#i did actually eat while listening. living life on the edge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minastras · 2 years ago

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dear stranger, do you remember me too? // sunghoon

When you were sixteen, you betrayed Park Sunghoon. Or he betrayed you. Whichever it was, you knew two things for sure: 1) kids were cruel, and 2) you would spend the rest of your life trying to make up your mind. Well, until you saw him again. It was a strange feeling, meeting him in the flesh even though his ghost had been haunting you for three years.

at a glance: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reformed bad boy! sunghoon, university au, pure angst (i received High Level Clearance from @end-hyphen to put him through the wringer sorry), ft. hyung line

words: 12.3k

warnings: swearing, mild mentions of blood, sexual harassment, and fights (nothing serious), alcohol and cigarette use

——————————

For as long as you could remember, Park Sunghoon had been the centre of your solar system, the axis around which your universe revolved. You’d known him since the day you were born. You lived on the same street, four houses apart, and as the only two kids in the area you naturally bonded instantly with each other. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime.

As soon as you both were no taller than his coffee table, you spent nearly every day together at the playground behind your street, running through the neighbourhood blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies.

“Do you think we could both fit on the same swing?” You could still hear your voice, light and flowery back then, asking.

“Let’s find out,” his equally childish voice rang back, before he yanked you into his lap and struggled to get enough leverage with his feet to push you both off the ground.

That ended with you tumbling out of the swing and onto the tarmac just by the playground, scraping your knee. You both must’ve been only five years old then, but you didn’t cry, instead stubbornly getting to your feet and ignoring the blood trickling down your calf until you were back in the privacy of your living room.

He had carried you home on his back, even though you could walk just fine, and sat you down on the sofa while he cleaned your broken skin with a tissue.

“You can cry if you want,” he had said simply, in that innocent manner only kids have.

You were with him all the way through kindergarten to middle school to high school. Neither of you had many friends; you were both quiet and shy and somewhat rough around the edges. But that didn’t matter, because you had each other.

As you grew from toddlers to precocious children to teenagers, you continued spending nearly every day together. When you weren’t glued to each other’s sides in school, he was spending the night at your house after class, or you were playing video games in his room on weekends.

You always looked forward to Fridays. Sunghoon finished school an hour after you did and he would wait for you in an empty classroom. Afterwards you would take the bus into town and waste away the rest of the afternoon at the movies or in the arcade. You’d buy fried chicken for dinner and eat in your room, and he would spend the night. In the summertime, you’d climb up to the roof and stargaze and eventually fall asleep beside him, only to be rudely awakened by middle-of-the-night summer showers.

You had never known anything else but you and Sunghoon against the world.

——————————

When you were sixteen, things began to change.

“Do you want to do something special tonight?” Sunghoon asked. You were hanging out in your bedroom, him lying on your bed and you sitting on a bean bag on the floor, listening to music and studying.

“Like what?”

He grinned excitedly and handed you his phone. “Jeongmin invited me to join him and his friends. He asked me to bring you, too.”

You read the brief text exchange and frowned. “Jeongmin? As in, iljin and leader of that gang of dickheads, Jeongmin?”

“He’s actually nicer than he seems, you know,” Sunghoon told you. “He said he wants us all to hang out.”

You gave him his phone back, incredulous. “Hoon, the four of them beat up Ahn Jinho so badly last month that he’s still in hospital. You can’t seriously be considering taking him up on his offer. He’s going to drag us out into a park and kill us.”

“I think he just wants to show us how to have fun. You know, live a little. Why else would he invite two nerd loners like us?” he asked.

“Because we’re weak, lonely, and easy to take advantage of?” you pointed out. When he didn’t respond, you sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

He shook his head rapidly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And let you get killed all by yourself? No thanks. We die together.”

——————————

You knew it was a mistake the second the conversation ended, but, as you said, you weren’t very well going to let Sunghoon go alone. And he was adamant, longing for friends, and desperate for an adventure. He clung to your arm as you walked from your house to the abandoned car park, thanking you repeatedly the entire journey.

Regret set in almost instantly. For you, anyway. Sunghoon seemed to be having a blast.

Jeongmin was already there waiting for you, with a case of cheap alcohol in his hand and his three lackeys in tow. You sat in the car park watching as Sunghoon drank and smoked with them, pretending to enjoy himself even though you knew he despised the taste of both of those things.

Jeongmin respected your assertion that you wouldn’t smoke (a shocker), but continued pushing you to drink the entire night. You fidgeted under his leering gaze, only growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and he kept trying to ply you with alcohol, kept sitting closer and closer to you, kept returning his hand to your thigh no matter how many times you shifted away. Sunghoon didn’t stop him.

At the end of the night, you dragged Sunghoon back to your house and managed to get him up to your room without waking up your dad. He was wasted and reeked of smoke, incredibly lucky that his parents would just assume he’d spent the night at yours like always. You dumped him on your bed, aired out his clothes, and mixed honey and lemon juice into a glass of warm water for him to try and stop his cough.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, already changed into some of his sleeping clothes he kept in your room. His words were slurred and his cheeks were red, but he was coherent enough. “God, my throat feels like shit.”

“Because you smoked half a pack in one sitting like you were cosplaying as a forty-five year old weathered truck driver. Drink your honey lemon water,” you ordered, opening your bedroom windows so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger. “And no, I did not.”

He pouted but complied. “They’re not that bad.”

You took the empty glass from his hands and pulled the blankets up over him, touching his forehead. His skin was warm and flushed from the alcohol. “We’ll agree to disagree,” you said, heading downstairs to wash the glass.

“Lie down with me,” he whined the second you came back, somehow having managed to tuck himself into your bed like a sushi roll.

You switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside him, close but not touching. “I really don’t think you should be mixing with them, Hoon. They’re bad news,” you said quietly.

He’d fallen asleep before you ever got the chance to finish your sentence.

——————————

Over the next few weeks, Sunghoon started going out on more of these ‘adventures’. You stopped tagging along, but he still relied on you to shelter him in your room so his parents wouldn’t find out where he was disappearing to. And you continued to keep your phone right by your pillow while you slept so you could go bring him home if and when he called you.

He kept smoking around Jeongmin and his friends, even though he hated it and it made his throat itchy. You had started doing your own grocery shopping so your dad wouldn’t notice how fast the lemons and honey ran out nowadays.

When you and him were together, he acted exactly the same. He was still sweet, thoughtful, and just a little bit snarky. He still stuck to you in school, still waited for you every Friday afternoon, and still followed you to whichever new restaurant you wanted to try out on the weekends. He still lit up with a smile when you came by to his figure skating practice to cheer him on, much to the chagrin of his coach.

But whenever he went out to get wasted with Jeongmin and his gang and you had to go pick him up, you caught glimpses of the person he was becoming. He was picking fights and losing his temper at the smallest things, aggressive and hot-headed and dripping in machismo. No longer charmingly sarcastic with a gentle side, now he was just mean.

As soon as you two were back in your room, however, that all melted away. He would cuddle up to you, apologise, and thank you for always bringing him home no matter how ungodly the hour. If he woke up before you, he would tidy your room as a way to return the favour and leave a snack on your bedside table.

The snack was always accompanied by a yellow post-it note which he took from your desk (you didn’t even use those, but you kept them around specifically for him) with a dumb doodle or lots of hearts or both.

You weren’t happy about this development, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. It was his life, not yours. And you weren’t really in the business of speaking up about things that bothered you anyway. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and stayed out of Jeongmin’s way.

Until one fateful Tuesday, about two months after the first invitation.

Sunghoon rarely talked to you about his newfound friends; he knew you didn’t approve of them and he didn’t want to upset you. This particular piece of news, though, was just too exciting to keep from you. After all, you were his best friend. He wanted you to be a part of his new life.

“Guess what the guys and I are doing on Sunday,” he said. You nodded for him to continue, somewhat distracted by the cinnamon rolls you were baking together in his kitchen, not entirely sure when ‘the guys’ had become a thing. “Jeongmin’s cousin is in town, and he has a fancy new car. We’re gonna hotwire it, drive it down to the cliff, and set it on fire.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping open. “What? Sunghoon, that’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why we’ll do it at the cliff. There’s nothing around there that could burn down,” he explained, like that made it okay.

If it weren’t for his completely serious tone and expression, you would have thought he was joking. You set down the mixing bowl you were holding. “No, you could get hurt,�� you said, adding, “And what if you get caught? That’s grand larceny and arson.”

“The guy’s an asshole anyway,” he said nonchalantly, not listening to you.

“That doesn’t make it legal, Hoon. Or safe. I’m serious. You can’t do that.”

He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “You’re just jealous,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” you corrected.

“No, you’re jealous I finally have friends other than you. Like, cool, normal, friends,” he snapped, angrier than you’d ever seen him.

Never in your life had he raised his voice at you. You pretty much never fought, aside from short bouts of time when one of you was upset for one reason or another, but you always smoothed things over through calm, measured conversations. Not arguments like this.

You paused, stepping away from the counter, from him. “Is that what this is about? I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, your voice soft.

He had never once indicated he was unhappy with your friendship, with your relaxed hangouts in each other’s houses and comfortable outings to cinemas and restaurants and bookstores. But clearly he wanted something else: to be cool, normal, and have friends that weren’t shy recluses.

You trusted him. He was your whole world, and you’d always assumed you were his too.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, pulling back his words as you turned to leave. He followed you, pleading, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, rushing out of his house and slamming the front door shut behind you.

——————————

By Sunday evening, you cracked. You had been avoiding Sunghoon for the last two days, and both of your families had noticed. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, if he would be caught, if he was going to be okay. There was no way you’d be able to talk to his parents without him finding out unless he was out at figure skating training, so you confided in your dad. And he called Sunghoon’s mom right then and there.

“You did the right thing, Y/N. I’m proud of you,” your dad said after he hung up, patting your head.

“It doesn’t feel like I did,” you mumbled, your insides twisting and twisting away.

“I know, honey.” Your dad rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, before offering, “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Take your mind off it? I can call off work.”

You clung to him for a few more seconds, then let go. “I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s okay,” you said, retreating to your bedroom while your dad left for his night shift at the plant.

You weren’t sure how long you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling in complete silence, numbed by guilt, before your bedroom door swung open and Sunghoon barged into your room. In your state, you hadn’t even heard him enter your house. You scrambled to your feet.

“Did you fucking snitch on me?”

He was in all black, with a graphic t-shirt over a long sleeved polo, ripped jeans, and boots. With his hair styled and jewellery on, he must’ve been ready to leave the house, because that was how he normally dressed to meet Jeongmin and his gang.

“Hoon-”

“I told you that in confidence,” he snapped, shutting your bedroom door. His eyes, narrowed in hatred, glowered at you. You walked over to him and reached for his hand, but he slapped you away, recoiling at your touch like you were a hot stove. “How could you do this to me?”

“I was worried about you,” you said, your tone begging, mollifying. You rarely saw him this angry, and never had that anger been directed at you.

“Bullshit. My parents just screamed at me for two hours. Jeongmin’s gonna be pissed at me,” he fumed. “You weren’t fucking worried about me. You didn’t want me to be doing things without you.”

You dug your nails into your palms, trying to stop yourself from crying. It seemed to work, for a while, anyway. “Is that how you see me? As a needy pest who won’t let you go?” you asked, each word a chore to get out, your eyes already stinging. Not from his words, but from the sheer contempt in his expression.

Had he really spent the last sixteen years so desperate to get rid of you, like you were a persistent barnacle on a ship that refused to leave? Did he hate you that much? How had you never known?

He took a step towards you. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t even recognise him. You stepped back cautiously.

“Oh, like you’re some perfect angel,” he spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to throw away your future. I-”

“You know what your problem is?” he shouted, cutting you off. He took yet another step forward, and you again stepped back. The backs of your knees hit your bed frame. “You’re a hypocrite. You hold everyone to such a high moral standard that no one is ever good enough for you. Not me, and not yourself. That’s why you fucking hate yourself so much.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat. For several agonising seconds, the only things you could hear were his furious breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I think you should go home,” you finally said after a long pause. Your voice was shaking as you held back tears. “We can talk about this when you’ve calmed down-”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

Sunghoon raised his hand to push back his fringe, but you didn’t know that. Because when his hand came up, you flinched.

He lowered his hand immediately, only then noticing that he’d backed you into a corner. Instead of shock or anger or hurt, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear in your eyes.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered, stepping back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, walking to your open window and resting your hands on the windowsill. “Please leave,” you said simply, fighting to keep your voice stable as tears began to roll down your face, not looking at him.

He stood and waited for a minute, watching you. You could feel his gaze. But when you refused to turn back around, he sighed and left. You heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door a few seconds later, and then it was so, so quiet.

——————————

You and Sunghoon avoided each other like the plague after that fight, although that torture hadn’t lasted long. Within two weeks, he’d withdrawn from school and vanished. His parents told you he’d gone to a boarding school in a different town, but they didn’t say where or why.

You never saw him again.

Being in your hometown for those last two years of high school was difficult for you. Having to live just down the road from his family home, constantly surrounded by all of your old haunts, made it hard for you to get him out of your head.

After high school you’d gone to a small university to do your first year with a conditional offer from your dream school in your back pocket. You needed time to save up money, and you were hoping to secure a scholarship with your first year grades.

You’d been lucky enough to make a new friend, Heeseung. Like you, he was only in that university temporarily to work his way into a scholarship. Your relationship was initially one of convenience and comfort — neither of you were particularly keen on mixing with the other students you never planned to see again after your first year — but you quickly became genuine friends.

You kept each other motivated, and both managed to secure transfers before your second year started. In fact, you’d done so well that your then-university had begged you to stay, offering you scholarship after scholarship and full fee remissions. But you both turned them down. You had loftier ambitions.

Once you moved away to university, things got better. Of course, the vestiges remained. You still had Sunghoon’s Spotify playlists in your account, your shared arcade membership card in your wallet, and some of his socks mixed in with your own. Before you fought he’d borrowed your favourite pair of red shrimp socks, and now you were never going to get them back.

But you didn’t think about him nearly as often as you used to. He was no longer a ghost living in your head, but a will-o’-the-wisp that occasionally caught your eye when you saw something that reminded you of him.

And now you and Heeseung were standing in the foyer of your new dorm with nothing from your past but a small suitcase each, in the university you’d been chasing your entire lives, ready to start your second year.

“We made it,” Heeseung whispered to you, still not fully comprehending it all. You were really here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” you whispered back.

“Me too. If we weren’t roommates I’d be shitting bricks by now.”

The school had been gracious enough to allow you and Heeseung to live together in a small apartment within the music students’ dorm, since you were pretty sure at least one of you would have gone bonkers if you were separated. You would be sharing the floor with another similar apartment housing three students who would meet you in the foyer to help you move in.

Right on time, one of them (you presumed) came bounding down the stairs excitedly. He broke into a broad smile the second he saw your suitcases, his originally stern-looking features softening instantly as he did.

“Are you the transfers? Nice to meet you! I’m Jay. We spoke on the phone.”

You spoke up first when it became clear Heeseung was far too anxious to talk. “Hi! I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung. Nice to meet you too.”

“Welcome aboard,” Jay said, easily picking up your suitcase before you could object. Heeseung fumbled for his own. “My roommates are just finishing getting your apartment ready. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Shouldn’t that be the school’s job?” you asked, following him up the stairs.

“This place can be a bit of a circus, believe it or not,” Jay remarked, making you and Heeseung exchange glances. When you reached the fifth floor, not a single hair on his head was out of place even though your bag was heavy as fuck.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem. That’s us over there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the level, “and this is you guys.”

The apartment was modestly-sized and simple, but clean and otherwise perfect. Jay introduced you to his first roommate Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen counter when you arrived.

“Thanks for setting all of this up for us. It must’ve been a lot of work,” Heeseung said, finally speaking after you elbowed him in the side (be normal, man). “You’ve been so helpful.”

“It’s nothing. Jay and I both transferred here last semester too, so we know how hard it can be,” Jake said kindly, waving away your gratitude. “Our other roommate did the same for us back then.”

“Speaking of which, Hoon! Come out here and meet the new students!” Jay called.

A third voice came floating from down the corridor. “Coming!”

When the aforementioned roommate emerged from the corridor, your heart stopped. Your blood turned to lead in your veins. Your ears began ringing, the sound so loud it washed away almost everything else.

You could barely hear Jake as he said, “Hoon, these are our new neighbours, Heeseung and Y/N. Guys, this is-”

“Sunghoon,” you finished. His name came out of your mouth, but it didn’t sound like your voice. Your hands were numb.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said, at the exact same time.

Although he was taller now, with a broader frame, a sharper jaw, and a deeper voice, it was still him. He was frozen in shock, looking right at you, unblinking. He had on a white t-shirt that read ‘rise above’ that he’d had since the first year of high school — you bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It had been massively oversized on his thin body back then, but now he filled it out nicely.

Right there, as you stood in the kitchen of your new apartment, all the guilt and heartbreak and mourning that you thought you had left behind in the child that died three years ago came rushing back to you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

And in that moment you were reminded yet again of the lesson you had spent the last three years of your life learning day after day after day: movies lied.

The real heartbreak was never the big fight. It was every time after when the other person crossed your mind in idle thoughts or memories, every time you saw or heard something that reminded you of them, every time you pulled up their contact on your phone and read the distant timestamp of your final conversation.

It was every belonging of theirs they left behind in your childhood bedroom, and everything you owned that had been a gift from them. It was every food you ever ate together and every song you ever listened to together and every place you ever went to together.

It was every time they reached out from beyond the grave and touched some part of your life and you had to lose them all over again.

You looked at him, and he looked at you. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. You were sixteen once more: standing in his kitchen making cinnamon rolls, locking your bedroom door behind him after the last time you spoke because you were scared he would return, desperately running away from him in the school halls.

He glanced down at your hands, your fingers laced together to hide the fact that they were shaking. You had a habit of doing that when you were nervous. Around your left wrist was a silver bracelet, one that he’d gotten you on a whim six years ago. You still had it. And you still wore it. And it was you.

Jay smiled cheerily, oblivious. “Do you guys know each other?”

——————————

Your first week of your second year was amazing. You were finally at your dream university in your dream major, with a full-ride scholarship under your belt and your best friend right by your side. It was everything you and Heeseung had worked so hard for.

The building you lived in was a dorm just for music scholars, a small, close-knit group of under thirty students. Most of them, like Jay and Jake, also bled money.

But your experience was somewhat soured by one thing: Park Sunghoon. He was everywhere.

Of course, that was to be expected. It was a small cohort, the only new friends you’d made so far were his roommates, and you were literally neighbours.

After the day you’d moved in, neither of you had spoken a word to each other. You ran into him constantly, and you were always going to classes and grabbing lunch together, but you’d never talked to him directly. He was just always there.

On Thursday, as the five of you left a lecture together, Sunghoon politely excused himself. “I won’t join you guys for lunch today. I need to pick up something from the shops.”

So you found yourself sitting in the food court with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. When the conversation naturally fizzled out, it was only quiet for a few seconds before Jay clapped his hands together and asked, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with you and Sunghoon?”

You looked at Heeseung for guidance. On that first night, you’d already told him everything. He shrugged.

“Uh- well. We grew up together, and when we were sixteen we had a falling out,” you answered cautiously.

“Then you lost touch?” Jake frowned.

“You could say that,” you said, reaching for Heeseung’s hand under the table and adding, “I think Sunghoon should probably be the one to tell you the rest, though. When he’s ready.”

——————————

At Heeseung’s insistence (listen, you’re clearly still hurting over this, and it would be good for you to talk to him, at least), you bullied yourself into texting Sunghoon at the end of your first week. With trembling hands, you asked him if he would meet you in the botanical gardens on Sunday. He replied almost instantly: what time?

Waiting for him on a park bench, chronically early as you always were, you were bouncing your leg so much that the entire bench was shaking. The last time you’d spoken to him was over three years ago, when you’d pleaded with him to get out of your room.

You had drawn up an agreement with Heeseung that morning: if things went south, you would send him an S.O.S. message so he could come by and pretend to whisk you away to tend to an Urgent Apartment Matter. You even programmed your phone to text him automatically if you pressed your power button five times in a row. He called you ‘insufferably paranoid’, which you took as a compliment.

Sunghoon was a minute late, and, by the looks of it, just as anxious as you were.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sat down next to you, a polite distance away. It was almost like how you used to sit in your neighbourhood park late at night after you’d aged out of the playground, eating convenience store ramen together until a concerned stranger or annoyed police officer told you to go home.

You both looked around for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore and bit the bullet. “How have you been?” you asked, stilted.

“Good. I’ve been good.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, nodding at nothing. “What about you?”

“Good.” You paused too, searching your brain for something to say.

“I went to military school,” he blurted out, knowing you were too polite to ask him directly. “Um- for the last two years of high school. That’s why I disappeared.”

Military school? So the rumours floating around the town had been right.

“Madam Choi kept asking me about you,” you told him after a while. Madam Choi was the sweet, grandmotherly owner of the convenience store on the corner of your street who always asked how you were doing and chastised you for eating too many snacks even though your unhealthy diets kept her shop afloat. It was the only topic you could think of that wasn’t too painful to bring up.

Sunghoon laughed at that, a sound you hadn’t heard for years. He loosened up, and you did too. Your awkwardness gradually began melting away as he told you about Jay and Jake, about his time at military school, and about all the cool spots in the city you should check out. You told him about Heeseung, your previous university, and how you didn’t know how to navigate your new university’s portal because it was designed to frustrate.

Conspicuously, neither of you brought up the past. Reminiscing was off the table, an arrangement implicitly reached between you two at some point during the conversation. Even when you finally worked up the courage to ask what you’d been wanting to ask for the last three years, you still couldn’t bring yourself anywhere close to acknowledging what happened.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate for even a second, which made you smile. “No.”

As he continued talking, however, it became clear that he was considering every word he said before he said it. He was careful, deliberate, holding back.

“I’ve grown up since then,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been mad for a long time. Actually, I wanted to thank you for doing what you did. I could have been sitting in jail by now.” He clasped his hands together and turned to you. “Are you still mad at me?”

You were equally as assured and quick with your own response. “No. I was never mad at you.”

“You should’ve been,” he joked. “I caused you so much trouble, always waking you up in the middle of the night and crashing in your room.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m happy things worked out for you, Hoon. And that you got into university despite everything that happened,” you said.

“Thanks,” he smiled. Although the rest of him looked older and more mature, his smile remained the same.

“If I’d done those things I never would’ve gotten a second chance,” you mused, more to yourself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

Instantly, his mood soured.

“Okay, so did you rat on me to protect me and my future? Or because you were jealous? Because that sounds like jealousy,” he snapped.

Shit. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button five times. But he wasn’t wrong.

Yes, you had been worried about him as you’d said back then, but you were also jealous. Not of his new friends, but of his life. His parents were rich, and he had two of them. If he had gone out that night and been caught, there was a non-zero chance that he could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.

His parents had the money to ship him off to a private military school for two whole years at the drop of a hat, and he’d been able to come straight to your dream university. If you had joined him and Jeongmin that night, you would’ve been locked up without question.

“You ruined my life,” Sunghoon hissed, his eyes now dark and his body tense. “Do you know that?”

“You ruined your own life when you were planning to commit arson and didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” you countered.

He set his jaw and turned away with a scoff. “I can’t believe you.”

In the distance, you saw Heeseung jogging over to you. He must’ve been hiding in another part of the park, waiting. You weren’t the only insufferably paranoid one, it seemed.

“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Hoon,” you sighed.

“Don’t call me that,” he spat, standing up.

“Y/N!” Heeseung shouted as he reached the bench. His face fell the moment he saw the look in your eyes. “There is an Urgent Apartment Matter. We must tend to it right away,” he stuttered, grabbing your hand and yanking you to your feet before Sunghoon even had the time to blink.

The two of you ran.

——————————

You and Sunghoon had swiftly gone right back to ignoring each other, which was pretty impressive considering you were almost always together. Jay and Jake seemed annoyingly hell-bent on taking you and Heeseung under their wing — as fellow transfers themselves, they wanted to help you acclimatise — and Sunghoon didn’t have any other friends. So he was constantly with you in classes, at parties, or hanging out in your goddamn apartment.

He spent more time staring at you than he would have liked to admit. In between gaps in conversations, or when you were distracted by one of Jay’s dissertation-length speeches about some inane topic or stupid fact, he got the chance to really look at you for the first time in years. Every time he did he felt a strange ache in his chest. You were like an actor he already knew playing a character he’d never seen before.

“Dude, why would you even say that? You called them a hypocrite?” Jake chastised, when Sunghoon finally revealed the details behind your falling out in high school a few days after Sunday.

“I just can’t imagine you as that kind of guy,” Jay said, stunned. He was still trying to picture Park Sunghoon, the would-be arsonist.

Often, Sunghoon found himself staring not when Jay was rambling or Jake was telling you a joke, but specifically when you were with Heeseung. There was something about the way you two interacted that made his heart sting. You were comfortable with him, and he with you.

You knew he liked to sit on the inside of restaurant booths facing the door, and he knew your Subway order by heart. You kept track of the stock of his favourite drinks in your fridge, and he always had a spare charger in his bag for all the times you forgot to bring your own. You were so in tune with each other that you would tell when the other wanted to go home without needing to ask and built effortlessly on each other’s jokes. You even kind of talked the same.

“And then you said it again? Are you serious?” Jay groaned in frustration when he heard the park story. Everyone had noticed the considerable shift in mood between you and Sunghoon since Sunday, but no one had dared to mention it.

“They’re trying so hard with you, man. Why would you do that?” Jake sighed.

Sunghoon pulled hard at his hair, equally frustrated, and flopped face down on the sofa. “I don’t know! It just came out.”

There was a substantial part of him that kmew it was because he was scared he hadn’t changed. That he was still the kind of person who called their best friend a hypocrite and accused them of being jealous when they tried to protect him. That you could see that, and that Jay and Jake would realise it soon too.

The other day at the juice bar Heeseung bought you a warm honey lemon tea. When he ordered it, you and Sunghoon immediately looked at each other before turning away. Windows open to air out the stench of cigarette smoke. Your secret stash of lemons and honey. Yellow post-it notes on your bedside table. All the hours you spent taking care of him, even as he spiralled out of control.

You hadn’t even asked for it; Heeseung somehow knew you had a sore throat that day without you telling him. Apparently he could hear it in your voice, which was (according to him) slightly scratchy and hoarse. Sunghoon couldn’t hear a thing, though. You sounded the exact same to him.

It was clear that Heeseung was familiar with the person you were now, that he knew you, and he knew how to be your best friend. That was a skill that Sunghoon had lost years ago, and clearly he didn’t quite know you anymore.

At the park you hadn’t cried once, although he was sure the sixteen-year-old you would have. Perhaps you just cried less now. Perhaps you’d given up on him and no longer expected anything else from him but to be disappointed.

“You need to apologise to them,” Jake scolded.

“They won’t forgive me,” Sunghoon mumbled into the sofa fabric.

Jay threw a pillow at him. “No offence, Hoon, but from what you’ve told us I think you’re a pretty shit judge of character.”

——————————

You had the apartment to yourself that Thursday night because Heeseung had rented a studio to practise after-hours and wouldn’t be back till sunrise. Someone knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer it immediately, a painfully familiar voice rang out from the other side.

“It’s me.”

Dread was not an emotion you’d ever associated with Sunghoon, but it was all you felt when you opened the door for him. When you were kids he never waited for you to do so; he always just let himself in. You sat down at the kitchen counter together, side by side.

“Since when do you watch Queer Eye?” he asked, noticing your laptop screen.

