, I'll go."

Iseul started to scream loudly, making you pull away from the phone in an instant. "My ears!"

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just so happy for you!"

You laugh lightly, "I haven't even met the guy, Iseul."

"Well, I hope he's good to you. If not, then I can go to you and find him to beat his ass up if he ever hurts you."

"Alright, I hope you protect me from whatever danger there is," You hum.

The conversation between you and Iseul goes on until the morning. Thankfully, you only had one class and no work since you covered one of your coworkers shifts and in return, now they're covering yours.

It's a surprise when an unknown phone number texted you, introducing himself as the man himself, Donghyun. He texted cutesy enough, adding cat stickers every now and then that made you laugh. He wanted to meet you today, which made you think about how he's really desperate but deep down you're desperate too.

You agreed to meet up after your class this afternoon, meeting at a cafe nearby so you assumed he also has classes today.

Wanting to make a good impression, you decided to dress up a bit more nicer with a dress. You kept your hairstyle simple yet pretty, using some light makeup before deciding to go to class after a big brunch.

You ignored the curious glances you received at class, quickly leaving when it finished. You texted Donghyun that you're walking to the cafe, surprised that he's already there and asked if you wanted any drinks or food.

When you arrived, you looked around before seeing someone waving their hand at you. You held back a noise of surprise at the sight of a familiar face. You've seen him before a few times at university, what a small world.

"Donghyun?"

"Yeah! You must be (name), it's nice meeting you," He smiles widely as he gestures towards the seat across him. "I already ordered the drinks and food here. So, uh, dig in!"

"Thanks," You smiled at him.

Donghyun really is a nice guy. Very attentive to your needs, a true gentleman. But a few times he sounds a bit...ignorant.

"Oh, wow! You work two part-time jobs and go to university? That's really admirable."

You nod along. "Yeah, it sucks and tiring. But I need the money, ya know?"

"Why can't your parents pay for it? It seems like a parents duty to pay for their child's education."

You held back a grimace, hiding it with a shrug of your shoulders. "Yeah, that's true. But they don't have much money to support me plus themselves. So I had to resort to working."

"No wonder you look tired all the time. No offense, but you look like a zombie every time I see you."

You laugh along with him, noticing how he opens his mouth once more probably to ask you the same questions. But you diverted the topic to him, asking what major he's in.

You learned Donghyun was a business major, following along his mother's footsteps to continue their oil tycoon. Everything suddenly clicks as Donghyun tells you his story.

He's old money and super rich. Whilst you're an ordinary country bumpkin.

Basically two different worlds.

But you really don't care about that now. He seems like a sweetheart, and you're tired of the same cycle you're going through every fucking day.

You need a breath of fresh air.

So you agreed to date him. Scheduling seems a bit hard because of your schedule, but Donghyun seems to be fine with it, asking you to message him if you have any spare time.

One date turns to two. Two turns into three more dates. Until you realized you've been dating Donghyun for the past three months.

He really is a sweet guy. But you know it's never going to last long from the expectations his parents had for him about his life, so you took everything lightly and just enjoyed the flow. Besides, he likes to spoil you with gifts. You're not going to decline that, especially if it's necessary needs like foods and clothes.

One thing that never changed though is the man that routinely visits the convenience store once a week. New suits, same old face, and the always changing positions for the blood. Because of this, you kept your distance from him. Always setting boundaries when he asks you personal questions, but never getting mad since you don't want to make him pissed off.

"New bracelet?"

"Huh?"

"Is that a new bracelet you bought? Looks cute," The man smiled, pointing towards the beaded bracelet you had on.

"Yeah, my boyfriend bought it for me," You replied back nonchalantly, scanning the items in front of you. Not noticing how the man posture snapped in an instant from relaxed to tense.

He hums, tracing letters on the counter. "Boyfriend, huh? Who's the lucky guy?"

"No one you know, of course. But it's someone from my university."

The man nodded once more, scoffing before he quickly replaced the frown with a smile. "How long you've been dating?"

"Not your business."

"Aw, I thought we were friends—"

"Uh, no? I don't even know your name. Why would I be friends with you?" You stared at the man with a confused gaze, quickly averting your eyes when he only blankly stared at you with no expression on his face.

"Of course, my apologies. Here, take the drink. You need it."

You hesitantly grabbed it. "Thanks, I guess."

He nods once, grabs his things, before walking out of the store. You let out a relieved sigh, pushing the drink out of your way. "Fucking creep."

You glanced into the empty streets outside, relieved the man was nowhere to be seen. You grabbed your phone just in case when you saw a text from Donghyun.

You: when?

Dodo: coffee date? <3

You contemplated for a while, knowing you have a shift tomorrow. But one of your coworkers could cover you for one day, it wouldn't hurt.

Dodo: hoping tmrw is ok?

You: sounds good :)

You ignored the sinking feeling growing inside you, wanting to have fun once in a while without overthinking it.

But maybe you should've listened to your gut this time.

"Wow, this place is really secluded," You commented at the small indie cafe. Donghyun shrugged, pulling out a chair for you. "I know, but the reviews are really good. And my friends told me it's worth it."

"Alright, did they recommend anything?"

"The croissant looks good, but they recommended we buy the red velvet slice."

You nodded, giving out your usual drink order to Donghyun as he walks up to order. You looked around and noticed how empty it is for a supposedly popular cafe. Yeah, two people are outside right now, drinking and smoking. But other than that, the place looks deserted.

"Here you go," Donghyun placed the drinks and food. "Pretty fast but they don't have any customers besides us right now."

"Yeah, doesn't it feel weird to you? A popular cafe this empty on a Friday?"

He shrugs, already drinking away. "Like you said, it's a secluded place. It's popular, yeah, but only a few people know."

"Really?"

"Not a lot things on social media, but maybe this cafe runs from word of mouth? You know, people talk to their friends who in return come here."

"Maybe," You answered, but there's still doubt lingerie in your head. You brushed it off as Donghyun started to talk, asking about you and telling stories about him and his friends.

The cake was honestly really good, you can't get enough of it. But you stopped eating when you notice Donghyun yawning for the fifth time in a row. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just—" He yawns widely before continuing. "I don't know why I feel really sleepy."

"Did you not sleep well last night?"

"I did! I just—I don't know why I'm suddenly so tired."

You opened your mouth to reply back but only met with your own yawn passing through. "Woah, that's a surprise."

Donghyun laughs. "Are you tired too? Damn, we're meant to be." His head slumps towards the table, no sounds from him other than soft breathing.

Your gaze started to get weird, looking around as your head started to get dizzy. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the barista talking to someone, someone in a suit. You tried to move away from the approaching figure, but felt your body too weak to even move.

In the next few seconds, your eyes started to get droopy before you succumb to the darkness.

You don't know how long you're out, but one thing for sure is you got a massive headache. And you're tied to a chair in a small room.

You groan at the light hitting your eyes as you open your eyes, grimacing at the painful headache growing rapidly.

"—Thank you again, for the help."

"Well, don't got much choices do I?"

"Yes, that's true. But thank you nonetheless."

"Hey," You spoke out loud. "Hey! Where the fuck am I?!"

"Sounds like your lover's awake," A gruff voice replied.

The door besides you opened slowly, making you glare at the familiar man smiling widely at you. "Hello, headache?"

"No shit!" You hissed at the man who only innocently smiles at you. "What did you do? Where's Donghyun?"

"Now, now, you don't have to worry about some other man," He gently replied, grabbing an extra chair out of nowhere. You glared at the man as he fixed his cuff links, clicking his tongue when he noticed a small patch of red staining his white clean button up.

"Who's blood is that?"

"No one you need to worry about," He laughs, fixing his glasses as he smiles at you. "I'm sorry we need to reunite like this, but you gave me no choice."

"What the—wait, reunite? What do you mean reunite?" You whispered in shock.

He laughs softly at you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face as you flinched away from him. "I don't blame you for not recognizing me. I have to...alter my appearance because of my job."

"Just tell me who you are!"

"I've killed my own biological family members, who's been searching for me every since a group of assassins kidnapped me for ransom," He starts, playing with the ring on his finger. "Huang Jeongcheol, the innocent man that I've killed without knowing. And Huang Hyorin, who I've failed because I was too late to save her."

Your head started to ache painfully, your breathing becomes more ragged as you stared at the man you once knew in your past, suddenly here with you.

Kidnapped you. And could possibly hurt you.

"S-San?"

"Hi, (name)," San smiles as he moves closer to you. He coos as he brushed away the tears that escapes your eyes. You didn't even notice you're crying, you didn't know why. Maybe because all this time you've let go of the past with him, finding it to be near impossible when he didn't even tried to contact you.

"Why are you crying, love?"

"Wha—I thought, I thought you're dead!"

"And why would I be?" He hums, continuing to brush your hair softly, a smile etched on his face as you tried to calm your breathing.

"You said people were after you! Tried to kill you!" You screamed loudly, glaring at him with wild eyes. "And you said they're also after me! How can I not conclude that you're dead when you didn't contacted me whatsoever!"

He sighs, sitting again in front of you whilst he holds your hands to his. "I know. And I've wanted to meet you after I've sent the letter—"

"You've sent that creepy letter?!"

"Yeah, I gotta admit it is creepy," He laughs. "But anyways, back to the story. I didn't contact you because I've been working."

"You got a job? Here?"

