#i don’t know the actual rules of pool everyone forgive me i just let them make shit up

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 7

Use the words: small town, bar, jukebox (from this list) ➸ slight future fic in the west wing AU, set probably six months after part 4 which does not exist yet (🫠) so maybe consider it a preview of what’s to come eventually in the series?? corresponds to the beginning of season 3 of the west wing when everybody’s in Manchester for the campaign and based (loosely) on that scene where Toby sucks at pool. ♡ dedicated to my pal @aivley-reblogs who had the chance to influence me to make this fic less weird and horny and chose violence instead ♡

It's only after Foggy has managed to send Karen and most of the remaining staffers that were still holed up in the bar either working or blowing off steam back to their hotel rooms for the night that Matt finally reappears.

“Did I miss the end of the party?” Matt asks.

“We’re calling it a night,” Foggy replies, as he’s futzing with his wallet. He's waiting on the drink he just ordered with plans to close his tab after that. “The team’s picking back up with the speech in the morning. Hopefully, some rest will help.”

“I don’t know if one good night of sleep is enough to make everyone see eye to eye there.”

“Yeah, but it’s almost midnight and I think we’re all entitled to some delusion.”

Matt smiles at that, and says, “You’re heading out, then?”

Foggy leans back against the bar. “After this drink, yes.”

“I’d have another too, if you’re offering.”

“Yeah, alright,” Foggy says, at the exact same moment the bartender reappears with his drink. “Can I be a bother and add one more thing to my tab?”

The bartender gives Foggy the impression of someone who’s probably a school teacher by day and does this for extra cash because the educational system in this country is fundamentally broken. That’s a long way of saying she’s a different breed from the sleek, lithe employees of the downtown DC bars he usually frequents, most of whom could and likely do double as escorts to senators and ambassadors now and again. She’s also probably old enough to be his mother, which makes it charming and not weird when she nods curtly and turns to Matt with a, “Jameson, right, honey?”

“Yes, thank you,” Matt replies, with the sort of humble acquiescence of someone used to terms of endearment from the older ladies at church. Once she’s gone, Matt pokes Foggy’s wrist and says, “You play pool?”

“Not as well as Karen, but…”

Matt smiles, too brightly for the hour and for their current circumstances. “I see news of my humbling defeat has already reached you."

"As if there's a force on this earth that could actually humble you in any real way."

"True enough," Matt replies, his smile only growing. "It's clear to me now that I should have done my homework before challenging her, at least.”

"I hope you didn't put any money on it," Foggy says, casually.

"Nothing I couldn't afford to lose," Matt says, with a shrug. It's hard to tell in the subdued lighting of the bar, but he might also be blushing faintly. "If you're worried, I'll be generous with you. You can lose for free."

"Golly, thanks," Foggy says, drily, making Matt laugh.

"Sounds like a yes to me," he says, before nodding to the raised area in the back of the room where the pool table resides. “I’ll get it set up. Meet me there when you’re all set.”

“Sorry, am I buying and delivering your drinks now, Murdock?”

“Seems like it, yeah,” Matt replies, with a grin that threatens to overtake his face as he effortlessly walks back from the bar without turning away.

“And what do I get out of this arrangement?” Foggy shouts after him.

“The pleasure of my company,” Matt fires back, and then disappears again.

Foggy can’t deny that that’s enough of a draw for him, but he doesn’t have to be stupid and admit it out loud. Instead, he gets Matt’s drink without further complaint, as well as his own, closes his tab, and heads over to the slightly enclosed area at the back of the bar where there’s a pool table with Matt Murdock leaning against it. He hands the drink off to him, and clinks their glasses together before Matt can pull his away.

“Cheers,” he says, for no real reason, and watches Matt’s throat move on a swallow just a little too closely. He feels fine and normal otherwise.

“You know how to play?” Matt asks, inclining his head towards the table as he stands and makes his way to the rack of pool cues.

There’s something loose and warm in the way he moves around the rounded corners of the table, like this is his neighborhood bar and he knows it by heart. Foggy attributes it to the few drinks he’s had over the course of the night and a certain natural grace that Matt seems to possess, but having an explanation for it doesn’t dampen the effect of it at all. Just like he was fascinated by Matt’s throat a moment ago, Foggy now feels like he can’t take his eyes off Matt’s hips, which is a real problem.

“I’m a man of a certain age, Matthew,” Foggy gripes, in the hopes of distracting from his obvious enamored state with sheer bad manners. “Of course I know how to play pool!”

"Good, then I won't go easy on you," Matt says.

"I have a feeling that was never an option," Foggy retorts. "What's a guy like you get out of pool, anyway?

"A guy like me? What's that supposed to mean?

Foggy rolls his eyes. "Don't give me that. It's a pretty visual game!"

"True enough. I was going to ask you to point me in the right direction, depending on whether I end up with stripes or solids."

"I could lie."

"Yeah, but you won't."

"I'm a politician, kiddo. Don't be so sure."

"'Kiddo'," Matt repeats, evidently delighted by it. "You're in a real mood, huh?"

"I'm fine," Foggy says, too sharply. "You want to break or shall I?"

"You go ahead," Matt offers, generously. "I want you to feel like you stood an actual chance, at least to start."

"You're kind of an asshole, you know that?"

"Oh, I'm aware. You can save the energy you're about to put into pretending you don't like it, by the way."

"I don't like it!"

"Sure."

"I really don't," Foggy says, even as he's trying to fight a smile. And winning, but still. "Not right now I don't, at least."

"Yes, you do," Matt replies, knowingly. "Right now, me being an asshole is the only thing stopping you from taking your frustrations out on someone who doesn't deserve it."

Foggy sighs, defeated. "You don't deserve it either."

"Give it fifteen, twenty minutes and see if you still feel that way," Matt says, lightly, and nudges him with his elbow.

Foggy steps up to take the first shot, breaking the neat little triangle of billiard balls that Matt has assembled in the center of the table with the white cue ball easily. Nothing goes into a pocket, of course, not that he really expected it. He's fine at pool, generally speaking, but not great. It's a feeling he's beginning to get used to (and increasingly tired of) in the rest of his life as well.

"Let's keep it simple," he says, as he stands up. "Whoever sinks the most shots wins."

"Easy enough," Matt says, coming to stand next to him. "Where's the cue ball?"

Foggy steps in close to Matt's side, until their arms brush. "Eleven o'clock."

Matt nods and sinks down into his stance. Foggy steps back, both to get out of his way and to admire his form. Matt’s got a nice ass, which is something Foggy noticed about him basically immediately, being gifted by God with both the power of sight and the blessing of bisexuality. He can normally control himself enough to conveniently avoid noticing it, except for right now when it’s late, he’s a little tipsy, and Matt’s suit is perfectly tailored to show it off. It is, quite frankly, a ridiculous situation he’s gotten himself into. Even the dim amber lighting of the bar is blending with the glow of several nearby neon signs—they serve Heineken and Pabst Blue Ribbon here, apparently—to cast Matt’s skin in the dreamiest light possible.

Matt sinks three balls without trouble before Foggy can manage to tear his gaze away from his ass, and even then, it’s only to get distracted by the lovely shape his fingers make around the cue. He misses his next shot by about three millimeters, a miracle that Foggy attributes either to the power of his overwhelming horniness creating some sort of palpable disturbance in the atmosphere or God punishing him for his lustful thoughts by contriving a scenario where Matt’s no longer bending over a pool table in his line of sight. Either way, it’s a reprieve.

“That’s you,” Matt says, still stalking around the table like a jungle cat. Foggy might need to get out more, is the thing.

“How are you this good at pool, anyway?” Foggy asks, as he lines up his shot and delicately avoids letting his hips come into contact with the table. He thinks unsensuous thoughts and doesn’t look over at Matt at all, because, with his luck, if he does, Matt will be innocently fellating the pool cue or some similar such nonsense. Better to avoid it altogether, he thinks.