“Heeseung introduced me to it,” you said, pushing a glass of water across the counter to him. His face darkened at the name, but you chose to ignore it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sunghoon bit his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he started, wooden. While he’d seemed guarded and on edge on Sunday, now he seemed scared. “For what I said to you. And for- for everything.”

You sat rigidly on the bar stool, self-conscious, not knowing what to say.

“I had a lot of time to think over the last three years, and I realised I was insecure. I was so desperate to be seen as ‘cool’ and Jeongmin knew that. You were right; he was preying on me because he could tell how much I wanted to be a part of his world. You saw right through me because you knew- you know me better than anyone. So I lashed out at you.

“I tried so hard to put that part of my life behind me — I never told Jay or Jake about it, even — and when you came back I panicked. It was a reminder of all the fucked up things I did and the person I used to be. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, and I took it out on you again.

“I’m sorry. And thank you. For always being there for me to pick up the pieces. I never deserved that sort of kindness.”

He watched you nervously, waiting for a response. You reached for the rubber band around your wrist and snapped it. It didn’t hurt, but it helped to distract you. He glanced down at your hand, recognising another of your old habits.

“Stop doing that,” he chided, his eyes watering. At that moment, he sounded just like he used to when you were younger. You remembered him saying those exact words in that exact tone. Of all the things he had said, that was what made you want to cry.

“I missed you so much,” you finally admitted after a long pause, inhaling shakily. “I felt like I ruined our friendship. I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision, I- I thought I’d lost you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. His hugs were just comforting as they had been when you were growing up. He was much stronger than you remembered, although perhaps you should have expected that. He’d changed his cologne since.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he told you, stroking your hair gently. When you separated his eyes were shining with tears. He laughed, sniffling, holding your face in his hands.

“Can we be friends again?” you whispered.

“I’d like that,” he said, letting you go and hesitating for a few seconds before he next spoke. “Do you know what motivated me to change when I was in military school?”

“What?” You hugged him one last time before unconsciously reaching for your rubber band. Catching this, he raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at your wrist. You stopped, feeling scolded.

“The last time we talked back in high school, you thought I was going to hit you,” he began carefully. He took a deep breath, suddenly unable to look you in the eye now. “Seeing how scared you were, the fear on your face, I- I never wanted to make anyone feel like that again. Especially not you. I’m sorry.”

He’d started crying. He hardly ever cried when you were kids. You wiped away his tears with your shirt sleeve.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he begged, clutching onto you with a vice grip. Between you and him he had always been the calm one, but now he was shaking and you could feel it.

You squeezed his hand. “I won’t.”

——————————

Something in you was repaired that day.

You were telling the truth when you said you had never stopped feeling guilty about what you did. Not being able to speak to Sunghoon after, not even knowing where he was or what he was doing, it had wrecked you.

For years you’d lived with the thought that the only person you’d ever trusted had always secretly resented you. Maybe everyone did — maybe you were a pest, a hypocrite, a loser. It made it hard for you to form new connections. Heeseung had chipped away at your defences for months before you felt safe enough to call him your friend.

But now you were sitting on the floor of Sunghoon’s living room, sharing a vodka Sprite with Heeseung while you watched the others play Mario Kart, and everything was fine.

You hadn’t spent too much time with Sunghoon alone, although the five of you were constantly together. Jake had even joked about blocking off the fifth floor from the other scholars and just leaving both of your front doors open to form one big apartment for the five of you. Functionally, it wouldn’t be that different from how you were already living.

“I’m hungry,” Heeseung piped up, pouting and nudging you. “Go buy me some chips?”

“Why can’t you go?” you asked.

“My head hurts,” he whined. If he was dehydrated, the smallest drop of alcohol could give him splitting headaches. “Don’t kick a man while he’s down.”

Before you could retort, Sunghoon handed him his Switch controller. “Hee, you play. I’ll go with them,” he offered.

“Thanks, man. Use my rewards card,” Heeseung said, handing you his wallet instead of just taking the rewards card out and passing that to you.

You used to joke that you could so easily max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to, but he swiftly pointed out that you also had a habit of giving him your entire wallet when he asked to borrow money or your transport card.

“I still can’t believe we've been in this city for just over a month and you already have six rewards cards,” you laughed, putting on your shoes.

As you and Sunghoon were walking out the door, Heeseung was still shouting, “Think of the points, dude! The points!”

The convenience store was just across the road from your dorm building, which was, as its name suggested, pretty convenient. Not as good for your heart health and nutrition, but whatever. It was drizzling slightly, but not enough for either of you to have bothered with an umbrella.

“Heeseung is so obsessed with collecting rewards points,” you joked, fiddling with his rewards card.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Is he always like that?”

You nodded. “Since I met him. You like him, though, right?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s fun,” he said. He wasn’t lying; he did actually like Heeseung. But he would be lying if he said your closeness to him didn’t bother him at all. Sunghoon didn’t want to think too much about the possible implications of his jealousy.

“I’m glad. I really like Jay and Jake, too,” you told him, pushing open the convenience store door. “I’ll go get Deungie’s chips, because he likes some weird obscure flavours.”

“I’ll get the normal stuff for everyone else,” Sunghoon said, asking, “the usual for you, yeah?”

You thought of the convenience store in your hometown, of Madam Choi, of your regular weekend sleepovers back in school. Rehearsed and practised, you two were in and out of the store in under two minutes. What did that say about either of you, that you were so skilled at buying snacks that you worked together like a well-oiled machine?

The drizzle was marginally heavier when you left. It was a short walk, but Sunghoon took off his white baseball cap and fixed it atop your head anyway.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you smiled. You never bothered fighting him when he did things like that for you; you hadn’t as a kid and you still didn’t now. He wouldn’t do it unless he wanted to, and he wasn’t the type to accept your refusals of help.

But it felt different years later, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, amused.

You quickly averted your gaze, not having noticed you’d been looking at him. “It’s just weird to have you back,” you said.

You’d had this conversation with him at least a dozen times over the last month. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was back in your life and you were back in his. That you hadn’t destroyed the life of your best friend by being a hypocrite.

Since then, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about the person you used to be: full of self-loathing and insecurity and fear that you would eventually ruin every relationship you had. Heeseung had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told him about Sunghoon when it all happened. You admitted to him that you were scared he would think of you as a bad person.

Sunghoon smiled. “Is it a good weird or a bad weird?”

“It’s a good weird. I missed this,” you answered, holding up the bag of snacks in your hand. As was your usual routine, you carried the snacks and he carried the drinks, having immediately fallen into step.

He playfully bumped into you as you walked, though not nearly hard enough to knock you off balance. “I missed you,” he said, before reaching for his keys.

The conversation was the same, but the butterflies in your stomach were definitely a new development.

——————————

Since you reconnected, Sunghoon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“Dude, are you jealous of Heeseung?” Jay asked him one night, out of the blue, after you and Heeseung left their apartment to head back to your own. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue; even he couldn’t deny that.

“Can’t I be jealous of my ex-best friend’s new best friend?” Sunghoon replied, already defensive.

“That’s not why you’re jealous, though, is it?” Jay pressed. “You’re posturing around him and you can’t stop looking at Y/N.”

“Shut up.” He was right, and deep down Sunghoon knew it.

He was never going to be your best friend again, and he wasn’t trying to be. Neither of you were the same people you had been three years ago, and you were different enough that if you met now, you probably wouldn’t have been close. You both had new friends, people who suited your current selves better.

He wanted to be something else.

“You need to tone down the staring, man. It’s getting a little too obvious,” Jake said. “Even Heeseung mentioned it to me the other day.”

Sunghoon swore under his breath. “He did?” Heeseung, of all people, noticing — had he mentioned it to you?

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Jay added, trying to be comforting.

Sunghoon sighed and finished his drink. It was a gin and tonic which he’d made so strong that it was basically straight gin with a drizzle of tonic water. He winced.

“I know, but they do everything together,” he mumbled, just barely self-aware enough to realise he was whining. “That used to be me.”

“They’re happy, you’re happy, and you guys are friends again. Isn't that what you wanted? Why focus on the past when you could be focusing on right now?” Jake asked.

“Because they trusted me for sixteen years and I basically told them I’d secretly hated them the whole time,” Sunghoon said, his voice rising. “I ruined them, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Jay scowled and crossed his arms, kicking Sunghoon’s foot with his own. “You didn’t ruin anyone. They’re fine. You’re not the only thing that’s ever happened to them, and if you keep thinking like that you’ll never fully repair your relationship.”

Sunghoon stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink.

——————————

“It’s been two months since we moved here,” Heeseung told you randomly one day. You were at a ramen bar for dinner with him and Sunghoon to celebrate getting through the first half of the semester. Also, you were all out of food at home and neither of you were in the mood to cook.

“Has it?” You checked the date on your phone. Sure enough, he was right. You hadn’t even realised.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sunghoon said. You’d started looking at Sunghoon differently.

Firstly, he looked different. He towered over his former self, his shoulders were much wider than you recalled, and he’d lost some fat on his face, making his cheeks and jaw more angular. He wore his black hair longer than he used to and he didn’t have nearly as many dark colours in his wardrobe.

He’d always been good-looking, but you had never really recognised that before. Now, though, it was always on your mind. Now, when he smiled at you or fixed your hair after he put his cap on your head or leaned over you to plug in his laptop in lecture theatres, you got nervous.

His gestures had always made you feel warm and comfortable, but now they were also starting to make you feel shy. You’d never been particularly touchy with him even as kids — you shared beds with a wall of pillows in between you two — but now you couldn’t even bear the thought of holding onto his sleeve in a crowd so you wouldn’t get separated.

“Oi.” Heeseung kicked you hard under the table and pointed at your nearly empty bowl. “Earth to Y/N. Are you done?”

They were both staring at you. How long had you been zoning out?

“What? Yeah, I’m done. Did you say something?” you asked.

Heeseung laughed and pressed his index finger to the top of your head, pretending to push you down like a button, which he always did when he was making fun of you. He definitely knew what you’d been lost in thought about (do you know how much Sunghoon stares at you nowadays? I think he hates me).

“Heeseung said he’s meeting Jay and Jake at the studio,” Sunghoon filled you in, much more helpful. “So we can go home, or if you want we can walk around some more.” He sounded expectant, like he was hoping you’d agree to the latter. You did.

——————————

Once you saw Heeseung off at the bus stop, Sunghoon brought you to a run-down building four streets away from the ramen bar. In the hip, fashionable district of the city, amidst the trendy shops and cafés, the mould and peeling paint and water damage of the building made it stick out like a blister.

You looked at the building, and then at him, and then back at the building. “Is this an assassination attempt?” you asked.

“Trust me,” he said, pushing the rusty steel door open with his foot.

“That’s not an answer. And your refusal to touch the door with your hands doesn’t exactly inspire trust,” you laughed, but you followed him with no hesitation.

It felt almost like when you used to go exploring the outskirts of your hometown by yourselves, far too late at night for kids your age. But this time, you didn’t have any snacks with you, nor games to keep yourselves occupied.

Sunghoon made a face at you and ushered you inside. “Shut up. I’m the city native here.”

“You’ve only been here a year longer than me,” you pointed out, looking around. The building wasn’t so much a building as it was a stairwell. Stuffy, dark, and dingy, it made you feel suffocated. “I’m going to die here,” you declared, sighing in resignation.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. It’s not even that bad.”

As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the tight space. What little light that had been coming in from the street lamps outside disappeared, except for a sliver of amber forcing its way through a gap in the door frame. He cursed under his breath.

“Hoon,” you called, desperately trying to spot him in the darkness, the rising panic clear in your words. “I swear, if I die tonight I’ll never stop haunting you.”

His reply came immediately, calm and measured, reassuring. “I’m right here. Give me your hand.”

You turned around at the sound of his voice and reached out blindly in front of you, hitting his shoulder. He found your hand and took it in his, the feeling of his palm against yours somehow soothing and stressful at the same time.

“You’re still scared of the dark?” he asked, joking, trying to ease your fear.

He used to scold you all the time for always sleeping with your light on, but no matter how many articles he sent you about why sleeping in the dark was important for healthy melatonin production, you never listened. Whenever he slept over in your room, he used an eye mask.

“Shut up, please.” Your voice was quiet and unconvincing; actually, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep talking. You couldn’t see anything, and all you had to ground you was his voice and his hand in yours.

He squeezed your hand, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would be this dark. It’s worth it, I promise.”

He led you up three flights of stairs by the hand and walked face first into what you assumed to be a locked door. “Ow. Motherfucker.”

You cackled at that.

The room (if you could call it that, since it was barely bigger than a cupboard) was lit with a single filament light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Aside from a couple of cardboard boxes, some pillows, and a bean bag, it was empty.

“That’s your old bean bag. The one you had in your room,” you said, recognising the green fabric immediately. You tensed when he brushed past you to shut the door to the room (supply cupboard?), but you tried your best to ignore it.

“Yeah, I brought it with me. I get homesick sometimes, so it helps,” he told you, sitting down on the small pile of pillows. You took the bean bag.

“It smells worse than I remembered,” you said, patting it. He pushed you in retaliation, laughing at you when you lost your balance.

“I have snacks and drinks in this box, and comics and books in that one,” he explained. “I wanted to get a mini-fridge in here but there isn’t an outlet.”

This was exactly how you used to spend your weekends when you didn’t have to study: snacks, drinks, and reading. Except now he handed you a can of hard seltzer instead of his yoghurt drinks of yore.

“Is this legal? Does the building owner know you’re here?” you asked, somewhat sceptical. But you opened the can anyway and took a sip. It was warm, but not unpleasant.

“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen.”

“You just jaywalked about ten minutes ago.”

“I’m generally a law abiding citizen.” He dug around in the box some more and produced a can of sangria (you despised sangria), gesturing to the room. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”

“Very,” you nodded, making yourself comfortable in the bean bag. You felt like you were in high school again, although you didn’t recall your spine hurting nearly as much then. Perhaps you were getting old. You needed proper back support now.

He kicked off his shoes. “Fuck off,” he laughed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” you yelled, before you noticed- “My red shrimp socks!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced down at his feet and started casually taking the socks off. “Do you want them back?”

You gagged. “Not right now, dumbo!”

He used to be able to detect your sarcasm perfectly, always reading your tone with no margin of error, although it was probably unfair to expect him to still be able to after so many years.

“Come home with me,” Sunghoon said suddenly, still looking at his (your) socks. You looked at him, puzzled. “After the semester ends. We should go visit our families,” he added.

You thought for a minute and agreed. “I think my dad misses you.”

“My parents miss you too.” He leant back against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and rested his head on your shoulder, declaring, “I’m tired.”

The room was so dark and small and quiet. His black hair tickled your neck, even though you could tell he was trying not to move around too much. You prayed he couldn’t hear how fast your heart rate had become. He’d always been a sleepy drinker, and you’d all been drinking pretty liberally during dinner earlier.

You tried to relax, as much as you could with his body pressed against yours, and closed your eyes too. So you didn’t see him reach for your hand until you felt his touch directly. He took your hand and pulled it into his lap, interlocking his fingers with yours and fiddling with your silver bracelet. You froze, your breathing shallow and your muscles tense.

“This is from that old charity shop behind the fruit store,” he mumbled, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. You could feel the vibrations of his throat against your shoulder as he spoke. “I bought it for you.”

“Hoon,” you said softly, your eyes now wide open. He hummed in response, still playing with your hand. “What are you doing?”

His reply was a non-answer. “I miss home.”

Tentatively, you lifted your hand to his head, stroking his hair in what you hoped would be a comforting gesture. He stayed quiet. His closeness was simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and most comforting thing. In all your life, you couldn’t ever recall sitting like this with him.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” you asked, pulling your hand away, worried now.

He grabbed it and returned it to his hair, moving even closer to you. “That feels nice,” he sighed. His breath was warm against your neck, while the tip of his nose was cold. It made you shiver. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been home in a while.”

You felt terrible for never really having thought about what his two years in military school, being ripped away from his family at such short notice, must’ve been like. As far as you were aware he didn’t get to visit his family until he graduated, and you only knew that because you spent your own high school graduation period locked up in your house to avoid running into him.

Against your best efforts, the guilt came rushing back. You closed your eyes again and continued playing with Sunghoon’s hair, just how he liked it.

——————————

Two weeks later, you still didn’t know what to make of that night. You told Heeseung everything and asked him if you were going insane.

“Do you like him?” Heeseung asked as you two got ready to leave the house. You were going out to get drinks with the others.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, yanking the windows shut much harder than you had intended. He jumped at the sound, and you winced. “Sorry. I hate this, man.”

“Do you want my opinion?” he asked.

“It depends on what it is.”

He snorted. “I think you do like him and you don’t want to admit it. Why is that?”

You rushed to put on your shoes as he waited for you. “I just- what if this fucks up our friendship a second time? There’s too much history between us, right?”

“Well, your heart doesn’t seem to think so,” he said, opening the front door. The neighbouring front door opened too, at the exact same time, and out stepped Sunghoon. He broke into a wide smile the second he saw you.

Heeseung lowered his head and said quietly, “Clearly, he doesn’t think so, either.”

——————————

You were far too nervous to drink even after the forty minute journey to the bar. Heeseung’s words hadn’t left your head for even a second, and he could definitely tell from the way he kept grinning at you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Heeseung asked for the third time, offering you his glass. You had the same taste in drinks, so you usually shared.

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said, again for the third time.

“Guess who else isn’t drinking tonight,” he teased, way too loud, nodding to Sunghoon and his glass of water. That didn’t even make sense.

“Shut up,” you hissed. Heeseung giggled, already tipsy, and leaned on you. Sunghoon caught your eye from across the table and smiled. If he’d heard what the other man said, he showed no indication of it. You smiled back.

Jake returned to the table, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s your turn,” Jake sighed, exasperated, collapsing into his seat. He’d been on wingman duty for Jay, and (apparently, because you’d never been unlucky enough to witness it yourself) Jay was a terrible flirt.

Heeseung picked up his glass, downed what was left in it in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with a loud thump. “Alright, here I go,” he declared. You watched him carefully as he walked over to the bar, but he didn’t seem too drunk yet. He’d be fine.

At the booth behind where Jay was, however, you saw someone else who made your blood run cold.

“Hoon, don’t turn around, but Jeongmin is here,” you began. Jeongmin was staring intensely at you. Sunghoon sat up straight in alarm. Maybe you looked familiar to him and he was trying to place you.

Jake, ever the quick thinker, said, “You guys should leave. I’ll stay and let Jay and Hee know what happened.” Sunghoon was still frozen.

“Thanks, Jake. Pass these to Heeseung for me.” You fished your keys (Heeseung hadn’t brought his own) out of your pocket to toss them to Jake, grabbed Sunghoon by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.

“Aren’t you sober? Why don’t your legs work?” you grunted, trying to shake him to attention and pull him down the street at the same time. A passing car revving its engine snapped him out of it, whatever it was.

“Fuck, yeah. Sorry,” Sunghoon mumbled. Before you could even ask him if he was okay, what you’d been trying so hard to avoid happened.

“Park Sunghoon.”

You could pick out Jeongmin’s voice anywhere. It was low, rough, and sharp. He somehow looked identical to how he looked back in high school, if only slightly thinner and more tired.

“You. You called the cops on us that night,” Jeongmin hissed. jabbing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon.

“I didn’t,” Sunghoon stated calmly, but you could tell he was on edge. He subtly pushed you behind him.

“Yeah, right. On the one night we get busted the new kid just happens to not show up,” Jeongmin scoffed, taking a step towards you.

Sunghoon held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I didn’t call the cops on you.”

Jeongmin squared his shoulders and punched him hard in the jaw without warning. The silver ring he was wearing drew a deep red gash across Sunghoon’s cheek.

As if on auto-pilot, like it was second nature to him, Sunghoon immediately returned the blow with a punch of his own before you even had the time to think. You gasped, Jeongmin’s nose cracked, and Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, knocking him to the ground.

Then he grabbed your hand and ran.

——————————

The walk back to the dorm was silent. Sunghoon’s lips were pressed tightly together, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched like he was trying not to cry. You remembered the days when you, not him, were usually the one who needed comforting.

It reassured you to some degree, though, that he wouldn’t hide his sadness from you like he used to. You reached for his hand the second you were out of Jeongmin’s line of sight and threaded your fingers between his. His knuckles were bruised.

Wordlessly, he handed you his keys and you unlocked his front door.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.

“Under the kitchen sink,” he said flatly, sitting down on the sofa.

You pulled it out from the back corner of the kitchen cabinet with great difficulty, joined him on the sofa, and started cleaning the cut on his jaw. He winced when the alcohol swab made contact with his skin.

“Sorry. I’m almost done,” you promised, tossing the swab aside and covering the cut up. It took all of twenty seconds. “Do you want to talk?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I thought I was past that behaviour. I don’t-”

He stopped talking. You put your hand over his and waited. His bottom lip started to quiver as he held back tears.

“I don’t want to be that person again,” he sobbed, and the sound broke your heart.

Through the school grapevine you heard about fights with kids of neighbouring schools, breaking and entering, the like. But even now, so many years later, you didn’t fully know what he did with Jeongmin and his gang. You never asked, and he never volunteered that information.

He was crying. “I let my parents down. Every time I see them I just remember how angry they were at me. I’m a terrible son. Nothing I do will ever be able to erase that I humiliated them, I failed them, I brought shame to the whole family, I-”

You pulled him into a hug, feeling how his body trembled as he fought to speak.

“You’re not a terrible son, Hoon,” you whispered, as he sobbed into your hair.

He shook his head and pushed you away. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I broke his nose,” he repeated, almost frantic in his insistence. It wasn’t a state you’d seen him in before.

“But he hit you first,” you noted.

Finally, at your childish response, he cracked a small smile. “Weren’t you always the one who said violence was never the answer?” he laughed. His eyes were still glistening with tears, but at least he’d calmed down.

“Usually it isn’t, but I don’t subscribe to universal codes of human conduct anymore,” you told him. “Do you?”

He paused for a bit, staring at you, unable to find the words to reply. You smiled, swiped the tears on his cheeks away with a gentle hand, and got up to put away the first aid kit. It was late, and you were both tired.

“I love you,” Sunghoon said over his shoulder, his voice still thick with emotion. He said that often nowadays, although it wasn’t something he did previously. Neither of you ever felt the need to declare that when you were younger; it was a given.

“I love you too, Hoon,” you replied, still busy trying to make room in the cluttered space under his kitchen sink for the kit.

All the traces of his crying vanished when he next spoke. “No, I’m in love with you.”

You dropped the package of sponges in your hands. Your mind went blank.

There was something about the phrase ‘in love’ that you had never really understood. It implied love was all consuming, like a physical swallowing whole of your being. You felt love for others, but you’d never felt it so much that you were in the state of love.

Until you heard it from him. And then you realised you were already there.

“Say something. Please,” he begged, panicked by your silence.

“Hoon-”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cutting you off, leaning back against the sofa with a hand over his eyes.

Sunghoon was not an interrupter. In all the years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever interrupted you was during your big final fight in your bedroom, when you’d snitched on him.

You left the first aid kit on the floor and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. You tapped the back of his hand to get him to look at you. Reluctantly, he did, but only through the gaps between his fingers.

“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted.

He was speechless at hearing his words echoed back to him, frozen for a good ten seconds before his gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, and he kissed you. He placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer while his other hand, bruised knuckles and all, grabbed one of your own. He laced your fingers together tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.

Your free hand ghosted over the line of his jaw, past the bandage you’d just put on his face and down his neck to his chest, warm and solid. He shivered under your touch.

“I love you, Hoon,” you breathed when you separated.

He gave you one last quick kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he whispered giddily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

For the first few weeks after you reconnected, both of you had tried to return to what you once were. But it quickly became clear that that was never going to happen. Even after you had paved over the road, underneath the new asphalt the old potholes were still there, and nothing you did would ever fully correct them.

You had to look forward. Sunghoon was never going to be your best friend again, not like before. You would never get back your old relationship, full of childlike innocence and void of conflict. But that was okay. You were here, and he was here, and that was enough.

“Then I’ll keep saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated, leaning into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too. So much,” he said, putting his arm around you and letting you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “You have no idea.”

He was tired of running and hiding from who he used to be, and going on the defensive and lashing out every time he was confronted with his past. He was done torturing his sixteen-year-old self.

You and him had something new. It wasn’t better, it wasn’t more. It was just different. You had your whole lives in front of you — an endless stretch of even, untouched, fresh road — waiting for you, and it would be stupid to focus on what lay behind you. You still had so much left to explore together.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

#enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios

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mint-yooxgi · 11 months ago

Text

Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 7,327

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist

An annoyed sigh leaves his lips at the incessant chatter he hears around him. Low whispers rise in volume until the dull buzz of voices consumes him, interrupting his post meal relaxation. Irritation mars his features, his brow tugging downwards as he pulls the broken sliver of bone he had been using to pick at his teeth with out of his mouth.

“What is with your incessant whining?”

All Mingi had wanted to do was relax after dinner. In peace, within the confines of his makeshift encampment at the heart of his battalion, but it seems there’s been a commotion at the far edge.

“Humans, General.” One of his underlings, a vice-captain under his command, Darius, hisses. “They say they want to make a deal.”

Mingi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Not too bright, are they?”

“When have humans ever been known to be smart?” Darius snickers.

Mingi heaves a long sigh, standing to his feet. “Given the length of this interaction, I can’t trust any of you to be competent enough to end this quickly.”

“They’re persistent, General.” He replies, flinching back as Mingi turns his sharp-eyed gaze to him.

“You let them think their words had any merit of importance to us.” The redcap general snaps. “No wonder they’re being so uncooperative.”

Striding through the encampment, the whispers finally come to a halt. A dead silence surrounds his soldiers as Mingi strolls through their ranks, eyes zeroing in on the small gathering of frail humans. Darius rushes along behind the proud general, whom stands a good eight feet tall. The tallest amongst his redcap companions.

A red sash is tied around Mingi’s bicep, alerting all to his rank within the gathered redcaps. There is a clear air of respect the others hold for him as he walks passed, holding his head high, no falter in his steps. Some even go so far as to look upon him in awe while others incline their head out of respect.

Reaching the edges of his encampment, Mingi scowls. “What’s the big idea here?”

“Ah, General!” Lias turns to him, a malicious grin tugging at the younger captain’s lips. “These humans insist on making a trade with us.”

“How did they even find us in the first place?” Mingi darts his gaze over to the three standing before him, just over the threshold of their protection line.

A woman seems to be holding another in her arms. The one with her head down doesn’t say much, but the one holding her trembles as she meets Mingi’s gaze. The male, slightly taller than the woman being held, stands a little straighter.

“We know mushroom rings will bring us where we want to be, or rather, to whom.” He replies, almost defiantly. “You just so happened to be the closest in the area.”

“Why are you wasting our time?” Mingi growls, teeth bared over much too sharp fangs.

“Please,” the woman holding the other in her arms seems desperate as she attempts to take a step forward.

That’s when he notices: the tall women is unconscious, being held up by the other. He quirks a brow, unaware a frail human such as the small one could ever be so strong.

“We just want to make a deal.” The man states, rather firmly.

Mingi’s gaze darts between the two humans.

“They want us to take their daughter for them.” Lias snorts, Darius laughing along with him. “As if we would care for such a useless mortal.”

“We know a little about your kind.” The woman continues. “Please, we know she’ll be better off here. We don’t want anything in return, just her safety.”

“She can earn her place.” The male adds. “She can look after herself, just please, take her with you.”

“We’re not about to gain something you don’t want.” Mingi retorts harshly, crossing his arms over his chest. “She has no use to us.”