"Not necessarily here," He explains. "Let's just say I've become what I've been trained for since my younger years."

Dread grows inside your body, looking at San with weary eyes as you hoped whatever suspicions you had about him was wrong. "You kill people for a living? L-Like them?"

He nods once.

"Oh, San...why? Did anyone force you to work this—"

"No one forced me!" He yells, making you jump as you closed your mouth in an instant. His eyes now wild with fire, glaring incessantly at the wall as his hold on your hands turned tighter. He lets go of your hands as you yelped in pain, mumbling a small 'sorry'.

"No one forced me, (name)," He continues. "Yes, I've been living like hell just so I could live another day! Hiding in slums, stealing, begging to strangers for food, whatever I could do to hide from that bastards!"

"But I've had enough one day, I've just had it with them," He hissed, pacing back and forth in front of you as he crossed his arms. "So I become a hitman, for the people who need it. I need the money and the relations to get back at them, and I've become weak over the years because I didn't train enough. But one job turned into more and more, and suddenly people in the industry know my name. They respected me for my work ethic, cleanliness, and no bullshit attitude."

"A-And did you—"

"Yeah, I did it," He smirks in triumph. "I killed the last one just two years ago. Bastard didn't even put up a fight, fucking beheaded him. It felt so...euphoric to see the light slowly disappearing from his eyes."

You flinched when his gaze turns to you. "And you, (name), I've never forgotten you once in my life. I've prayed to whatever God is there to always be there for you when I'm not there. I've hold on to the promise we've made, and when I first saw you here—" He laughs happily. A lovesick look on his face as he sighs, "I couldn't believe my eyes. You look the same yet you look so angelic and beautiful when I first saw you. I thought about the future we could have together, just us together. Maybe we could get a pet. Besides, I'm respected now! I have money to spoil you and you don't have to even work. But..."

"But?"

"But you broke our promise," San hissed with venom. "You said you'll wait for me! You said you wanted to be with me. And I find you all of a sudden with a boyfriend!"

He looks at you with hurt and betrayal, hands clenched tightly as you tried to look away from his stare. "What was I supposed to do? Wait for you?!"

"Yes! You promised me, (name)!"

"We were young!" You bellowed out to him, chest heaving with anger as he looks at you with hard eyes. "We were young, San. It's stupid for me to just wait in that damn town. I was scared to move away, yes, but I wanted to get out of that small town since forever."

You looked at him desperately, ignoring the warning signs ringing inside your head from the look on San's face. "I have to think for myself and my family. I moved here to get better education, and I worked my ass off to get money so I could buy food and pay for my utilities! I was stressed out thinking people were out to get me, before I realized it's all bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit, (name)!"

"Oh, I know," You mumbled. "But I can't live my life just for some promise I made to them in the past. It's called moving on, San."

He's quiet as you cough lightly, now feeling how dried your throat is as you glanced around the room for any escape. You turned to look at him as he lets out a breathy laugh, hands wiping his face in an obvious attempt to hide his anger.

"So, the promise you made...it doesn't mean anything to you, huh?"

You looked away, closing your eyes before answering. "It used to mean something. But at one point, I just—I just let go of my worries. I got into a good university, I moved away, worked hard for money so I could sustain my life. I've met good friends here—"

"And a boyfriend."

"Yes," You glared at him. "A boyfriend. Whom I've choose to date because I wanted to. I know it's not a serious relationship, but I wanted to get out of the stress for just one moment. And you're mad at me for that?!"

San shakes his head, looking away from your gaze. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. I wanted for us to be together, and now you're protecting this asshole like you love him."

"I do love him," You answered. He scoffs loudly, laughing loudly as he shakes his head. "Like you've said, this relationship wasn't meant to last this long. And I think I should end this now."

You're eyes widen as he stood up, cracking his knuckles as he stretches. "S-San? What—What are you doing?"

He smiles, not in a loving way, but more sinister and mocking. "Don't worry," He pats your head, messing up your hair even more. "I just need to get rid of him. Then, we'll finally be together."

"What?! No, wait!"

You tried to move, tried to get help by screaming, only to stop when you hear a loud scream outside. You whimper when a thud was heard outside, trying to find anything to cut the ropes tying you up as the screams started to get even more desperate.

"No! San, please! Leave him be," You cried out.

Another scream.

"Please, please! Just let him go! He didn't do anything wrong!"

A groan from Donghyun before he pleads for his life.

"San! Please, don't kill him."

A final 'thud' was heard outside.

No sounds.

You cried and cried, tears running down freely from your eyes as you whimper. Donghyun is dead because of you.

You didn't look up when the door opened, too exhausted to even lift up your head as you continued to sob silently.

"Thanks again, Jongin."

You glanced up to see the barista standing near the doorway. "Whatever," He mumbles. "I need to clean up anyways. The usual?"

San hums happily, brushing away the strands of hair that has fallen down his perfectly styled hair. "Yeah. Make sure to cut him up, place him in different areas. I'll tip you even more money."

"You got it."

With one final look from the man, he closed the door.

Leaving you with this psychopath.

"Look at me, (name). I know you're tired, but please look at me," He cooed.

"No," You whispered, not able to see the blood stains on him.

He sighs, walking up to you to grab you by the hair. You yelled in pain, before shutting your mouth as his grip turned tighter.

"Here's a warning for you," He starts. His eyes crazed and face covered in blood. "Do stupid things that'll make me mad, and others will face the consequences."

He points towards the door. "That's warning number one."

"I don't want to hurt you anymore," He whispers, grip turning more loose as he lets go of your hair. He walks around you, eyes cold and emotionless. So different from the one before. "But, if I have to—I will kill others you love."

"No, please."

"And if you do something that steps over the boundaries I'll give you," He stops in front of you, cupping your chin so you'll look at him. "I will kill your mother."

"No!" You scream, desperation in your tone. "Please, not her! Don't kill anyone," You cried out to him.

San smiles, his expression turned more soft in a matter of seconds. He kneels before hugging you, kissing your lips deeply like he's a starved man. He bites your lip enough to make it bleed, making you whimper in pain. He sighs, happily, brushing your tears away with his thumb before smiling.

"Be mine, (name). All of your worries will go away, and no one will ever be hurt because of you."

From the things you only have, he really needs to spoil you more. He thinks about the new clothes he could buy, some nice accessories for you to wear, maybe even some naughty things for the both of you to enjoy—

San hums a happy tune as he moves the boxes from your small apartment. He can't believe you live in this dump when you could've lived with him in a nice apartment. Then again, you lived according to your budget so he can't really blame you.

Plus he had other things to work on, planning the apartment, making sure you're comfortable there. Maybe killing a few people to make sure nobody gets suspicious as to where you are. Families are usually the most bothersome people to handle with, that's why he needed to make your last remaining family member die. He's skilled enough anyways to make it seem like an accident.

Your mother, a heart attack.

Your aunt, car crash.

Your friend, Iseul, killed by her boyfriend.

You don't know of course. He'll make sure of that.

"Hey, who are you?"

San looks around before seeing an old man standing at the end of the hallway, voice gruff probably because of the cigarette he's smoking. He smiles in ease, knowing it's your landlord after the stalking he's done throughout the years.

"Oh! I'm (name)'s boyfriend, sir."

"And what exactly are you doing?"

"Just moving out some of her stuff," He shrugs. "We decided to live together now."

"And why isn't she here?"

His smile turned more tense, already feeling annoyed from questions. Can't this old fart just go away?

"She's sick, sadly. So I'm tasked with moving the rest of her stuff."

The old man only nods. "Good, take care of her. She's too coped up here, she's still young."

San laughs, "That's what I've said to her too!"

He eyes the old man, cocking his head to the side as he smirks in amusement. "Don't worry, I'll take real good care of her."

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER FOUR (MONACO)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: heartbreak as usual

word count: 5.3k (like, exactly 5.3k. on the word. 😭)

author's note: it feels so wrong to say that im posting this to celebrate ollie's graduation to f1 because... this is such a sad chapter.... pain pain pain for everyone involved (especially ollie) 💔 but yay happy ollie f1 announcement day!!! hope you're all doing well & hope you enjoy <3 (also i wrote a lot of this chapter back in february? and proofreading it today nearly brought me to tears bcs of ollie-)

series masterlist

the career of a racing driver is a roller coaster for everyone involved.

if your name is max verstappen, then you've got more ups than most others. that roller coaster seems pretty fun.

but if your name is y/n harper, then your roller coaster isn't as fun these days. but if there’s ever a place to turn things around, it's monaco.

even just the track walk is enough to bring up your mood after a bad week like last. walking along the monegasque streets, almost getting hit by cars as you sign autographs and take pictures with fans... it's an experience you just can't find anywhere else.

coincidentally enough, ollie is done with the track walk just as you are, which means that the two of you can make your way back to the f2 paddock together. your boyfriend has always loved monaco – he pretty much doesn't ever shut up about the track and it's history unless you tape his mouth shut when you're in the country. that's why it's surprising that he not only brings up another subject, but also that he chooses a quite sensitive one – your father.