“Practice,” Matt says, smugly. “And very, very dim vision, technically.”

“I didn’t know that,” Foggy says as he sinks a shot, finally. Even that, the sound of the ball finding the pocket, is kind of erotic to him now because his life is a farce.

“Yeah. Most blind people have some vision. Total blindness is fairly rare.”

“So, what I’m hearing is you totally just let me lead you around most of the time because you really just like walking arm in arm with me. Is that accurate?”

“You caught me,” Matt says, with a soft smile, and Foggy misses his next shot completely. “Not bad.”

“3 to 1,” Foggy replies, pushing himself up.

“You’re on the board,” Matt says, passing behind him closely enough that Foggy catches the scent of his cologne mixed with the Jameson left in his glass. He takes another drink and Foggy wonders what his mouth would taste like right now and also if there’s a historically significant, beautiful river nearby that he could potentially drown himself in. They’re in small town New Hampshire, after all. The chances that Benedict Arnold did something stupid near here back in 1776 and there's a scenic spot with a plaque commemorating it are pretty high. There are worse places to drown yourself, he figures.

“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbles, instead of saying any of that out loud.

“I wasn’t,” Matt says, grinning as he settles into his spot for his next shot.

“How much did Karen beat you by, again? I feel like it might be helpful, for me, to know.”

“It’s not fair,” Matt says in an exaggerated whine that’s in no way convincing. His smile doesn’t help either. “I’m blind and she tricked me!”

“I don’t think her being better at pool than you expected constitutes a trick on her part, Matt.”

“She let me explain the rules to her for like ten minutes!”

“And I bet she let you do that thing where you got real close and showed her how to handle the stick from behind too,” Foggy says, infusing his tone with mock pity.

“Oh, she dropped the ruse well before that point, though I’ll be the first to admit I’m not above that move,” Matt says, unrepentant, and sinks another shot. “But I can always do that for you if you need some pointers!”

“Sure,” Foggy says, sweetly. “Come on over, big boy.”

Matt misses his next shot because he’s too busy doubling over with laughter. “Jesus, Foggy!”

“Don’t put anything on the table you don’t want people to accept, Murdock.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Matt says. “Your turn.”

Foggy sighs as he gets into position. Matt comes to stand at his side and, after a quiet moment in which Foggy attempts to line up his shot, puts his hand on the small of Foggy’s back. It takes all of Foggy’s concentration not to jump away from the touch, but he manages to keep his cool, just barely. 

“Your stance does need work,” Matt says, mildly, and kicks him in the ankle before Foggy can make a smart comment about what his lower back has to do with his stance. “Bring this foot out a little.”

Foggy complies, because his brain can’t think of anything else to do in this moment. “Better?” he asks.

“Good,” Matt replies, and Foggy likes the tone in his voice a little too much for his own well being. “Take your shot.”

Foggy does, and scratches. The humiliation, at least, cuts through the arousal rather effectively. That’s something.

“Saboteur,” he mutters as he goes off in search of the lost cue ball.

“I can improve your stance, but your aim is your own problem.”

“A likely story,” Foggy says, as he returns. “I’m hip to your little mind games now, Murdock.”

He puts the cue ball into Matt’s outstretched hand. Matt is entitled, per the rules, to place it wherever he likes on the table to set up his next shot, but he stands there cradling it thoughtfully in his palm, testing its weight, instead, for a long moment, like a total sociopath, adding more force to the argument that Foggy is currently being punished by a mean-spirited and vengeful god.

“You know massaging that thing won’t help you score, right?”

Matt gives him a smile that indicates he either appreciates some good trash talk between men or that he’s seen through to the very heart of Foggy’s desires and found them trivial and amusing in the grand scheme of things. Either way, it’s a good look on him. 

“Can’t hurt, can it?” Matt asks, smugly, and places the cue ball before lining up his shot and sinking it in one practiced, elegant motion. “5 to 1, correct?”

“Yep,” Foggy says, leaning back to watch the show without guilt now, since he’s paying for it so dearly at the cost of his self-respect. Matt sinks another shot and Foggy doesn’t even care because he’s too transfixed by the way the fabric of Matt’s dress shirt bunches up around his bicep and spreads taught between his shoulder blades. Foggy takes a healthy sip of his drink because his mouth is suddenly so dry.

"You know," Matt says, casually, with his ass unceremoniously in the air because pool is the greatest game ever invented, in Foggy's not-entirely-sober opinion (even if he is losing spectacularly), "we are rapidly approaching the point in the game where you can't actually win."

"Yes, I'm aware. Believe it or not, I can do basic math. It's one of my very few skills."

"I don't agree with that assessment."

"You don't think I can do math?"

"I think you have lots of skills," Matt says, as he brings his score up to seven. "The gift of foresight, for one."

"What?"

Matt smiles. "You were smart to accept the offer not to play for money."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I thought—you're right. That was smart.

"What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing, I—it's not important. I was just confused for a second there."

"Foggy..."

"Just take your next shot, Matt," Foggy interjects, harshly. "You're one point away from ensuring complete domination over me."

Without turning away from him, Matt reaches out to poke the cue ball with his cue, leaving it to roll hesitantly and without urgency into the bumpers around the edge of the table. "You're up," he says, with a helpless shrug, and comes to stand next to Foggy.

He sighs. "Matt, listen—”

"I didn't mean the tobacco thing," Matt says, ignoring him. All of the levity of a moment ago is gone. They're not cheerfully messing around anymore, it looks like. "That's not how I'd bring it up. You know that, right?"

"I do know that. You wouldn't—it's just that it's been on my mind. That's why I went there. It has nothing to do with you."

Matt nods, absently. "I hope so."

"It's the truth," Foggy says, grabbing him by the arm to emphasize his sincerity. "And you've been a real class act for not rubbing my nose in it. I deserved an 'I told you so' at the very least and you haven't given me one, so I should be more appreciative."

"You don't have to thank me for not kicking you when you're down."

"I went to you for advice on how to handle things with the Appropriations subcommittee and then blatantly ignored all of the very good advice you gave me. 'I told you so' would be getting off easy."

Matt smiles, reluctantly. "To be fair, I don't think you really went to me for advice. You knew what you wanted to do before you came to me."

"What was I looking for then?"

"Permission," Matt suggests. "Forgiveness. Maybe some mild fawning over your political acumen."

"All of the above, maybe," Foggy admits, warily, and rubs his face. "I'm sorry."

"For which part?"

"Ignoring your good advice, for one thing. And, well, if I made you feel like I was pulling rank on you, that's not good either."

Matt laughs. "You do outrank me, Foggy."

“Still,” Foggy says. “I like to think I’m not that guy, usually.”

“What guy?”

“The one who’s so far up his own ass that he can’t see anyone else’s point of view.”

“Oh, yeah,” Matt says, thoughtfully. “You’re definitely not that guy.”

“I was to you.”

“Not really. It was one situation where you didn’t take my advice. That’s going to happen if we work together for any stretch of time. It’s going to happen again, I’d guess. I hate to think you’re going to beat yourself up this much every time.”

Foggy nudges Matt with his elbow ineffectively. “You’re being too nice to me.”

“And you’re being too hard on yourself,” Matt replies. “Someone’s got to be nice to you. Might as well be me.”

“I notice this vow of kindness doesn’t extend to letting me win at pool.”

“Even I have my limits of good grace, Foggy,” Matt says, with a smile. “Besides, I already lost once tonight. My ego barely survived it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Foggy says, earning a confused look from Matt. “Karen asked me to check on you before she left. She was worried about your fragile mental state, that maybe you were weeping over your humiliation alone in the bathroom.”

“No such luck,” Matt laughs.

“My theory was that we had you to thank for the back-to-back Shania Twain songs on the jukebox at the time.”

“Also not true, but only because Shania Twain isn’t exactly sulking music.”