“That’s not it at all.” The male is quick to shake his head, attempting to take a step towards the gathered redcaps only to be greeted by snarls and snapping fangs. He freezes. “Please-��

“We don’t need one of your kind slowing us down.” Mingi states, narrowing his eyes at the way the unconscious woman sways slightly. Honestly, he’s surprised this woman hasn’t fallen over yet, or caused the other holding her up to collapse under her seemingly dead weight.

“She won’t slow you down!” The woman is quick to protest.

“Watch your tongue, mortal.” Darius snaps. “This is no ordinary general you’re speaking to.”

The woman bows her head, cowering back and holding the other tighter to her chest. Though, due to the height difference, it looks quite awkward. A fact only echoed by the snickers Mingi can hear echo out behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Lias tilts his head slightly, a mischievous gleam in his gaze. “This could be fun. We could always use another pack mule.”

Some more snickers are heard from around the area, along with the snapping of jaws in agreement. The harsh clicking of fangs only rises in sound, and Mingi can smell the spikes of fear from the two conscious humans. A taste he absolutely revels in.

“The human would be safe with us from whatever outside forces you’re referring to.” Lias continues, his lips stretching widely over all too sharp teeth.

Mingi spares a glance around at his men, noting their sudden change in attitude. The eager gleams he sees throughout the crowd have him heaving a sigh.

“Very well,” he turns, beginning to walk away from this whole matter. He’ll let his men have their fun, and with any luck, the human will be dead come morning. “She’s your responsibility, though. If she survives.”

A cheer rises up through the surrounding redcaps as the tall women gets torn from the other’s arms and dragged across the protection barrier. Mingi thinks nothing of the way a faint smell of blood rises on the air, knowing his men are probably already having their fun after bringing the human properly into their realm. The other two have already been sent back, their memories altered forever. If they even remember having a daughter at all would be a miracle.

Entering his own private tent, Mingi settles into his favourite chair. Kicking his feet up onto a little stump, he leans back, relaxing into the evening chill that begins to settle over the land. They’ve still got a long ways to go to return to their keep, the scouting mission having taken a lot out of them. The rogue redcaps they had been hunting have all been dealt with. Traitors, every last one of them. The fight they had put up was gruesome, but as always, Mingi and his men came out on top.

Despite it all, some of his men still have energy to burn as he hears the familiar hooting and hollering of his subordinates last long into the night.

***

The next day, Mingi wakes to the encampment practically all cleaned up. Some of his men are finishing last minute preparations for travel, their bags packed and stored for easier maneuvering. All that’s left is to secure his own lodgings for the next leg of their journey.

“The human finally woke up.” Darius informs Mingi as he steps to the head of the line.

“She’s not dead?” Mingi quirks a brow, barely bothering to scan the gathered ranks to see if he can spot the women he saw last night.

“We figured we could use her for some entertainment-“ at Mingi’s sharp glare, Darius stops himself. “She’s surprisingly stronger than she looks. We’ve loaded her with a few packs and told her to carry them for us, or else she won’t like the outcome.” The vice-captain shrugs. “She complied.”

Mingi hums to himself, turning towards the direction they’ll be setting off in in a few minutes. He finds it odd for a human to be so complacent. All of the stories he’s heard contradict such simplistic actions. He was expecting screaming, and an attempt to run the first moment she regained consciousness.

Even more shocking is the fact that you’re still alive.

“Don’t let it go on too long,” Mingi shoots him a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Have your fun, but make sure she doesn’t slow me down.”

“Of course, General.” Darius nods, saluting him before running off to finish some last minute things.

Quietly, Mingi observes his battalion. He can see Lias barking orders at some subordinates to finish packing the rest of the camp quickly. Others appear to be scrambling about, and true to Darius’ word, Mingi spots that same tall woman from last night standing off to the side.

There’s nothing special about you. At least, from what Mingi can tell. You stand upright, spine straight with three packs carried on your figure. Their bulk simply adds to your own, nearly drowning you in their sheer size. Your face looks worn, and tired, but you move around where they instruct you to without complaint.

Mingi just hopes you can keep up with them.

A few minutes later, the redcaps are on the move. Multiple shoot you looks of disgust as they run passed, growling lowly in your direction. Some even go to far as to purposely run into you, spitting on you as they knock you over in your attempts to keep pace with the company.

It isn’t more than an hour into the morning when you start to fall behind.

Mingi heaves out a sigh, smelling the faintest bit of blood again in the air. A scent not uncommon in a group of redcaps, given their premise. Though, what truly annoys him is the subtle limp you attempt to hide as he marches over to you at the very rear of his guard.

Again, his men part for him silently. The simple power he exudes enough to silence even the rowdiest of the bunch.

“Are you that incompetent that you do not know how to walk properly, mortal?” He sneers, irritation clear on his features.

“I can walk just fine.” You reply bluntly.

“Then, keep up.” He snaps, turning so as not to waste another word on you for the moment.

With Mingi’s back to you, he fails to notice the harsh glare you send his way, but his subordinates do.

A harsh slap rings out through the forest, a dull thud heard soon after.

“You dare look upon our general with such vile contempt in your eyes?” Lias’ voice booms out through the surrounding redcaps, catching Mingi’s attention.

He freezes, turning to spare a glance over his shoulder.

There you rest, face down on the ground as you attempt to push yourself up. Your clothes are even more disheveled than before, dirt smearing your cheek. Yet, that harsh look still rests upon your face, even as the smell of blood becomes more prominent in the air.

“I didn’t ask for this.” You keep your voice low, but still clear enough for everyone around you to hear.

“Well, get used to it, Sweetheart,” Lias hisses, tugging you harshly back to your feet by the back of your neck. “You’re no better than a pet, now.”

You say nothing, instead opting to purse your lips. Your eyes narrow as you watch Lias retreat from you, hands fisted around the straps of the packs you carry as your whole body seems to tremble.

If Mingi didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re angry.

No… not angry. Disappointed.

Turning back to face front, Mingi decides to ignore you for the rest of the day. You’re not his responsibility, and how his subordinates treat you is truly none of his concern. Really, if it were up to him, he would have sent those two other humans bargaining for you to join them here in the fae realm packing. Perhaps he should have made an example of you all when he had the chance. Only, now, he’s stuck with you, and he’ll have to learn to deal with it, for the sake of his men. It’s not like you’re the only human he’s ever dealt with before.

Luckily, for the rest of the day, travel does not get halted again. You manage to keep up just fine, only falling behind once more near sunset. Mingi had wanted to travel for longer this day, covering more distance and hearing no complaints from neither you nor his men.

The faster they get home, the swifter he can deal with the mess that is you.

Mingi wants nothing to do with you. All you are to him is a pathetic little human. So frail, he could break you with the flick of his wrist. His eyes narrow on your figure as he sees you collapse against the side of a tree, none of his underlings sparing you any supplies as they set up for the night.

No food is offered to you, but you manage to scrounge some water. Your throat burns, and your feet ache as if they’re ready to fall off at a moment’s notice. The stitch in your side is finally calming down, and you’re just grateful none of these fae have ordered you to help them set up camp for the night. No, they stated they didn’t want you touching anything, or doing something wrong, and for once, you’re thanking your lucky stars for such a harsh verdict.

Lightly, you rub at your leg, right where you know that fresh wound still resides. It’s not a deep cut, but twisting wrong, or moving around too much aggravates the scar. Not to mention your limp which has returned even worse than before, due to the speed at which you’re expected to move.

Despite it all, you don’t say anything. No, you learned the hard way what talking back meant. Though, that might just be your one salvation through this all. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll see how far you can push these redcaps, and discover if their nature really lives up to their legacy.

For now, you settle deeper against that tree. It’s late, and you are exhausted. Sleep is one of the best things for you now, especially since there’s no way you can return to the life you previously once had. Thinking back on it now, you don’t know if you’d ever want to.

Not that you really ever had a choice.

The next morning brings another early start, you being commanded to carry even more than yesterday on your back. The only saving grace is that it seems the speed at which the band you’re travelling with has lessoned, but that doesn’t stop your whole body from aching.

Two more days pass like this, insults thrown at you by the surrounding redcaps, only for them to take out their amusement on you by either scratching you by ‘accident’, spitting on you, or pushing you to the ground. You manage to get some food, but it’s both rotten and vile. You’re honestly surprised your body hasn’t given up on you, yet.

You start to complain, but to your relief, or rather, disappointment, no one bothers to take your whining seriously. That, or they’re quick to shut you up, but not in the way you so desperately hope.

It’s around midday when you feel yourself lose your footing. The sun is shining brightly in the sky above your head, a few clouds drifting lazily by as you tumble harshly to the ground. The worst part is, you end up landing badly on your injured side. Unluckily for you, both that scar and your bad ankle are on your right leg which just so happens to land awkwardly on top of the root you tripped over.

You attempt to keep them at bay, but the sudden sharp pain you feel shoot up your leg sends tears to your eyes. You can practically feel your cut tear itself anew, a dampness seeping into the material of your tattered pants. Your breathing is heavy, and you can hardly force yourself back onto your hands, your entire body groaning in protest. Every ache pulses through you with each heartbeat, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is truly the end.

“What’s the hold up this time?” You hear a stern voice huff out above your head.

Mustering enough energy, you tilt your head upwards at the approaching figure. There’s a brief moment where the sun blinds you, filtering through the branches in such a way that burns your vision with a bright light until a shadow looms over you. Blinking reveals the redcap’s general standing before you, a look of pure ire marring his features as he glares down at you.

“Get up.” He growls, not even bothering to nudge you with his foot. You’re too far beneath him to bother.

A sad attempt is made by you once more before you’re collapsing on top of your weakened arms.

“I. Can’t.” You manage to get out through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain.

Mingi snorts. “Pathetic.”

With a roll of his eyes, he storms away from you, barking out orders to set up the encampment. From what you can hear, he plans to move out during the night.

They need to stop to eat, anyways.

Insults are hurled your way by various underlings, some even going so far as to step on you as they walk passed. It’s as if you are worth no more than the dirt beneath their feet as you continue to lay there, weak and injured, just waiting and begging for death to finally claim you.

“You’ve really been a thorn in the general’s side ever since you joined us.” A voice to your left catches your attention.

“I didn’t ask to become a slave.” You retort is half grumbled into the earth, brow furrowing as you glare in the voice’s direction.

A chuckle is heard from above you. “Last I checked, you weren’t actually bound to this group.”

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a male, or rather, what appears to be a male, crouch beside you. He appears a bit shorter than his companions, perhaps even an inch or two shorter than you, and that’s saying something.

“My name’s Windfel,” he says lightly. “I’ve never met a human before. What’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you huff, finally managing to push yourself upwards and shrug those packs off of your back.

A hiss escapes you as you accidentally apply to much pressure to your right side, hand grasping over where that reopened cut resides. The dull throbbing you can feel, mixed in with the sight of days old blood and dirt only has you wincing. The wound is more than likely infected, and probably has been for the past few days. Only, you don’t have anything to treat it with, and it’s not like you can go around asking for help.

“Oh, you’re more clever than we give you credit for.” He grins. “You must know that telling a fae your true name means they have complete power over you.”

“You’re the ones who assumed me incompetent in the first place.” Your retort is low, and almost immediately, you flinch, as if bracing yourself for an impact of some sorts.

Again, he only chuckles. “That we did.”

“Is there something you want, Windfel?” The question is a bit harsh, despite you avoiding his gaze.

“Not in particular at the moment,” he hums. “I’m simply satisfying a mere curiosity. I’ve read a lot about you humans, thanks to the experiments in the Latha Court.”

“You experiment on humans?” Your eyes widen, a surge of panic washing through you.

“Yes.” He replies, somewhat cheerfully with a nod of his head. “We learn a lot about your kind that way.”

“You’re despicable.” A shudder caresses your spine.

“So I’ve been told.” He grins. “I am a redcap, you know.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice him tip a flat cap stained dark red in your direction.

“I’m aware.” Your answer is blunt as you attempt to stand to your feet. You don’t get very far, for you immediately fall back onto your ass as your arms give out beneath you.

A small ‘oof’ escapes you as you land on your right side, eyes squeezing shut as more tears spring up from beneath where you’ve always tried to hide them.

“You’re not looking so good,” he observes.

“Thanks for noticing.” A low grumble is all he receives in response as you attempt to push yourself upwards once more.

Another chuckle. “I like your sense of humour.”

A side-eyed look is sent his way curtesy of you, “If you want to call it that.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.” He goes to lift you to your feet.

Immediately, you cower away from him, a brief panic filling your gaze as you fixate on his hands.

“I have no intentions of harming you right now.” He replies, somewhat calmly.

“Why are you trying to help me?” You eye him cautiously.

He shrugs. “I’m bored.”

As much as you don’t appreciate his answer, you have no better options. Somewhat reluctantly, you allow him to help you to your feet, guiding you to a tent already prepped and ready. He lifts the flap, allowing you to stumble your way inside and sitting in a chair as per his instruction.

The tent is large enough to fit three people comfortable, appearing more spacious on the inside than from the outside. You suppose it has to do with the magic of the fae, considering they’re able to store everything and carry it so efficiently in such packs, no larger than what you’re used to calling knapsacks.

“You know, you really have caused a great deal of annoyance for our general since your arrival.” He says as he grabs a roll of white medical cloth from a little side table.

“I never asked for this.” You mumble, keeping your head down.

“I’m aware you were brought unconscious into our ranks.” Windfel replies. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Not that I’m obliged to tell you.” Your eyes narrow suspiciously, watching every movement he makes closely.

You highly doubt anyone will come to your aid if you decide to scream for help.

“Just making conversation,” he responds, lifting his hands lightly in front of himself in a shrug. “I’m not a healer, so all I’m willing to do is let you wrap that wound. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to dress it when we get back to the keep.”

You purse your lips, eyeing Windfel as he places the roll of cloth beside you. A moment later, and he’s moving around the tent, rummaging through his own pack and pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

“What, exactly, is this ‘keep’ you all continuously talk about?” You ask, somewhat warily.

He completely ignores your question, tossing the spare clothes at you.

“I don’t use these anymore, and although we typically enjoy the smell of blood, we don’t enjoy when wounds fester.” His nose crinkles along with his words. “There’s a small stream about a quarter of a mile to the northeast. I’ll take you there once you’re ready.”

“You’re being awful nice to me for someone who doesn’t like my kind,” You observe, eyeing him carefully.

“I care about my general, and anything I can do to… lesson his burdens, I will.” Comes Windfel’s simple reply. “When you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”

You watch him step out the opposite flap of the tent he entered, brow furrowing as the material slaps shut. Shouts can be heard outside, along with the hustle and bustle of the rest of the encampment being set up. You bet the rest wouldn’t have even notice you moved from that tree, yet.

Tilting your head downwards, you look at the clothes in your hand, feeling the fabric between your fingers. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten any type of new clothing. Back in the human realm, the only time you got a new piece of clothing was when- no. You shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Swallowing thickly, you look over at that roll of white medical cloth. As much as you don’t trust this redcap, this is the first ounce of kindness you’ve received in quite a long time. There’s a part of you screaming at yourself not to believe it, but there’s another part, a part much more vulnerable that clings onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up for you.

Your life has never been worth much, but perhaps someone is actually starting to see value in you that has never been there before. Then again, you probably shouldn’t get your hopes up. They’ve fallen too many times for you to count.

Taking a deep breath in, you grab that roll of medical cloth. Carefully, you wrap it in the bundle of clothes from Windfel, and stand back to your feet. Though you wobble slightly, you’re able to steady yourself, and within a minute, you’re exiting through the same flap that redcap did only moments before.

A single nod is all you give him as you stand outside the tent. A single nod of which he returns, motioning for you to follow him deep into the woods.

***

The journey to the stream is slow, taking well over an hour to get there. The distance is much greater than you were expecting, and the path isn’t easy at all. As much as Windfel seems to be ‘helping’ you, he did not once offer you a hand through the rough terrain of the woods through your travels.

“Will there be enough time?” You ask, eyeing the trickling water at the edge of the bank.

“Relax,” Windfel huffs out lightly. “Knowing the general, he’ll probably spend at least another two hours resting. So, as long as you don’t take too long, we’ll be fine.”

You purse your lips in response, but say nothing.

“I have no interest in watching you bathe, either, human.” He says, turning so his back is to you. “So, you needn’t worry about that.”

“I’ve never had much privacy, anyways.” You grumble, but as soon as the words leave your lips, your eyes widen. Terrified, you glance at Windfel’s back.

Choosing to either ignore your statement, or you entirely, he stands there, unmoving, His back is straight as he gazes out into the woods in the direction you both came, paying no mind to even the sound of water trickling behind you.

You turn back around.

Darting your gaze to the stream once more, you notice how clear the water seems to be. The movement against the stones appears languid, a gentle breeze flitting through the trees in the next moment. It’s almost as if the stream is inviting you in, luring you into it’s pristine waters, and the longer you stare at its enchanting depths, the more you long to dip your feet into its calming waters.

“What’s the catch?” You grit your teeth, cursing yourself for being so stupid.

“You humans always think there’s some sort of trick to everything, don’t you?” Windfel chuckles, and suddenly, you feel his hot breath on your neck. You didn’t even hear him move. “I could push you in, if you like, but I don’t think that would bode well for your wound.”

Your spine straightens. “I can get in myself, thank you very much.”

“You are most welcome.” The way you can practically feel him smile against your back has a shiver running down your spine.

A moment later, his presence at your back lessens, and you find yourself able to breathe easier once more. You spare a glance over your shoulder to see him resting in that same spot as before, his back turned as he begins to hum a small tune to himself. Eyeing him cautiously for a few moments, you finally turn back around to face the stream, deciding that he won’t actually do anything to you. Besides, even you are starting to not be able to handle your own stench, and that’s saying something.

Slowly, carefully, you begin stripping yourself of your old clothes. The tattered shirt you wear gets tossed onto the ground beside the new one, your pants following shortly after. You have enough mind to leave your undergarments on, just in case Windfel decides to play a trick of some sort on you, or run away with both sets of clothes. You still need something to wear, and Windfel is still a man.

Men are never good at keeping their promises. You learned that the hard way.

Stepping towards the very edge of the stream, you take your time sitting down. Each movement is stiff, pain shooting through your right side as you finally get a good look at the cut on your upper leg.

The wound festers, dried pus caked on the edge. The cut itself is swollen, days old blood littering the skin around it. From how bad it looks, you’re scared to even touch it, but a creeping thought in the back of your mind keeps you inching towards the water with every passing second.

You’ve had worse.

Carefully, you dip your toes into the crystalline water. It’s a bit cool to the touch, and causes you to jerk back, surprised by its icy feel. Yet, it’s alluring in a way, as if it’s the softest of silk that has ever caressed your skin. A luxury you have never been afforded, and you take the time now to savour it, despite the chill that clings to your feet as you submerge them beneath the gentle flow of the stream.

In no time at all, you feel yourself get used to the water’s icy chill, sinking deeper and deeper until you’re fully sitting on the edge of the river bank. Being mindful of your leg, you angle yourself so you can lean towards the water, cupping your hands together in order to gather the cool liquid in your palms and clean your wound.

The first few handfuls sting, but you grit your teeth and bear it. With each handful of water, more and more of the dirt, grime, and blood is washed away, revealing the cut to have gotten longer over the past few days. All that running around must have strained it, and reopened the wound over and over again, leading to the edges widening, and the cut deepening.

No wonder your whole leg has been aching. You just hope the infection isn’t already in your blood. There’s no telling what may happen to you, then.

“Oh my, that looks bad.”

A voice from above your head startles you, and you nearly go toppling into the stream. Looking up with a hand clutched over your chest, your eyes wide in panic, you see Windfel leaning over you, inspecting your cut.

“A few more days and you would have had to cut it off,” he remarks casually.

You physically feel your heart drop, your eyes briefly shifting to your right ankle. You swallow thickly, a jolt of pain travelling all the way from your foot upwards to your hip as tears unwillingly spring to your eyes. Almost involuntarily, you begin rapidly shaking your head, protests falling from numb lips.

“I’m just shanking ya!” He laughs, boisterously at that. He even goes so far as to pat your shoulder a few times, wiping tears of joy from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re not very funny.” You whisper, expression hard.

Windfel blinks, “Geez, tough crowd.”

You purposely avoid his gaze, looking back out over to the opposite bank of the stream. Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you slowly manage to get your breathing under control. Even you can hear the thunderous pounding of your own heartbeat, so you sure as hell know that Windfel can, too.

“I thought you weren’t going to watch me.” You mutter, slowly turning yourself further into the stream.

“No, I said I had no interest in watching you bathe.” He remarks, matter of factly. “There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” you mutter, slipping into the water and putting a little bit of distance between you and that redcap. Not that it would really matter, in the long run.

The chill of the water causes your body to stiffen for a moment, only for the entirety of your muscles to immediately relax. The chill morphs into a gentle caress, and as you sink down to allow the water up to your neck, you find yourself letting out a small, blissful sigh through your nose. Involuntarily, your eyes slip shut.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Windfel hums.

Your eyes shoot open, turning to look over at the redcap who is back to standing in his original spot, facing away from you.

“I-“ you swallow, keeping your voice low. “I haven’t had a chance to bathe like this in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Windfel snorts. “I could tell.”

He makes a gesture similar to fanning the air in front of himself, and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You even go to far as to splash water in his direction before you can stop yourself.

Even though not a single drop of water touches him, your eyes still go wide. Not a muscle moves as you stare at him, your heartbeat thudding once more in your ears.

“Damn, human, you really are uptight.” Windfel snickers. “As if a little water could hurt me. It’s nice when such creatures are playful. Adorable, even.”

“I don’t think many would agree with you.” You mutter, gently pushing yourself backwards and creating just a tiny bit more distance between yourself and him.

“You’re probably right,” he hums. “Though, we all can agree on liking to be amused.”

“You confuse me.” You state blankly, rubbing at your skin lightly beneath the water and washing away any excess dirt and grime you can see.

“The feeling is very much mutual, human.” He replies. “I bet if you lived on your own as long as I have in the wild, you’d feel the same way.”

“Oh, yeah,” you hum, clearly not convinced as you dunk your head under the water briefly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you’ve never lived in the woods before? Never fought for your own survival all by you little lonesome?” Windfel’s voice is slightly mocking, and you know he’s probably only trying to get a rise out of you.

Unfortunately, though, it’s working.

“I think you and I have two very different definitions of survival.” You say, scrubbing a bit harder at your skin.

“Perhaps that is true,” he hums once more, as if considering your words. “But come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to know what it’s like to live on your own.”

“How do you know if I’ve lived on my own or not?” You retort, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“I don’t.” Windfel shrugs. “From what those of us who care enough to read about your kind can gather, it’s observed that you usually go out on your own once you reach a certain age.”

“And you’re one of those that have read about my kind?” You quirk a brow.

The longer you spend talking with Windfel, the more you seem to ease into the conversation. Though the water continues to feel nice around you, you also decide that it’s time to remove yourself from the stream so you can quickly dry off and make it back to the others. The last thing you need is for something to happen, or for you to finally face the wrath of a redcap.

At this point, that may just be a blessing.

There’s almost a slight tug at the back of your mind. With each step you take towards the bank and your awaiting clothes, a small voice tells you to stay. The water seems to be caressing your entire body, becoming denser around you with each step. It’s almost as if the stream is trying to hold you down, to force you to not leave its waters. Yet, despite it’s almost enchanted callings, you persist, managing to pull yourself out of the crystalline water and back onto the side of the bank.

The consequences of staying far outweigh the rewards in your mind.

You fail to notice how Windfel’s brow quirks in surprise, but he continues on the conversation as if nothing is wrong.

“I’ve read a few things, yes.” He confirms. “Knowledge is power, or haven’t you heard?”

“Power is power, no matter where in the world.” You grumble, flicking off as much excess water on your body as you can before beginning to wrap your upper thigh with that medical cloth. Once finished, you tie it off quickly, but not tight enough that it will hurt you even more than you already are. A moment later, you stand back to your feet.

“Spoken like a true scholar,” Windfel teases lightly, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, you begin pulling on the clothes he leant you. The pants are a little short around the ankles, but they fit surprisingly well. Considering the size difference between the both of you, you’re surprised the shirt even managed to pull over your head, but it’s loose, and you’re grateful for the soft material that graces your skin.

“Still, you should definitely try living on your own at some point.” He remarks casually. “There’s no feeling quite like freedom.”

Your whole body freezes, gaze slowly trailing over to where Windfel stands, now at the edge of the wood. He seems to be holding a bundle in his hands, and when you look down, you realize that it’s your old, raggedy clothes.

“I wouldn’t know.” You state, rather firmly as your eyes narrow at the redcap across from you.

“Oh, yes, well,” he finally turns back around to face you, a grin tugging at his lips to reveal all too sharp fangs. “About that…”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

Your words clearly catch him off guard, for now it’s his turn for his eyes to widen in shock.

“My dear, why would I want to kill you?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve done nothing but be forced upon us since the start. I may be a monster, but I’m not unreasonable.”

“Like I’ve never heard that one before.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

Again, your breath hitches as soon as the words leave your lips, and you find yourself flinching backwards away from Windfel instinctually.

He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I told you. I care about my general and how much your presence burdens him. It’s easier this way if you just disappear.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want me to disappear, but not kill me?”

“For the most part.” He blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How do you expect me to do that?” You frown, doing whatever you can to hide the clear exasperation in your voice.

“Run away.” He states.

“Excuse me?”

“Run away.” He repeats with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I doubt they’ll even notice you’re gone.”

Now, it’s your turn to blink at him. Once. Twice. Three times in disbelief as you cannot keep your mouth from falling open in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I think the whole point of you bathing was for that to no longer be the case.” He says smartly. “I told you. You’re a burden to our general, and if I can relieve that burden from his shoulders, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re not currently being hunted, so there’s no reason to kill you right now.”

“And where will I go?” You ask, incredulously. “I have nothing-“

“Find the Latha court, I’m sure those human lovers will take you in.” He cuts you off, a slight twitch to his brow. “Go that way,” he points off to your left with a clawed finger. “There’s a small town. I’m sure someone will give you a hand.”

“Like you did?” You quirk a brow, eyeing Windfel carefully.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Now, you best be on your way, little mortal. My patience is starting to wear thin.”

Though the last part of his words he says in a cheerful voice, the way his eyes gleam in the light of the setting sun unnerves you.

Without waiting for another chance, you take the one presented to you.

“I better not see you around again.” Windfel hums, and you can hear him beginning to trudge in the opposite direction that you are. “You won’t like it if you do.”

A shiver caresses your spine at his words, and you find yourself picking up your pace. Reaching the opposite end of the little clearing where the stream is, you quickly spare a glance over your shoulder. Windfel is nowhere to be seen, and you do not know if it should relieve you, or terrify you. All you do know, is that you have to put as much distance between yourself and that gang of redcaps as you can. To start, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The trek into town is a lot easier than you thought it would be. It only takes you about forty minutes to reach the outskirts, and with every step, you seem to gain better footing than before. The ache in your leg is dulling, and your head is the clearest it’s been in weeks. You don’t trip over any roots, or stumble over any rocks, either. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say things are actually starting to look up for you.

That’s when it hits you.

Is this even reality anymore?

Windfel could have cast a glamour over you. You could be under some sort of spell, or undergone some weird magic while bathing in that stream. You have no way of knowing what is true or not, unless you talk to someone. Even then, your chances of them tricking you are high, but it may be the only way to tell what is true or not.

Standing at the edge of the town, you do a quick scan of those you can see. The sun has already set, and the faint glow of lanterns casts a warmth around the surrounding buildings. There seems to be only a few people milling about, and honestly, you shouldn’t really call them people at all. From what you can gather, all these beings appear to faeries. Some have grand wings that sprout from their backs, ranging from feathered to those of the insect variety. Others, you can only discern from their height and pointed ears. The few flashes of razor sharp teeth aren’t that reassuring, either.