"he's going to be here this weekend, right?" ollie asks, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. he seemingly doesn't quite understand just how tense things are with your dad yet. to be fair, it isn't really his fault, since you haven't told him and since he isn't a mind-reader. but still, something in your chest tightens at the way ollie brings him up so casually.

you nod. "you know how much he adores monaco," you say with a sigh, before putting on your best impression of your dad. "the most iconic track ever, the only track to ever... blah blah blah."

having your dad along for races was always a given when you were younger. he was your best helmet carrier, your number-one supporter, and the first person you went to when celebrating or complaining.

but somewhere along the years, having him around started to become more problematic and anxiety-inducing. his support turned into criticism, and it became far more common for him to tell you to "go apologize to the engineers and ask them what you should do to perform better tomorrow" rather than give you any constructive feedback of his own.

at first, it was rough; the man who had always been your pillar to lean on, your main source of support, your safe haven, was seemingly gone. you continued to perform well, though you weren't sure if that was because you wanted to make him proud or if you were terrified of making him disappointed.

"let's have dinner with him someday, then," ollie suggests as the two of you come to a stop right outside the prema garage for the weekend. "maybe sunday, if we have things to celebrate?"

"let's hope so."

pepe calls your name once, twice, thrice, before he resorts to shaking your shoulder gently. his touch, along with the sound of the spaniard's raspy laughter, makes you finally wake from your slumber. you blink up at him, eyes droopy and mind empty. "what?"

"why are you sleeping?" pepe asks, shaking his head. "quali starts in... about an hour."

you begin to slowly push yourself up from the couch you've been lying on, yawning loudly. "i was supposed to just rest my eyes," you start, rubbing your eyes with your hands. "i didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"did you not sleep well last night? were you up late again?" pepe asks as he sits down next to you, watching you stretch your arms over your head with yet another yawn.

what are you supposed to say? yes, i was up until four am because i couldn't find any peace of mind at all? i've been dreading every second of this weekend because i never know when my dad will appear from around the corner? i'm scared he's going to be so mad over my performances that he disowns me?

pepe may know a lot of what's going on with your father, but he doesn't need to know this much.

you did, in fact, meet him earlier today, right before practice – if greeting him briefly and then instantly bolting in the opposite direction counts as a "meeting" – but since then, he's been nowhere to be seen. not even around dino or ollie when you last saw the two of them.

pepe takes your silence as an answer in itself, and he lets out a hum. "well, i'm quite nervous myself," he says frankly, pulling a hand through his hair.

"you did so well here last year, though." you nudge his shoulder with yours. "you'll be great again, i'm sure of it."

"dinner with the prince on sunday? both of us?"

you nod, shooting your friend a smile. "of course." but despite how much you wish it would become a reality, there's not even the slightest trace of faith in you. the only thing you can think about is how likely it is for this round to go in the same footsteps as your recent ones.

a great attitude to bring into a race weekend.

p9.

a top ten placement, sure. second in the reverse grid, sure. but other than that, there's not much positive in it. it's a step in the right direction, but in some way, it feels like a step that's way too short.

the sprint race starts with an incident right by you on the track, which is extremely unlucky for you since you get pretty much blocked and have nowhere to go. after being passed by several cars, the safety car finally comes out, and you find yourself in p7.

of course your father's words echo in your head all the way through the safety car period. "starting p2 means a free podium," he had told you when he stopped by right before you were getting into your car. "don't mess it up."

you're so focused on that expression on his face, the way he tilted his chin up and his head slightly to the side as he spoke, and the way it felt like your heart stopped beating for a few seconds, that you don't even realize that your engineer has told you about the safety car being about to end. you don't even acknowledge the fact that the race leader has taken off, nor that the rest of the field starts pushing again before it's too late.

some blue car tries to overtake you on the outside, and with another car on your inside you have no chance of giving either of them space – and you manage to crash into them both. not only did you ruin your own race, but also two other drivers'.

and of course, one of the cars buried into the wall next to yours is a silver hitech with a big number 17 on it.

climbing out of your car, you can hear several voices calling out for all three of you from the grandstand nearby, and you consider throwing them a wave as you climb through the metal fence to get off the track. but then, you hear one voice that's more familiar – one that belongs to the last person you want to talk to right now. "are you alright?"

you almost don't look at him, but the little glance you shoot him is enough to take in every single bit of disappointment in his eyes. what are the odds that your dad was sitting in the grandstand right where you crashed?

a nod is enough of an answer you reckon, pulling your helmet off your head and beginning to walk the way towards the paddock again. "do you want me to carry that?" your dad asks, having gotten past the security guards after showing his pass, now jogging to catch up with you.

"i'm not ten anymore," you groan. "i can handle it on my own."

"i wasn't saying you can't-" he cuts himself off, placing a hand on your shoulder. "you looked really out of it out there."

you keep your gaze forwards so he won't see you rolling your eyes at his words, determined steps carrying you forward quickly as you shake his hand off. "oh, you could see through my visor? that's cool."

"what's gotten into you lately?" your dad pushes, and you flinch slightly at the harsh tone in his voice. "what's wrong with you?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, frankly, your driving had been shit recently." your eyes snap to him when he speaks, eyebrows furrowed. "it looks like you're not even trying."

you stay silent for a long while, trying to navigate your way back – and to a place where your dad hopefully won't be allowed – but you can't help but scoff. "thank's a lot."

"what? am i wrong?"

"yes, you're wrong!" you finally stop in your tracks, fully facing him by now. a hand goes up to your hair, pulling on it to relieve at least some tension. "i'm trying my best, i-"

"is there something going wrong with ollie?" your jaw drops. "i'll talk to him, i'll settle it with him."

"don't you dare!" you exclaim. "there's nothing wrong with ollie, okay?!"

"then what is wrong with you? why can't you score ten points in nine races?"

that's it – you're going to completely lose it if this goes on for even one more second. "leave me the fuck alone," you tell him, turning your head away so he won't get a chance to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

the worst part of it all? the fact that you agree with him. the fact that you can't even argue against it; nine points in five rounds is not a good result at all.

surprisingly enough, he doesn't follow you when you hurry away, allowing you to get to the paddock alone. the silence doesn't mean you can hold back from crying, however; it doesn't take long before your cheeks are stained with your tears, your breaths growing quicker and quicker for every step you take. navigating the paddock with blurry vision is hard, and you're basically just relying on muscle memory to take you back to the right part of the garage. just as you're rounding a corner, you bump into someone – someone whose white suit and broad, muscular shoulders are easy to recognize even through your tears.

the other last person you want to talk to right now.

"hey there," he says, a hand coming up to your shoulder to keep you steady as you stumble a little upon the impact with his chest. "are you- woah, are you crying?"

"leave me alone, paul."

he lets out a little chuckle, one he regrets in hindsight because it makes him sound like he thinks the state you're in is funny. "i can't just walk away when you're this upset, can i?" he asks, having to use all of his willpower to hold back from wiping away a few tears from your cheeks. "is it about the crash? i'm not mad at you, and i don't think victor is either-"

"i couldn't care less about the stupid crash!" you explode, a few sobs following your words. "i'm just- i can't-"

paul's eyes widen in surprise at your outburst, hand on your shoulder slipping further along so he's got his arm draped across your shoulders and it's easier for him to force you to walk with him. now it's your turn to have to hold back, wanting nothing more than to lean into his chest and just let out all of your tears. he pushes you with him into the hitech truck, looking around the lounge area to make sure no one's there before guiding you to sit on one of the sofas there. "what's going on? did something happen?"

"i'm a bad driver, that's what happened." paul slumps into the seat right next to you, eyebrows raised when he hears you speak. "i don't belong here, i don't know what i'm doing, i-"

"hey hey hey," he cuts you off with a shake of his head. "what have we said about this?"

you look down at the floor, wiping away a few tears from your cheek as you continue to sniffle in the silence that fills the area. a burning feeling spreads through your chest at his words, the familiarity of it all making your head spin. it isn't the first time you've been like this in front of him; through the almost entire year you dated, there were quite a few times when he'd have to console you after a breakdown. paul knows your issues like the back of his hand, he knows how hard it can be to convince you that you do belong. but he also knows to never give up.

"you are a great driver," he starts, hesitating for a moment before letting his hand rub your shoulder. the action makes your breath hitch in your throat, but not because it's wrong – it's because you've missed his touch, probably far more than you've admitted to yourself before now.

"even my lousy dad thinks i'm bad," you finally get out in-between sniffles, resting your face in your hands.

"and since when do you care about his opinion, huh?"

he's right. at least partially. but still, you remain hunched over, shaking your head. "i may act like it doesn't matter, but… him calling me all kinds of things…" paul allows you to gather your thoughts, his touch remaining gentle over your racing suit. "it hurt. a lot."

he hums understandingly, letting out a sigh. "when is that stupid little brain of yours going to understand that you're doing well?" his words should bring a smile to your lips – a few months ago, they would've. but now, you don't react at all. "no matter what he says, no matter what the critics say. you're a good driver."

after another few moments of silence, you drop your hands to your lap and look at him. there's a hint of curiousity in his eyes, surprised by your sudden eye contact. "why do you even care?" you question. he's been acting like a complete idiot these past few months – and after you literally cursed him out in melbourne, you haven't spoken a word to each other. and yet, he's taking time out of his day to comfort you like he would a year ago.

"come on…" he presses his lips together in a firm line, shaking his head. "no matter what happens between us, i'll always look after you."

his words, and maybe especially your emotional reaction to them, take you by surprise. despite the anger and frustration you've built up over the last few months, there's an undeniable warmth in his gaze that softens your defenses. the feeling of nostalgia and longing is so strong it's almost painful, as if he has reminded you of a connection you thought had been lost forever.

it's quite strange, considering everything that's happened. but you're not opposed to it.