“Speak for yourself,” Foggy says. “I could sulk to Shania.”

“Well, that’s why they pay you the big bucks, I guess,” Matt replies, absently leaning his weight onto the pool cue. “I didn’t know you were paying such close attention.”

Foggy pauses with his glass midway to his lips. “What?”

“When Karen and I finished our game,” Matt says, still brightly but with a strange edge, like he’s not sure mentioning this is the right thing to do. “I thought you were still outside with Jeri.”

“I was,” Foggy says, and then reconsiders. “I mean, I was for most of your game, I think. When I came back in, you two seemed to be finishing up.”

They also seemed to be laughing and touching a whole lot, which is why Foggy hadn’t come over. He’d slunk off to drink at a table with Marci and Ben and a few of the new people Jeri had hired to run the campaign while they went nine rounds over the wording of a single sentence in the speech for the President’s official announcement for the bid for re-election. The senior staff and the campaign staff were finding it difficult to mesh together so far and it meant that this important speech was stuck in limbo between them like a child of divorce in a nasty custody battle. Everyone, it seemed, was having a miserable time of it lately, which was especially inconvenient because there’d never been more scrutiny on the administration before this particular moment.

Matt was, technically, campaign staff but he’d been on the payroll longer than anyone else, because he’d been doing polling for them for a while now and they’d just decided to extend his contract and fold it into their re-election efforts. So far, he was keeping his head above water and wasn’t getting embroiled in the stupid little pissing matches happening elsewhere, which was impressive. He’d also been pitching in and helping with the announcement speech where he could, but there were a lot of egos to soothe or flatter in that area and it wasn’t what they were specifically paying him to do. Still, Foggy’s been pleased so far watching him navigate these tense situations and remain professional and undeterred in spite of them. It’s partly because Foggy had been the one to recommend Matt in the first place that he feels such obvious pride, but it’s hard to ignore that there’s another reason for it. He’s trying to make peace with the fact that he’s more than incidentally in love with Matt and constant proximity is not tempering it at all. In fact, seeing Matt every day now and watching him succeed at the thing he loves doing makes Foggy so absurdly happy, it’s almost like these professional victories are happening to him by proxy. Which means, in terms of ever getting past this unfortunate crush, Foggy is monumentally fucked.

“You should have come over,” Matt says, still talking about his game of pool with Karen, oblivious to Foggy’s inner torment. “She said you would, when you got back.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I’m bad company tonight,” Foggy says, spreading his arms out defensively.

“You’re never bad company, as far as I can tell.”

“What did I ever do to earn such loyalty from you? Just let me call myself an asshole, man.”

Matt sighs, disappointed. “You made one mistake, Foggy. You’ve got to—”

“I made a mistake that could cost us the election!”

“It could, but that doesn’t mean it will! It’s still early and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. And, more importantly, you got the Justice Department 30 million dollars to go after the tobacco industry! That’s what they asked you to do! That’s a victory! Why don’t you see that?”

“Because there was a larger victory that I left on the table in my need to get anything done in this fucking town,” Foggy says. “I mean, not this town. We’re in Bumblefuck, New Hampshire. But you know…”

“Yeah, believe it or not, I followed that,” Matt says, unimpressed. “And smaller victories are nothing to scoff at. I think you’ve been in this business so long you’ve lost sight of that. Small victories are how you build your way up to bigger ones. In fact, most big victories are comprised of smaller ones. You’re good at what you do, Foggy. You know all this!”

“I don’t feel good at this anymore.”

“Yeah, well, speaking as someone who grew up around professional boxers, I’ll tell you that the right time to ask a man about his next fight is not when he’s just been K.O.’d. You’ve still got the flashlight in your eyes checking for a concussion. I wouldn’t make any career judgments right now.”

“You think we’ve been K.O.’d?” Foggy asks.

“I think the administration’s on its ass right now, for sure,” Matt replies, with the steely calm of a real political operative and Foggy’s pride in him is not misplaced even a little, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t get back up. The numbers I’m seeing are better than expected and they’re built on all the good you’ve done for the last three years. People will remember why they voted for you guys in the first place soon enough.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

“I am and I think that earns me the right to say something that might hurt your feelings a bit.”

Foggy takes a fortifying sip of his drink, bracing himself. “Go for it, then.”

“As great as you are, this election won’t be won or lost on your actions alone,” Matt says, gently. “I know it’s tempting to decide that what you personally do or don’t do is the most important thing in the universe, to take every setback as a condemnation of your efforts and proof that you need to double down and do more, but you’re a part of a team. It’s not up to you to win this election by yourself. And it won’t be your fault and only yours if we don’t.”

“Why would that hurt my feelings?” Foggy asks, far too casually. He doesn’t know who he thinks he’s trying to fool here.

“Because it would hurt mine,” Matt says, “if our situations were reversed.”

Foggy understands that for what it is: an offer of a hand up off the ground, an acknowledgement that he and Matt are the same in this regard. It’s not nothing and he’d be wise to take what’s being given to him here, but he’s not quite there yet.

“I could have done more, Matt.”

“And you’ll have plenty of chances to do so. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“I think it’s always going to haunt me, the things we didn’t get through, the things we compromised on to appeal to our opposition. I think it’ll kill me, eventually.”

“You’ve done a lot of good too.”

“Yeah,” Foggy agrees, solemnly. “But enough? I’m not sure.”

Matt lets that sit, rather than trying to placate him with some sort of truism, which is nice. It’s meaningful to him that Matt knows this isn’t some empty question coming from him, that Foggy really means it when he asks it. He feels certain that this is something Matt worries about too, that this is a question Matt’s asked himself at the end of many days before. It’s dangerous, honestly, feeling this close to someone. This kind of intimacy isn’t something he feels capable of shaking off and pretending isn’t there, most of the time.

“You didn’t answer my question before, you know,” he says, eventually, even though it feels sacrilegious to break this particular silence.

“Which one?” Matt asks, shifting the cue back and forth between his hands in what could be a nervous tic or maybe he’s just bored with this conversation. It’s hard to tell.

“The one about what I did to earn such loyalty.”

Matt shrugs, staring into the middle distance. “You got me this job, didn’t you?”

“Not really,” Foggy says. “I remembered your name. That’s about it. Everything else was a result of your hard work.”

“Then, I guess it’s all for remembering my name.”

“That’s the real answer?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Matt replies, leaning into his side. “If you win this game, I’ll give you the real answer.”

“I’d need a miracle for that to happen,” Foggy grumbles. “Are you sure I can’t just bribe you?”

“Okay, final offer,” Matt answers, with a cryptic smile, “you get the eight ball into any pocket on this turn and you win.”

“That’s a stupid bet, Murdock. Where did you learn to gamble?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“You’re winning seven to one. Are you out of your mind?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just that confident that you won’t be able to make the shot.”

“Or maybe you just really want to tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”

“My deepest, darkest secret has nothing to do with you, Foggy. You’re getting a shallow, well lit secret out of me in this bargain, if anything.”

“We’ll see,” Foggy replies, breezily, as he approaches the table to line up his shot. He doesn’t have Matt’s lithe sort of confidence or any kind of delusion that he’d paint a tempting picture right now even for someone who could see him, but he is stupidly determined, so he likes his odds in this situation just fine.

“Oh,” Matt interrupts, innocently, at the precise moment Foggy was going to pull his cue back and take the shot. “Since we’re now wagering on the outcome of this game, I should ask: what do I get?”

“What do you get?” Foggy repeats, irritated. He feels certain Matt timed that question to throw him off and he’s not pleased about it. “You’re going to beat me in the most humiliating way possible! What more do you need?”

“I’d like a secret too.”

“Fine, but you had better be satisfied with an equally shallow, well lit one from me too.”

“That kind of depends on what kind of secret you consider the answer to my question to be.”

“What question?”