The only relief seems to be that all of the inhabitants steer perfectly clear of you. Save for one, who watches you fidget from across the way. His gaze dances with amusement, and you don’t know if that unnerves you more than if he were glaring. Long, dark hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail to showcase his sharp features. He sits on the edge of some steps leading up to what appears to be a shop of some sorts, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leans forward.

The moment he catches you staring, his eyebrows quirk curiously.

Turning away quickly, you curse yourself. You’ve always been used to blending in back home, that you didn’t realize just how much you’d stick out in the Fae realm. Perhaps you really are in over your head, but where else are you supposed to go?

A voice, smooth and deep, coming from behind startles you.

“Are you lost, Little One?”

#thrill of the hunt #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #yandere mingi #yandere ateez #mingi scenario #mingi imagine #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #yandere kpop #kpop au #fantasy au #chubby reader #tall reader #fae au

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thisismeracing · 1 year ago

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Banana pancakes | MS47

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.2k ― Warnings: not proofread; mentions of food, rain, and childhood memories (it's a small paragraph of the reader talking about her parents in a healthy way, but it may be a trigger to someone, so I'm adding it here); ― Summary: Mick is used to racing cars and living at high speed, but lazy rainy mornings with you are his favorite. Cuddling in bed, making banana pancakes, and listening to the rain fall down while swinging together on the front porch, no travel or circuit beats these moments. ― A/n: I actually liked this far better than I thought I would, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

The sound of the heavy rain falling against the window and the cold space where once was Mick’s body woke Yn up. She stretched her arms just to make sure he wasn’t by the edge of the bed like he did sometimes when dreaming. Some days he would move closer, others farther, it all depended on what kind of dream he was having and how tired he was. This morning though, Yn couldn’t find him, not even when she opened her eyes and scanned the whole room.

She yawned and huffed before moving to the bathroom to get the day started. When she came out of the room, wearing one of his hoodies, bare feet hitting the cold ground, she could hear the low murmur coming from the kitchen. The smell of coffee and pancakes laced her stomach, and Yn smiled, propping her body on the doorframe.

Mick was distracted, humming to a song from their Lazy Mornings playlist, while Angie was lying by the counter, peacefully snoring. He was in the process of adding another batch of pancakes to the pan when Yn walked to him hugging his waist from behind.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, babe?” She murmured against the naked skin of his back, littering small kisses there.

Mick left the bowl on the counter and turned to place a proper kiss on Yn’s pouty lips. She sighed and relaxed with how he held her. His gray sweats were hanging low on his hips, and he was barefoot too, but he still felt warm and cuddly.

“You needed the extra rest,” he kissed each of her eyelids before adding, “and I wanted to make you banana pancakes.” Yn had told him the night prior how she was craving the pancakes she used to eat every morning a while ago, and Mick took the opportunity to pamper her a bit. He was used to the rushing pace of racing weeks, waking up early, spending the whole day and night busy with something, and then running against the clock to wake up early again and run again, and again, and again. So when life slowed down, and he had a break here and there, his body still would wake up early, though his mind was able to relax and decelerate.

Yn got on her tiptoes once again and left one last peck on his pink lips before walking to the counter to start setting aside the rest of the breakfast.

They worked around the kitchen together, the sounds from the frying from the stove, the humming from the coffee machine, the low singing from their shared playlist, and the rain hitting the windows coming together to create the perfect symphony.

Once everything was ready, they sat side by side at the table, Yn’s legs over Mick’s thighs. They ate like this, close to each other, peacefully listening to some of the natural sounds the earth could create. Angie would round them every once in a while looking for a bite of human food, to which Mick would deny, but give up after her persistent doe eyes.

“We should sit by the porch to watch the rain,” Yn suggested after both of them were finished. She didn’t move to stand though, and Mick smiled, still tracing patterns on the skin of her naked legs.

“You’ll need to put some sweats on. The wind may be a bit cold.”

“You could just warm me up then,” she shrugged before chuckling and running to the bedroom.

When she came down, Mick had already cleaned the table and started the washing machine. Yn handed him his grey hoodie in exchange for a cup of hot cocoa. Mick put on the piece of clothing, before grabbing his coffee mug with one hand and lacing Yn’s fingers with the free one. She stopped to pet Angie and set the dog on her bed on the way to the back door, and then just like that they were outside. The smell of rain and wetland engulfs the whole space, and for a second it felt like walking in an open art exposition with all the green trees and flowers surrounding the perimeter.

Mick sat down on the big wooden swing, and Yn snuggled closer to his side, her legs on top of his, while his arm held her close. He moved the swing lightly before letting his feet hang. They enjoyed the taste of their beverages and the warmth of the other in silence.

It was good to appreciate life like this every once in a while. To watch how some trees would bend but never break, how others would let some leaves go, and how some seemed to enjoy the pouring rain getting greener and shinier with every second.

“I love the rain,” Yn whispered in thought, and Mick hummed, turning his head to look at her and planting a kiss on her forehead.

“And I love you.”

She shifted and held Mick’s jaw, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. He hummed in appreciation and gave the perfect space for her tongue to explore his, the coffee and cocoa getting colder in their hands.

Yn declared her love back in a low tone, as if it was their secret and as if the trees were watching.

“Why do you love the rain? We never really had a deep conversation on the topic,” Mick asked after some time, sipping his lukewarm coffee.

Yn frowned and gave him her best defiant grin. “How do you know there’s a deeper meaning behind my affection for the rain?”

“Because I know you,” he stated simply, and she huffed, smiling.

“Fair enough,” she took a sip of her drink, holding it with her two hands in an attempt to wash away the cold. “The small raindrops can take away anything if only they’re persistent enough.”

Mick nodded and kept watching her, knowing Yn was not done with her explanation. “It’s not about hard rain, but persistent rain. When I was a kid, I drew on the outside of my house using markers. Only later I realized it wouldn’t go away rubbing it, so I went crying to my parents. My dad was a bit annoyed, but my mom just looked up at the sky and told me the rain was coming, to which my dad answered that it wasn’t heavy rain, not a storm. But Mom assured us that constant rain was far better than heavy rain in that case. When we woke up the next day, after hours of regular rain, the wall was actually clean. Of course, I only started to think about it as a metaphor when I was older, but yeah, I like the idea of constant things far better than heavy ones. A constant can be just as intense, and it brings you warmth, makes you feel safe, secure, at home.”

“I had no idea love and rain had so much in common,” Mick confesses, and Yn nods.

“Yeah, you’re like constant rain to me. You make me banana pancakes even when I didn't openly ask for them, you keep me warm, make me feel at home, and love me. It’s nice to experience it beside you.”

The blonde grins, setting their cups aside and bringing Yn to his lap. They sigh, lacing their bodies together in a tender hug, feeling warm, safe, secure, at home, and watching the rain fall outside their porch.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Don't forget to water a plant and water this account too (you water this account by reblogging and leaving me a message if you're comfortable, it means a lot to me, and makes my imagination bloom just like a flower would) *forehead kiss*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @kenanlotus0 @dalsuwaha @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @crimeshowjunkie @iloveyou3000morgan @formulakay3 @carojasmin2204 @mishaandthebrits @saintslewis @fdl305 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @babyiscrying @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando

⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

#ms47 #mick schumacher #millie writes #mick schumacher imagines #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 x reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 fluff #mick schumacher fluff #f1 x you #formula one imagine

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sleepanonymous · 7 months ago

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Okay so. I have so many people to respond to and I promise I will, just not tonight. I wanted to give a quick update about the ritual below the cut (because I know some people like going in not knowing the setlist.) Again, typing this all on my phone so my apologies for heavy typos and any incoherence.

As a preface I just got back to my hotel, showered quickly, absolutely fucking sobbed in the shower for like two minutes, and I’m now eating uncle ben’s ready rice straight out of the bag because I don't have a fork or spoon. If that doesn’t scream hot mess idk what would.

First things first: the security/staff at Arizona Financial Theatre are all amazing. Literal fucking angels. Two of them hung out with us in line all day, letting us go inside to use the bathroom and refill water bottles and the guys at the barricade were so friendly and chatty and also handed out water. Literally everyone was so helpful and friendly and nice and they deserve all the good things in life.

Second: Empire State Bastard really wasn’t clicking with me until I saw them live. They’re an absolute vibe live plus the drummer and bassist are both babes. The band were constantly thanking us for showing up early and listening to them (tbh the venue was only half full until about 10 minutes before Sleep Token went on). Literally seemed like such humble and chill dudes.

Third!!! I almost don’t even know what to say about Sleep Token. There’s sooo much I could literally rant for hours but I also need to sleep so I can drive to Albuquerque in the morning. I recorded 5ish songs I think? Mostly the TPWBYT songs but I did get the summoning too. No idea if the footage is any good but we’ll see tomorrow. I made it a point not to have my phone out after finding out the setlist because there was no way in hell I was missing TNDNBTG live while on barricade. Maybe I should preface this next bit with I one hundred thousand present realize this sounds delusional of me, but everyone on the barricade had their phones out and Vessel fucking focused on me because of it. He was singing one of my favorite sleep token songs directly to me! There’s literally nowhere else he could have been looking! he was on the edge of the stage looking straight down at me and we were pointing at each other and I’m fucking dying reliving it because I was singing so horribly and cringy back at him. Like I’m so sorry vessel but my life was changing in that moment. I became a new woman the second you pointed at me.

I kept my phone away for the first several songs tbh and he kept coming back to stand in front of me but never made such heavy eye/mask contact (until Euclid). I actually almost feel like I disappointed him when I did pull my phone out to start recording because he practically avoided me after that. its actually why I decided not to record Euclid, though I knew it was coming and it was the song’s debut. AND IT FUCKING WORKED!! He came back around and was singing to me again, same stance, same obvious eye contact except this time I was literally Ugly Crying™️ at him. Tears were streaming, I had one hand holding onto the barricade for dear life, and the other clamped tightly around my mouth ugly crying. Even my buddies and the security were concerned that’s how bad it was.

In all honesty I can’t pretend that it wasn’t “scripted” like the band hadn’t planned every move on stage beforehand. They first and foremost are performers and Vessel literally sings to every girl on the barricade right in front of him. But it also felt so special and I feel so bad for breaking down like I did 😅🤣😭😫🫠

Okay I need to stop ranting, I’ve been up for 20 hours and this is most likely incoherent anyway. I love all of you and I hope everyone who’s able to get barricade this tour gets to experience the same thing I did🖤🖤🖤

#sleep token #teeth of god tour #sleepanon rant #<- fully delusional version

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Jungkook

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 [Part 2: New Life]

Some feelings that you think you've never felt might just be buried beneath the things you've been trying to forget.

General Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Tiger!Jungkook, Deer!Reader, somewhat dark romance, Crime, Blood & Violence, angst, fluff?, Rollercoaster of emotions TM, Angst, Injury?, Death (of a minor character), murder out of self-defense, gun violence, mentioned torture, do I sense some.. fluff??

Length: ~5k words.

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Going short now?" Namjoon comments a bit teasingly, as Jungkook enters the kitchen downstairs, where most are currently busy eating breakfast-except you.

"It bothered me." He mumbles. "Did she already have breakfast?" He wonders towards Hoseok, who shrugs.

"She wanted to go to check out the books in the second office. Yoongi said I should let her." He defends himself, and Jungkook nods, though he's not happy.

"I still would like for at least someone to stay close to her." He says, filling one cup with coffee, and the other one with tea.

Two sugars, the same you always liked it. Do you still like it that way now?

He opens the door with his elbow, quietly as he can, spotting you near the windows with numerous books placed on the windowsill, your legs pulled close, cheek resting on your knees as you read. Your ears twitch towards him, but it's clear that you no longer fear him after a few days of living here now.

That's good. He likes that development.

The door closes, and you look towards him now, watching how he walks closer, placing the two cups on the small coffee table nearby, before he sits down on the leather sofa near the window where you sit. "Reading?" He wonders, but you shake your head, moving to walk closer, placing the book opened on the table.

It's a fable. He didn't even know he still had this book.

"Can't read it, huh." He mumbles, pulling the book closer, before he pats the spot next to him once to invite you to sit- which you do, watching how he closes it, inspects it's roughed down edges, before he opens it again. He sighs, leans back, holds the book against the leg he's got thrown over the other, to show you the pictures accompanying the story. "Basically.. Alright. So, there was a king, and he got pretty fucking sick." He explains, and you slowly move your legs up, naked feet now on the sofa as you lean against Jungkook, first actual physical contact you both have-

ever since he left you.

"No one had a clue why, until one of the healers got the stupid idea that a rabbit's liver would heal the guy." He simplifies the story in his rather rough words, but you listen regardless, studying the imagery in the book. "So, the king asked his minions who'd go up to the surface and get a rabbit down under the sea." Jungkook goes on, looking at you for a second. "But most of them were cowards, and didn't dare go up onto the surface." He tells you further, before shrugging, looking back at the pages. "Granted, how would a whale or a squid walk on land, but it's a kid's tale, so I guess it's whatever.."

You giggle. Faint voice accompanying it- and while it still hurts to be reminded of your forever pain, the fact that you're amused, makes him feel at ease.

"So, a turtle said he'd do it, and went upstairs to the dry lands to find a rabbit." He continues, moving the pages, new images for you to see revealed. "And when he found one, he lied to the rabbit to get him to come down under the sea with him- because no way would that fucker go down with him to get his organs stolen." He explains. "Told him that he was invited by the king to be a simple guest- and the rabbit believed the turtle, because why not? It's a great opportunity." He says, and at that, you seem to fall deep into thought.

"And at first…" Jungkook moves on, turning the pages again to show new drawn pictures of the kingdom of the seas the rabbit rides through, sat on the turtle's back. You're equally as mesmerized it seems like, until Jungkook continues the story. "Everything was beautiful. The scenery, the people, the first impression." He finishes his sentence, turning the page again. "Until he stood in front of the king, and learned why he was really there."

Your eyes widen as you look at the picture of the giant king, and the small rabbit sat in front.

"But the rabbit wasn't as easy to trick as they thought." He suddenly says with a lower, more serious tone now, and at that, you look at Jungkook, hopeful eyes demanding him to continue. "The rabbit told him he'd love to cure him, but that he left his liver in the forest up on land." He says, and you no longer seem interested in the pictures as you watch how Jungkook closes the book- he knows how this story ends, after all.

"He lied as well, and made the turtle bring him back up." He reveals, before he looks back at you. "And then told that cunt that he lied just as much, before he ran away into the safety of the forest-" Jungkook tells you, reaching out to brush some of your hair away from your face. "-never to be caught by the king again."

It reminds you of something. But you're not sure if it's real, or if it was a dream.

Maybe it was both.

Or maybe even neither.

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"Jungkook- before I show you this you have to promise me you'll stay as calm as you can." Hoseok threatens, shielding the screen from the tiger hybrid who's already suspicious. "I know you'll freak out, but.. try and not do something irrational." He says, making Jungkook glare at him for a good moment, before he nods, crossing his arms.

Only then does Hoseok step aside, clicking to start the video that he's snatched before it could be sent directly to Jungkook's laptop.

And now Jungkook know exactly why Hoseok was so worried, and watched it himself first before deciding to show it to him later.

He knows exactly where this was filmed- the cage in the middle of the warehouse too familiar to ever forget. It's as if Jungkook can smell the sweat and fear and aggression around him again, mixed with the iron of blood and cracking of bones. But this time, it's not him in the ring. This time, he might be witnessing why you're now lost without any memories of what and who you once were.

Sickeningly enough, he has to admit that solely on an objective base, you're very agile in dodging- but it's clear that you're not good at keeping that stamina up, as you're tugged away from the side of the cage you cling to, and thrown into a corner, back hitting the metal mesh harshly. You're kicked, and punched, and tugged around like a ragdoll-and he can't tear his eyes away as he watches you trying to shield yourself from the aggression of the large bear hybrid that's trying to stomp you into the stained floor below.

And then people clap, and Daeho steps up to the cage, opening it up after the bear hybrid is removed. You tumble out, unmoving for a second, before you slowly sit up- much to Jungkook's surprise.

You've endured so much. Just for the sick entertainment of others?

You took his place.

Daeho leans down to you, says something to you, before you're taken away, uncaring of the fact that you clearly cannot walk- and Jungkook can't watch anymore, fist forcefully coming down onto the table, causing several items to jump and fall over as he paces with his hands on his head, trying to keep his cool.

"It would explain her amnesia." Namjoon mumbles, watching Hoseok close the video again. "Jimin mentioned that she has some weakness in her left leg when she walks, and that there's scarring on her back, as well as on her right side." He says. "He assumes she had a collapsed lung at some point, and a leg injury that did not heal properly. But she would have to be properly examined in a hospital for that."

"Then we bring her to one." Jungkook says. "We have an agreement with Seoul Central. Admit her there, and make sure Jimin and Seokjin stay-" He starts, but Namjoon shakes his head.

"She's not mentally stable enough for that, Jungkook." He worries. "And currently, she's not having any major issues at all. We shouldn't put her through any stress she doesn't have to go through."

Jungkook nods, growls to himself. He knows this.

And hates feeling this helpless.

"Why doesn't she talk?" Jungkook wants to know, and everyone is silent at that, unsure if they should answer. But one look from Jungkook's darkened eyes is enough to make Namjoon submit to the pressure.

"Jimin said he suspects.. that her vocal chords are paralyzed from a past infection.." He starts, and from the look he receives from his leader, he knows he cannot just leave it at that. "..or that it was intentional damage."

"Speak clearly to me." Jungkook demands.

"Acid. Bleach. Battery fluid." Jimin takes over, having entered the room so quietly almost no one noticed him. "She was probably silenced before she was sold." He bluntly states, Jungkook's pulse raging at this point.

"Can it be fixed?" Jungkook asks lowly, hard to hear.

"Most likely not entirely." Jimin explains. "But she might be able to learn how to speak again, if only faintly- if it is only scar tissue preventing the vocal chords to move properly." He shrugs, leaning against a wall. "There's no magic cure for her, Jungkook. She's got permanent injuries, physical and mental. There's no sugarcoating it." He shrugs.

Not many people dare to speak so bluntly with the tiger hybrid- but Jimin has quite literally nothing to lose. He's got no home, no friends, no family, no career- no identity except here, no home besides this place. If Jungkook kicks him out, he's a ghost, nothing else.

So he's as bold as he needs to be.

"There's already a chance she might remember what's happened to her." Jimin says, catching Jungkook's attention on him. "And when that happens.."

"…she'll need you more than ever."

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When Jungkook opens the door, you're met with a different sight than usual.

His black button up has the first few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos, dark eyes looking at you from beneath his hair that's hanging a little over his forehead. He's silent, gazes down at you- before he walks aside, and lets you in.

He always lets you in.

It's clear from the book you're holding that you probably want him to read something again- but the moment he reaches for it, you suddenly step back, walking away from him to put the book on his office table instead, right next to his laptop. He's confused, especially when you take his hand to tug him towards the small leather sofa that's situated in this room- making him sit down, before you search for something, clearly not finding it.

So instead, you run out the room, making him notice what Jimin has mentioned- the way you seem less steady on one of your legs as you leave the room, only returning a few minutes later, closing the door behind you.

Before you gently push his shoulder to the side, blanket thrown over him.

"I'm not tired." He tells you, but you look at him, before you point at your eyes. "I always look like that." He defends himself, but you still shake your head, forcing him back down.

Forcing being not the right word really, considering you're technically no match for him, at least not physically. And he has to admit- he is actually quite tired.

What he does notice however is how you sit down in front of the sofa now, your back against the furniture as you watch the door.

You're guarding him.

And somehow, that hurts.

"You don't have to watch over me, you know." He tells you, hand reaching out for your head. "Go sleep as well." He tells you- but you seem to misunderstand, because you suddenly crawl underneath the blanket in front of him, settling on his arm as you cling to him now, hiding almost in his chest.

You can't voice out your confusion, can't tell him how disorienting it feels to be so drawn to him, and crave his comfort like this, when you don't even know him.

Or do you?

You dream of him, more often now that you're living here in the same space as he does. You're not sure what those dreams mean at all, but you believe they might be trying to tell you something you can't figure out yet.

What you can figure out currently however, is the fact that as he holds you a little tighter now, adjusting the blanket over your shoulder, you feel him almost.. no. That can't be right.

Because why would he be sad?

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You woke up in your own room this morning, unsure how you got there.

Now you're in Hoseok's 'office'- the basement area where he keeps all his IT-Equipment and the CCTV-surveillance. He's gone to get himself something to eat, having skipped breakfast this morning, and you nodded towards him when he asked if you would be okay alone- because of course you are.

You know your job here. And you're good at it- Yoongi said that, yesterday.

And maybe that's why you immediately feel drawn to one of the screens, something just feeling out of the ordinary as you scan the cameras that have the front gate and main entrance of the premise in their view. To everyone else, everything would seem absolutely normal- bushes and trees swaying a bit in the wind, faint rain spraying onto the ground, weather today rather gloomy.

But you notice something.

There's a patch of ground near the outside of the front gate that's lighter than the rest- it's not as wet as the rest of the ground is everywhere else. And then, you notice the broken twigs of the left plants decorating the sides of the gate- and you just know something's wrong.

Someone's been there. Watching? Stalking?

Or trying to get in?

When the door opens, you're ready to gain Hoseok's attention to let him know what you found- but the person entering isn't the tall human you've come to know by now. "Huh. So he really keeps you around." The man says, pushing the mask on his face down, clearly not worried about you. It makes sense- you can't speak, and he knows this.

Because he's been the one who made sure of it.

The sight alone makes you tremble like an earthquake rumbles through your veins, boiling water instead of blood rushing through you, burning your insides like ice on a hot stove.

You're paralyzed, body in full fight or flight.

"Do you still squeak like a doorhinge?" He asks, laughs, as he walks closer to tap the keyboard on a nearby pc, opening files, before he takes out a USB stick he plugs into the port.

What is he doing?

How can you get away?

Should you do something?

What will he do if you try to run?

You can see that he's clearly bypassing the systems security by downloading files directly- and you're not sure what exactly that will mean for the future of everyone here. If they know how the premise is set up and how everything works for Jungkook and the company he runs as a cover up to his actual doings, it'll all be over.

You fingers itch. Is it worth losing them?

Yesterday, when Jungkook held you on the couch, you felt odd. He was delicate yet firm in the way he made sure you'd stay close, hands never wandering, only holding you like something precious. Yoongi refuses to tell you either what you are to the tiger hybrid- he just keeps telling you that if you ever feel like you're scared of everything,

Jungkook will never be someone you'll have to fear.

And maybe if you become something he can rely on just as much, you'll finally find someplace you deserve calling home.

Your eyes move around the room, mapping out where the fastest route would be to exit after your fingers find the distinctive panic button under the desk you're standing next to.

"Don't even think about it." Han says, and you freeze, mouth drying up. "You wouldn't do that." He chuckles, looking over at you.

And you're not sure why that makes you angry.

But it does.

The electricity cuts off, room dipped in nothing but black before the red emergency light turns on after you press the button- and you're already out the door, dashing down the hallway and up the stairs while you can hear Han right behind you, gun being shot into your direction.

Did he hit you? Miss you? You can't tell, your ears are ringing.

You don't know where you're running to when you realize the familiar hallway you're finding yourself in- and again, you decide in a split second to be brave, because this is all you have to lose now. This is all you have to your name- and Jungkook's voice suddenly echoes in your head.

"You belong here, and nowhere else."

He'd said it with such finality that it made you unsure back then- but now, after meeting Yoongi, and Hoseok, and Seokjin and Jimin and Namjoon and everyone else-

You believe it, even if it's a lie to keep you here.

"From now on, you're mine."

And you want to be his.

You want to belong.

And if this is your chance to earn your spot, you'll take it.

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Everyone's on edge as they peak around corners, guns drawn and loaded.

Yoongi watches as Jungkook's eyes reflect in the dark just like his own, the hybrids of the estate having a huge advantage right now with their eyesight quickly adapting to the darkness.

It's why Jungkook put it in place together with him, back when they put up the entire security system.

The only thing he's currently worried about is the lack of communication- with the entire system down, it must've been something wrong in the IT-room in the basement, which meant that the entire system would shut down to prevent either damage or theft.

But it also meant that you're involved, since you're supposed to be with Hoseok.

Another pair of reflective eyes is found, one a little dimmer than the other signaling that it's Taehyung who's looking at them. He nods, quiet greeting, before everyone moves around, quietly, unsure what's currently going on.

Namjoon and Hoseok are probably hiding right now, as they should.

Then, a shot.

Another one, right after.

And then, it's quiet.

"Did someone deal with it?" Taehyung whispers and Jungkook can't answer that, so everyone moves rather towards the sound of the last shot, to figure out what had happened.

It leads the small group near the entrance hall, where Jungkook spots..

you?

He immediately tells Taehyung who's not met you yet to realize it's you, to put down his weapon, everyone clearly now relaxing as well. Yoongi, right behind Jungkook, locks eyes with everyone- a clear sign to stay back, because the smell of fear is thick in the air.

Jungkook makes sure to walk loud enough for you to notice- ears snapping back towards him, body still shaking as you hold something in front of you.

And once he reaches you, he can see it.

Your hands clench the gun so tightly that he's wondering not if it hurts- but how much. The man in front of your feet is gone by now, shot right in the face, and once in his neck, blood soaking up your socks. Your finger is still pushing down the trigger even though the magazine is clearly empty, gun no longer a threat, barely warm to the touch most likely.

He's slow as he walks closer behind you, arms taking the same position as yours do, as he gently holds your hands.

"You're okay." He tells you, and only now do you seem to start breathing again, if only just a little, before you walk back, panic bubbling up inside you as you notice the blood on your feet- but he holds you, takes the gun away from you before he let's Yoongi take it, turning you over to instead hold onto him-

your hoarse screams barely loud enough to echo off the walls of the entrance hall, while you painfully sob against the tiger's chest.

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"It was just a graze. Almost nothing." Jimin sighs, as he puts down the gun in the plastic bag on Jungkook's table. "What's more interesting, would be who she shot." He sings almost, sitting down boldly across from him on the table, curled tail almost knocking down some papers.

"Did Namjoon figure it out?" Jungkook wonders, closing his laptop before he pulls the glass of whiskey closer, ice cubes knocking against the glass as he brings it to his lips.

"His name's Park Han." Jimin says. "And, according to tapes, he was Daeho's favorite when it came to.. suspect torture." He says.

"What are you trying to tell me-" He wants to know, when Jimin puts down a folded note, clearly coming from your notebook.

'They held my head back, and he laughed.' is written in shaky handwriting. 'And then he poured-'

Jungkook doesn't read any further.

"She took her revenge." Jimin offers, taking the note back before he offers another one. "And she's starting to understand, too." The wolfdog explains, his folded, torn ear moving towards the tiger as he takes the note to read. "I asked her why she did it, just for context."

'I belong here.' is written down.

'Jungkook's office was down the left side, so I went right' the note continues. Jungkook fills in what Jimin probably asked you himself- it's not hard to do.

'He protects us. So we must protect him, when he can't'

"She's right, you know?" Jimin kindly says, the tiger slowly looking up only with his eyes. "You protect us. And we'll be here for you too, when you need us." He offers, his torn ear flicking around a bit- a common thing, since he has permanent nerve damage in it after having it shredded by a shotgun, years ago when Jungkook found him. "You're not on your own." Jimin reminds him.

And Jungkook stays silent, before he folds the note, and puts it into a drawer of his office desk.