"how are you feeling after the crash?" paul asks to break the silence as you reach up to dry away the last of your tears from your cheeks. "that was a big impact you had. i got away lightly in comparison."

for the first time since the crash, you stop to actually think about it and allow yourself to feel through your body. the adrenaline from the race has worn off by now, and there's a throbbing in your head that seems to just grow stronger by the second. "i think… i'm alright…"

"do you want me to go get ollie for you? the race should be done by now," he says, checking the clock on the wall in the truck. "he can take you to go see a medic."

you shake your head instantly. "please, don't. for real."

paul shoots you a strange, confused look, though he gives you a slight nod. "okay, but you have to tell him," he says, pausing a second before continuing. "i know that head of yours, you're going to combust if you keep hiding this. you can't go through it alone."

"i promise."

you don't end up going to the medical center.

you do, however, go find ollie yourself – but you don't tell him about your chat with paul. instead, you hope he doesn't take notice of the not-so-subtle signs that you've just had a complete meltdown.

it's easy to break promises to people who you don't need to stay truthful to, you realize. last year, you wouldn't even think about breaking a promise to paul – but an ex boyfriend is much easier to lie to.

your current boyfriend wraps his arms around you the second you step close enough. his lips press to the side of your head, his arms giving you another squeeze before pulling away.

ollie has gotten used to your red eyes.

he's gotten used to the sight of your tearstained cheeks, the slight pout on your lips, the heaviness in your sighs.

he's gotten used to the sinking feeling in his stomach, the pain in his chest, the guilt.

but he's also gotten used to not asking, because he knows you won't tell.

when you wake up on feature race day, something is different. it's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders after talking to paul; like the air is suddenly much easier to breathe, and the whole world seems a little lighter. you're much more excited for the feature race of the day than any race so far this season.

in today's race, it's ollie's time to crash out. it isn't his fault, though; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got squeezed up against the wall by a trident car. there was nothing he could do.

as soon as he's deemed free of injuries, he makes his way back to the prema garage, joining the team in watching the rest of the race. it's a good one for you; choosing to go with the opposite strategy has really worked out for you so far, with you and zak o'sullivan being the only two drivers in the top who haven't pitted yet.

ollie follows your car intently on the screen in the garage, secretly hoping for a safety car to come out and help you out with your strategy as it's nearing the last few laps. he almost doesn't pull out of his trance even when a hand lands on his shoulder. "she's doing great," dino says from behind him, the brit nodding along to his words. "especially considering... well, she must've told you about yesterday, so i won't repeat it to you."

yesterday?

ollie looks dumbfounded for a moment before he composes himself, though he has no idea what the swede is talking about. "of course."

dino lets out a chuckle, patting his friend's shoulder. "paul said she was a complete mess when he found her," he continues, not realizing he's giving ollie more clues to help figure out what in the world he's talking about. "her anxiety was all over the place, apparently. but she's recovering, she's strong. she won't let this affect her."

ollie hums agreeingly at his words, eyes still glued to the tv in front of him. "certainly," he finally gets out. "she'll get through it with ease."

and so you did – at least for this particular race.

the virtual safety car was incredibly lucky, but that's racing sometimes. with both you and zak changing your tyres in the last lap, you both managed to end up ahead of the rest of the field, and secure a podium each.

unlike in jeddah, seeing paul's car pull up right next to yours on parc ferme isn't all that bad. after yesterday's heart-to-heart with him, you feel like at least part of this podium is thanks to him. if it weren't for his encouragement, you likely would've stuck it in the wall again.

you don't ignore him this time. you don't scoff at his words, you don't feel frustrated at his mere presence. this time, you give him a tight hug when he comes over to congratulate you, arms around his shoulders forcing him close.

"thank you," you can't help but whisper, and paul is grinning from ear to ear when he pulls away from the hug.

"don't," he answers with a quick shake of his head. "you could always pull this off. you just needed a little reminder."

and not only do your shoulders and mind feel a bit lighter as you step onto that monaco podium, but most importantly, your heart.

"i'm exhausted," you huff as you shrug your bag off your shoulders, leaving it by the door as ollie, too, makes his way into the hotel room. "thank god this weekend is finally over."

you dive onto his already-made bed, landing face-down between the pillows and blankets. the bed is huge, probably over two meters in width, and unbelievably soft. it's the first time you feel like you can truly relax since you got to monaco, and every single cell in your body thanks you for allowing them to rest a little.

"and i don't even have any sim sessions scheduled in over a week. i'm the luckiest person ever." ollie lets out a chuckle at this, his own bag crashing to the floor with a thud before his feet carry him deeper inside the room.

you turn your head and watch as he picks out a water bottle from the mini fridge, but he doesn't drink from it. instead, he makes his way to the bed, choosing to just stand next to it at first. you can't really read his expression, so you speak up – but he beats you to it. "ollie-"

"can we talk?"

you press your hands into the mattress, sitting up properly. "of course," you say, a look of unknowing dejection spreading across your features. "what's wrong?"

"that's... what i wanted to ask you, actually." ollie finally sits down on the bed, but on the opposite side of it, far from you. "what's going on? what happened yesterday?"

"oh, well..." you pause for a second, eyebrows rising as you try to find an explanation. "i just had a bad day, i didn't realize that the safety car-"

"i don't mean the race, i mean what happened after the race." his eyes are piercing into yours, not missing even the slightest movement of your face now. you've got his full attention. "with paul."

your breath hitches in your throat and you instantly look away. your voice is as low as a whisper when you speak again. "i can't believe he told you..."

"he didn't. it was someone else, but that's beside the point." you don't know if you should feel relieved that paul didn't tell ollie, or furious that he told someone else who then told ollie, but you don't have any time to think before his voice infiltrates your thoughts again. "i heard you were... i'm not going to use the same word he did, but i heard you were really upset. something about anxiety, or..."

he hopes you'll pick up where he trailed off, and despite how you're really not in the mood for this conversation right now, it feels unavoidable. "i guess... yesterday's race was really rough on me. and my racing has felt really bad recently, the anxiety has been through the roof, and..." your eyes land on your hands, watching as your fingers tremble slightly in your lap. "i don't know. something about yesterday just triggered it all again."

out of the corner of your eye, you can see ollie nodding understandingly. "how long have you been feeling like this?"

"since always, basically." a single teardrop rolls down your cheek before you even notice that you've started tearing up. you hurry to wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. "my mom likes to tell this story about how i used to cry if i performed poorly when i was jumping rope in kindergarten. or about how one time, i came home sobbing over the fact that i thought i was getting kicked out of kindergarten because my drawings weren't as good as the other kids'." the old stories bring a soft smile to your lips, one that soon disappears when you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut. "it's not usually this bad, but…"

you sigh.

"it's like... imposter syndrome. i'm one of the very few women in motorsports, and i can't help but think that i'm just here because the fia wants to make the sport more equal. or because my sponsors think it's funny to have a woman among the men. or if i'm just here as eye candy. i don't deserve this, i don't have enough talent."

your little rant makes him speechless – both because he didn't expect it at all, and because to him, you're so wrong.

"you're here because you do deserve it and because you consistently perform good results, unlike most other drivers. that has nothing to do with your gender." ollie pauses for a second. "if you didn't have enough talent, you wouldn't be performing this well in a series this hard."

you can't hold back the little smile that slips onto your lips. "this is all very sweet, and i really appreciate it. but it's not that easy for me to just accept what you're saying."

yet again, he nods. "i understand." his voice is so calm, so gentle, so patient. it makes your heart soften. "i'll make sure to remind you of it more often, so that maybe it sticks."

"thank you, ollie."

a long silence follows, and you take the time to brush away a few more tears that have left your eyes. you don't know what to say or how to follow up on this heavy subject, but you don't have to think much more.

"why did you go to paul instead of me?"

your eyes dart to him at the sudden question. he's sounded so composed and calm, but he actually looks quite... nervous? his fingers are fiddling with the lid of the water bottle in his hands, and his entire upper body looks like it's trembling slightly as he breathes. "i didn't," you tell him simply. it's not a lie, per se. "he just happened to walk in on me crying."

"but why did you tell him?" ollie questions, looking up at you from the bottle. "i thought you two weren't even talking these days? ever since that fight you had?"

he is right. you don't even know why you confided in him yourself – it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. you didn't even try to deny his help; you welcomed it (and him) with open arms.

"we talked about my struggles last year," you finally say, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. "so he knew already. and… i don't know, i guess it felt nice to talk to someone who really knows me."

"but i want to know you." he takes a deep breath before continuing. "i want to know more than your birthday and your favorite color. i want to know it all; what makes you feel good, what makes you anxious, what keeps you going, what slows you down..."

the physical distance between you two may only be a mere two meters, but you feel much more separated than that. you totally understand where he's coming from – he might be exaggerating a little, but your conversations with him are never really deep. though not sure whether it's because you just don't trust him or because you just have a hard time opening up, you can understand the despair he must be feeling.

when ollie notices that you aren't too keen on saying anything, he keeps going. "i want you to trust me. i want to be the person you tell these things to." he scoots closer to you on the bed, one of his hands landing on top of your knee. "i really want to make this work between us. my feelings for you are so strong, just..."

the pain in his eyes is so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, his gaze cutting through you like a knife. your own eyes begin to well up again, but you can't look away now.