“What made you remember my name?”

Foggy actually stands up to consider this fully. It’s hard to tell with Matt, if he’s aware of the way Foggy can’t help but flirt with him sometimes and how seriously he takes it. Matt gives as good as he gets, Foggy thinks, but whether he knows that Foggy would gladly make real on all the innuendo he throws at him is another matter. All of which just makes it that much more confusing why he’d make this request in the first place. Does he want flattery? Does he want some confirmation that the new opportunities in his career were gotten honestly? Or does he want Foggy to admit to something here? And why would he want that? To laugh at him? To clear the air? To prove his suspicions about why he got this job are true?

Foggy’s not prepared for any of those scenarios. Matt is maybe just joking around (though he certainly doesn’t look like it) but he’s asking for a bigger secret than he realizes. And Foggy will not be explaining that to him, because even that would be admitting too much. They’re going to be working together closely for a while yet and Foggy’s not going to ruin it now, not right out of the gate. He’s got more instinct for self-preservation than that.

“Fine,” he says, setting his sights on the eight ball again. “You have yourself a deal. Now, shut up and stop distracting me.”

Matt crosses his arms over his chest, looking self-satisfied and unconcerned. This expression changes into one of shock and disbelief at the sound of the eight ball landing in the middle pocket on the left side of the table.

“Like I said,” Foggy states, rounding the corner of the table, “that was a bad bet.”

“You cheated,” Matt exclaims.

“How?”

“I didn’t hear the cue touch the ball. Did you—did you just move the eight ball with your hand?!”

“Of course,” Foggy says, with a shrug. “You never said how I had to get the eight ball into the pocket, only that it had to happen on my next turn.”

Matt laughs in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous! And very clearly against the rules!”

“Not against the ones you set, though. Technically.”

“Yeah, technically, I guess,” Matt says. “But don’t you feel bad winning this way?”

“Of course not,” Foggy answers, gesturing widely with the cue still in his hands. “I’m a pathetic little man, Matthew.”

“Five minutes ago, I would have argued with that kind of negative self-talk, but I’m no longer feeling generous towards you at all.”

Foggy shrugs as he reaches past Matt for his drink. “I would totally understand if you didn’t want to uphold your end of the bargain, by the way. I mean, if our situations were reversed, I would still do it, but I’m a class act, through and through.”

“You’re a cheat is what you are,” Matt says, and it might be the inadequate lighting in here playing tricks on him, but Foggy thinks there might be color rising in Matt’s cheeks. “This is why no one trusts anyone in Washington, you know.”

“I know,” Foggy says, indulgently. “Like I said, it’s up to you. But you’ll also recall I warned you never to put something on the table that you don’t want your opponent to accept.”

“I didn’t mind the idea of you winning, I just didn’t think you’d cheat to get it!”

“Then you underestimated how baffled I am by your loyalty to me.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Matt says, leaning back to rest more fully against the table behind him. “I think it’s obvious why I’d…what makes me feel that way towards you.”

“That’s still not an answer,” Foggy replies, at the same moment he realizes Matt leaning back didn’t put that much space between them after all. He’d gotten pretty close to reach for his drink and, maybe, just to push this conversation from trash talk more firmly into flirting territory. For someone who doesn’t want to fuck things up, he’s really pushing his luck.

Matt exhales noisily, and Foggy can feel it on his neck, that’s how close they’re standing. They’re in a bar, of course, so they have their excuses. It’s noisy, with the patrons and the jukebox and the TVs. They could need privacy, given the jobs they have and the sensitive nature of the information they have access to as part of them. But that’s not why Foggy’s doing this and he suspects that, even if he’s just following Foggy’s lead, Matt doesn’t ultimately have a better reason.

“Why did you remember me?” Matt asks, quietly. “I mean, me, of all people? What made me stand out? What did I do right?”

Everything, Foggy wants to say. You do everything right. You’re smart and conscientious and charming and everyone likes you and everyone remembers you and you’ve got a mind and mouth that won’t quit and an ass to match. Remembering you wasn’t the hard part. Forgetting you someday will be. “Matthew Murdock,” Foggy says, carefully, appreciatively, like he’s really savoring every vowel and consonant. “Very alliterative. Extremely easy to remember.”

Matt’s answering smile is slow-dawning to the point of decadence and he tucks his chin to hide it. “My middle name is Michael, you know.”

“Goddammit,” Foggy groans, because he can’t say what he’s really thinking, which is, come back to my room and I’ll make sure you never want to leave. He’s so fucking in love, it’s honestly stupid.

“As for me,” Matt says, a moment later, after careful consideration, “and what you did—why I feel so—what you asked, I mean…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just that—”

A loud, chirping ringtone severs the tenuous connection of the moment. Foggy stares openly at Matt’s face as he doesn’t react to the interruption at all beyond stopping talking mid-sentence. After a few tense seconds, Foggy clears his throat and steps back.

“I think that’s you, Matt.”

Matt blinks, like he’s waking for a dream and he doesn’t know where he is. “Right,” he says, without confidence and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He holds it like he doesn’t remember owning such a thing in the first place for a long moment before he flips it open to answer it.

“Hello?” he asks, frowning in concentration. “Oh, Nadia, hi. Yeah, no, not too late, don’t worry. Can you give me one second?”

He pulls the phone away from his ear and puts his hand over the receiver before addressing Foggy. “We’re doing some polling of potential voters on the West Coast tonight, and they need to give me the early data.”

“Right.”

“The speech writing team is going to want this information tomorrow. It will impact the messaging.”

“Understood,” Foggy nods. “You, uh, need to take this, then.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Matt admits, looking apologetic.

“Don’t worry. Cell service is a little better outside, if that helps.”

Matt frowns briefly before his expression clears and he nods briskly. “Thanks. That might be a good idea.”

“I’ll, um, clean this up,” Foggy says, gesturing to the pool table. “You go ahead.”

“Alright,” Matt says, chewing his lip. “Will you head out after that?”

“I might. I could, I guess. Why?”

“No reason.”

“You want me to wait? Walk back to the hotel with you when you’re done?”

“You don’t have to,” Matt responds, looking awkward. It’s a nice out, and it would probably be better to put a little space between them—it’s just too tempting for Foggy to be around Matt like this, late at night, in casual environments, with alcohol and dumb wagers blurring the lines between them that should be crystal clear.

“I’ll wait,” he says, instead, hating the sincerity in his voice. “I don’t mind waiting.”

The worst part is that it’s the most honest thing he’s said all night.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[crackinwise]

Mondo having a thing about coating Taka with hickeys and Taka having a thing about very much enjoying the process is a good headcanon I've seen used several times, in both fic and art.

I see it causing an issue for them at least once.

Kiyotaka has the syllabus and upcoming events memorized before he and Mondo have a "session" so he won't be caught broadcasting his love life unwelcomed. Besides, he always fears he'll be accused of being hedonistic and immoral just for using some free time to feel wanted by the man he loves.

Meanwhile, Mondo knows to keep it below the uniform collar, but that's a lot of fair game there. After one night where they get carried away, Taka's torso from the base of the neck down looks like a leopard. Taka looks like he lost a fight with an octopus. But it's fine because a)Taka wanted it, and b)he can still look presentable in public with them covered.

But, the next day at gym, the class is told the schedule had to be rearranged and everyone is to head up to the pool. Taka instantly panics.

As everyone starts walking, he grabs Mondo's arm and pulls him to the back of the group.

"Mondo," he hisses, "I can't go to the pool!"

"Why?"

Taka fully despairs for a brief second. "If I take off my uniform, everyone will see the marks you've made!"

The caveman part of Mondo's brain makes his chest want to swell with a mixture of pride and possession, but it plummets down to become a lead ball in his stomach the instant he notices the unshed tears and fear in Taka's large eyes.

"It's okay. S'okay, I'll figure somethin out. Let's just get goin," Mondo promises him.