To keep, if he needs the reminder once more.

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"We gotta teach you how to properly shoot." Yoongi comments as he looks at your bruised hands- wrist safely tucked into a brace from having gotten hurt during the two shots you made. You instantly shake your head, clearly not on board with that idea. "No?" The dog hybrid chuckles, though he lets the topic go for now.

Thanks to you, nothing was stolen- and the few drops of data lost during the shutdown of the system are nothing compared to what could've happened.

Now, you're sitting on a bench outside in the backside gardens, enjoying the smell the rain left earlier today. It's been a week since the incident, and you've changed.

Jimin already said that something must've clicked in your head- cementing your believe now that you do in fact belong into this place. And while he's not sure if the reason you believe that now is the correct one, it's a start- right now, you feel like you earned your place, and that's okay.

You never had to, but you did it nonetheless.

And in this very moment, Yoongi realizes that you don't actually need your memories all that much. You don't have to know who he is to befriend him like you're slowly doing now. You don't have to know who Jungkook is to learn how to trust him.

Your past is long gone anyways- there's no use in chasing it.

These days, Yoongi's job has changed. He's now officially your very own guard dog, watching over you in person, or like a ghost from the sidelines when you want to be alone. And he likes this. Because you're clearly okay with it.

It leads to moments like these, where one could be fooled into thinking that everything's just fine.

"We should go inside now." Yoongi suggests, noticing you shivering a little, standing up together with you to walk back into the mansion shared by everyone. When you enter the kitchen with him, everyone's already eating- except Jungkook.

And it leads to you making everyone laugh again, because you found your very own way of communicating, especially asking for Jungkook.

Your hands find your ears, before you imitate the roundness of Jungkook's, making even the usually stoic Taehyung laugh.

"Oh, Jungkook is in his office." Namjoon tells you.

"How about you bring him something to eat, hm?" Jimin smiles, plating something up before he gives both plates to you. "So he's not lonely." He adds, and you nod, taking both plates from him before you leave the kitchen.

"I thought he wanted to be alone?" Hoseok wonders, and Jimin laughs, sitting back down again next to Yoongi.

"Oh he always wants to be alone, let's be real." He whines. "He could use the company. Maybe he'll take a break for once as well." He shrugs, and everyone agrees digging back into their food.

Meanwhile, you're slowly making your way upstairs, way to Jungkook's office by now well known by you as you stand in front of the door, unsure how to knock now with your hands occupied, and voice useless- now more than ever.

So you use your elbow rather awkwardly, hoping he heard you anyways-

which he did, office door opening with him looking past your head before he looks down to find your eyes staring back- hands offering the plate towards him.

He sighs, well aware that this must've been Jimin's idea.

But he lets you in anyways, offering you a chair to sit on and eat at the office desk with him. And for a good while, it's quiet- his fingers occasionally tapping away on his laptop, food slowly getting cold, when you gain a rush of boldness you're not quite sure of where it comes from.

It might be his scent filling this room. You always feel.. oddly safe when you're close to him.

But suddenly, your hand pushes at the laptop screen, shutting it the second he's giving you a chance for it with his hands gone.

Silence.

There's a staring contest going on for a moment, his signature tiger gaze strong on you, your fingers still on top of the laptop-

when something remarkable happens that makes you feel.. odd.

He smiles. Laughs, even.

And you decide that you want to see more of this side of him.

You want to see him happy.

And maybe that's your true role in this place, down the line.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader

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the-kr8tor · 11 months ago

Note

PLEASE, PLEASE FAE HOBIE X READER PLEASE I NEED IT AGAIN YOUR SERIES KILLED ME EVEN IF I LOVED IT AND I NEED MORE FAE HOBIE X READER. I NEED POSSESSIVE FAE HOBIE X READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUEST TO BE OPEN PLEASE I BEG OF YOU MORE FAE HOBIE HES PLAGUED MY THOUGHS BC OF YOU.)

IT CAN BE ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING WITH FAE HOBIE (BESIDES ANGST I HAD ENOUGH OF THAT WITH YOUR SERIES/HJ /PF)

I UTTERLY NEED TO KISS AND JUST NEED FAE HOBIE. YOU GOT ME OBSESSED WITH FAE HOBIE GUENGUENAHJFSBIAHDNSHSNFUD 🩷🩷🩷

Hi, bestie! I blacked out while writing this (a side effect of writing for fae Hobie 🤣🤣 he does things to me) I tried my best at making this as fluffy as possible but if you want it fluffier pls feel free to send another prompt! (Fae Hobie still has my heart) thank you for requesting!! 🫶

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mentions, Fae AU, Fae! Hobie Brown, a bit of hurt/comfort, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You definitely remember planting your tulips just yesterday. At first it was your cabbages growing large just after a few days of planting, then the tomatoes and now the tulips. The colorful bulbs sway in the breeze, the fragrant flowery smell relaxes your bones. Yet you can't help but feel creeped out by the weird phenomena.

You just moved in recently to a quaint town that's settled right on the edge of a dense woodland area. You've heard of the stories when a human has captured a fae’s attention, and it looks like this is the case for you. All the stories don't always end well for the former. But if the extremely fast growth of your garden says anything, it's that this particular fae means well. Hopefully.

So as a thank you to the kind entity, you place a bowl of milk and honey right under where your tulips are planted. You've even left a plate of salad all made from the crops you've lovingly planted and bloomed after just a few days of planting. You think for a second that maybe the soil under your feet is healthy and bountiful but there's no harm done if there isn't any mythical creature helping you. The worst case is a raccoon eating your offerings.

Bewildered is an understatement, your eyes are the size of dinner plates once you see something shimmering on the ground. Whatever you did, the fae seems to like it. They left a crown of daisies on your doorstep the next morning, the petals are all adorned with flecks of gold. The flowers run like silk under your fingers.

You look past your garden to the woods, the fog swirls around the edge. In your vision you see the mist form and shape into a tall slim figure. Your hand tightens around the crown of flowers, hands shaking in disbelief.

You didn't go out that day.

More gifts appear outside your home, tiny trinkets woven carefully to create something beautiful. A bouquet of flowers on your windowsill, a figurine of a spider made from vines that's left hanging by the large oak in your backyard. They all appear outside your house so there's no cause for actual fear. If only you stop feeling eyes on you whenever you go outside.

A friend from the city visited you one day, telling you how much they've missed you, gushing on how much you've missed while away. They ask if you ever feel lonely out in the outskirts of the country you could always come visit them.

The same eyes you feel outside can be felt in your bedroom that night.

Whatever latched on to you seems benevolent, watchful, yes but not evil or controlling. You've gotten used to the presence after a few months of living at your cottage. You've even started talking to them during the day when you have no one to turn to. You tell them stories of your almost forgotten childhood and your old life where the houses are made of glass and grey stone, where they stood high above, almost touching the heavens. They've never responded, always listening and ever present.

He wants to respond though, tell you tales of old, where the flowers used to sing and dance, where the woods reigned supreme above all. He misses them, yes, but he misses your voice more. Is it possible to miss your touch too even though he's only imagined it before? Perhaps your hands feel like the finest silk spun upon his skin, your fingers weaving through his like a glittering river, waking him up from his centuries of stagnant waters.

He's seen you laugh and cry, and tend to your garden like it’s your own children. He wants nothing more but to join you in harvesting your bounty, to converse with you and listen to you mumble about your day. Gradually he appears behind you when your back is turned, watching as you make your dinner, observing you plant something new. Then in a flash, he vanishes when you turn around. Leaving you feeling empty

You enter the gates of your garden with tears in your eyes, words barely coherent by your sobs. Kneeling in front of your tulips, you grasp the grass underneath, pulling and ripping out the blades. A sudden hand circles around your wrist, warmth enveloping you in a crashing wave.

He appears just behind the tulips, your eyes soften when your vision focuses on his handsome and otherworldly face. He doesn't know what's gotten you upset but what he does know is that it'll be alright for now on. Because he's—

“Here, ‘m here” His voice calms you down like a thick blanket in the winter.

Without hesitation, you embrace him, the smell of sandalwood and flowers almost stops your heart. You grip him tight, his strong arms envelope you securely, his face nuzzled right between the space over your neck. You do the same, already feeling at home on his skin.

“You're here. You’re real, aren't you?”

“As real as you” he leans back to look at your tear stained cheeks, wiping it with his thumbs. “And here to stay if you want me to”

“Please” you lean on his touch.

He nods, placing a weighted kiss on your forehead. Suddenly you know his name. You call it sweetly amidst the tears, it feels welcome on your tongue.

For the first time in years, Hobie smiles and chuckles, kissing you atop your eyelids with a promise to never leave your side.

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asofspades · 10 days ago

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Listen, as someone who used to be this academic weapon, who handled living in a very toxic borderline abusive family situation for more than a decade, who balanced getting perfect grades while being the parentified oldest "daughter" and pushing through social anxiety, depression, swersidal thoughts and an ED all while getting bullied at school and being autistic without a formal diagnosis and far from having any help only got more expectations because of supposedly being gifted and also ignoring chronic pain and fatigue and pushing through it until we'll into college and now having burnt out because I pushed myself way too far I want to say that I feel kind of uncomfortable about people thinking that Nico's character has somehow been "nerfed" by Rick because he no longer does what he did during Heroes of Olympus, like, listen, that kid completely pushed himself way past the edge, he almost vanished into shadows, hes canonically dealing with so many mental issues he had to resort to Dionysus to not go insane , he literally has an unspecified eating disorder derived from all the crap he's been through. Like, of course he's not going to be doing what he was back then, he was killing himself literally, he was running on fumes, spite, the verge of mental and physical collapse anda shit ton of adrenaline. That kid definitely has long time and chronic issues derived, he's not going to be the same, and he's still extremely OP if we're being honest, he has a ton of abilities just naturally running in the background, he can now turn people onto skeletons directly and command them. One would think that he's now fully useless in combat the way people talk about him supposedly being "nerfed" in ToA but honestly I'd just be glad if that kid never had to use any of his abilities ever again and could just let himself actually rest.

It feels a bit like an attack to all of us who've been through stuff and wouldn't be able to go back to the level of productivity and the ability to handle stuff that we had in our worst moments where we were running on spite and fumes and hopes of making it out of we struggled enough and are now experiencing burn out and skill regression. Like, I feel like that kind of people are telling me I'm now useless even after all I've been through because I can no longer do what I did at my worse moments in life.

Like, I could legit run on just caffeine with no sleep or minimal sleep and no food for up to 3 days and still get good grades and do all teh household chores and homework and exercise to the verge of collapse, however I now am exhausted no matter how much I sleeps concentrating is the hardest thing ever, I do stuff half assed because I really do not have enough energy and I gave up on putting everything on my shoulders because I was genuinely collapsing in on myself. Like, this shit happens.

And maybe that's just me because if my personal situation but it really does rub me the wrong way, I'm sure Nico could pull the same bullshit again and push himself past his limits to the brink of death, the thing is that boy is tired and trying to heal and move forward and doing that would just be going backwards in his recovery. He has plenty of time ahead of himself to heal and grow stronger and capable of doing stuff without getting as exhausted but like it's been less than a year between the end of Blood of Olympus and TSATS obviously he's still recovering.

People say they wanted a story of him recovering and all that, but I feel like what they really want is just Nico magically getting rid of any real effect all the shit he went through had on him, which just isn't realistic.

#nico di angelo

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atticssmellgood · 1 year ago

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I have a request!

I've been feeling super super dysphoric lately and haven't been able to find a fic that just scratches my brain in the right way, and I was wonder if I could request a Spencer Reid x ftm reader where the reader is feeling super dysphoric bc they're pre transition, like no binder level and Spencer helps them feel better with like little words of affirmation shit u know, nothing like super specific you can have creative freedom just definitely words of affirmation

thank you so much!!

To Carry the Weight of a Dead Person with You

Spencer Reid x ftm trans!reader

Summary: Reader feels really dysphoric, Spencer helps

Contains: gender dysphoria, slight mention of misgendering/dead name, hurt/comfort, words of affirmation, slight mention of body parts that could make someone feel dysphoric

A/N: HEY!!! Okay so sorry this took forever to post but I’ve actually been wanting to write this concept for a while, so I’m really glad you requested it! I kinda based this off of my own experiences with gender dysphoria so I hope it still resonates. I hope this makes you feel better🫶🏻 also the title of this is a lyric from “Sweet Cis Teen” by dazey and the scouts

(ALSO LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE)

You stand, naked in front of the bathroom mirror, steam from your previous shower fogging up the edges and making the air feel heavy.

It was hard taking a shower when you couldn’t even look down at your own body, and sometimes you succeeded—albeit with a bit of effort. Today was, unfortunately, not one of those days.

Your reflection seemed to beckon you to take a glance when you walked by it and towards the door, it always did. Except today, you listened.

Who knows how long you’ve been standing there, staring at all the parts that just didn’t fit. Your chest that wasn’t flat, your hips that were too wide, your waist that had a curve. None of it felt familiar despite the fact that you’ve lived with this body your entire life.

This week had been especially hard to deal with, the dysphoria practically eating at your insides whenever you had a moment alone with your thoughts. It certainly didn’t help when almost everywhere you went, people just saw you as a woman with short hair and in turn you would get called ma’am by a barista or miss by a stranger trying to catch your attention. You hated it, and yet no matter how hard you tried to ignore them, the thoughts and the comments, you always gave in eventually.

Maybe that’s why you felt stuck, staring at a reflection that you never really recognized as your own. The thoughts began to swarm your mind once more, repeating the one word you hated more than anything.

Girl, girl, girl, girl, gi-

A sudden knock on the bathroom door ripped you away from your trance and a sweet voice spoke to you through the barrier.

“Y/n, you okay in there?” Spencer asked tentatively. He seemed to be a little worried.

You’re quick to respond as you finally turn away from the mirror and crack open the door a bit so your body is hidden behind it but your face is still visible. “Yeah, I’m alright.” You plaster on a smile, one that you hope convinces him of your statement. He looks a little skeptical at first but smiles back.

“Sorry, you were just taking a while and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leans in and gives you a small peck on the lips “I’ll leave you alone now.” He grins and turns to leave, walking back to the bedroom.

You close the door and lean your forehead against it with a sigh, closing your eyes, water droplets still dripping from your hair and onto your bare shoulders.

—————————

Not too long after Spencer came to check on you, you emerged from the bathroom dressed in a baggy shirt and large sweatpants. Your moment in the bathroom still clung to the back of your mind as you stepped into the shared bedroom, the door creaking slightly.

You leaned up against the doorframe and smiled at the sight before you. Spencer was sitting against the headboard with his glasses on, reading through a novel rather quickly. He seemed so engrossed in the words on the page that he hadn’t even noticed you watching him, admiring how the dim light of the lamp on the bedside table highlighted his features perfectly. It warmed your heart to see him waiting for you to come to bed, despite how tired he probably was from his eventful day at work.

I padded over to my side of the bed and slowly laid down, not wanting to disturb him. My efforts were in vain however, because as soon as he felt the mattress dip under my weight, he was quick to close the book and turn to me.

“Feel better?” He asks quietly, staring at me with a sleepy smile.

I nod and give him a kiss on the cheek before laying down completely. He took that as a sign to say no more and turn off the lamp light, effectively shrouding the room in darkness. You felt his arm wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him so you were cuddling.

He looked at your face for a second and brushed a piece of your hair back gently. “Your new haircut looks amazing…” he complimented, messing with the now short strands and smiling. When you didn’t say anything back his gaze seemed a little worried.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was soft and his hand was placed gently on your cheek, his thumb rubbing across the apple of it.

“I’m fine sweetheart, really.” You tell him, although it was a lie. Your thoughts still ate at your mind as you lay there in his embrace. Usually they would’ve gone away by now but it seemed as though they were here to stay this time.

His slight frown indicated that he knew you were lying but he didn’t push you any further on the subject. If you wanted to tell him, you would.

Soon enough, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, his steady breathing signifying his slumber.

After watching him for a bit, you turned over so your back was facing him, his arm still wrapped around you. You try to close your eyes and let sleep pull you under but instead you were stuck staring at the wall, unable to quiet your mind.

As time ticked on and your eyes stayed open, you fell deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of self-consciousness and dysphoria. You found yourself hearing those same words, over and over and over again, repeated like a mantra in your head.

Girl, her, (dead name), woman, ma’am

This time, you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but you made an effort to keep them at bay so you didn’t wake Spencer. You didn’t want him to see you crying over something so stupid. But it wasn’t until you looked down that you couldn’t help but let out a small sob.

Spencer’s arm had tightened around you in his sleep, effectively pulling the baggy shirt you wore tighter around your body. It now showed the swell of your chest and the curve of your waist as you laid on your side.

The tears started rolling down your face, then. You clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs but you couldn’t stop the way your body was shaking. You felt Spencer move a little behind you, stirring from his sleep due to the sobs wracking your body.

“Y/n?” He mumbles groggily from behind. You quickly wipe your eyes in a poor attempt to hide your little breakdown and turn over to face him.

You sniff and attempt a small smile “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” You say, your voice cracking slightly and more tears escaping from your eyes.

Spencer quickly but gently pulls you closer to him and wipes your tears with his free hand. His expression is one of concern and softness.

“What happened?” He asks quietly, looking into your eyes with nothing but love.

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine really…” more tears streak down your face as you continue to lie.

“No, it’s not,” he says as he moves your hair out of your face again “please talk to me, love. I want to help you.”

You finally let the useless facade fall as you bury your head in his shoulder and let it all out.

He strokes your hair softly as you cry on him, wetting his sleep shirt with your tears and shaking in his arms.

After a short while your tears begin to dry a little and you pull back to look at him. He doesn’t say anything but he keeps you close and waits for you to speak.

“I-…” I take in a shaky breath “Why don’t I fit, Spencer?” You ask quietly, your voice wavering.

“Why can’t I look in the mirror and not hate the way my chest isn’t flat or the way my face is too round?” You ask again. You can feel your eyes getting wet again when you speak. “Why couldn’t I have been a boy?”

He strokes your hair lightly and his eyes widen in understanding.

He pulls you to his chest and kisses your head.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he looks down at you with a gentle expression “You are a boy, no matter what body you’re in.” He smiles softly.

“It doesn’t matter if your chest isn’t flat or your face is too round, you’ll always be my handsome, dashing, loving boyfriend,” he kisses your forehead “and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You sniffle a little bit “It would be nice if I could at least pass though, I just hate it so much…” a few more tears escape your eyes

“I know, but you know what?” He lifts your chin up gently so you can look in his eyes “I’ll be here to help you through your transition, every step of the way.” He smiles and wipes your tears away once more.

“But I want you to know that you already pass perfectly fine in my eyes.” He chuckles and kisses your lips softly, stroking your cheek.

You feel a little better when he says those words, and you nuzzle your head into his neck, mumbling a small “thank you”

He kisses the top of your head again and you both stay there for a moment, soaking up the warmth and love that was filling your small bedroom as he peppers kisses all over you and plays with your hair.

Spencer is the one to break the silence with a small yawn and a whisper.

“You know, I really meant what I said about your hair,” he mumbles as he twirls a strand around his finger “it makes you look even more handsome than usual….” He smiles and you feel a grin coming to your face too.

“There it is…” he chuckles warmly as he pulls back to look at your face with soft eyes.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He whispers, snuggling to you close once again. You smile even wider as he says that.

“I love you more…”

You end up falling asleep like that, cuddled up in Spencer’s arms as he whispers sweet compliments to you, running his slender fingers through your hair.

You knew that you would still have these days, the ones that caused you to break down with just one look in the mirror, but you felt happy regardless.

Because you knew Spencer would be there to give you those small compliments that made you feel so much better in your own skin.

Every step of the way.

#spencer reid x reader #ftm reader #trans!reader #hurt/comfort #spencer reid #criminal minds #x reader fluff #fluff x reader #dysphoria mention

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imaginethathaikyuu · 2 years ago

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don’t lie to me - part one

akaashi keiji x reader

a con-artist, lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers au

the GUIDEPOST the MASTERLIST

synopsis: You have nothing to lose, and that’s exactly why you love to go after those who do. Lying is as easy as knocking down a house of cards, revealing truths of corruption underneath. You and Akaashi are leaders of your own team of Robin Hoods, but you can’t keep up the act forever, can you? When you threaten trading this life in for something more romanticized, you and Akaashi fall right back into your old, hateful ways.

tags: lying stealing robbing etc., lovers to enemies, con-artist/spy!au, haikyuu x the great pretender crossover, not very relationship forward, but a lot of fluff sprinkled in, arguments, fights, angst, a break up

word count: 8535

Hitoka Yachi was a liar. She was a thief. She was a con artist. And she could not tell you how she got to this point in her life.

And there she sat in the living room of an affluent old lady who knew nothing about the telephone package Yachi was trying to sell to her.

That’s what made her the perfect target, an ideal victim to scam out of a few hundred bucks. Just like the others in this neighborhood Yachi had already meticulously gone after.

“Let me make it simple for you,” Yachi told her, putting on her best and brightest smile, “You can give me a down payment now - of eight hundred dollars - and when our team comes for the installment, you can make your decision then. We can deduct any extra payment from next month’s bill.”

The woman took a deep breath and used the pause for thought to adjust her shawl on her shoulder. “Well…”

“And this is the last day for this offer! Remember, this is a huge holiday discount. Even if you wait until tomorrow - it would be triple the price!”

It wasn’t a holiday or anywhere near.

“I probably shouldn’t pass this up, then…”

The woman reached for her large purse and Yachi shot out of her seat in excitement, raring to snatch the payment from her.

“Thank you! We’ll be in contact about the installation day! Thank you!”

With the money in her hands she darted out the door, leaving behind every pamphlet and example photo she had brought with her. All she cared about was getting outside so she could do her happy dance in private.

What she was doing wasn’t wrong. These people already have enough money to afford their nice homes and retirement dreams. Yachi was simply taking advantage, and she was doing it to survive.

She started walking in a random direction and stopped at the first restaurant she came to. She stuffed her hand deep in her pocket to tuck her money inside - first, she pulled out a sliver of paper. Written on it was the name and phone number for the woman she just had a meeting with.

As she walked inside, she wadded the note up and threw it toward a trash can nearby. It bounced off the edge and landed on the ground.

Yachi’s only friend was a woman older than her, cooler than her, and meaner than her. Tanaka Saeko played drums for a band, drove a beat up van, and frequented all the restaurants Yachi loved. That made them friends by default.

She was telling Saeko all about the recent job and how she made a new eight hundred bucks, while Saeko was barely listening, stuffing her face and kicking rocks under the picnic table.

“I actually need a favor.”

Saeko grunted.

“Help me out, and I’ll give you half.”

Yachi pulled a brown wallet out of her back pocket.

Saeko rolled her eyes. “Again? Really?”

The two of them did this every day.

“Come on,” she whined, “it’s fun! Look, the woman in the purple ordering at the counter - she’ll be perfect for it.”

The street was nearly empty, save for the few people eating at tables or walking by. It was the perfect day for making more money, and Yachi would do just that.

You were standing in front of a food stall sipping lemonade when you got a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me - did you drop this?”

“I’m sorry?”

“This wallet was on the ground, it’s yours, right?”

The girl opened the wallet and showed the cash inside, knowing it would pique your interest, and then let you take it from her hands.

Yachi put on a sweet smile until Saeko came over to wipe it off.

“It’s mine. Hand it over.”

Saeko took the billfold from you, but Yachi snatched it right back from her then stuffed it in her back pocket.

With her arms up in innocent defense, “You know what, I’ll just take it to the police.”

“I told you, it’s mine.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“What, do you want a reward or something?”

While they bickered, you finished your drink. Then, you pulled two twenties from your purse.

“It is mine, actually. Here’s your reward.”

And Yachi smiled at you, pulled the wallet out, and handed it over to you as she took your money.

“Thank you so much,” you said, being so sweet it felt fake, and then you wrapped your arms around her, giving her the most awkward hug of her life. “I appreciate it so much, thank you. Have a great day.”

Then, you walked off.

You were hardly out of earshot when Yachi started laughing to herself as she pulled the real, money filled wallet out of her pocket.

“It’s just so easy these days!”

Saeko held her hand out expectantly. Yachi slapped a bill in her hand.

“Thanks for playing,” she said, and Saeko said nothing. “You still hungry? It’ll be my treat!”

Just to brag, she pulled the wallet open, showing Saeko her earnings. The extra twenty she just stole from you didn’t seem like much in comparison to the hundreds in the pouch, but it all adds up. Every cent counts when you’ve got rent to pay.

And Saeko was laughing. Cackling like a bird.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“What are you going to buy?” she said through bursts of laughter and tears, “free samples?”

“What are you talking about?”

She looked down at the wallet and -

- it was empty.

Empty.

Her money was gone.

“You gave away the wrong one!”

Yachi felt her heartbeat in her ears. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head and landed right in the money pouch. She could have laughed, too, out of pure anger.

“I didn’t. I didn’t - I’m not stupid! I wouldn’t mess up that badly - did she…?”

She turned around, looking all over for you, then went running in the direction you had gone.

Yachi already figured out what you had done.

When you hugged her, you pick-pocketed her.

You knew she had given you an empty wallet, so you took the one with the money.

That’s the only explanation.

She ran down the block and easily found you, standing in front of a stall selling jewelry. And she was more than ready to make a scene in order to get her money back.

“Hey! Hey!”

You ignored her until she was standing right next to you.

“You stole my money!”

You glanced over at her, then said, “Hm? Aren’t you the one who found my wallet?”

“It wasn’t yours!”

You let a smile slip. “It wasn’t?”

“Look, just give it back.”

You walked away from the jewelry booth, but Yachi peddled behind you.

“Why would I do that? You gave it to me, said it was mine - so, it’s mine.”

“Well, it was a mistake! It wasn’t yours - it was mine, so I need you to return it.”

“Are you trying to steal from me?”

“What? No! I’m trying to get my money back!”

You didn’t reply, and Yachi didn’t know what else to do, so she kept following you.

She was stuck walking in your footsteps, letting you guide her wherever you were going, because she had no other ideas.

The only thing she could do was nag you until you gave in.

“All of my money was in that wallet. Like, all of it. At least eight hundred dollars. You’re stealing all of my money, and I’m already poor, so you’re just making me even more poor. Are you really okay with that?”

You said nothing.

“My name is Yachi, by the way. Hitoka Yachi. I’m pretty popular around here, actually. Are you new to town? I could show you around. For a price, anyway. Hey, if you give me my money back, I could show you how to make all the money in the world - I know the easiest ways.”

She meandered around you, stopping you in your path, finally getting the chance to speak to your face. She gave you a smile that was as genuine as it was frustrated; all you could do was laugh.

“How long do you plan on following me?”

Her smile fell. “Until I get my money back.” She was pouting, looking like she was trying too hard to look angry. You gave her a look that turned her anger up higher. “The money you stole from me.”

“In the wallet you said was mine?”

She stomped her foot; you didn’t hold back your laughter at her.

“What a con artist you are. Aren’t you clever?” you joked as you walked ahead of her, and her footsteps quickly followed yours.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but I know what I’m doing here. So maybe you should watch your tone.”

You tried not to laugh, you really did, but the sound erupted from your lips before you could seal them shut. Yachi stopped in her tracks at the sound.

You turned around, continuing to walk backwards as you said, “It seems like I’ve scammed the scammer, then, haven’t I?” And then you turned again, not stopping until you reached your destination.

Neither of you said a word until you were opening the gate outside of a quaint home.

“Where are we? What are you doing here?”

“I’m going home,” you said. “Do you want to camp out here, or come inside?”