"i really want you to give this, give me, a chance."

you've never seen him like this before. hopeless, desperate, practically begging. and in an instant, the guilt comes creeping back into you.

you're the one who's making him feel like this; it's all your fault. and how cruel wouldn't it be to not at least give him an honest chance?

"of course." your voice is weak and shaky, but you nod. "i want that, too. really."

ollie drops his water bottle to the floor before opening his arms wide for you. "come here."

it's easy to climb into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he holds you close. it's easy to lean into him, to inhale his sweet scent, and it's so easy to relax.

you wish it was as easy to open up to him. oh, how badly you wish it was as easy as a-b-c or do-re-mi. you really want to let him in; you, too, want this to work.

the silence that follows is a comfortable one. the air feels thick with unspoken emotions, a heaviness of the previous conversation still lingering, but there's an unspoken understanding between you and ollie. the previously well-known weight of the world on your shoulders seems to lift, if only momentarily; his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back is like a silent reassurance that he's there, he's present, and he's willing to wait for you to open up in your own time.

after what feels like an eternity, ollie breaks the silence. "let's do something. let's go on a vacation together."

you lean back slightly, just enough to look at his face but stay in his hold. "…what?"

your reaction isn't exactly what he had hoped for, but he goes on. "i'm going back to italy this week, you should come with me." he reaches up with a hand to your face, thumb softly massaging away the frown you hadn't even noticed had formed. "we'll travel around, go see the national parks, hike in the mountains... swim in the sea, eat at good italian restaurants..."

your features soften at his suggestions; it all does sound very sweet. still, you can't hold back from asking, "but why?"

"we have almost a month until the next race weekend, and you said that you don't have any sims this week. this could help take your mind off racing, and..." a sheepish smile appears on his face. "maybe it could make us get a little closer."

uncertainties and conflicting thoughts continue to cloud your heart, making the decision harder than it should be. on one hand, accepting the offer could offer a much-needed reprieve from all the pressures of the racing world. on the other hand, your unresolved feelings for paul still hold you back. spending a romantic holiday with ollie sounds like a dream, just as much as the mere thought of revealing yourself to him makes you nauseous from the fear.

but you want to be brave. and maybe to let go of paul, you need to just forget about your worries and dive head-first into ollie.

"it sounds perfect. let's do it."

yourusername just posted!

yourusername we're back baby!! leaving monaco with some good points. 🔜 barcelona and the team's home race, let's go 😁

show all 78 comments

user finally back on the podium! ❤️💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great drive today !!!

→ user it was just luck 😭 without the vsc she would've never gotten that podium

→ user okay and??

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman what's up with the hair dinobeganovic_

→ yourusername it's called fashion

→ dinobeganovic_ it's called waking up at 5 for a feature race

→ user you're still gorgeous dino 😚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam 💪💙❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

sebasmontoya58 pepe don't punch the girl, she did nothing wrong

→ yourusername i did nothing wrong!!!

→ pepemartiofficial tell him what you did

→ yourusername never

→ pepemartiofficial sebas check your whatsapp

→ yourusername YOU WOULDNT

→ pepemartiofficial i totally would

[paw-padss]

LETS GATHER, AT THE BUZZER!

(in honor of me starting tennis)

ft. zhongli, baizhu, kaeya, ayato, & albedo

summary: genshin boys in a modern highschool setting, and nothing screams highschool than sports teams! but of course, not everyone in highschool makes it to the big leagues...

a/n: ermm can u tell I know almost nothing about sports bc I mean I read and write fanfics about video game characters Im not the most athletic... sorry if this is ooc or inaccurate (about the sports or the characters)...

everything is wheel generated, I spun for a character, then a sport, then a skill, if u don't like it blame the wheel not me >:(

notes: not very formal and not very relationship based, just silly headcannons! also I didn't really beta read this sorry for mistakes... TT

as an adult, ZHONGLI is quiet and sophisticated, so when those close to him now realize how he used to be when he was younger, they are much more than shocked at Zhongli's past. An over-passionate and wild teenager, who expended all his newfound energy into tennis. His quick reflexes, the way his slender legs would run to reach the ball, the quick swing of his racket sending the ball out of his opponents reach. an excited and wild boy who would sulk off the court, disappointment in his eyes and sweat dripping from his uniform, whenever (or if ever) he got an out

highschool student BAIZHU would keep to himself for the most part, just doing his work and trying to make it to graduation. the only thing that got close to a club or an extracurricular was the time he spent tending to the small strips of land that surrounded the school and him helping the nurse during his free periods. His teacher, concerned about his solitude, would set up a meeting with baizhu and his guardian, advising that he perhaps join some actual clubs so he can become closer to his peers. Of course, in the middle of the year not many clubs are open and accepting members, except for the sports clubs. He just took the first flyer off the bulletin and walked off toward the gym. Just his luck that it happened to be basketball, and just his luck that they were desperate for new members that they just accepted him right away. but not only is baizhu a recluse but he's also pretty unathletic, often spending his time during games off the court and out of breath, missing all his shots and crouching away from the balls thrown his way. Safe to say he got swiftly kicked off the team the second a new replacement came.

after KAEYA'S adopted father died and he was practically shunned by his older brother, Kaeya found his highschool life to seem bleak and empty, everything seemed so alien to him, until he discovered his schools indoor swimming pool and fell in love. He loved the way the sunlight reflected off the blue tiles, the gentle ripples of the water, the thrill of the surface tension, the silent hum of the filters, the chill as he dived into the water, the world seemed to stand still as his head went below the water and all his troubles drowned below the surface. He didn't even care about the medals hanging off his walls or the trophies decorating his shelves, he just loved the feeling of the water as it enveloped him in its cool embrace.

his father was a baseball prodigy, so of course AYATO has to keep up the family name, the cheers from the crowd fill his ears as he feels the dirt beneath him and his tough grip on his bat, his eyes are set on the pitcher and with quick reflexes he hits the ball perfectly across the field before he dashes around the bases, the feeling the wind against his face as his feet help carry him to victory. Girls from the crowd admire him, his close-to-graceful way of rising to his feet from the ground as he dust off his knees and heads to the dugout, the way he takes off his helmet after a game, wiping the sweat from his forehead and shaking his hair back into its original shape, his frustrated walk and calculative look as he walks back to the dugout after he strikes out.

all the girls at school could agree that ALBEDO was the only one looked stunning in his lab coat and goggles that swept back his blonde hair, and they thought he looked even better in a loose soccer uniform that showed off everything hidden behind the coat. Today was sports day, and the boys in albedos class were assigned to be part of the boys soccer team. Now, for a kid who spent all his time in the chemistry lab, albedo didn't consider himself to be completely un-athletic, but he, like many other members of his science club, definitely wasn't stupid enough to go on a sports field and put himself up against a bunch of jocks and such. Being forced into this public humiliation for a grade meant that the whole school would have to watch on as albedo failed in both offence and defense. whether it was letting the ball slide underneath his feet or diving head first into the grass while trying to block the goals, it was as if he had two left feet. His blonde hair was left disheveled and sweat broke through his forehead as he found himself bent over and out of breath once he was out of the field. He quickly decided that next time, he would just stay home.

[invertedheaven]

If You Really Love Nothing

chapter 5: maybe next year

chapter index | next chapter

As satoru walked to his car ready to leave work, drained and annoyed from the day he looked forward to it being Friday and at least he’d be able to slack off this weekend, his mood quickly worsened as his phone started ringing and he saw who was calling

“Is there a reason you passed this deal onto me?” Gojo Sr. asks with an attitude

Anger started swelling up in satoru because it was his birthday and of course his father wouldn’t be calling to say that

“Well hello to you too dad” satoru said bitterly “Its personal, at least for right now I can’t take initiative on it”

“This is a business satoru, how do I know if I can leave it to you if you have ‘personal’ problems”

Satoru scoffed “Im well aware of what my job is, I do It everyday and better than you might I add, I’m asking you just this once until I’m able to”

Gojo Sr. couldn’t really argue with that, he was aware that their clients and investors loved Satoru he was funny, charismatic and most of all smart. He could threaten all he wants but this job was always going to go to satoru whether he liked it or not— he doesn’t. And to think he almost lost Satoru to that annoying friend he had who tried to convince Satoru that he didn’t need to take over the company.

“Can I ask why you can’t?” Gojo Sr. asked after a few moments of silence

“No”

“Fine, Ill take over just this once, anything after and it is your job. Consider this a birthday gift”

Satoru rolled his eyes so hard he’s sure his dad could feel it “geez thanks, i’m honored” he hung up and threw the phone on the passenger seat as he got in the car.

Every day at this job was just a bitter reminder that this wasn’t a life he chose, and he understands while it could be worse than inheriting a successful company he finds he was never treated as anything more than heir. His parents, his family, and every adult around him spent their every minute telling Satoru how lucky he was to inherit the business and that he was gonna do great and how he must be so happy. Never if he wanted to, if he was happy or if he was actually capable it was just expected.

For a while the only time he felt like a person was when he became friends with Suguru who tried so hard to show satoru by example that he should just up and leave his family and live a life he wanted. But satoru was simply not born with that same freedom when every aspect of his life was dependent on his family (their money mainly) and he could never get suguru to understand that

And then when megumi landed in Satorus care he truly found himself unable to abandon all responsibility. He refused to let his father have a hand in it because that old bastard would probably just crush another young persons soul. And sure maybe leaving an 18 year old in charge of a kid is stupid, yet in his final days Toji Fushiguro signed off on leaving megumi to gojo.