He can't let Taka feel humiliated. He mostly trusts his classmates by now--Taka would never have another middle school experience--but this wasn't a couple hickeys to get teased over and laugh off. Their peers' first reaction might be to get Taka a bodyguard and Mondo a muzzle. The teacher might investigate; Taka's dad might be called. Mondo shakes away the mental image of a mortified Taka and tries to actually problem solve.

He couldn't picture Taka sitting the period out on the bleachers and risk being a bad class leader. Taka could lie about feeling sick or needing somewhere else to be to work on his Talent, but he wouldn't. Taka wouldn't forgive him for pulling the fire alarm either. He didn't know of any clubs Taka could help at this hour. Would anything at the pool hide him when they got there?

Mondo's head snaps up with an idea and he walks faster to catch up with the classmate who made swimming pools her domain. "Asahina!"

Hina stops hopping around excitedly next to Sakura and turns to address him. "Mondo? What's up?"

He starts to whisper while also glaring at any classmates daring to curiously rubberneck. "I need a favor. Do ya have one of them, like, swim shirts? Y'know, surfers and shit wear 'em?"

"A rash guard?"

"Sure."

Hina frowns, apologetic. "No, I never thought to bring one here since the pool is indoors." She gives him a once-over. "And I'm not sure we'd be the same size."

"It's not...for me." Mondo rubs the back of his neck anxiously. He makes sure to keep his voice low. "It's for Taka."

"Since when does Ishimaru prefer a rash guard while swimming?" Kyoko asks, suddenly appearing on Mondo's other side, startling him.

"Holy fuck! Who who asked you?!" he yelps.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she helpfully warns them. "Here, let's walk to the side a bit."

The three step to the outside of the pack of students to continue talking a bit more covertly.

"Now, Oowada, what's this about?" Kyoko asks, eyes sharp.

Yeah!" Hina loudly whispers back. "Is Taka all right? Him asking for cover is concerning, ya know!"

Mondo's defensive annoyance threatens to flare up. "He's fine, but he can't go in the pool today. I can't tell ya why, so don't ask."

Maybe if another teacher needed help, but Mondo didn't know of any and unless one walked down the hall, he couldn't beg them. Or the headmaster!

"Oi!" Mondo's outburst causes Hina to jump. He lowers his voice once again, "Kirigiri! I need ya to ask yer dad if he has anythin he can call for Taka to work on. Like, now, for the whole period."

Kyoko's cool eyes narrow at him. He knows she's still trying to suss out his motives.

"If it were just for you, I'd demand more of an explanation, but this is for Ishimaru, right?" Even as she asks, she has her phone out, texting the headmaster. Mondo catches a glimpse of her text starting with "URGENT" and feels a wave of appreciation.

Finished, she looks from her phone back to Taka, still uncharacteristically silent and walking yards behind everyone else. She notes how he's hugging himself and darting his unfocused eyes around.

"Hmm." Her hand is up to her chin in thought. "Well, all we can do is wait for my father to answer me or make an announcement on his own. I could always just lie and say my father requested him."

"Y'know damn well he'd hate that and give us both detention when he found out," Mondo gripes. He understands why Taka refuses a little dishonest help, but it's still frustrating as hell sometimes.

"Yes," she agrees, her voice was as level and confident as always, "but that depends on how much he'd rather be tricked than show off your love bites."

"Right? Damn."

Hina, still close by and listening, covered her mouth to muffle a giggle.

Then Mondo's steps faltered. "HEY!"

His shout echoed around the hall, causing a few students to eyeball them. Makoto was clutching his chest, about ready to imitate a fainting goat.

Kyoko didn't so much as blink though. "It's as if you forget who I am. But don't worry, I'll take all the blame for lying to Ishimaru if it comes to that."

"Thanks," Mondo sighs out. "If you two didn't help, I was gonna pay Hiro to predict a pool disaster big enough to stall."

That causes Hina and Kyoko to realize the severity of the situation might be more than simple awkwardness.

"You know Hiro would try to charge you, like, hundreds of dollars for that," Hina says, worried. "Maybe thousands. Is Taka really that embarrassed by a hickey?"

Mondo swallows thickly but doesn't answer. He feels incredibly guilty. He feels like a danger to Taka's reputation for a new reason than the usual ones that sometimes haunt him. He knows hormones and his lack of self-control are a bad mix, but add in Taka enthusiastically praising his mouth, and he has zero hope of restraint.

They arrive at the changing rooms for everyone to switch into their swimsuits before going to the pool. The other students file inside while Mondo, Hina, Kyoko, and the trailing Taka hang back.

When Taka stops in front of them, his wide eyes finally focus on Mondo. He glances at the girls then says, hopefully, "Any, um, ideas?"

Mondo worries Taka is going to have a panic attack with the way he's breathing and clutching his blazer closed. As if the marks were magically visible through his uniform shirt too.

Kyoko brings her phone screen up to her face to check for a reply, then shakes her head at Mondo. Hina wrings her hands.

Deciding he's just going to kidnap Taka for the rest of the day and risk his boyfriend never speaking to him again, Mondo starts to grab Taka's arm.

The P.A. system squeaks on. "ISHIMARU, YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE, PLEASE!"

All four friends sag with relief. Hina does a little cheer, gives them a thumbs up and skips into the girl's changing room. Kyoko nods at Mondo's thankful expression and follows her inside.

Taka runs his fingers thru his hair, laughs bubbling out of him. He has no idea what had happened to save him, but he wasn't going to question it just now. He squeezes Mondo's wrist once with his left hand and smiles to convey he was never upset with his partner about the situation. Then he proceeds to speed-walk to the office.

Mondo's frayed nerves want him to break the rules and embrace Taka, but his impulsive actions have caused enough problems today. He turns to go get changed for the pool, his caveman pride starting to return after helping to protect his Kiyotaka.

Following this, Taka didn't let them have another "session" for a month, and when he did he made contingency plans to be nowhere near the pool for a full week.

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter thirteen: The truth 

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

Tw: Swearing, Oikawa being an enormous piece of shit, Mentions of trouble swimming, a panic about the water, Atsumu also  a piece of shit, Evil actions, slapping

AN: Sorry this is a little shorter then normal. I also really made oikawa so evil omfg?!?!?!?

Taglist Open! Please send an ask or dm to be added! 

_______________________________________________________________

Third person POV 

Listen Mei. I think it’s time for a sister to sister talk.” 

“About Oikawa?” 

“Yes, I never told you this but I think it’s time you knew.” Y/n said. 

“Um okay… It’s weird you want to share with me for once.” Mei said. 

“I just think it’s important you know Mei.” Mei sat up on the bed and placed her phone down on the table. For Mei to have given her full attention was a surprise to y/n. She sat down beside Mei. “When I was back in first year of Highschool I used to hang out with Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Atsumu for a bit.” 

“No way! You were popular!?!?” Mei yelled excitedly. 

“Yes now please don’t interrupt me.” 

“Sorry but I just thought that was crazzzzy!” Y/n rolled her eyes at Mei.

“As I was saying, I hung out with them for about 6 months. I used to attend parties with them and get drunk all the time. After about a month of starting school though, I developed mutual feelings with someone. That someone just happens to be Oikawa.” She turned to look over at Mei who was staring with disbelief. “Go ahead and say it Mei.” 

“OMG OIKAWA!! I can’t believe you were that popular oh my gosh! What even happened between you two?” 

“Remember how I met Shirabu at the volleyball tournament I took you too in my first year of middle school?” 

“Who could forget honestly. He was exactly the same as he is now.” Mei replied with an annoyed tone.  