Yachi peered behind you to look at the house, but the only thing that caught her eye was a man standing at the door. He stood there like he was a guard.

“Who is that?”

“Who?”

Yachi pointed, and you turned to glance behind you.

“He’s just someone I work with. I’m not sure what he’s here for… maybe something I owe him.”

You sighed, and Yachi got the idea that you weren’t happy to see this guy. She was immediately intimidated by the man - his gaze alone was enough to send her shrinking into herself. Dressed in all black, his strong looking arms crossed, and his jaw locked - according to Yachi’s low standards, he looked like someone she wanted nothing to do with.

You began walking away, into your gate and toward the house.

“Hey! What about my money?!”

“You mean my money?” You walked back over to her then pulled an ink pen and an old receipt out of your purse. “Here’s my name and number. Call me if you need anything, alright?”

You shoved the paper in her hand and then you left, into your house, and the man didn’t follow. He stood in the same spot, watching Yachi’s every move. She kicked herself out of his eyesight, fast.

The money in that wallet you stole was for a late rent payment. Her shitty apartment wasn’t worth what she paid for it every month, but it held her few belongings and kept her warm enough. And it was getting harder and harder to lie her way out of paying the bills on time.

And now that money is gone.

She could have just followed you into your home, but even she isn’t stupid enough to walk into a situation like that one.

Besides, that guy was scary enough that she was grateful for being out of his sight.

She’d just have to cut her losses. You can’t win ‘em all - she’d happily lose this time if it meant she never had to see that guy again. And that wasn’t the first time she had less than a dollar to her name. She’d just have to work a little harder tomorrow.

She looked down at the note you gave her. It did in fact have a name, and a few numbers written down, but it wasn’t enough to make a phone number. Of course. Yachi didn’t expect any better, but she swore the next time she saw you, she wouldn’t let you go.

Her walking was directionless, and she didn’t know where she was, but eventually the neighborhood turned familiar enough that she felt alright to slow her pace and catch her breath. She was only wandering, looking for something to stop her, when -

“Oh my god! There she is! Right there! That’s her - that’s the girl!”

One second she was kicking a pebble down the street - the next, she barely had the time to turn and run from the two cops chasing her, who were directed by the old woman from the telephone scam.

It was one thing after another.

She turned one corner then another before she found her escape. It looked like it was placed in front of her by God himself - too good to be true - and, of course, she took the path that was laid out: a taxi stopped on the side of the road with a familiar person getting into it - you. Yachi dived into the door you had left open and slammed it behind her.

“Let’s share the ride!” she said, trying to hide how out of breath she was. Your mouth hung in surprise but you only nodded, and the driver took off. Yachi looked back - not a cop in sight.

Safe at last.

“Back already?”

Yachi sat back in her seat and relaxed, because she finally could. But the silence took over fast, and she had to strike up conversation.

“Seriously, who was that guy?”

“Oh, don’t mind him. I took care of him.”

“You - did you -”

“Kill him?” Yachi gasped, you laughed. “No, god no - who do you think I am?”

“I have no idea who you are,” she said, and you laughed. Then, she realized, “Where are we going?”

“The airport,” you replied. You turned to look at her, your makeup still perfect, your hair only slightly messier than it was before, red lips in a sweet sneaking grin. “Then to LA.”

“LA?”

You nodded.

In the rush of the series of events, Yachi thought of this as an offer. A way out. A new market.

Technically, she was on the run now, and she still had to get back what you took from her, and she had nothing here to leave, anyway. Most of her things were in the tattered backpack she took everywhere with her.

“I’ll come with - if you buy my plane ticket.”

You refused. But she’d convince you.

“What are we doing here, anyway?”

“I’m here for work - I don’t know where you’re going. I need to make a stop by my place.”

“Well, you’ll let me stay with you for the night, right?”

There were hours of traffic between the two of you and your destination, and Yachi got to sleep through it until you forced her awake and brought her inside of an extravagant house. She didn’t get the chance to examine the outside - you walked too fast for her to keep up.

She developed a quick habit out of following you around. She didn’t know what else she was supposed to do, and her one goal was to take her cash back from you, afterall.

But when you led her into a big, open room, it seemed like you had enough of having her as your shadow.

“Can’t you go somewhere else?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” you sighed. You plopped down on the long velvet couch that faced the large window, then said, “Show yourself around. I’m waiting for company.”

“Fine.”

Looking as if she was trying to be passive aggressive, she trotted back out the door the two of you came through. Outside of it was a long hallway with many doors on either side; she didn’t know which room she should go into first.

With the blue carpet catching her footsteps, it was a soft walk to the first door. Yachi swung it open brazenly to find - a bathroom.

Plain and boring as they come. A stark opposite from the rest of the house that she’d seen - the main room was lavish, filled with furniture and decorated perfectly, windows lining an entire wall with beautiful paintings hanging on the rest of them.

She thought mansion bathrooms were meant to be fancy - with toilets made of gold and water fountains rather than sinks and a swimming pool for a tub.

Maybe you sunk your budget in the living room.

She decided to leave the door open, just to be rude, before she went to the next one.

There wasn’t time for her to open it before a door at the main end of the hallway opened seemingly on its own. Yachi was curious, wondering what kind of person would be walking through it.

When she saw him, she ran, and she loudly encouraged you to do the same.

The lazy way you stood up made it obvious that you weren’t bothered at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Running away, because that scary man followed you all the way here and it’s probably because he wants to kill you,” she said, all in one breath, the entire sentence sounding like one word.

You only crossed your arms. Yachi didn’t understand.

“Excuse me.”

The sound of his voice behind her made her yelp, and she ran straight to hide behind the couch.

“Whatever she did has nothing to do with me!”

The only part of her body visible was her eyes, peeking out just enough to see what this man’s next move was.

He completely ignored her, gunning straight for you. He reached his arms out and Yachi didn’t want to look - she couldn’t bear to see what he was about to do to you.

The man looked strong, and maybe you were capable of fighting but Yachi wouldn’t bet her stolen money on it. You weren’t even stepping away, in fact - you were stepping toward him.

He wrapped his arms around you and that was it, Yachi thought - he was probably going to squeeze you until you popped. She clamped her eyes shut, but then opened one of them because she couldn’t help herself. She just had to watch as he -

Kissed you.

Yachi really did not understand.

“Keiji, I missed you to death.”

“You couldn’t stand a couple days apart?”

“It felt like forever. I think I should just stitch myself to you, I’d be happier that way.”

Yachi shot up out of her hiding spot.

“I thought this was the guy you owed!”

“I did owe him. I told you I took care of him, didn’t I?”

The wink you sent Yachi’s way had her dropping her jaw in a realizing, disgusting anger.

“By the way,” Keiji said, “Where’s the big scary man who’s trying to kill you?”

Yachi didn’t care about a thing the man said, and she didn’t care about the joyous look on your face. All she cared about was getting answers.

“Who the hell are you? What do you want from me?”

“I told you who I am. You’re the one who’s been following me around this entire time - remember?” You weren’t even looking at Yachi. Instead, you were busy straightening Keiji’s collar. You kissed him once again and then stepped away, saying, “Could you bring me that briefcase, babe?” and he did as he was told.

She stood on the couch and then jumped over it, landing on her feet with a punctuating thud. “Because you stole my money. All of my money! And I want it back!”

“Right - about that money… Where’d it come from, exactly?”

Keiji sat the briefcase on the table in front of you. You opened it and pulled out three different things.

Yachi didn’t try to explain herself. You already had all of the answers, and you held them up for her to see.

The terrible pamphlet for the phone company she handmade, the contract signed by the woman she had scammed, and the crumpled note she had thrown away.

And she felt like a child again, being scolded by her mother for her bad grades. Like she was small, like you were bigger than her so that meant you were right. It didn’t feel fair.

“Where did you get those?”

You offered no explanation. “That poor, innocent woman,” you said with a tut. “But she wasn’t the first, was she?”

“So what? Are you going to rat me out or something?”

“No. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about it.”

“So what is this for?” Yachi took a loud step toward you, trying to make herself feel bigger, stronger, smarter. “Just give me my money so I can leave.”

“I never said I had your money.”

Yachi froze.

“What?”

You shrugged. “I don’t have it. You assumed I did.”

“Then who does?!”

“The girl you were with - she got a hold of it.”

“Saeko?!”

Then, Keiji stepped into it. “I think you might’ve taken this one too far, sweetheart.”

“But she knows what she’s doing,” you said, and the sweet voice you used with him sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “I didn’t do anything. Every choice she made was completely independent.”

The worst part?

You were right.

Yachi chose to take that old lady’s money. She chose you out of the crowd to play the wallet scam against. She chose to follow you home, to leave you at your house, to seek refuge in the taxi you were in. And then, on top of it all, she followed you to a brand new city.

And you didn’t suggest she do a single thing. You just let her.

It was her own fault. So she crumpled to the ground, because there was simply nothing left for her to do.

She fell for every word that left your mouth - and you didn’t even ask her to.

It was pathetic. She was pathetic.

You stood in front of her, tossed the pamphlet on the ground for her to look at. “It doesn’t feel good, does it? Being stolen from?”

Yachi didn’t reply.

“Do you want some advice?”

Yachi watched as you knelt down in front of her. She looked up at you, at your too sweet smile. Still, there were no cracks in your image. It was strange, and it was enticing, and it was maddening.

“Learn how to choose your targets, sweetheart. Maybe you should pick a different line of work.”

You wadded up the note and threw it down in front of her, just like she had thrown it to the trash. Your words were cutting, even as you got up and walked away. You had just given her a failing grade on the one thing she felt like she was good at - it hurt.

And she was all alone now, on the floor in a random home in this strange city. And she wished she had somewhere to go.

Until a hand reached out to her.

Keiji.

She took it, because she didn’t have any other choice - besides sitting there forever.

“She can be a little mean sometimes. Don’t take it too personally.”

Yachi didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

“Do you want to make your money back?”

Yachi nodded.

“Then let’s go. We’re already late.”

Maybe you were too mean to the young girl, but it definitely wasn’t your fault. It’s just the way things happened to play out.

Keiji obviously believed otherwise.

“I’m just saying - she’s just a kid. You didn’t have to go so hard on her.”

“I was teaching her a lesson!”

“You could’ve been a little nicer about it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Keiji, you were in on it.”

“Hey, you were the boss - I was just doing what I was told!”

“Can you stop talking about me like I’m not right here?”

The both of you turned around to see Yachi behind you, tagging along like a third wheel. Keiji mumbled a quick apology; you continued walking without a word to her.

“Where are we even going?” the girl asked.

“To strike up a deal,” you said, feigning excitement so it would get her in a better mood.

And it worked like you were rubbing paint off your hands onto her. She piped up immediately, getting a spring in her step.

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

“You’ll see.”

“Nothing you need to know yet,” Keiji said as you all stopped in front of a large ornate gate; behind it, the biggest house Yachi had ever seen.

“Whoa. Is this some door-to-door scam for millionaires or something?”

You groaned loud. “Something like that.”

Keiji dropped your hand and moved to press a button on the intercom next to the fence. In less than a minute, three men came walking down the path on the opposite side; one of them used a key to open the gate.

All of them looked rough and mean. Dressed in leather jackets and lazily buttoned patterned shirts, gold chains around their necks and rings on their fingers, Yachi could easily assume these guys were cheap security for whoever lived in this mansion. She didn’t like the look of them.

The man in the center pulled his sunglasses off then shook Keiji’s hand.

“About time,” he said, then started leading your group inside.

Around the back of the house was a pool and a party. The bright blue water looked refreshing enough to jump into fully clothed, and all of the beautiful girls in bikinis had Yachi feeling self conscious of the little effort she put into her appearance. You had thrown a button up shirt and black pants at her and made her get changed in the car, and she was feeling far from herself.

She watched you and Keiji shaking hands and making conversation with the person who seemed to be the owner of this house - a tall woman who wore glasses and had long, pin straight, jet black hair.

Yachi wasn’t doing such a good job at following your conversation, but she heard the tail end of what the woman was saying.

“...This will be so great for both of us, I’m so excited to finally be finishing this deal. Um - where is the… supply?”

“The delivery should be here soon,” Keiji said, checking his watch. “Set to arrive around back.”

“Right - of course. No point in risking traveling alone with something so important.”

“In the meantime,” you said, and you wrapped your arms around Yachi’s shoulders and pulled her to stand in front of you. “This is an intern of ours - the one we were telling you about. She has been paramount in developing the new product.”

Yachi forced a fake, awkward smile at the woman.

“Oh, it’s amazing to meet you!”

“The two of you should get acquainted. Just don’t spill any secrets.” You winked at her and then took a step back. “The two of us will head over to the warehouse and we’ll give you a call when the goods arrive. Sound good?”

Leaving no chance for Yachi to reply, you and Keiji left her alone, walking past the party down a path that led behind the house.

Keiji asked you, “How do you think she’ll do?”

You shrugged. “She can’t fuck it up too badly. We’re already in the homestretch.”

The warehouse was exactly that - a large building with two garage doors and no windows, with its only entrance door guarded by two men. One of them short, thin, and balding; the other tall, with salt and pepper hair and too much muscle. You greeted them both then swung the door open and walked into the fluorescent lights inside.

The building was mostly empty now; Ten, your current client, had gotten rid of nearly all of her inventory after the first meeting she had with you. To make room for the stock you’d promised.

Arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in. “We’ve got time to kill, baby.”

You looked back at him, kissed his cheek. “Not as much time as you need.”

“You only need five minutes.” He pulled away just enough to turn you around, then pulled you right back against him, teasing a kiss against your lips. “I thought you missed me?”

He kissed you soft, just enough to get you to want more - to remind you what you were missing. As headstrong as you were, Keiji was the only one who knew how to crack your resolve.

You let him kiss you as much as he wanted to, because you weren’t ready to put up a fight yet.

“You know I missed you,” you whined against his lips. He caressed your pouting bottom lip with his thumb.

“You’re a sweetheart. My sweet girl. Why don’t we just get this over with so I can show you how much I missed you?”

You kissed his finger, then his palm, and looked up at him with bright eyes and a swelling smile.

“I think we have five minutes to spare.”

Yachi had been alone with this woman for half an hour, and getting through the conversation felt like swimming in putty.

At this point, she felt like she deserved a fucking degree in bullshitting, because even though her words made no sense to herself, the woman ate them up like candy.

Yachi had learned very little, and yet way too much about the business practices here.

The woman’s name was Ten, and she’s worked in Hollywood as a film director for nearly twenty years, and the product she was buying off of you was… drugs. All of her money didn’t come from the shitty movies she’s made, but from the drugs she’s been peddling.

So Yachi had gotten tied up with drug dealers. She could handle your lying and stealing, but this was too far for her.

She wouldn’t realize the irony in that sentiment.

“I was skeptical before, to be honest. But after meeting you, I’m nothing but excited,” Ten told her.

It all felt surreal even though she was clueless of the situation. She had Ten convinced that she was a pharmaceutical technician who lacked experience but had an abundance of knowledge - a great mind who would become a pillar in the industry, someone who would change the drug industry and make people like her even richer.

Your call to Ten was a saving grace.

“Perfect. Send one of the guards up to escort me with the money. I’ll be right down.”

Yachi joined Ten, a muscular guard, and four briefcases to the warehouse around back. On the walk, Ten explained how she did all her business in cash, because it was easy payment with no risk of being tracked - even though Yachi never asked.

When they entered the building, Yachi held her breath, preparing to witness her first ever drug deal, and she had no idea what she was in for.

It was a giant room that was completely empty. There was a table in the center, a briefcase on top of it, and the fluorescent light shining directly onto it looked like a spotlight.

Yachi was confused, and Ten seemed even more so.

High heels echoed on the concrete floor as the woman walked to the case. She opened it, and then she snapped her head around to glare at Yachi.

The briefcase was empty.

“What’s going on here?”

She made her way back to Yachi quickly; arms came out to grab her, and she ducked underneath them. She fell onto her hands and knees, turned around, and crawled toward the door before clambering back up to her feet.

“Honestly, I have no clue!” she called back.

She pushed the door open, she saw safety in the sunlight outside. She only got to take one step on the grass before she was cut off by the guard who was with them before, still carrying the cases of money under his arm.

There was no way she was fighting him off, so when he picked her up, she let him. He threw her over his shoulder and all she could do was beat on his back with small fists.

“Let me go!” she cried. “I have nothing to do with this! Seriously! I don’t even know those two! Just let me go!”

When he finally put her down, it was onto warm metal. She opened her scared eyes to find she was in the bed of a pickup truck and so was her kidnapper.

With the truck moving she had almost no balance, but she was able to find her way to her hands and knees so she could look through its back window.

You stared at her in the rear view mirror. You even gave her a little wave, one that was all confidence and cockiness and made Yachi want to scream.

“What the hell was that?” She turned around, glared at the man who had captured her. “Who are you?”

He laughed, grinned wide, and stuck his hand out for her to shake.

“Bokuto - nice to meet ‘ya!”

You had been pulling the wool over Ten’s eyes for months now, building a relationship and rapport that seemed fruitful for the both of you. Ten shared secrets with you that you never needed to know, because you already had a plan scratched out before you ever met her.

She dealt the kind of drugs that killed people. The deeper the cut, the bigger the profit - that’s how she spoke of her cheap sales. It was easy to take advantage of her greed, convince her to only buy from you, pretend you were bringing something to the table she couldn’t pass up. So she cut her ties even though she was already bleeding money, and she put her last couple millions into the briefcases you stole from her, and if she ever recovered you’d give her a round of applause.

Maybe she would learn her lesson. Or maybe she wouldn’t. But your work with her was finally done.

The group of you were gathered on the terrace, drinks in hand, for an evening celebrating a job pulled off.

“All that work for one day of fun,” Bokuto sighed.

You were quick to scold him, “It’s not meant to be fun, Bo, it’s supposed to be work.”

The night sky was clouded by city lights; the stars were replaced by lampposts and neon signs. This town was alive beyond the balcony rails ahead of you. But you were only watching Yachi, who sat across from you, on the ground behind the table. She had her knees up, hugging them like she was afraid of taking up too much space, as if she had ever seen a terrace this large.

You sat up from your seat - which was Keiji’s lap - and placed your drink on the table, before sitting down on her level.

“How much did you say was in that wallet?”

She huffed and avoided your eye contact.

“I don’t know… eight hundred dollars.”

You slid a stack of cash across the table to her. Her eyes grew, and she sat still.

“For your work today,” you said.

“How much is that?”

“A few thousand. You weren’t too integral - just a distraction, really - so it’s not much.”

“...Thanks.”

“You could stick around, if you want.” It was a delicate offer, one that didn’t mean much to you, just like the money you handed over. “We always have room.”

She didn’t reply, not at first, but after a moment she gave you a meek nod.

“And I’ll get paid more?”

You stood back up then sat next to Keiji, and he pulled you in close; a kiss on your head, then your cheek, then your neck, and you were ready to forget about the world and only think about his lips.

“There’s always more to be paid,” you told her. “If you’re going to stick around, you should probably get acquainted with everyone.” You pointed to your left, “That’s Bokuto. You already met him, I think. He’s the muscle.” You meant it as a joke, but he flexed a bicep that proved your words. Then, you gestured to your right, looking at the old man laid across the wicker couch. He still wore the security guard disguise. “That’s Kudo.”

He gave a weak hearted salute. “Sure am.”

“There’s others, but they don’t always come around. You’ll meet them if you’re on the team long enough.”

“Team?”

It was innocent, the way she said it - with her head turned to the side and her eyes squinting. You were sure that you had felt the way she was feeling, back when you were five years younger and just meeting this group for the first time.

“Yeah, we’re a team, I guess. That’s the best word for it.” Try as you might to be nonchalant, you couldn’t completely cover the pride in your tone. “You’re in, if you want to be.”

You already knew she would stick around, because she had nowhere else to go. Anybody else who offered her refuge wouldn’t have good intentions, and you weren’t sure if she knew that or not - and that’s why you were making this offer in the first place. When you had heard about Yachi from Saeko, you knew she needed a place to fit - and that you had just the spot.

Even if you had to teach her a tough lesson the hard way, you meant well. And those lessons were far from over.

“Think about it,” you told her, and that was all of the time you were willing to give for the moment - because the alcohol had you buzzing, and Keiji’s arms around you were pulling you away.

So you let him take you off your seat and toward the door, but you had one more bit of information to share with Yachi.

“Oh, and - remember the old woman you stole that money from?”

Yachi perked up.

“She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Something about spending the evening outside made you wish to be swallowed up by the night time. Your bedroom was perfectly warm yet your hands were frigid. You were completely relaxed but your shoulders still felt tense.

Nights like those carried a different feeling. One free of planning, lying, and conning; it was the release of all of those things settling in the celebration of success. Like the clouds finally parted and you could see the stars with childlike relief. You no longer had to worry about getting away with something.

With your back to Keiji, you let your face fall. You took a breath and held it, because no one was waiting for you to exhale.

“What a day,” you said to yourself. “Now that it’s over it feels like a perfect night for running away.”

“Away from me?” Keiji joked.

You turned your head only slightly. Enough that he could see that your guard was down, but you didn’t dare give him your eyes.

“With you.”

He pulled his t-shirt on and came to sit next to you. “And where would we go?”

“Anywhere,” you said with a shrug. And you thought about his question, and if your answer would be the right one. If it should be the truth, or another lie. “Somewhere normal, maybe.”

Keiji laughed. “Normal? You’d get bored of that in a day.”

“I would not,” you replied, “not if you were with me.”

“Don’t get all romantic on me now.” He got up, got into bed.

You might have been sitting on the edge of something you didn’t want to fall off of.

“You don’t want to run away with me, Keiji?” You couldn’t tell if you were making a joke or not, and you didn’t know if you wanted to hear his answer at all.

Because, in reality, you knew what his real answer would be. You knew his honesty was ugly and that’s why he showed you half truths.

You guessed he decided to ignore it all together. “Come to bed with me, baby.”

You stood up, walked around the bed and sat too close to him. He pushed your hair back away from your face, held you and looked at you.

“Why are you pouting?

“I’m serious,” you said.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

He laughed at that, all lighthearted and soft, and kissed you like it’d make you drop it. “Let’s talk about it later, baby - turn around, let me unzip your dress for you.”

“No, Keiji,” and you pulled away just enough that you didn’t have to look at him. “You don’t ever think about what it would be like?”

“It feels like we’ve talked about this before,” he said. “What are you getting at?”

“I just think it would be nice if things changed.” You stood up, and for a split second you thought about dropping it.

The last time you had a conversation like this was years ago, when you finally had enough money to retire and live easy. Keiji had brought it up, just offering the idea, and you had to remind him that it would never work out. Not with the two of you, anyway - not with the relationship you had.

Because nothing lasts forever, and you’re better than settling down, and you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again. You promised each other that either of you could walk away any time, so don’t get too attached.

And if a break up never came, well - both of you had been scarred by the vision of death, witnessing it literally - viciously. You don’t have a particularly safe job, and history tends to repeat, and it was easier to move on if your life didn’t revolve around the other’s beating heart.

But it was too late for those sentiments to matter anymore. It had been almost three years since then, and you didn’t fear the future anymore. Keiji stayed, even though you thought he never would - even though no one ever stuck around that long - and you were starting to think that, maybe, he was going to be there forever. Maybe it was okay for you to ask him to.

So you wouldn’t let it go.

“We could have more than just… this. You know? What if we just bought a big house in a suburb? We could have pets, and… We could get married, even! And go on a honeymoon to some place nice - and we’ll be there to have fun instead of - I don’t know - rigging sports bets or stealing paintings! And it would all be so simple and easy!”

“Where is all of this coming from?”

You didn’t even know. But you meant it, all of it, and you wanted him to understand.

“I just - I… I want to have a life with you, Kei.”

“We have a life together,” he said, like he was confused, and he got up and walked over to you, he tried grabbing at you like he could put you back together. Like he could fit you in his hands. “This is our life. Can you seriously imagine us living like that? Getting married?”

“Can’t you?”

He knew his answer, he just didn’t want to say it.

“This is too much,” he said. “We’ve talked about this. I thought you didn’t want that.”

“What if I changed my mind?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say -”

“I want you to agree with me!”

“I don’t! And you know why - I…” He reeled his next words in, it seemed. He took a breath and calmed down and tried to speak softer. “You just want to… quit?”

He pulled you closer, like he could tell you were trying to run away.

“We’re so close to figuring everything out. We can’t just give up.”

“I know that.”

“Okay?” You looked away from him and he let you. “That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re together.”

“Have all of these years together just been a waste, then? If you can’t even entertain the thought of having a life with me other than this?”

You were holding onto him so tight and you didn’t care if it hurt. Keiji had been your one constant for years now - there was no way he was still afraid of committing to you, when he had basically already done so.

But it was like tying down a wild dog. You couldn’t.

“Why didn’t you bring this up sooner? Our goal was never to settle down and have kids some day - it’s not - we’re not like that!”

“Not like what?” you asked. You were completely disheartened, now, dropping the grip you had on him. “Not serious? Not real?”

“Not normal!” he said, loud, and then he laughed, like he thought you were being funny. “I mean - we’ve never even been an actual couple - did you really think we would end up like that?”

“Maybe I did. What’s so wrong with that?”

“You know I don’t want that,” he said. “We aren’t together to have some happy ending - I never wanted that with you.”

And that was it. The last push.

But it was into anger rather than sadness; a rage instead of a broken heart; a free fall instead of a straight plummet.

“You did a great job at acting like it, Keiji.”

He laughed again, and you realized the irony in your words. The fact is that all he ever does is put on an act for other people because lying for money was his job, and you had the heart to believe he’d been real with you.

“I was never acting - obviously you can’t say the same.”

For the first time in your life, you let him have the last word. You were quick to collect some of your things and leave the room with a slamming door, and you stormed to a guest bedroom without a thought in your mind.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t let yourself feel sad. You were angry and annoyed and exhausted - maybe even a little embarrassed. And that anger kept you distracted, so you latched onto it and let it burn.

The next morning, you assumed everyone had already left. When a job was over and everything finally settled, most of the crew found other places to go - because they had money to spend. So you weren’t expecting to interact with anyone.

But Yachi was waiting in the hallway, still in her pajamas.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up. What took so long?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Fine. Gosh.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, I just had a few questions.”

You walked to the bathroom and she followed you into it. She closed the door behind her and then hopped up onto the counter next to the sink.

“Now that I have my money back I need to figure out what to do with it. I think I should get some new clothes, but mostly I just want to find some good food - what are the best restaurants around here, by the way? Honestly, I think you owe me lunch for the last few days. It’s the least you could do to make me feel part of the team.”

Out of nowhere, the door opened. Keiji was standing behind it.

“Can you knock?!” you immediately said, making him scoff.

“Can you learn to lock the door?”

You slammed the door in his face, and it made you feel marginally better. Then you looked over to Yachi, remembering her existence, and opened it again.

“Can I get some privacy? Please?”

“Yeah,” she said, stumbling over her words to land on her feet. “We’ll catch up later, I guess.”

You hoped later never came.

And instead of a peaceful, empty home, you were met with a full house of expectants, because you had already promised them more work to do.

“I thought you liked to get an early start.” It was Keiji, and he was talking like he wanted to start a fight. “It’s noon.”

“You could have started the meeting without me. You have all the information I do.”

“This one was your idea.”

“They’re all my ideas,” you said.

You pushed by him and went into the living room where everyone was waiting for you.

The only silver lining was seeing Ms. Kim, who had finally arrived sometime last night. She sat on the couch with a giant ball of yarn next to her, and the makings of a blue scarf sat on her lap as she knitted away. Her straight hair was shorter than it was a few weeks ago, and she had new glasses that sat on the tip of her nose, but she had the same familiarly grumpy look that always made you smile.