Toji was a friend of Gojo Sr. and had a sketchy past, as far as satoru knew he had no family, no one except megumi. He died from an accident, passing away due to complications and it did make satoru a bit sad because by the time he hit high school and after he graduated he got to know toji better. Toji would give genuinely good advice to satoru, yet he seemed lifeless, no spark in his eyes. To this day Satoru can’t understand why he was chosen for megumis guardian, especially because the kid was only 8 years old, but to his surprise it's been rewarding.

So, no… birthdays never felt like a happy day for him. Yet the birthdays he has with you, megumi and now airi was a nice reminder that he was loved as a person and not as an heir. He thinks maybe next year he’d try something other than the beach he just finds he clings to it so much because it’s the last of his youth. Before he knows it, Satoru is pulling up to the drive way and by the time he enters his house he’s greeted by airi shouting

“Happy birthday uncle toru!” As she runs to him giving him the biggest hug she can, he picks her up and hugs her back

And as you give him a hug, he thinks next year he’d do something different for sure.

———-

“Not hanging out with that fushiguro brat today?” Sukuna asks as he’s leaving the house, it’s Saturday night and of course he’s not spending it at home

“Nah it was gojos birthday yesterday, so they had plans” yuji responds lazily as he watches the tv from the couch in their living room

Sukuna feels sick just thinking that you’re running around spending the day with gojo, even if he knows you live with him theres something about you actively celebrating him that gets under his skin

“I’ll be out, I left money on the table so you can order food or whatever” sukuna grumbles out before slamming the door shut

Yuji just sits staring at the wall no longer really paying attention to the movie but instead thinking about how during these times he feels truly alone. Even if fushiguros family wasn’t perfect and didn’t spend all their time together maybe they felt alone together which beats whatever the hell his loneliness was. What’s worse is that he’s had friends before, this concept isn’t new to him but maybe its knowing if sukuna was still with you he’d have some sense of normalcy too.

———

Sukunas a regular at the bar he walks into, so much to the point that he’s built a reputation. He orders his drink before going to sit in his usual corner, what sukuna loves about this place is he never has to try. Women come up to him hoping for an ounce of attention from him, it was pathetic in his opinion but it makes it easy. Yet what infuriated him was that he couldn’t even pretend to be interested in the lady chatting his ear off because he’s thinking of you, this is exactly what he wanted to prevent so he decides to drink enough to get you off his mind

That’ll do it (it doesn't) and if he squints hard enough he can pretend the woman in front of him looked like you sort of, and if he zoned out enough he could pretend her laugh wasn’t like nails on a chalkboard to his ears, he pretended it was your infectious laugh. He settled with the fact that he’d never hear it again, at least not in the way he used to

You curled up beside him, laughing at the complaints he would make during the shows you’d watch together

Laughing at him whenever he’d get upset at something small, you always claimed he made a funny face and he never understood what you meant

Worst of all for him but possibly the most memorable, in a room of people your laugh stood out and anyone who was talking to you couldn’t help but smile and laugh too. There was something about you that sukuna always struggled to accept, that people loved being around you, even if they hated sukuna or vice versa they were always there for you.

The memories flood his mind and add to the haze in his brain thats been induced by the alcohol he’s been drinking for the past hour. The bitterness of the last months with you seeping through his veins, you’d never smile at him like that again and if you did he wouldn’t know what to do. He’s never been one to feel regret, yet when it came to you it was the strongest emotion he felt.

He wanted more than he could give to you, he wanted you to be his but he didn’t know how to be yours, he never cheated while he was with you but you were always on another plane he could never quite match up with. He hated how none of these thoughts were things that lingered with him when it came to literally anyone else and yet with you, you couldn’t just leave his thoughts alone even if it had been years.

Even with all this he still couldn’t bring himself to the idea of apologizing because he doesn’t think theres anything to apologize for. He simply acted on how he felt at the time and even if he regretted it after he wouldn’t apologize for it, especially if it seemed like you’ve moved on

All this and he’s only brought back to the present by the rude snapping of the woman who is still surprisingly here considering he hasn’t been listening to a word she’s been saying. She snapped in his face to get his attention just to tell him he was an asshole before walking away. He came with the intention of getting laid and instead sat pissed off that you ruined this for him too.

He stays at the bar drinking until his face becomes warm, his eyes become a bit blurred and until he swears he can feel you wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind, the way you used to hug him.

———

The dining room filled with claps as you, megumi and airi clapped for satoru after he blew out the candles on his sundae. This year he chose to make sundaes for dessert and much to your dismay airi asked for extra everything on hers which meant she would be extra hyper. Yet you were too happy focused on how for the first time in years satorus smile seemed genuine, like he wasn’t completely sad the whole time.

This was also one of the rare times megumi would try to refrain from any negative comments or from being annoyed by gojo. Key word is try… yet even with all his struggles with gojo he knows it probably wasn’t easy taking care of a kid when gojo was a kid himself and for that he’ll always be thankful. And he felt a little more thankful when you came along because you seemed to balance everything out like a puzzle piece that was missing for him and gojo, he feels guilty thinking that because you probably feel your life is missing something even with them thanks to sukunas absence.

Satoru felt a little happier this year and maybe its because time has helped or because airi can actually join in on his birthday for the most part it feels a little brighter

The night ended with satoru and airi knocked out on the couch during the movie they chose while you and megumi cleaned up all the dishes taking them to the kitchen

“Satoru looked happier this year” you started

“Yeah I guess he did” megumi responded not sure why you’re bringing it up

You shook your head slightly “sorry, I guess im just thankful for you guys, especially for being so kind with airi”

Megumi didn’t really know how to respond so he just gave a small smile back while he took some plates from your hands

Around the holidays it’s usually hard for you, you never had a “real family” by any traditional means growing up. With sukuna you truly felt happy, not that you weren’t happy with your small family now. Especially since airi was born you never thought you’d love someone so much, to the point where it hurt, she was truly your world. You just find yourself reminiscing for the days you spent with sukuna more than usual, no matter how much time went by you still felt like something was missing. You would love him always, but you weren't the same person that you were when you were with him. In a sense you felt like you were mourning who you used to be too. Sure, you never tried to move on but its not like it was on your mind, airi has and always will be your number one priority.

“You should take airi to bed, I can finish up here” megumi interrupted your train of thought while gesturing to the dishes in the sink

You give him a sincere smile “thank you”

As you head back into the living room, satoru was starting to wake up and move around so you had to act fast in moving airi before she woke up too. You’re glad you made her brush her teeth before the movie cause she would’ve been too tired to do it now.

Satoru sits up definitely awake now seeing that you’re trying to make sure airi stays asleep “Oh my bad, here I’ll help you” he took airi from your arms, not that you couldn’t carry her he just wanted to help

As you both walked into airis room you got her bed ready for her and satoru placed her down, you spoke up

“Thank you, for everything satoru” you say before bending down to place a kiss on airis forehead and tucking her in

He stared down at you a little caught off guard before smiling “I’d do it all again, you know that” and you felt your eyes tear up a little at his response

As he leaves the room you follow, deciding to speak up “I feel bad about yuji”

“What for?” Satoru furrowed his brows as he watches you close the door behind you quietly

“I don’t know, he just spends a lot of weekends here I can imagine he’s alone a lot”

“You want to tell him?”

“No not at all, it’s just I feel guilty y’know? he’d probably be able to come around more if it wasn’t such a hassle and I feel even worse about the pressure it puts on megumi” You shrugged

“You have no reason to feel bad for something that happened because sukuna decided to be an asshole. Yujis lucky that you even treat him as kind as you do, not a lot of people in your shoes would” satoru stated in a stern tone before continuing “and megumi won't tell you this but because its you and airi he’d do whatever if it meant you guys would be happy”

You nod your head “I guess, yeah”

“So airis Christmas present” satoru began changing the subject, seeing as you were getting closer to the kitchen and he didn't think you'd want megumi to overhear

“Why do you ask when you just spoil her anyways, you should be focusing on megumis birthday present” you laughed

“Im not getting megumi anything!” Satoru said jokingly as you both entered the kitchen

“What happened to you being asleep” megumi mumbled without even turning around from the sink

“What happened to you being nice to me” satoru dramatically responded

And all he got from megumi was a glare and him rolling his eyes, which caused you to laugh. In moments like this it was easy to forget why you felt sad in the first place

———

The next day, yuji wakes up to see sukuna sprawled out on the couch knocked out cold from the night before. For some reason Yuji feels his irritation thats been festering for the past few weeks reach a breaking point. He doesn’t care if sukuna would probably disapprove he wants to ask you about sukuna, he wants to know if his brother was capable of being normal or as close to normal as possible

He had plans to hang out with megumi so he threw a blanket over his brother before heading out. As he heads to megumis house, he uses the walk to the bus to help sort out his thoughts. He wonders what your dynamic is with gojo, he’s sure his brother would lose his shit if you two were dating. Even though yuji knows thats not likely because you said gojo was like a sibling and megumi doesn’t seem to give any hints that you two are a thing. And all the past times he’s visited, he’s wondered how often you baby sit your niece because the house always seemed to have some trace of a kid being there yet he’s never actually seen her. Not that it matters much he’s just curious, finding the dynamic megumis family has interesting, vastly different from his own.