“Yeah he really is... Anyways, he transferred to Sakura high halfway through the first semester in first year and because we were already best friends I wanted to include him. We all hung out for sometime but Shirabu said he was starting to feel left out. I spoke to Oikawa about it and said Shirabu was lying because he had a crush on me and was trying to take me from him. I just let things go figuring they just didn’t like each other for some reason I would never understand. It was Shirabu’s first party at our school. I was late but I told Oikawa I couldn’t sneak out-”

“Wait Sneak out?!?!” Mei interrupted. 

“Yes, I would climb out the window, walk over to your window and climb down the tree outside it.” 

“Just to party? Damn you were so COOL!” Mei shouted once again.

“No and if you didn't interrupt me you would already know why I wasn't.” 

“Sorrrrrry Y/n.” 

“At the party when I got there they were playing around by the pool. They always had a tradition that the person who got the winning point for Volleyball got to choose one guy from the team to toss into the pool. Now I am still unsure to this day if Oikawa knew or not, but Shirabu couldn’t swim. He chose him for the pool victum” Y/n looked down at her hands, “I was stupid to believe that Shirabu could forgive Oikawa for it and that there wasn’t some kind of evil intent behind the incident. I don’t remember much other than I was screaming and Iwaizumi jumped in the pool to help him out. I went home with Shirabu after that. That’s not where it ended though. Oikawa and I dated for about two more months. I didn’t call it quits actually till I heard the Oikawa and Atsumu talking shit about Shirabu. The sad part was I knew all along but I didn’t want to see it. At first like I said earlier I didn’t really believe it. So it was that time I finally jumped in and Oikawa and I got into a huge fight in front of him.” 

“Wow…” 

“Yeah but during the fight Oikawa told me he loved me and I slapped him across the face and left. It was at that moment it really opened my eyes to see how he treated the people that he thought was below him. By ignoring his actions and even starting to act like that myself, putting others down for our gain and what not. I also see myself as a villain back then.” 

“So what was I supposed to get out of this story? That you’re a bitch cause like I already knew that.” 

“You’re fucking with me right?” Y/n asked, as she felt herself get angry. 

“No…? You said you were a bitch so?” 

“And I also told you how Oikawa is kinda a psychopath when it came to Shirabu?!?!?!” 

“Well i wouldn’t go that far. I know Shirabu and he's kinda a huge dick. Oikawa probably dumped you and Shirabu just convinced you of all this other shit. I know him better than you think and I like Oikawa a lot so I don’t care what kind of crazy stories you make up.” With that Mei stood up and left Y/n sitting on her bed angry. 

In Mei’s bedroom Mei was not seated on her bed with her door closed. She put her phone up to her ear.  

“I can’t believe she would make up all those lies about you like that. Whatever though cause I still like you don’t worry Oikawa.” She said. 

________________________________________________________________

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Taglist: @belongtothewcrld​ @elianetsantana @its-the-aerieljeane @london-quynh @vhskenma @denkithunder @swagdaddycam @ems1des @tendouispretty @senpaisbadass @elephantloser @smolbbgorl @mikeys-thighs @kuroolilchibichan @softesyoongi​ @ouijaeater15​ @xxsilverwingxx @prettyinblack231 @kookie-doughs  @mikesdeath @bruh-kill-me @skeet-skeet-double-fckn-yeet @d0llpie @0-hysteria-0 @katsumi-sumi @rintarawr​ @ sirachano0dles @satan-ruler-of-hells 

If your name is bold I can’t tag you. 

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

New Dawn Fades — Literary References Analysis Part 4: The Id, the Ego, the Superego

Cyberpunk Spoiler Warning 

Here’s part four of me going through all the endings and looking for the literary references in each of the endings, which I believe allude to what happens to V/Johnny, possibly in future DLC. If you haven’t read my other posts, you should read them here (Johnny’s Mikoshi poem, V’s Mikoshi Poem, The Star ending) first since we’re gonna loop back to them later.

New Dawn Fades was such a pain in the ass; because Johnny is such an art hoe, I found three different poems/stories scattered around. Not only that, but two of them are translated from Polish, and one of them us from Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. I studied English literature so…forgive me if this is super surface-level. Also, stuff gets lost in translation, so the original meaning sometimes gets lost. If Polish literature is anyones niche, please teach me a thing two, but all I can do now is my best! But from what I could tell, damn…paints a pretty depressing picture. Let’s start with the two Polish writers first:

Bolesław Leśmian, "Why so many candles...”

Why so many candles, these faces above me?

No more harm shall ever meet my body.

Everyone is standing - while here alone I lie -

Grieving, feigning. One must be true when one must die.

And so, buried under these wreathes of leaves, I lie -

Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.

Death, gone silent, once again rushes to my head,

Though by now I know all my comprehension is dead.

How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.

This one is…yikes. Depressing. As I talked about in previous posts, V’s poem is more pessimistic: nothing we do matters, we’re all just dust in the wind, you know, the good stuff. Johnny’s poem has a very different stance; art makes us immortal, and we can change the world, etc. With this…Johnny seems to have given his larger-than-life attitude up in favor of V’s resignation that life sucks. Much like Prufrock in V’s poem, Johnny is lying “Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.” Almost as if he didn’t want V’s body, not as a selfless gesture…but because he has grown accustom to his previous form. In Johnny’s version of Alt’s poem, it almost seems as if he embraces being a construct — the form of immortality it, and his legacy, grants him (remember all that hokey about being a golden bird to sing his message to the youth?). Blackwall was a kind of death Johnny knew — yet now:

“How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.”

Interesting. We never find out where Johnny is going when he leaves Night City, but it makes me wonder. Is he truly starting anew? Or hoping to fix what went wrong?

In the next room, we find another poem, this one an excerpt from Labyrinth by Wisława Szymborska:

So this way or that,

Or no, the other,

By ear or by your gut,

By your wits or by shortcut,

By any means necessary,

Cutting crooked corners.

Past whatever row in a row

Of corridors and gates,

Quickly, in the meantime

Your time grows short,

From one place to another

To one of many still open,

Of darkness and plight

But also delight, held just ajar,

Where there's joy, though sorrow

Lies well-nigh nearby,

And elsewhere, somewhere,

Wheresoever and whereabout,

Fortune in misfortune

Like a parenthetical parenthesis

Acceptance of it all

And suddenly - a fall

I’m a little shaky on the meaning behind this one. My immediate response is to compare it to the poem found in The Star — which contains a piece from The Marriage Between Heaven and Hell by William Blake. The overarching use of this poem, by my interpretation, is an explanation for what the Blackwall is: hell. But not hell how most would perceive it. In fact, according to Blake, hell isn’t so bad. Our views of heaven and hell, good and evil, are wrong. Everyone contains both good and bad within them, and neither is wrong, simply two opposites; between conformity and rebellion, art and obedience. If we were to look at it this way, V would most likely belong in “Heaven,” the world of the obedient, those who play by the worlds rules (at least, in the beginning of the story, before Johnny influences them toward the rebel path), while Johnny represents “Evil,” and would belong to Hell. In some dialogue choices, Johnny will even state that he no longer believes he is a human, and is in fact code, no longer belonging in the world of the living. In this scenario, both have found themselves where they don’t belong. Not only that — but one is supposed to be a healthy mix of so-called “Good” and “Evil.” The “Soul,” and “Body,” are one, not meant to be separated. Uh oh. The tone of this poem in Johnny’s context just seems so…lost, to me. Someone who found their other half, their perfect foil, a soul and body as one…and now it’s gone. What does one do after such a loss?

And finally, the most grim of the three stories: Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. Specifically, Book III, Narcissus and Echo. This one most likely has the greatest significance; not only is it a shard you can pick up, but an open copy of the book can be found in Johnny’s hotel room, drawing further attention to it. 