If you were honest, you didn’t even know what you were supposed to be talking about with them. Keiji always helped you get things in order, line up plans, and work out the tempo of meetings like these.

“Do you have the layout of the bar?” you asked him.

He was just sitting down on the couch when you looked at him. “No,” he said, arms crossed.

“Why not?”

“You didn’t tell me to get it.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you. Did you do nothing? Where’s the list of the employees?”

“Do you think I’m your assistant? Do you think I spend twenty-four hours a day doing shit for you?”

“Am I supposed to do it all on my own?”

“It’s not that difficult, I’m sure you’d figure it out if you put in some effort. But it might take a few tries.”

“Fine,” you said. You looked around the table in front of you to see empty folders and blank papers. “Since Akaashi didn’t do his job we’ll just have to delay this a few days. And everyone can thank him for that.”

“Just because you say it’s my fault doesn’t mean it’s true. You haven’t figured that out already?”

“Since you don’t want to help I’ll just go ahead and cross you off the list of team members needed for this job - does that work for you?”

“Sounds great,” he said. “It sounds wonderful, actually - I can’t wait to see you try to do something all on your own.”

“And I can’t wait to stop hearing your voice!”

Both of you stormed out of the room at that, and slamming doors were heard on opposite sides of the house.

The silence in the living room was deafening.

“Did something… happen?” Yachi eventually asked among the group.

Ms. Kim was the first one to speak up, “They used to act this way… Must’ve had a fight.”

That made Kudo perk up with a gravelly laugh, “Oh, a lover’s quarrel.”

Honestly, Yachi couldn’t believe it. She had never seen the two of you act any way other than repulsively in love. She would have thought you had never fought before - everything seemed just perfect between the two of you.

But she was immediately interested in knowing about your past. No one had told her anything about how they got started, or what kind of work they did before now, and she was dying to know something.

“What do you mean? They used to argue a lot?”

“Ha - you could say that.”

“They were unbearable,” Bokuto said. “More unbearable than they are now, if you could believe it…”

“I don’t,” Yachi said. “Tell me about it.”

Her request was directed at Ms. Kim who did nothing but blink at her.

“Can’t you ask someone else? I’m not a storyteller!”

“Come on, Kim,” Kudo said, “we all know you love reminiscing on the good old days. Tell the newbie all about it.”

“Five years ago aren’t the good old days,” she said. “Fine. I’ll give you the quick version and spare the details. Don’t get comfortable.”

... ... ...

thank you for reading!

#don't lie to me #akaashi keiji #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x y/n

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bleachedjuice · 2 years ago

Text

Red is the Color of Our lives (and Red is the Color of Our Blood) pt1.

Heyyy I took a little break for a couple of days, and HEYYY MY BIRTHDAY WAS YESTERDAY YEAHHHH

ANYHOW-

I hope everyone's having a good day and enjoys this entrance to our little story (this one's gonna be probably a 1-4 part series, maybe longer or maybe shorter

Warnings: foul language and mentions of blood

You've never been much of a fighter as a kid. You got your way to the military and to where you were now, all on your lonesome.

Having been in 141, grouped In after your first four years of service by Laswell and Price themselves. You wanted to be a medic, but you soon found that a sniper fit in your hands better.

And yet here you were, 3 years later, striking your feet harshly on the tread mill in the gym room as you sprinted forward,huffing and puffing as sweat slicked your body. And there stood Ghost timing and pulling you through this already hour long "light cardio" as he called it of sprints. And then, with one loud clap and a whitlse followed by Soaps voice breaking through the little bubble you and Ghost had built at the moment..."DAMN LOOKING GOOD Y/N" and then, with a nod from Simon,you began to slow before grabbing the sides of the treadmill to help your body slow to a jog,then a brisk pace before a stop.

Turning over your shoulder with a heavy breath, you watched soap motion you two to walk over. The Swedish man stood at the entrance of the workout facility, not moving, only watching us with a shit eating grin crossing his face. Before you and Ghost had walked side by side toward him, you were only a measly 5'9 "compared to these two. But, with their height, you make up for speed. And then, as soon as you stopped, giving Soap a wave before he spoke.

"Alrighty boys, we got a new member joining us today. He's been updated on missions and has proved to be a good addition to the team. He's already been introduced to everyone else, but you two. König. If you would step out of the dark please?"

And with a step to the side, an utterly massive mountain of a man steppes out of the dark, his head ducking beneath the door Frame as he stood over you three. And you watched him. Before your gaze snapped over to Soap as he spoke, both and you Ghost somehow simultaneously crossing your arms as you listened.

"This is Ghost, one of our main powerhouses to the team, big ol toughy eh? And this here is our sniper, Y/N, sneaky bastard. Well, I'll let you tow get back to it-"

"We just finished,actually."

Simon's voice sounded rougher, harsher. He was distant with even mentioning Konigs massive structure.

And then he stormed off.

"Exscuse him Kõnig, he's just grumpy today. But, welcome to 141." And then he watched his gaze lock to yours. And you found his green eyes entrancing, sharp, like a double-edged sword.

You then watched as he quickly tore his gaze from yours before you excused yourself and went on auto-pilot as you rushed into the main quarters and then into your room and grabbed something from the bag next to your cot. Yes, you did laundry daily,and yes, you took the time every day to repack everything in your pack. But, it was a habit, especially after living your life out of a pack and always being on the move, a thing trained to always be ready to be on the go, to need to move from place to place. And you knew you had to quickly shower and get your clothes washed due to the mission tomorrow morning that hung over your shoulder. All you had to do was scope and snipe out coverage if needed and take out people when needed while the boys went in and extracted the info needed and destroying the base, courtesy of Laswell and her best of the best bomb makers designing little things that go" boom".

In your hands were sweats,socks,boxers, and a plain sweater. Your boots now kicked next to your cot as you practically ran to the bathroom. And welcomed yourself to the cold air before encouragingly entering the warm shower, and you almost scrubbed your skin raw. Knowing that this could be the last shower you take in God only knows how long due to the mission length unknown if anything were to go wrong.

And just as you seemed to have gotten in, you were getting out and drying yourself off and shoving on your clothes to ignore the redness of your skin and out you went,almost slamming the door behind you..

Watching the laundry washer go on and on in a circular motion as you heard boots click in the quiet area and up your head shot up before you locked gaze with König. And this time, he looked just the same amount of towering out of his gear just as he would with it on. And at the moment, he is sporting his boots,sweats and a loose t-shirt.

And then, without a single word, he left the room. Huh, nervous? Perhaps anxiety. Shrugging you then heard the sound cry out from the washer before you opened it and threw the clothes into the dryer and sat back down watching it turn..and turn..and turn....

Before you knew it, you were being nudged awake by someone only for your eyes to snap open and you instincts to snap awake as you kicked your legs out and tackled the figure in front of you and hearing them land underneath you with an 'ooff' only for the motion detection lights to flicker alive only to reveal you had slammed poor König underneath you. And you became self-aware of where your hips were. Quickly scampering off of him, you apologized profusely as you helped him to you feet only to be silenced by a light German thick accent breaking through from underneath his mask.

"Ah, no worries. I'm quite surprised at how someone so small can pack quite the punch! But I walked past the barrack area and your door was open and you weren't there so, I came back here to find you sleeping."

Face warming up, you laughed to yourself before thanking him as you took your outfit from earlier out of the dryer and folded the clothes only to find him standing there waiting?

As if he read you like a book, he suddenly broke into words, sporadically speaking swiftly.

Oh- sorry. I was just gonna walk you to your room- if you'd be okay with it?"

You watched him fiddle with his fingers nervously like a child would when caught in with their hand in the cookie jar.

"You can walk me to my room König"

And with that, He seemed to lighten up, and in silence, you two had made your ways to your room, and with that, He abided you a good night and left you to your own devises. And with huff, you made sure your pack was all set and you put the clothes needed for tomorrow on the floor next to the cot as you set an early 4am alarm before lying beneath to small blankets covering you now, savoring them and drifted off the rest before the hell waiting for tomorrow as the image of green eyes drifted into thoughts of sleep....

#modern warefare 2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x male reader #konig imagine

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snickerdoodlles · 1 year ago

Note

📕📗📘📙and this ask is for when you feel the need to torture us again with fic ideas you are never going to write. it is mean and evil but i support you in this!

😂❤❤.

so there are 2.5 more fics coming for idiots & idioms series. the first one will be vegas's rise to youtube stardom (/vegas rules at internet toxicity) and the finale will swing back to kimchay. plus maybe one silly bonus thing that i'm debating if i will do or not (plus side: jeff's face. down side: jeff's face. it's quite the conundrum, lemme tell u.)

i actually have a lot more ideas for this universe, but the vegaspete story means a lot to me and the kimchay finale is just too perfect of an ending. and while i have these other ideas for this series, there's just no...drive to do them when i have the other 2.5 stories to finish.

so here's 4 ideas i'm not writing for gone fishing series, one for each emoji ;) put under the cut because these also include partial fic snippets and this post got long:

📕 fic of a fic fic

i joked a few times about writing a 'chay live tweets a popular wik/angel fic' fic for this series. and while this entire concept is really funny to me in the fiception sense of how i'd have to write a fic (or at least partial fic) for my fic's fandom so that i could write a fic for my fandom, i have...a lot of issues with actors publicly interacting with fic and lack of boundary between fandom and cast & crew. i'm not going to get into those here, but even when i can control it, i just couldn't get over the driving concept of the fic long enough to write it. i did however, finish the following scene for it, which i am still very fond of.

so, if you recall: chay made a joke in gone fishing about how his life was a mafia AU, which spurned on a brief trend of mafia AU fics where the common trope was angel as the mafia prince, and wik somehow getting involved with him/dragged into the mafia by him (wik being a singer AND a mafia prince would just be silly talk, obviously). the fake fic live-tweeted by chay is the 'angels with dirty hands' fic by twitter user @/_controlleurs mentioned in from concrete. (fake fic's title is a rif off the movie 'angels with dirty faces', which i have not watched but like the name of.)

the fake fic's main premise is THIS, after which wik got recruited by the police to inform on the mafia except then he fell in love with his mark (possibly was going to include wik's brother also getting involved and later wrapped up with angel's brother as well due to wik). i would've planned SO many goncharov references had i not abandoned this by the time it got invented. in long & short, chay makes a comment about kim having a "rivalry with carrots" which was really just me trying to give him a silly Thing for chay to tease on camera until i went "o wait, this can be a thing >:D"

;;; excerpt ;;;

“‘Wik wrinkles his nose at the small pile of carrots on his plate. He hates carrots. If he were anywhere else, he’d carefully pile the carrots right on the edge of his plate, where the threat of infecting the rest of his plate is minimal, assuming he couldn’t find another plate to remove the offending vegetable altogether. But this is the home of a crime lord. Angel implied his chef used to be the most feared hitman out there, something Wik’s inclined to believe after he saw the guy’s muscles. Would chef man be offended if Wik didn’t eat his carrots? He doesn’t want to offend chef man over his carrots. Someone would probably shoot him, which would be a particularly stupid way to die.’

“‘But then. An opportunity. Angel and his father are listening attentively to his brother’s report—Wik should probably be listening as well, this seems exactly like the sort of thing the police would like to know, but he’s on a more important mission right now. Wik carefully glances at the three mafia men and, seeing the coast is clear, he sneaks a handful of carrots onto Angel’s plate. Angel’s eyes flick towards him and Wik shoves a spoonful of rice into his mouth. Angel smiles at him, a fleetingly sweet thing, before he looks down at his plate and does a double take at the mysteriously grown pile of carrots on his plate. He squints at Wik suspiciously. Wik takes another bite of rice, and chews innocently.’”

Chay stops reading there, too choked up on giggles. “This is from that time I told everyone P’Wik hates carrots, right? Hold on, lemme—“ Chay scrolls down to the author notes and yep, there’s the link to his video threatening Kim’s online reputation. Chay bursts into another fit of giggles.

“Okay, so, this actually isn’t too far off from how P’Wik is I-R-L. Well. He has two reactions to carrots on his plate.” Chay snickers at the camera. “So, if we’re in public, or at a dinner, or anything like that, he won’t react to the carrots. P’Wik actually has a decent poker face when it comes to stuff like that. But he’ll hide his carrots under his other food to make it look like he’s eating them, then inevitably be offended when he’s left with a pile of carrots on his otherwise empty plate. Like, how dare they not disappear themselves while he ate everything else? Weirdo,” Chay says, sounding disgustingly besotted even to his own ears.

“But,” Chay leans closer to the camera, grinning, “That’s not why I’m telling you guys this story. That’s how P’Wik reacts in public. It’s a totally different story in private.

“In private, P’Wik always makes this—“ Chay pauses and screws up his nose like he just smelled something gross, and puckers his lips like he just bit something sour “—face when he sees carrots in his meal, then he always reaches over and pointedly shovels his carrots onto my plate, radiating prim indigence that he’s facing the terrible injustice of carrots in his food. But here’s the thing…”

“P’Wik knows the owners and chefs of his regular takeout spots. They would never forget his dislike of carrots. But after we started dating and he introduced me to them, suddenly, his orders all started getting carrots again. And it’s all my fault.” Chay sighs tragically, and nods in response to the imagined question. “Yes, I’m to blame. See, I told them how much I love carrots. I told them it was silly, but I just didn’t keep carrots in our apartment because P’Wik really hates them and it was hard to eat them all before they went bad, so I only got them when we went out on dates to save us the hassle. A few of them offered to give me a double serving of carrots, but—“ Chay looks at the camera with an earnestly distressed pout “—I don’t want to be a bother! It’s bad enough we already have one special order, I’ll feel so bad if we bothered them with two.”

Chay sighs mournfully. “I know what they’re doing. They sneak me an extra helping of carrots by giving them to P’Wik instead.” Chay’s tragic look suddenly cracks into a mischievous grin. “But let me tell you a secret…”

Chay looks side-to-side, hamming it up for his audience as the live chat goes wild. He grins, barely able to bite back his laughter. “I don’t like carrots. Or, well, I do. They’re fine. A perfectly respectable vegetable. But nothing I’d go out of my way to eat. So why would I go through so much trouble to get extra, you might ask?”

His phone starts flashing Kim’s caller ID, and Chay bites back a laugh. “I certainly don’t need two servings of carrots, but P’Wik’s disgusted face when he sees them in his food?” Chay sighs happily, hand pressed over his heart. “That feeds my soul.”

;;; excerpt end ;;;

📗 goose chasing, or the trials and tribulations of one user ghoasters

so, idk if you've noticed, but there is one (1) username that calls out the weird mafia bullshit obliquely referenced in this series, and that is user ghoasters.

this was supposed to just be a silly joke, but then...i don't remember why this came up, but @majestictortoise said ghoasters reminded her of the persona 5 character futaba, then i looked the character up and said, iirc, "oh my god she looks exactly like the anime girl 13yo i wished to be, YES" and she became a wholeass character in my head. so, using futaba as a blueprint, here are some facts about ghoasters:

nosy fandom obsessed teen girl, expert hacker, doesn't leave the house much.

all of her codes include a ghost ASCII art signature (hence: ghoasters)

her mother gave her the nickname 'sprout' but her name is GHOST, you will respect it or she will rain digital hell down on you.

has a very long, extremely thorough tweet thread tracking potential criminal activity to wik and angel. arm loves it, it makes his job of socmed clean up so much easier.

would've hacked and downloaded some extremely sketchy government facial recognition software just so i could make "but do the butts match?" jokes.

dream in life is to strangle angel and wik. this does not change after she gets hired by the family and becomes besties with chay.

arm wants her hired because he is not a good hacker (he cobbled his IT education together in prison, his true skills are grifting and bullshitting) and he invites her to movie night. ghoasters obviously arrives for movie night in full cosplay, up your game @ khun and khun's angels.

ghoasters 100% gets on board with the mafia bullshit in the name of better cosplay wigs btws. she is getting paid ridiculous sums of money to watch shows and make full cosplay (including the props!). crime is fine now guys.

there's more but like....this is already getting long lol, i'll expand this later. maybe. idk anyways, point is i have enough ideas for user ghoasters i could've actually written a whole fic for her had i not been too busy with other fic ideas. so here's a silly scene of ghoasters getting shlorped into a hum bar visit;

;;; excerpt ;;;

Ghost takes Khun’s advice to heart. Her breath hitches and adrenaline buzzes in her veins when she leaves the compound, but when they arrive at the bar, Ghost spends the first five minutes hacking into the bar’s cameras, the cameras on the surrounding streets and buildings, checking her backdoors to the electronic locks on the entrances, and hacking into the bar’s server just in case. She debates the merits of cloning a few phones, just to be sure the other patrons IDs match the information security has on the bar’s regulars, but Ghost doesn’t actually want to pass the line into paranoia. She’s trying to be better about this sort of thing.

Ghost checks the cameras she did hack in one final sweep. Everything looks safe, except for the final frame where some guy in a flashy jacket is creeping over the shoulder of some girl bent over her phone—

Wait.

Ghost yelps and whirls around to face Khun, who is indeed looking over her shoulder in a surprisingly discreet way for a guy wearing a suit with a full-bodied, gold-embroidered dragon stretched over his back. Khun’s pink lensed glasses gleam, like the flash of an anime antagonist, and then he beams with the full force of the sun.

“That,” Khun says gleefully, “was fascinating. What’d you do?”

“Uhm,” Ghost stammers, beet red.

Khun plops down in the seat beside her, expression gentling into something more open. “You took control of everything, in just a handful of minutes! It’s amazing!” Ghost stammers some more, face growing hotter and hotter under Khun’s enthusiasm. “Teach me how to do that!”

Ghost opens her mouth.

“Wait!” Khun abruptly yelps. “Don’t tell me, tell Arm!”

Ghost blinks as Khun sweeps up in a dramatic swish with the full force of a hurricane, unsurprised he’d somehow left a bewildered Arm sitting in his place. Arm looks at her, vaguely distressed, then turns to Khun, vaguely panicked.

Khun pats Arm’s shoulders happily. “Enjoy your geek chat and show me your new skills later, okay!” Then he kisses a still distressed Arm on the forehead, squishes his cheeks for good measure; and flounces off to the bar to give Miss Yok a proper hello.

Arm turns to her, looking like puppy left out in the rain. It’s the most pathetic sight Ghost’s ever seen.

“Would you like me to build you an app?”

Arm nods earnestly, still looking like a drenched puppy.

;;; excerpt end ;;;

📘 parade rain (groupchat for kim's PR team fic)

i joked...at the end of long & short i think about doing a very weary and exasperated groupchat/slack forum fic for kim's PR team, who went from five years of free reign coasting to "what the fuck did angel do now?" it never really went anywhere for a few reasons:

i don't actually think kim's so popular as to have a PR team, they mostly got slipped in the first place for some jokes. i'd laughed at the idea of kim going "help make sure my family's bullshit doesn't slip thru" and then chay going "eh, its fine" and the PR team having to deal with it, but i never really got around to imaging what this team would actually look like in this series.

i don't like groupchat fic. texting fic, yes, groupchat...ehhhhh.

idk, this one just wound up being funnier in concept than reality to me. i could think of some funny bits for it, but there was just never any substance to the idea ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

📙 university yikyak fic

is yikyak even a thing still?

whatever, my main interest here was i love outsider POV fic lol. the main premise of this fic was kim loses his song notebook, which is found by a very nice, very protective 4'10 girl who works long and hard to find its original owner without accidentally handing it off to an unsavory someone, ft some b-reel of kim or chay related yikyaks. the main goal of this fic was to give kim a tiny friend who mistakens kinn's teasing one day and marches up to him to yell "leave him ALONE, he's SENSITIVE" at him. kinn is delighted (kim made a friend!!), kim and chay are laughing (kinn vs girl half his size and girl is winning!), and porsche wonders if there really is something to this social media thing (naturally, he is filming the whole thing).

it didn't really go anywhere mostly because i only vaguely know of yikyak, i never actually went on it, so trying to think of how i'd even go about telling the story wound up just being a big creativity drain :/

[[ ask me about fic im not writing ]]

#kinnporsche #fic: gone fishing #ask game: fics im not writing #4 for 1!!#just 4 u friend <33 #hope u like 😂❤

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eating-plastic · 1 year ago

Text

Heart-Shaped Roller Rink: Roller Ricky x Reader

Warnings: A lot of tooth rotting fluff, slow burn, age gap (reader is implied to be in their early 20s, Roller Ricky is in his late 30s), some swearing, first kiss, a bit of city life slander (sorry for my city lovers), mentions of alcoholism, mentions of going to the hospital, Roller Ricky just pouring all of his trauma out to you (poor bby), Max being a good boy, probably cringy dialogue, probably an incorrect assumption on how transferring colleges and buying houses worked in the 80s, probably some grammatical errors

Word Count: 7910 Words

A/N: Yay, my first x reader fic! How fun! This may seem rough around the edges, but I’m still very happy with what I came up with. I’d like to thank all the 80s love songs I listened to that helped me with writing this lol. Anyhoo, I , like most Killer Frequency fans, absolutely fell in love with Roller Ricky, so I knew I had to write an x reader fic with him. See you!

--------------------

Ever since you were small, you’ve had a fascination with the simplicity of small town living, despite living in a large city your whole life. Anytime you and your family would go on a road trip, you’d always stop to get gas, eat, and just walk around the small towns you’d come across. You liked the architecture, the less stuffy air and streets, the people that radiated the friendliness of a greeting card. It was like walking into a whole new world that you always felt yourself longing for even into your adulthood. Still, you never really thought you’d ever truly live in one. The little job opportunities and often lack of colleges is what kept that simple life you wanted just out of reach.

That was until your roommate came back from her winter vacation with some news she had known you would love. While driving to a cabin her family had rented out, she drove through a small town that she knew checked all of your boxes of what you were looking for. You wanted to believe her, but you didn't want to get your hopes up in case it would just be another town you’d only live in when you dreamed. That was until your roommate showed you some polaroid pictures she had taken when she stopped for gas. Gallows Creek, she said it was called, and the best part: it had a college.

--------------------

To make a long story short, a bunch of back and forth phone calls and a bunch of paperwork being mailed later, your mission of transferring was 90% completed. Only one problem still remained: Where you were going to live. Well actually there was also the problem of getting a job, but you’d tackle that once you’ve found a place to live.

You have only ever gotten a couple of surprises in your life, but none of them and any of the surprises following will trump the one you got when you found out you would be able to own an actual house in Gallows Creek. Specifically, there were three houses on the market, all one story and all in pretty good condition. Your spring break was spent with Gallows Creek Realty looking at the houses yourself, because you honestly couldn’t believe that you really could own a house with your college student budget. You couldn’t even afford a tiny, dingy apartment in your home city with the money you had. Small towns apparently had the added bonus of having affordable, nice houses. Either way, a good deal was a good deal, and by the end of your spring break you had made your decision.

--------------------

The end of the semester felt like it took both forever and a mere second to arrive. You packed up as much of your stuff as you could in your car, putting whatever couldn’t fit in your parents’. You had picked a cute little house on Romero street. Not only did you like the house, but you liked the location too, finding yourself surrounded by possible job opportunities. Sure it was gonna be a bit of a drive to get to your classes, but considering that you didn’t have to worry about backed up traffic, you could handle it. As soon as everything was unloaded and you said your goodbyes to your parents, you slumped down in one of the chairs in the living room. Today you would just worry about unpacking, organizing, and most importantly relaxing.

Once you caught your breath and looked around the room at where your stuff could possibly go, you started unpacking. You got halfway through organizing your silverware in your new kitchen, when there was a knock at the front door. Upon opening it, you were face to face with a friendly looking, elderly couple.

“Hello there, dear,” the old woman started. “We had noticed you had just moved in and wanted to give you a warm welcome.”

You looked down and saw her offering you a small plate of fresh baked cookies.

“Oh, thank you!” you carefully take the plate from her old, weathered hands.

“We’re the Castevets,” the old man said, offering you his hand to shake. “Your neighbors on your right.”

You take his hand and introduce yourself before shaking his wife’s hand as well.

“So, what brings you to Gallows Creek anyways?” Mr. Castevet asked.

“Yes, it’s not a place many move to. Especially those as young as yourself,” Mrs. Castevet adds.

You had no problem providing them an explanation. You were used to explaining your love for small towns and how Gallows Creek had everything you wanted.

“Besides,” you conclude. “If everyone is as nice as you two, how couldn’t I move in?”

The Castevets laugh, before the husband of the duo reaches into his back pocket to find a small packet.

“You’ll find a couple of hardasses, but they’re few and far between. Here, for you,” he hands you the packet, which appears to be a brochure of Gallows Creek. Inside of it was a map with a description of each significant place your new home held.

“Thanks! I’ll definitely be needing this, tomorrow,” you smile at the couple.

“Well, I think we should leave you to continue unpacking. Just wanted to show you a bit of Gallows Creek hospitality,” Mrs. Castevet decided, her husband agreeing with her.

You said your goodbyes, leaving you alone once more to unpack, but this time with a plate of cookies and good spirits to keep you going.

--------------------

You had decided your second day in Gallows Creek would be spent getting acquainted with the town a bit. Mostly trying to find a job and get some groceries, but a bit of exploration wouldn’t hurt. You left with high spirits that only soared higher when the Castevets greeted you from their front yard garden.

Your search was…decent. It wasn’t terrible, I mean sure, only three out of the six places you had visited were hiring, and one of them was the Gallows Reporter which had one of the few hardasses that Mr. Castevet had mentioned, so that one was probably out, but still. You weren’t going to be discouraged, though. You look at the map you were gifted while you walked.

‘There’s still the supermarket,’ you thought. ‘I need groceries anyway. Let’s see…there’s also the library…KFAM-.’

“Woah woah woah, careful!”

A voice pulls you from your thoughts and your map as you quickly move out of the way. An older woman in bright aerobics clothes stops in front of you and continues to jog in place. Despite almost crashing into her, she still seemed cheerful.

“Careful there, dear. I coulda hitcha,” she said while still holding a smile on her face. “I don’t think I recognize you, stranger.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m new to Gallows Creek,” you hold your hand out and introduce yourself. “Sorry, I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’ve tripped over more people than I can count. Anyhoo, I’m Sandra. It’s always nice to meet new faces,” after shaking your hand, Sandra looks down to the map in your hand, all while still jogging in place. “Oh, what are you looking for?”

“I’m just exploring the town a bit. Trying to find a job and all that-.”

“Oh, you’re looking for a job? Good! I’ve got a position just for you at my jazz studio! Come on!”

Sandra takes your hand before you can speak, and drags you down a block or two before you come face to face with a large, brightly colored building.

“There! Now let's see…I’m sure I can whip up all the paperwork you need! Then, we’ll-!”

“Sandra!” of course you are happy that she was so quick to offer you a job, but first you needed to get some things out of the way. “This is really nice of you, but what will I even do?”

“Oh, your job is simple. Let’s see…you’ll help keep the studio tidy, pick out songs to play for a session, decide routines, keep equipment organized and clean oh and you can even participate in classes absolutely free,” she counts off your potential tasks on one of her hands. “You’ll do fine. Besides, my hours are very flexible. You just give me a call, okay?”

You honestly couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It was just like you getting your house. There had to be a catch, right?

“Nope! No catch at all!,” Sandra exclaims. “Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”

--------------------

It shocks you how an older woman like Sandra could have so much energy that makes even you feel exhausted. Still, she was a very friendly and even encouraging woman, which you found out when you had mentioned college. When you checked your watch and saw that it was three o’clock, you had to wrap the conversation up. On top of being high energy, Sandra could really talk about anything and everything. You told her that you would keep in touch with her, a.k.a take her offer. I mean, you weren’t going to pass up another good deal.