Yuji has also been able to pick up on some awkwardness and maybe it’s obvious to you that he’s sukunas brother. That’s part of the reason he wants to ask because he feels like you already know, it feels like theres an elephant in the room so to say and he hates that feeling. So screw it, he thinks it’s not like sukuna even has to know he asked.

Satoru had taken airi out for lunch a little while ago, planning to take her to the store after to buy megumi his birthday gift because she insisted on helping him. You told him she'd probably spoil the surprise and gojo shrugged only responding that he'd bribe her to stay quiet with a new toy.

You were in the kitchen making some tea, you’d been feeling a bit under the weather and planned on relaxing for a few hours. Since you were fortunate enough not to worry about bills or a job all your focus has always been being the best possible mom for your daughter. That requires all your energy it can be tiring even more now from the stress of yujis presence and the constant hiding builds up to a lot mentally.

While waiting for the water to boil, you hear the front door ring so you shout out to megumi who was still upstairs letting him know about yujis arrival. Not wanting yuji to wait in the cold, you leave the kitchen to open the door and before you had the chance to greet him, he blurted out

“Did you know someone named ryomen sukuna?”

next chapter

[thatshappinessforme]

When We Are Together - Pt. 1 (?)

omg...hi. i'm really here rn. posting this. at nearly 4 am on a monday morning. im nervous. i could vomit. so...this has been in my head for forever. literally. the idea is massive. it extends so far. it's seriously a whole universe in my little brain. it took so long to get the basis of this all out on paper, but, i'm hoping this is a series...a long one. the title isn't going to make much sense right now, but i pinky swear we'll get there eventually. so...without further ado...here she is...(EEK!) (also i have no idea how to set this post up so bear with me lol)

so i guess i just lost my fanfic writing vcard💌

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word count: 2.4k

cw: just a little swearing, maybe a bit of bad writing, also maybe typos?? might be a little boring because it’s mostly to just like set the scene idk? (eventually the plan is to have a lil smut or smth but this really is just an intro lol)

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The day starts as usual. You wake up to the sound of your alarm and your roommate’s hair dryer blaring through the thin walls of your Brooklyn walk-up. With a groan, you peel yourself out of the warmth of your bed, go to your desk, and open your laptop, holding onto a shred of delusional hope that one of your classes might be canceled for today; they rarely are…but you can’t blame a girl for being an optimist. 

You scroll through your inbox, refreshing, and refreshing – you really don’t want to go to class today. Blame the essay you’d procrastinated that you’d spent all of last night speed-writing. Blame senioritis. Blame the unpaid music publicity internship that you’d been letting eat up your time in hopes of scoring a good job. Blame the frigid snow and ice that seem to be taunting you from outside your window. But, luckily it’s a Friday.

You refresh your inbox one last time, just for good measure. And, something actually comes in. But, it’s not from one of your professors. It’s from some company named “Dirty Hit.”

You raise an eyebrow and open the email, thinking it must be something related to one of the countless jobs you’ve applied for in the last few weeks, preparing for graduation at the end of the semester.

Y/N,

I’m a representative with one of our bands here at Dirty Hit. We’re really impressed with your work and have an opportunity we’d love to discuss with you, if you have a free moment this week at some point. Are you based out of New York? Get back to us when you can. We’re looking forward to hearing from you.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

“That’s weird,” you whisper to yourself, reading the short, ominous email over and over again. It’s not everyday that a label reaches out to a random college student to work with them. You’re not really sure what they could possibly be impressed with. You’ve just done minor PR internship work with underground bands from the east coast – that’s not exactly impressive. It sure as hell doesn’t warrant an email.

“Y/N?,” you hear one of your roommates and best friend, Vivian, call from outside your door before walking in, not bothering to knock. The two of you are close, almost like sisters at this point. In some ways, you’re exactly the same person, but in others your polar opposites. She’s a little bit more outgoing than you are, but she always helps to get you out of your shell. “Do you think I can get this guy I’m talking to into the venue tomorrow night? It’s just at The Soundwave, right?,” she asks, plopping down on the corner of your bed. 

Shit. You completely forgot you signed up for an open mic tonight. You’d been playing your songs at small bars in Brooklyn and Manhattan for the past year or so. Songwriting had always been a bit of a hobby for you. So when you’re a broke college student in one of the most expensive cities in the world, you just find tricks to get you and your friends to do fun things for free. You’d learned a while back that performing at open mics usually meant you and your friends could get into bars and clubs without having to pay a cover, so you’d been spending your weekends doing that for a while. It’s all for fun. Sure, you like performing and put a lot into your songwriting, but pursuing it isn’t even quite a dream for you. You have an impending college degree you’ve worked your ass off for. In every sense of the word, music was a hobby for you. 

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. He might have to pay the cover, but it’s not like it’s the sort of thing where people buy tickets. You know the drill. But, obviously you’re my plus one, so no cover for you,” you nod, still staring at your laptop screen.

“What are you staring at, over there? Everything okay?,” she asks, getting up and moving to stand over your shoulder at your desk. You move your head a little so she can get a good look at the words on your screen. You watch her face as she reads the email, her lips dancing on each of the syllables as you watch her process it. “Dirty Hit? What the hell is that? Sounds like a porn company. Impressed with your work? Do you have a booming, secret OnlyFans I’m unaware of?,” she jokes. 

I laugh and playfully nudge her arm. “No, no,” you giggle, “It’s a record label, I think. I’ve heard the name thrown around a few times at my internship. I think they’re kinda big.” You tab over and do a quick Google search. Immediately, a sea of popular artists and bands pop up under the label.

“Holy shit. Beabadoobee? Bleachers? The 19 fucking 75? I have their fuckin’ poster on my wall. They’re cool as shit,” she reads over your shoulder. “I mean, I have no idea what they could possibly want from me. My resumè isn’t all that impressive. Sure, I’m planning on going into music PR, but there’s no reason why I would stand out against someone who has like…an actual career under their belt,” you ramble, trying to make sense of the 67 words in haunting your inbox. 

There’s a long pause, both of you trying aimlessly to make sense of the email. “Well, you’re gonna email them back, right?,” she eventually asks. You take breath, starting a reply to the email, leaving your cell phone number.

You try to focus on anything other than waiting for a reply. You do your best not to let your mind wander into the what-ifs, but as soon as you get done with your lectures for the day, you check your phone for any response.

Y/N,

Thanks for getting back to us so quickly. The band and management is also in New York for the next few months for a project. We would give you more information over email, but much of the matter is highly confidential. We have a studio space at Electric Lady in Greenwich Village that we could meet at, if that works for you. I know it is rather short notice, but could you meet this evening at some point? Let us know.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

You quickly reply to the email on your walk back from campus, confirming the meeting for later this evening. You get back to your apartment and practically tear apart your closet trying to figure out what the hell to wear. You know it’s a business meeting, but it’s also for some mystery band. You don’t want to dress unprofessionally, but you also don’t want to seem uptight. You decide on a black mini skirt with tights and a chunky black turtleneck sweater. You finish primping and step into Vivian’s room, practically out of breath from all the outfits you’ve tried on and scrapped.

“Okay, if you were a band looking for…a PR representative…? Would you hire me?,” you ask her, standing in front of her bed as she looks up from her phone. She looks you up and down and grins, “Of course I would, Y/N. You look great,” she reassures you, sensing you’re anxious, “So, you really think this is just a PR gig?”

“I mean, yeah. What else could it possibly be? It couldn’t be my music. I’m not even on any streaming platforms; I don’t promote it at all,” you say with certainty. She shrugs and smiles, before wishing you the best of luck as you head out the door.

You get on the subway and head to Electric Lady. The train has always been one of your favorite parts about living in New York for college. Putting your pink headphones on, looking out the window into the catacombs that stretch throughout the city, people watching. It’s where you did your best thinking. 

You get off the train and walk through the streets, your headphones on and your music blasting, only interrupted occasionally by Google Maps telling you where to turn and such. Eventually the robotic voice in your ear says “Arrived” and you look over your right shoulder…here it is. You're right on time. You go to open the doors, pushing on them gently; must still be locked. You sigh, assuming that its to be expected. That this is simply upholding a prophecy of some sort that the band and music-industry-folk run behind…until you hear a laugh.

“It’s a pull,” you hear a man’s voice call out with a slight chuckle. From just those three words, you’ve determined that he has one of the thickest English accents you’d ever heard. You look over your left shoulder and see a man leaning up against the wall of the studio smoking a cigarette. “What?,” you ask, confused as you look over to him. He has a hood on and you can’t make out his face, or what he was trying to tell you. “The doors. It says right on them. ‘PULL,’” he chuckles, tossing his cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his Adidas sneaker, walking over to you. “Oh, um, thanks, I’m an idiot. I almost gave up,” you chuckle, pulling the door open this time. The man follows you into the studio, holding the door open once you tug on it. You look back over your shoulder to thank him for holding the door, the first time he’s been close enough for you to make out his face; Christ, it’s Matty Healy.