If you haven’t read it, let me give you a quick and dirty summary:

At the beginning of the story, Narcissus’ mother, Liriope, asks the prophet Tiresias if her son will live to see old age, which he replies “only if he does not know himself.” One day when Narcissus is 16, he is out hunting when he finds a mountain Nymph named Echo. Echo, as one might guess, was cursed by Hera and can only repeat what is said back to her. You know. Like an echo. Echo falls in love with Narcissus at first sight and follows him throughout the forest, waiting for him to speak so she can communicate with him. Narcissus eventually gets separated from his hunting group, and calls out for them, which Echo…well, echos. Eventually Echo reveals herself and Narcissus freaks out, telling her basically he’d rather die than be with her. She hides in a cave and pines until she whithers away from hunger, and only her voice remains.

Many other nymphs fall for Narcissus because apparently he’s a straight up snack, but he rejects all of them. Apparently someone gets so salty about it, they summon the Goddess of Vengeance to do something about it. She leads him to a crystal clear pool, in which he is able to see his reflection. Remember the thing about knowing oneself? Yeah…At first, Narcissus thinks the reflection is a different person and falls in love. He smiles, the reflection smiles, so it must like him back, right? Eventually he reaches to touch it, and realizes that it’s him. He freaks out, and much like Echo, stays by his reflections side until he withers away. Having a total meltdown, he cries out “Alas!” which is echoed, by well, Echo. Her voice lived on, and she watches him die as he calls “Farewell, dear boy. Beloved in vain.” Once again, Echo repeats this. Narcissus dies and all the thirsty hoes make a pyre to burn him, but when they go looking for him they find the Narcissus (flower) instead (nooo...dont transform into a flower, you’re so sexy ahaha). 

So what does this mean for Johnny/V? Well, two main things pop out to me: transformation, and reflections. Much like Echo and Narcissus are reflections of each other, V and Johnny reflect each other. As @ellitira pointed out in my analysis of the Star, V and Johnny constantly reflect each other. One of the most obvious ways is their literal reflection; if you look in a mirror during a relic malfunction, you’ll see Johnny, not V. But scenes are reflected as well; the first and last time V meets Johnny, they grab him by the shoulder from behind to get his attention as he turn to face them. The first time Johnny and V have a civil conversation, they’re sitting at a table in Tom’s Diner, Johnny’s foot on the table. This mimics their conversation in Mikoshi with Alt. Their conversation about taking a bullet for one another in the Pista Sofia where Johnny is sitting backwards on a chair while V is on the ground is also repeated moments later, as Johnny and V have their final conversation about who will stay and who will go with Alt. Johnny also mentions that he spent his first few weeks in NC laying in bed, staring at the ceiling fan. When he awakens in New Dawn Fades, what is he doing? Staring at the ceiling fan…in Pacifica, not far from the Pista Sofia. The boy who he gives the guitar to is even wearing V’s “favorite shirt”…the one we see them wearing in the first scene they’re introduced. There’s probably loads more, so feel free to share if you find any more. If you want to know more about why this is significant, make sure to read about V’s version of Alt’s poem. 

So why do these reflections/echos matter? Well, what does one do with a reflection? Reflect. Johnny begins to examine himself through V, and he begins to realize he doesn’t like what he sees. If V calls him the man who saved her life, he’ll respond with “you have no idea how badly I want that to be true.” He tries his best to right his wrong only after this conversation with V, not only in Burning Love and Chippin’ In, but in other ways too. For example, it’s Johnny’s idea to call V’s loved ones to say goodbye on the roof scene, because “he wished that he had had a chance to.” Because of V, he grows, changes, and becomes a better person, just as much if not more as he seems to change V. As he leaves V’s grave, he even states that he has changed; that he’s wiser now, and won’t make the same mistakes. He states he won’t dwell on what happened, but somehow I doubt that, considering everything above.

The other theme of Narcissus and Echo is of transformation; after all, metamorphosis actually means "to change or transform.” Echo becomes, well, and echo, and Narcissus becomes a flower. V and Johnny also transform; not only physically between engram and human, but they transform one another. Both of them fall in love, and neither will move on. Echo falls in love with Narcissus, and Narcissus falls in love with his reflection. Because they refuse to transform the way they feel, they must die and transform physically. So who represents who in this scenario? In a way, Johnny is both. Johnny is a bit, well, narcissistic. He’s self-absorbed in his flashbacks, and adored by countless fans, yet ignores them in favor of his own company. He thinks everything is about him (Alt’s death, Samurai, etc.)  and is willing to die for his beliefs. He is also constantly reflecting on himself through V. However, what really kills him is losing Alt; she tells him not to follow her (much like Narcissus tells Echo to leave him alone). He does anyway, and avenging her leads to his demise.

What’s especially sad about this is the way Johnny views transformation; he is very concerned with the idea of one’s individual identity, and hates the idea of turning into something you’re not. He despises that he’s going to turn V into himself by force. He hates dolls because he sees their behavior chip as something that changes them into something they’re not. He’s scared of V going to Blackwall not because it’s death, but because they “won’t be the same.” I don’t think Johnny ever wanted V’s body; again, not as a courtesy, but because it’s not him. After all, he could have just let nature take its course and let himself re-write their psyche, but instead he actively tries to save them as best he can. If V chooses to let him have their body, he hardly seems happy about it; especially compared to how happy he seems to see that part of him will live on in the way V refuses to give up should they choose to live on. By taking V’s body, he is no longer himself; rebel, rocker-boy, legend, and the guy who promised to save V’s life. Johnny in A New Dawn has lost his entire sense of self, his entire new and improved identity; one that learned from his mistakes and became a better person because of V. Johnny has The Tower tattooed on his arm, the card of (often painful) transformation and change. Yet this is what Johnny is most afraid of; not death, or even the not-so-bad sort-of hell that is Blackwall. He’s afraid of losing himself, and by losing V, he has lost a part of himself. The part of himself that was supposed to be a better person; who was supposed to save V’s life.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “Black Hole.”

I was walking, I tended to do that when I had to think, and today was a thinking kind of day. I’m not exactly a thinking kind of guy if I am being honest. Most of the time the inside of my head is a wasteland of song lyrics, movie clips, and microwave noises, but right now I had to try and figure some things out.

First and foremost I had been thinking about the spiderlings  a lot lately. It hurt e all over to think the things I was thinking now, but it had to be done. 

The spiderlings, when it came right down to it, were just kids like toddlers. They were still learning how to interact with people, they were still growing up, and admittedly, I wasn’t doing a very good job at parenting. First and foremost, however, was the fact that they shouldn’t even be on the ship in the first place. Children weren’t allowed on UNSC ships unless there was  rescue mission going on, or they were being transported for some reason.

No one else on the ship would be allowed to take their kids with them, so why should I. It sort of wasn’t fair if you thought on it for a little bit.

Number two, it wasn’t exactly fair to the spiderlings either. They needed some sort of education if they wanted to live in this universe as it was, and right now I didn’t have time to sit them down and teach them anything. I honestly couldn’t really do anything for them at all know that I thought about it. I was horrible at discipline and even worse at teaching them  the things they should know.

They needed a preschool or something where they could learn how to read and write, though I had no real idea where to do that.

I had been thinking about this a lot lately based on some of the things I had come to realize while I was gone on leave, the number one being that I took too much on my shoulders. N o one here except for me was expected to father and run a ship at the same time.

If anything I was doing the spiderlings a disservice by keeping them here.

It hurt me to say all of that because the aggressive controlling part of me doesn’t want to admit that I can’t do all of it all by myself.

But I can’t.

However, I do know someone who potentially could if she was going to do what she said she was going to do.

A part of my, however, didn’t want to contact Eris.

We hardly knew each other and to ask for favors would be a bit much. Arguably the adaptids were older than she was, meaning that choosing her to help me in this endeavour wasn’t fair to her either, but who else was I going to get to take care of them.

One thing is for sure, they needed a lot of things that I just couldn’t provide, and that meant I was going to ave to let go.

Made me sick to my stomach but there you had it.

I admired it.

I Can’t do it.

I turned the corner onto the bridge my mind made up. I would have to Call Eris when we were out of warp and see if she would take another couple of hybrids.