You would also rather have Sandra as a boss over that “hardass” at the Reporter.

Now, you are walking back home with two large bags of groceries in your arms. Sure, you would’ve been able to buy more if you had backtracked to your house for your car, but with it literally being walking distance, it seemed like overkill. Besides, you were saving money by only buying necessities and not getting gas.

As you walk up to your front door and set your groceries down to find your keys, you look up to the house on your left. You haven’t met that neighbor yet. After you put your groceries away, you’ll head over to see if anyone’s home.

You didn’t know what to expect with your other neighbor. You thought about who they could be as you put groceries away. You imagined that they’d be as friendly as the Castevets or Sandra. Then again, they could also be a total asshole. No, if Mr. Castevet was right, then the chances that they are a dick would be slim to none.

Well, only one way to find out.

With the last of your groceries put away, you head out your front door and walk towards the house. You don’t even realize that you are fiddling with your hands in a nervous manner.

‘What do I have to be worried about?’ you take a deep breath. ‘If they’re an asshole, then just don’t talk to them.’

The way you saw it, one good neighbor that always had your back would always outweigh the rude and antagonistic. You also knew that when you were nervous about something, it always arrived faster. Case and point, you were now on your other neighbor’s doorstep.

Whelp, here goes nothing. You raise your fist and knock three times.

The sound of a loud dog barking makes you jump, even though it doesn’t sound malicious. You hear a man’s voice on the other side of the door, but it’s too muffled to make out exactly what he is saying. Probably trying to calm the dog down if you had to guess. When the door opened, you were a bit taken aback.

Not in a bad way. Nope, definitely not in a bad way. In fact, you would have to say that the man you were now looking at was probably one of the most handsomest men you have ever seen. Short dark hair, a nice build from what you could tell from your peripheral, a nice face, and the one feature that had captured you the most: his dark eyes. They looked friendly enough, and yet they looked like they were concealing…something. You didn’t know what, but you did know that you loved staring into them…and that you had been staring for way too long.

“Um, hi, sorry. I just wanted to introduce my-woah!” your awkward rambling gets cut off when you feel a cold, wet nose nudging and sniffing your hand. You look down to see a large, but friendly staring dog looking back at you.

“Sorry about that. Looks like Max wants to say ‘hi’ back,” the man laughs nervously. You note that you like his voice. You reach your hand out to the canine, who closes the distance between it and his head. You scratch his ears, causing his tail to wag.

“That’s okay. Um, let me start over,” you introduce yourself properly this time, just saying that you’re his new neighbor who just wanted to say “hi”.

“Oh, right! Yeah, I wanted to walk over and introduce myself, but I had to take someone for his evening walk. I, uh, thought it was too late. I tried again this morning, but the Castevets told me you had left. Just my luck, huh?” he offers his hand out to you, which you shake. His hand was nice.

‘Jeez, was there anything about him that wasn’t nice?’ you wonder.

“I’m Ricky, but most folks around here call me Roller Ricky. Got it because of how often I’m at the roller rink,” he explains.

“Makes sense,” you say, smiling. “Does Max here have any fun names too?”

Ricky laughs, and you have to refrain yourself from thinking about how nice it sounds.

“No, not that I know off. I just call him ‘Maxy’. He should get a fun name, though. He’s even better at skating than me.”

“He can skate?” you ask, and instantly get the image of the big dog trying to move around with skates on his paws.

“Yep! I taught him everything he knows,” he beams before his face drops. He curses and spins around to shut his door that had still been open this whole time. He turns back to you and once again laughs nervously. “Sorry. Bugs.”

“Oh shit! Right, yeah. I, um, I should probably wrap this up,” you don’t want to leave, but the urge to be polite overrides it. You do have a small epiphany, though. “Hey, the roller rink? It’s nearby, right? Maybe I’ll swing by tomorrow. You know, to see Maxy skate.”

“Yeah, sure! That’ll be great. He loves to show off, don’t you boy?” the canine moves away from you and back to his owner to get some attention from him. You laugh.

“It’s settled, then. See you tomorrow, Roller Ricky. See you, Max,” you turn to head back home, causing the canine to whine in confusion at his new ear scratcher walking away.

“Yep! Be seeing you too!” and with that, Ricky reopens his door to usher Max back inside.

You didn’t even realize you were back in your house until the sound of the front door closing behind you roused you from your thoughts.

That truly couldn’t have gone any better.

---------------------

“Oh, good choice! That one’s always been a favorite of mine,” Sandra exclaimed at the album you pick out for one of her sessions, tomorrow. “Now let’s see….Oh, I haven’t done this routine in a while!”

Working with Sandra was as simple as she had described. It honestly just felt like you were working with a friend, even though you have only known her for less than 24 hours.

You showed up at the jazz studio that morning to accept her offer. You had to wait a bit as Sandra had a class going at the moment. Once it was done and everyone funneled out of the large gym room, you entered. Sandra was ecstatic to see you, and even more so when you accepted her offer. Now, you two were in her colorful office full of extra exercise equipment and albums on both cassette tapes and vinyl records. What was supposed to be you both coming up with the agenda for tomorrow's classes, was mostly just you and her talking. As such, you were constantly looking down at your watch to make sure you wouldn’t be too late with meeting Ricky and Max at the roller rink.

You’d be damned if you never saw Max on roller skates.

“I wouldn’t be too worried, you know,” Sandra smirks at your fidgeting. “He’s called ‘Roller Ricky’ for a reason. He and his dog are always at that roller rink even into the late evening. Besides, he’ll definitely wait up for a pretty little thing like yourself.”

“Sandra!” you blush at her words, but with how you talked about your interaction with Ricky yesterday, even a blind man would be able to see the crush you had on him.

“You know…if it really bothers you so much, you can just go make sure everything in the gym is organized and clock out. I’ll take care of the rest-ah, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Sandra cuts you off before you can object.

It feels wrong leaving after barely doing anything on your first day, but Sandra really wasn’t going to let you stay. With that, you walk to the gym, put a few things away in their proper places, and walk out the door.

One thing you had quickly grown to love about Gallows Creek was how close everything was. Even now, as you almost walk past the actual roller rink due to how lost in your thoughts you were, you still enjoyed it.

Walking through the front doors causes you to find yourself face to face with bright neon colors, upbeat music, and the collective chatter of all the people. You notice that there were a lot of families on the floor of the rink, telling you that this is a popular place for kids to spend their summer break. The thought makes you smile but also nostalgic.

“Oh, hey! There you are!”

A voice rouses you from your thoughts, and you look up to see Roller Ricky with a wide smile on his face and leaning on the fence that separated the entryway from the actual rink.

“You didn’t think I was going to stand you up, did you?” while it comes out as a joke, you really hope he didn’t actually think you were going to flake on him.

“What, you? Nah! You don’t seem like that kind of person.”

“You haven’t even known me for an hour, and you already know everything about me? Do you have a good judgment of character or something?” you quip.

“Eh…that’s debatable, but for the sake of the argument I’ll say yes.”

You laugh, until a furry creature on the rink floor catches your attention.

“No way,” you let out a laugh in disbelief. Turns out Ricky wasn’t lying at all when he said that Max could skate well. He was gliding in between adults and children alike as if he didn’t even have skates on, occasionally getting a scratch behind the ears here and there.

Ricky grins at your reaction.

“Did you think I was lying?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” you say, shaking your head. What you were seeing was both impressive and sad. Impressive because it was a dog roller skating as if it was second nature. Sad because a dog knew how to skate…and you couldn’t.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ricky reaches over to unlatch a gate next to him and opens it, gesturing for you to enter the rink floor. “Let's get you some skates and have some fun!”

“Wait, what? Ricky I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you stutter out due to the suddenness of you being pulled from your focus on Max.

“What’s wrong? Do you not know how to skate?” he cocks his head to the side.

“Um…yeah,” might as well be honest with him.

“Is that all? That’s nothing to be worried about! Come on, I’ll teach you!” he once again gestures for you to enter.

You glance back at the rink floor. There were a good amount of people. It wasn’t packed by any means, but still enough for you to potentially bump into or knock someone down. Not to mention all the people that would see you fall on your butt over and over.

And yet the reassuring look on Ricky’s face caused you to hesitantly enter. He latches the gate behind you before you follow him over to some benches.

“Alrighty, the first part of skating is easy: Tell me your shoe size,” the statement makes you laugh and almost melts your nerves. Almost. You tell him your size and remove your shoes to trade for your skates. He disappears into a small room next to the benches, however he quickly sticks his head back out to look at you. “Hey, second question: what’s your favorite color?”

You tell him and he disappears once more. A couple of seconds later, Roller Ricky reappears holding skates in both your size and favorite color.

“Voila! See, you’ve already got the first part of skating down.”

You laugh again. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad after all. You take the skates and put them on, being sure to fasten them tightly.

“Okay, you ready to go?” he beams.

“As ready as I’ll ever be…I guess,” you try to mirror his enthusiasm, but clearly it must not have looked convincing.

“You’ll be fine. This next part isn’t too difficult. You just need to work on your balance. Here, take my hands and just hang on, okay?” he holds his hands out, which you take.

Once again, maybe learning to skate wasn’t going to be that bad.

That thought only lasted a mere second as you stood up. Your legs instantly felt wobbly and your grip on Ricky’s hands only grew tighter.

“You’re okay. Just keep hanging on,” he gives you an encouraging smile before looking over his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t bump into anyone as he started to skate backwards.

Your legs still felt like Jell-O even with Ricky confidently gliding backwards. You could only imagine what you looked like to the other skaters. The scene of Bambi walking on ice came to your mind. Yep, you probably looked just like that. Even with your self depreciation on your lack of skating skills, Ricky still looked at you as if your legs weren’t as unstable as a newborn giraffe’s. Occasionally he would even tell you that you were doing fine.

After a bit of gliding, and a reassuring boost from Max coming to say “hi” to you, your legs felt sturdy and you began to feel confident in your skates. Ricky saw this new found confidence too, and felt that it would be time for you to master your next lesson.

“See, look! You got this part down to a tee! You wanna try to actually move now?” he asks.

After glancing around the rink and seeing that a couple of people had left, you made up your mind.

“You know what? Yeah! Let’s do it!”

--------------------

By the end of the day and a couple of trips onto your butt later, you had gotten the hang of actually gliding from one end of the rink to the other. You still felt a bit clunky, but you considered the fact that you weren’t slipping anymore to be a victory. A lot of your confidence of course, had to go to Roller Ricky. He truly was a good teacher. Always encouraging you and treating every little bit of progress as an achievement. Even when you did inevitably fall, he had laughed at you, but not in a malicious way. It was always playful and he would calm your embarrassment by saying that everyone slips their first time around.

Now, you were sitting back on the benches untying your skates, feeling much better about yourself than you did when you first sat down.

“Now, what were you so worried about? You’ll be a natural in no time,” Ricky grinned while waiting for you to get your skates off.

“I owe that all to you. You’re a really good teacher,” you hand him your skates.

“Why do you think I charge people for lessons?” he joked while walking into the small room to get your shoes, but the tone was lost on you.

“Oh yeah, right, of course! Uh…how much do I owe you?” you called to him. He returned to you with your shoes, smiling and shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Consider it a ‘good neighbor’ discount,” he winks.

‘How did I luck out and meet such generous people?’ you wonder.

Every effort to try and get Ricky to tell you how much you owed him fell on deaf ears.

“How about this,” he begins. “I’ll consider us even if you can buy a bag of jerky for me and Maxy to share from the vending machine. That’ll be your payment.”

You decide to take it. It was something. After all, Ricky deserved it for not only being a good teacher, but a nice person too. And Max was just always a good boy, so he deserved a snack as well.

You had learned a bit about Ricky while he was teaching you. You had learned that he played football in high school which explains his nice build, how he was still into the sport although now watching instead of actually playing, how he enjoyed occasionally going on long drives to nowhere in particular with Max, how he would occasionally jog with Sandra which would explain how she knew him, his favorite movie genre was comedy, he had a preference for spicy foods, and the most shocking revelation of all: he was in his late 30s. You thought he was in his late 20s at most from how young he looked. Perhaps you were just used to men his age being so worn down from the bustling life of the city.

Still, with everything he had revealed about himself, there was still something he was trying to protect. That didn't really shock you. Your…friendship, if that was the proper word, was still very new. While he did say he considered you a friend after you both talked about yourselves, you just weren’t used to making one so fast. If you tried doing that in your home city, people would think you were crazy.

With all the reflection you were doing on the day, you didn’t even realize you had put money into the vending machine near the front doors of the roller rink and got Ricky and Max’s jerky until you heard the sound of it hitting the slot. You grab it, before walking back. As soon as you are close enough to Ricky, you toss the bag towards him.

“Woah!” he grabs it, before smirking at you. “Thanks! Now enough of this ‘paying’ stuff, got it? This is good enough.”

At the sound of Ricky tearing open the bag in his hands, Max eagerly begins to glide towards his owner. Ricky scratches behind the canine’s ears, before asking him to perform a couple of tricks for a jerky strip. It amuses you greatly. However, as luck would call it, your stomach began to growl.

“Augh, I guess that’s my cue to head home and make some dinner,” just like when you first met Ricky, you didn’t want to leave.

“Oh yeah, I guess I have kept you here long enough, huh?” he rubs the back of his neck.

“Don’t worry about it. Besides, I had fun, ‘teach’,” you quip, causing him to chuckle. “I’ll be seeing you two tomorrow?”

“Only if you’re not busy,” he nods.

You nod back to him, and feel the overwhelming urge to kiss him before leaving. Self control pushes the thought to the back of your mind just as quickly as it had popped up, though. You settle with giving him a smile, before turning and walking out the front doors. At least you thought you saw Ricky looking as disappointed about you leaving as you did too.

‘Damn you, stomach.’

--------------------

You really loved the smell of ‘Rise and Shine Coffee’. It became common for you and Sandra to head there after her noon class. She claimed that she needed a bit of extra “pep” before her session at 2 o’clock. You enjoyed these little coffee breaks with her. Although, you really could take or leave trying to keep up with her as she always insisted on jogging to the coffee shop instead of a leisurely stroll.

It was August now, and your new life in Gallows Creek was still positive. Your relationships with Sandra, Ricky, and of course Max were still going strong. Even the Castevets never stopped being friendly towards you, occasionally bringing you leftovers from their dinner the previous night. Mrs. Castevet even made you some red, white, and blue frosted cookies for the 4th of July.

Unfortunately, you were going to have to prepare for your time with everyone to become limited. Classes were going to start up at the end of the month and you could feel the mix of excitement and nerves in your stomach. Maybe that's why you barely touched your muffin. It could’ve very well been untouched because the urge to confess your feelings for Ricky were starting to become almost unbearable, though.

“So let me get this straight,” Sandra begins. “You have had a crush on this man since the day you met him and practically see him everyday…and you still haven’t told him you are absolutely in love with him?”

“It’s not that easy, Sandra,” you take a sip of your beverage. “If I confess and he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll ruin everything. We’ll never be able to properly hang out with each other ever again. Besides…you really don’t think that the fact I’m kinda…younger than him is an issue?”

“Of course it’s not an issue!” Sandra looks at you as if you had said something absurd. “You’re pretty, you’re sweet, you’re attentive…you’ve got a great taste in music.”

Sandra continues to list off as many good qualities she could about you, before you cut her off.

“Sandra, I’m serious. I really, really like Ricky, and I really don’t want to ruin everything we have.”

“Hun, I have known Roller Ricky longer than you have. You confessing will not ruin everything,” she reaches across the table of the booth the two of you were sitting at and takes your hands, squeezing them reassuringly. She thinks for a moment, before a smirk forms on her face. “You know…I wouldn’t count on him not having a crush on you.”

Your eyes widen at that.

“What are you talking about?” you say, trying to not sound too hopeful.

“Don’t you remember? We go jogging every once and a while. And while we jog…he tells me a lot of revealing things,” she leans in a bit closer to you. “Believe me when I say this, hun. How he talks about you would make a person think that he was head over heels in love.”

“You’re…you’re sure about that?”

“Hm, I don’t know. Have I ever lied to you?”

She had got you there. Sandra was always honest with you ever since the day you had met her. Plus, her closeness with Ricky did make her claim hold some weight. You nod your head and sigh.

“You’ve got me there. So…you really think I should tell him?”

“You tell him, dear, and I’ll give you a raise!”

“Sandra…seriously?” you finally crack a smile.

“Mmhm, I mean it. You confess to him, oh let’s say…before your classes start up, and I’ll give you a 15% raise,” she holds one of her hands out for you to seal the deal. After staring at it for a bit and mulling over her offer in your head, you reach out and shake it.

“There! It’s settled then!” Sandra nods at you, before changing the subject entirely. “Now, let me tell you what I heard yesterday….”

--------------------

You thought about Sandra’s offer the whole day, even when planning tomorrow's classes. You didn’t want to jump immediately to confessing that day, however you didn’t really know if you would get a better opportunity.

Instead of hanging out with Ricky and Max at the roller rink like always, he had decided to invite you over to his place for dinner. Sandra of course lit up when you revealed such vital information, and you had to tell her it was not a date, even though you really wanted to call it that.

Your brain was a battlefield of “should yous” and “should you nots”. You hated the back and forth and all the doubts. All the fear.

And Sandra was growing tired of it.

“There really is nothing to be afraid of, dear,” she repeats. “Besides, you really don’t have to confess, tonight. You’ve got the whole month don’tcha?”

“I...I know...but tonight would just be so...,” you trail off. Maybe just getting this off your chest as soon as possible would be best.

“It is rather romantic, isn’t it,” a small smile spreads across Sandra’s face. “I don’t think I have ever heard of Ricky inviting his friends over to dinner, before.”

“It’s still something friends do, though,” you sigh as you shoot the idea down.

“Oh, enough of that!” Sandra exclaims, completely done with your negativity. “If you confess tonight, you’ll leave his place, still his friend or something better. I don’t know how many more times I gotta repeat myself before you get it, hun, but I am being completely honest with you. Besides, the weight’s only gonna get worse and worse the long you wait. Now, tell me: which of those sound like the better outcome?”

You’re almost frozen on the spot at your typically happy-go-lucky boss snapping at you, but you know that it’s just her wanting the best for you.

“The...the first one,” you answer.

Sandra nods, before gently pulling you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m sorry for snapping, dear,” she begins. “But I know how badly you want to tell him, and I know how badly he wants to tell you. Ricky is as in love with you as you are him, hun. You have nothing to worry about.”

You stay in Sandra’s arms and continue to replay her words in your head. After repeating her words enough times, you are decided. You pull away from her, and look into her eyes.

“Okay,” your voice is barely over a whisper.

--------------------

Your heart to heart with Sandra was very much appreciated. You had to admit, having that moment really helped her encouraging words pierce your mind easier.

By the time the clock told you to head over to Ricky’s, you felt gassed up and ready to go. Sandra yelled “good luck” to you as you walked away from the studio towards your neighborhood.

Now you were approaching Ricky’s house, with your chin still high and a smile on your face. After getting to his front door, you knock just as you did when you had first gone over to introduce yourself.

‘God, that feels so long ago,’ you reminisce.

Max began to bark eagerly from inside, and you could hear Ricky trying to calm him down before walking towards his door. He opens it and beams when his eyes land on you.

“Hey, uh, come on in,” he steps to the side to allow you to walk inside. “Thanks for coming. I, uh, I didn’t know if you were going to show up.”

“You didn’t think I was going to stand you you, did you?” you joke once more. This makes him laugh.

“Nope! Not at all!” he closes the door behind you.

Upon entering his house, you notice how the interior was arranged very similarly to your own, with the exception of the dog toys, leash hanging by the front door, and a large dog bed next to his TV.

Oh, and of course the large dog that was greeting you and trying to get you to scratch him behind his ears. You laugh and pet Max before you stick your nose into the air and sniff, catching the scent of something familiar to you.

“Ricky, are you cooking something?” you ask as he walks into his kitchen. He laughs, nervously.

“Well, do you remember how I asked you what your favorite dish was, yesterday?” he calls back.

You let out an incredulous laugh before moving from your spot in the entryway and walking into the kitchen, which was also laid out similarly to yours. The smell of your favorite dish only got stronger as you got closer to Ricky, who had his back to you as he checked the food. You lean against one of his counters and look at what he had prepared. The sight made your stomach growl.

“Now that looks good!” you grin up at him.

“Thanks. I, uh, I really wanted it to turn out perfectly. I even called Mrs. Castevet over to make sure.”

You giggle at that. You really didn’t know if it was possible for Ricky to get any cuter.

He reaches for a cabinet nearby and takes two dishes to put the food on. He opens his mouth to say something but Max’s whining causes his brain to change direction.

“Hey, uh, you don’t mind getting Maxy some supper too. His food’s in the big blue container there,” he nods his head over to where the container sat near a food bowl, water bowl, and a hungry Max.

“Nope, not at all,” you walk over to the canine and coo to him as you feed him.

While you feed and pet the large dog, Ricky places the two plates on his small dining room table. He then turns to get two glasses to fill with water.

You move from your spot near Max to sit at the table. Ricky came back with the two glasses, handing you yours before sitting on his end of the table.

You eat and compliment him on his cooking. The dish tastes almost as good as how your mother would make it, which impresses you.

--------------------

The rest of dinner was filled with idle chatter here and there, with both of you talking about your days and anything else that came to Ricky’s mind. He was a bit similar to Sandra with how he could pull out random topics to discuss, and like with Sandra, it amazed you. However, he seemed to suddenly shift the conversation to a new topic or be vague about some things. You had noticed this change in how he conversed with you a couple of weeks ago. While it did have you curious, you never questioned him about it.

Now that dinner has come to the end, so has the positive energy. Ricky was deep in thought about something, and the dark eyes that had once hidden some type of pain were starting to reveal itself to you.

“Ricky, what’s wrong?” you look at him, worried.

He parts his lips as if wanting to say something, but shuts them. You watch him mull over what he wanted to say in his head, until he finally has it.

“I wanna talk to you about something,” he says, while standing up from his seat. You stand up as well, and follow him into his living room. He sits down on his sofa and you decide to join him. You look at him with concern in your eyes, waiting for him to speak.

He takes a deep breath before starting.

“I wanna tell you this because…because you have always been so honest and open with me and…I haven’t,” He swallows before continuing. “And that’s not right of me. You deserve me being open when you have told me so much about yourself and your life, the good and the bad.”

You don’t speak. You want Ricky to feel like he can let out everything he needs to. It’s quiet except for the clack of Max’s nails on the floor as he moves to rest his head on his owner’s knee.

“There was a period of my life that I’m not proud of. I had lost someone close to me…and for years I blamed myself for it. Some of what should’ve been the best years of my life were spent with me drinking the pain away. Even when I would get blackout drunk and wake up with hangovers that made me feel like I was dying, I still drank .That's, uh, that’s the thing about having a problem…you never truly realize how bad it all is until it’s too late,” Ricky closes his eyes, clearly remembering another harsh experience and starts to pet the large canine near him. You give him his time to recover, until he feels comfortable continuing.

“One of my old friends had visited me. Wanted to check up on me. God, I can only imagine what I looked like to him. I probably looked like a blubbering, drunken idiot….The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. According to my friend, I had passed out and was unresponsive. My breathing was shallow, too. He thought I was dying. Apparently I had to get my stomach pumped. Laying in that hospital bed, I probably did look like I was dead. My skin was pale and I felt exhausted. My friend was there, waiting for me to wake up. He told me that I had a problem and I believed him. It took me winding up in the hospital to realize I needed to get help...so that’s what I did,” slowly, the pain in his voice began to melt away now that he was entering better memories.

“It’s really amazing just how much talking with someone can help. People who are always there for you, even when you relapse…even when the withdrawals start to feel unbearable. I own each one of them for pulling me out of that dark period of my life, especially the one that recommended I get an emotional support dog. I, uh, I bet you can guess who that is,” he cracks a smile while looking down at Max, and you nod. “Eventually, I finally got my life together and I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since.”

You were speechless. Your tongue felt like it was made of lead. You took this time to process what you should say.

“Jesus, Ricky,” you say in the meantime.

“I just feel like you should know that. You deserve that after how…avoidant I’ve started to become with us talking. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve…,” he stops, not knowing how to continue. Fortunately, you knew what to say now.

“Ricky,” you take one of his hands into your own and wait until he turns his head to look at you. “You are very brave for not only going through all of that, but also telling me all of it. I’m happy that you trust me enough to open up, but I didn’t care that you weren’t revealing anything. I’m used to people being distant and private, so I respected whatever you decided.”

It’s true, you really didn’t care. You respected his decision of keeping something so personal private. After all, not many people in the city wore their hearts on their sleeves and broadcasted such things to others. Sometimes not even those they loved.

Your words dance in Ricky’s head and he glances away from you.

“You really are too good of a person, you know that?” he lets out a weak chuckle. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve a friend like you.”

“Honestly,” you begin, wondering if you should really go through with what you wanted to say. “I don’t think there is anything you can say that would make me stop being your friend. Especially not what you just told me.”

‘Oh God, I’m really doing this,’ you thought.

“You are a very sweet, funny, and patient guy, Ricky,” you’re really going to do this. “You have been a wonderful friend to me. In fact, I think you’ve been too good of a friend.”

Ricky looks at you confused, wondering where you were going with this.

“There really isn’t anything you can say that would push me away from you, because…,” whelp, here it comes. “...Because I am in love with you, Ricky….I…I think I have been since the day I met you.”

There it is, you finally admitted it. You finally got it off your chest. While you felt relieved to say it, you still needed to know Ricky’s response. The silence causes you to look down at your hands that are resting on your lap, and you begin to fiddle with them.

Eventually, all the waiting becomes too much.

“It’s fine if you don’t feel the same. I’ll be okay with that. Just please promise me you’ll still be my friend. Please,” you finally look back at Ricky, who had a surprised look on his face.

After hearing how small your voice was and seeing the pleading look in your eyes, he realizes that he should speak as well.

“I…you mean it?” he asks.

You nod, unable to find your voice.

“Well,” he begins. “Would you believe me if…if I said that I’m in love with you too.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked.

“Wha-really?”

“Yes,” before he cracks a small smile. “I have been ever since I taught you how to skate.”

You crack your own smile, back.

“That…that long, huh?”

Ricky nods.

You truly didn’t know a time that you’ve felt this happy. Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug. Ricky chuckles at this and wraps his arms around you too. The two of you stay like that for a while, not wanting to let go for fear that this would all fade away, becoming nothing but a dream. After a while, you find something else you can confess.

“Can I tell you something else?” you ask, pulling away from him.

“Of course.”

“You obviously remember the day you taught me how to skate,” he nods, waiting for you to continue. “Well, when I had to leave to make dinner…I really wanted to kiss you before leaving.”

This causes his smile to widen.

“Really?” he asks.

“Mmhm, I did.”

“Well,” Ricky drawls, thinking about how to quip at that. “Do you want to have that kiss, now?”

You giggle and nod, slowly beginning to lean forward. He does the same, slowly leaning towards you until his lips touch yours.

As soon as this occurs, it feels like fireworks explode behind your eyes and electricity runs through your veins. You never thought a kiss could make you feel high.

Max looks up from where he was laying on the floor and wags his tail, sensing both his owner’s and your own happiness.

When the two of you have to finally pull away once more, Ricky rests his forehead against yours. You've never felt so content than you were now in his arms. You had to refrain from giggling at how Sandra was probably going to react to this when you tell her tomorrow. Why think about that though, when you need to savor the now. Especially when there were three little words that were dancing on the tip of your tongue, desperately wanting to get out.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

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