“I know who you are,” he says to you with a cheeky grin as he starts walking into the back of the studio. You just stand there near the doorway, the gust of cigarette-scented, cold January air lingering around you. You’re perplexed, to say the least. He keeps walking down the hall before finally turning over his shoulder, “You’re just gonna stand there? You have a meeting. Wouldn’t be very professional of you to stand us up,” he teases dryly. You blink a few times before nodding, following him, still in a bit of disbelief that this was the band that had some sort of ‘interest’ in you.

He shows you into a studio in the back. Once he opens the door, there are four other men sitting there, three that you also recognize from your roommate’s wall. The other, a bit older, more professional looking. 

“Y/N! I’m Jamie, I manage these blokes. Thank you so much for agreeing to come meet with us today. I know everything was rather vague on the emails, but…we had to keep it that way. But, now that you’re here, let's talk, yeah? Are you familiar with The 1975?,” the older man asks you, in a super friendly manner as you sit down on a plush chair in the corner of the room. Every eye in the room is glued to you. The air is almost sticky with anticipation. You take a deep breath and try to slap on the most composed, thoughtful, professional smile you can manage.

“Um, yes! Of course,” you nod, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m actually a fan of you all. Really, I listen to your stuff with my friends – you’re fantastic.”

“Good, good. We’re glad to hear it,” he grins, looking around at the boys who also all look to be pleased. Even though everyone’s eyes are on you, you feel Matty's specifically, practically burning a hole in the side of your head as he stands, still leaning in the doorway.

“We’re impressed with you, Y/N. So, I’m just going to get on with it. George went to a little bar in Bushwick last month and sent us a video he took of you singing one of your originals…you’re bloody fantastic. We’re going on tour this summer. We want to do something a little different this time with our opener. We want to build someone from the ground up. You’re it. We want you. What do you say? You interested?,” he explains with a wide grin, his tone casual like he didn’t just tell you the craziest shit you’ve ever heard. 

Jamie’s words hit you in slow motion. You look around the room, the air moving from feeling sticky to feeling ice cold, jolting you awake. “I’m sorry…what the actual fuck did you just say?,” you blurt out blankly, any ounce of composure you may have had completely gone. 

You immediately catch yourself, your language, your lack of professionalism, though, “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I…that just came out of my mouth…I-,” your face goes bright red as you desperately try to correct yourself.

The room erupts in laughter, the men you recognize from Viv’s poster nearly barreling over off the sofa. Jamie’s jaw on the floor as he howls, slapping the table in front of him. You look over your shoulder to see that Matty’s still in the doorway, and he’s just standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, I think we’re gonna get along quite well with this one,” he remarks, licking his lips, weirdly impressed with your mispeakings.

You can’t help but sigh softly and shake your own head when he looks at you like that; something in you shifting as if he’s the only person in the room; as if he was the only person who'd ever laid eyes on you; as if he was the only person ever. As if, the offer you got just moments before wasn’t the most absurd thing that had ever happened to you. As if you didn’t need to thoroughly think this all over. As if you could make the decision right now.

You look back over to Jamie, who’s still chuckling. Before you can give yourself the time to overthink, you swing one of your legs over the other, lean back into the chair and smirk, “Jamie, where the hell do I sign?” 

…and this is how it starts.

[jabberwockprince]

happy pride! here's the fullbody refs for spina venatores <3 I still need to work on other stuff for their artfight profiles like their i2 illustrations and battle chibis but soon ..... s o o n ....

extras and rambles under the cut o7

reworked their manus fits from this old ref and tweaked the colors to make them more blue bc they looked SO purple on certain screens

venison has little to no changes, other than their scrapped i2 outfit, but its really funny how they have 3 fucking refs. 3 of them. plus a whole fucking obsolete i2 garment illustration

favoritism fucking SUCKS

mutton is pretty much exactly the way i pictured her so shes perfect and gave me zero issues <3. then there's chevon who is annoying and wants to exclusively dress up like some dramatic pirate/vampire but his fit reminds me so much of julian the arcana i cant get that out of my head.

poultry and veal are the ones who changed the most in their i2 garments, cause it hit me that poultry cannot be exclusively tied to vertin's team like venison and chevon on account of poultry being a human--she needs ties to the foundation or foundation adjacent groups like laplace to survive storms like ezra (laplace being the one organization she would love to join). but then it also hit me that she would not be allowed to join laplace THAT easily on account of. the horrors the crimes and whatnot, so for now she's on probation working as madam Z's assistant

the arrangement also works wonders bc veal is the one who has the most trouble graduating from the school of discipline, and spina venatores consists of ppl who Cannot Be Separated. so having the two somewhat close and still in touch is good <3 it prevents a lot of accidents. veal wears the foundation uniform just because they want to match with poultry

it also works bc venison's colors outside of manus are very similar to the foundation's palette, so i get to keep the visual dynamic between them, poultry and veal hehehoho

im STILL debating on how to organize their respective banners, since there's 5 characters instead of the usual 3. my brain is still trying to make their event coherent and its a mess in there AUGH. i could always make venison a limited character bc theyre my beloved blorbo. or make veal a limited character bc it would be very fuckign funny to have them randomly shapeshift into a different 6* that you own and just have that be their mechanic

i could also add aianteia to make the numbers even and have four 6* and two 5* but. then i would have to make refs for that bastard. and i dont have it in me. WHATEVER, I'LL FIGURE IT OUT!!!

[pathetickuroo]

fukutora hcs bc theyre funny

- fukunaga shohei #1 lover of badddd bad bad bad movies. terrible films. not good. we're talking sharknado snakes on a plane willys wonderland velocipastor that one thanksgiving slasher film that i cant remember the name of rn (dont think abt the mechanics of it being a thanksgiving movie too hard). generally not a movie enjoyer i think but most certainly clocking in for shit that is Not Good

- tora is baffled every time but definitely not opposed to it (this guy loves cuddling on the couch i think he hits the fake yawn arm around shoulders maneuver like. regularlyyyy and fukunaga doesnt even pretend to think its silly anymore)

- "shohei this movie doesnt even make any sense" "🤷"

- tora the hugger from behind of All Time he is finding any possible excuse. "u look cold" or "makin up for lost time" or "i have practice in an hour plsss plssssss just let me have this PLSSSSSSS" (he uses that one in particular a lot) (fukunaga wouldnt have said no in the first place) (he thinks its cute so he doesnt say anything abt it)

- repressed-as-hell hs tora did not quiteee know what to do w whatever tf he had goin on so he didnt get the guts (ha) to say anything until a couple years after graduation (which he then said over text bc yokohama -> tokyo = long distance)

- fukunaga conveys thoughts in as few words as possible (which is fucking awesome btw if fukunaga has no fans it means ive died) BUT in order to preserve the meaning it sometimes takes a second to respond

- tora did Not have a good time attempting to navigate this when he was trying to confess

- bro immediately started freaking out to yaku "DUDE WHY DID I DO THAT THAT WAS SO STUPID" "omfg its fukunaga give him a second. impatient ass" "I THINK IM DYING" "jfc"

- meanwhile in tokyo fukunaga was staring at "i rly like u dude" trying to figure out if tora meant like (homie) or like (w/gay intent)

- fukunaga only ever calls tora by his full government given name when he is Displeased. tora used the pan he needed for dinner tn so now he has to wash it? taketora. tora rearranges his living room w no warning? taketora. doesnt even say it in a mean/angry tone or anything j matter of fact as all hell. honestly i think if fukunaga was ever genuinely angry abt smth hell would probably freeze over

- tora does get extremely pouty abt it tho. "shoheiii what did i do :(" "the pan" ".......OH FUC—"

- when tora first moved to yokohama he got a cat bc of course he did he graduated from nekoma. tf else was he supposed to do, get a dog? (maybe in the future)

- very very fluffy very cute very sweet tuxedo girl. her name is "destroyer" (yes really) he calls her badass on the reg and she is sooo cuddly w him. fukunaga finds all of this extremely funny

- in fact when fukunaga starts visiting suddenly destroyer doesnt gaf abt tora anymore. worse than pain of death in his opinion it is So Not Fair. first thing fukunaga does after he meets the cat is send a pic to the old nekoma gc "top 10 cats that like me more than they like their owners" tora throws a pillow at him "i RAISED her from a BABY" "did u rly" ".....NO BUT IT AINT RIGHT"

- after theyve been together a few months toras thinkin abt how fukunaga used to Never Talk Ever and he makes a joke "ha i guess i learned how to speak BODY language am i right. right shohei. thats funny right"

- fukunaga calls him taketora for a week. tora retires that joke permanently and they never speak of it again

- tora morning person fukunaga not-exactly-a-night-owl-but-doesnt-love-being-awake-at-5:30 person. one time fukunagas in yokohama for the weekend he wakes up at 6 annoyed as hell (tora got up at 5 and left for a run) bc wtf his pillow literally got up and walked away. falls back asleep wakes up again at 10 tora made not only coffee but pancakes too AND heated them up for him hes immediately like ok nvm this is fine actually no complaints (<- still gets annoyed when his human teddy bear ditches him)

- TORA BABE SAYER. hey babe thanks babe i missed u babe. but it took him foreverrrrrr (forever) to get comfortable actually saying it instead of thinkin inside so there was also (and still is) a lot of dude (romantic) bro (romantic) man (romantic).

- fukunaga doesnt like saying pet names or anything (but to be fair does he like saying ANYTHING most of the time) but does not mind being called them at all (that's a lie he thinks it's awesome and so so so sweet but when tora asks if it's okay he says he doesn't mind)