I made myself feel a little better by promising I would call and visit as often as I could, though it hurt me to think how the spiderlings might respond to me just up and leaving them.

I tried to remind myself that I wasn’t up and leaving them, I was doing what any other father in the UNSC would have to do and that was find them a place to stay and learn and grow and all of those other things, but a part of me still felt horrible.

To take my mind off of that decision, I turned my head towards  one of the bridge crew members, “Grab a tablet and follow me.”

They did as told, bot up and followed.

It honestly still surprises me when people follow my orders. Like I expect to have to explain or justify my reasoning to them, but instead they sort of just get up and walk over like that was supposed to be how it worked.

I  wasn’t totally convinced.

I motioned them to follow and together we walked down the hall.

I took my first stop in the medical bay where  Krill and Katie working quietly to deep clean the med bay while there were no patients to work on.

Krill looked up and his antennae buzzed slightly when he saw me. A frown crossed his face as he looked me over, expecting some sort of injury. I have him a smile and almost winked but then remembered that when you have one eye winking just looks like blinking.

Katie straightened up, “Good morning Commander.” She said with a wide smile.”

That would always surprise me to, when your friends call you by a title.

“Morning Doctor.” I responded in kind walking over with my assistant at my heels.

Krill seemed to relax, “how may we help you this morning, commander.”

I took a seat on the edge of one of the beds and bounced my foot up and down a bit as i thought, “I was just thinking about the ship and how it’s run.”

They looked at each other.

I held up a hand, “Don’t worry it’s nothing like that. I just realized the other day that I don’t really know how things work on my own ship despite trying to control everything all the time, so I am going to go around to all of the departments get and idea of how they work, and what they do, and how they might need my help if anything.” I motioned back towards my assistant, “Lt. McKinnon is going to take notes for me, and then later on I am going to meet with the Jedi council, and we are going to decide how best to delegate and meet the needs of the ship more effectively.”

Katie raised an eyebrow, “The Jedi council?”

“Yeah, that’s what I am calling it, and you can’t make me decide otherwise.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled and I smiled back.

If they thought my idea was dumb, they at least humored me.

As far as my involvement, there really was none, though I had to make sure that everyone was up to date on their medical evals and vaccinations, which was probably a job I could delegate to someone else, or at least give Katie and Krill the power to do, so I would have to look into that later.

I stood from there and together me and my assistant moved to the other departments before slowly coming around to the rec hall where I knew I might find a particular grou pf of people.

Cannon was there as I expected he would be playing pool with a group of other Drev.

Cannon was a good shot while the others were a couple seconds away from poking each other in the eye with the cues, but they were laughing and talking rapid fire in drev, fast eough that I was having trouble understanding just exactly what they were saying.

Cannon leaned over the table and took a shot sending one of the balls into a corner pocket with a satisfying clatter.

The other Drev groaned and he raised his fist in triumph.

I approached once Cannon won the game, and the big guy saw me coming  raising the pool cue in greeting like he might raise a spear. The other Drev did the same 

“Zhad tsak Hajee lasan jirhaat.”

I raised my hand and returned the greeting.

May your spear be sharp or something similar.

I kept the conversation mostly in Drev for the sake of the clan, “Cannon how are you this morning?”

He lifted his head to me, “Won seven duels and tested some of Chalan’s new weapons.” 

I smiled, “Ben busy than I see.”

“I always try to keep it that way.”

Cannon was the defacto clan leader. Technically it was either sunny or I, but Sunny wasn’t reall the clan leading type and I had everything else to run so that gave Cannon most command over the Drev, which is why I was here.

“Just coming in to make sure you guys have everything you need and see if there is anything that you guys need done. Cannon obviouly you are on the jedi council, so you’ll figure this out later, but I want to make sure eveyrthing is running smoothly. Is there anything your clan needs to discuss.”

Cannon tapped his fingers agaisnt his carapace beore pulling me aside by the arm.

“Tatazan is…. Pregnant so, what should I do about that?”

A ton of bricks for Commander Adam Vir.

I blinked blindsides by that afformentioned rockslide, “I uh…. Hmm that is complicated.”

I turned to look at the floor. I suppose it should ahve occured to me that when we took on an entire Drev clan that we were also taking on mated pares. Now the UNSC guidelines about being in relationships didn’t cover the Drev considering that their battle partners were always thir significant other so hiring a Drev would be impossible if the rule was followed.

But I had failed to recognize the ‘mated’ part of a mated pair.

“Well shit.” I muttered 

“This isn’t exactly ideal.”

Cannon nodded, “I think it might be best if the child is raised off the ship on Anin.”

“I tend to agree with you there.” I leaned in a bit, “I have been thinking about the same things for the spiderlings.”

He nodded knowingly.

“A ship is no place to grow up.”

I agreed no matter how much child me would have disagreed.

“We can discuss that in meeting tonight, though as clan leader you have the most say in this.”

He nodded his large head, “Where is my sister?” He wondered looking around for where she might be.

“I sent her off to play with making new weapons.”

“Sent her off?” Cannon chuckled in amusement

“Yeah, I think she worries about leaving me on my own, like I am going to set something on fire or something.”

“Have you set anything on fire/” He wondered wryly.

I smirked, “No but I’ve been thinking.”

“For you, that is actually worse than setting things on fire.”

The two of us laughed and I patted him on the arm as I returned him to the pool table and a second round of him kicking everyone’s ass.

Cannon was a good clan leader and had thrown himself into the work wholeheartedly. They respected him, and he got along with them. Not a day went by that you didn’t see him leading the Drev in some new sort of activity to broaden their horizons. I sortof wished Sunny would join them more often.  I think it would be good for her to speak her own language and have friends er own species, but I get why she tended to distance herself.

These Drev were from the same clan that mistreated her entire life, and memories lie that were difficult to forgive at times. Still, they had to be better than me, and I worried about her.

Sure spending her time being beautiful and nobley aloof all the time gave her an heir of…. Hmmm how shall I say…. Excitement and intrigue, but still…. I wanted her to be happy.

And as much as the greedy part of me wanted my friend all to myself I recognized that probably wasn’t a good thing.

I’d talk to her later about it I decided.

“Commander Vir to the  bridge, commander Vir to the bridge.”

I motioned my note taker to follow, and we hurried back to the bridge taking our seats. The captain’s chair was familiar at this point, but I still couldn’t shake off that tiny moment of thrill as I sat down.

“Report.”

“Warp ends in five minutes, commander.”

My heart pounded nervously in my chest. This was it, this was the big moment scientists had been waiting for forever. A real live real time picture of a black hole. Now it was important to keep away from the edge or risk time dilation, spegetiffication, and instant death. 

The kid in me was about to pee himself in excitement, but the Commander in me was intent on not letting everyone die.

I picked up the com on the rest of the ship inviting them to prepare for warp exit, and then told them to get their asses up to the observation deck to see something awesome.

When I put the mic down I was back in commander mode ordering the crew to ready themselves for this moment.

My eyes were fixed straight ahead.

This was going to be insane.

If we came out of this wrong, we could be caught in the event horizon and be…. 

Goners.

“Exiting warp in ten.”

I prepared to take manual control of the ship breath held trying not to imagine what would happen if we appeared at the edge of the event horizon sailing on a dust cloud of light as we plunged towards our death, a black pit of nothingness.

“One”

The warp drie disengaged, and we jolted violently as the air warped around us.

I slammed back in my seat taking immediate control of the ship waiting for any warning bells to go off signaling extreme  gravity,

I took a relieved sigh when there was none and lifted my head to the viewing window.

‘“Ho-ly shit.” I muttered 

The rest of the crew gasped.

It was…. Well it was wow.

IIf you guys have ever seen interstellar, I would go so far as to say that was pretty accurate.

From this distance the thing didn’t look so big, but the very marrow of my bones knew what it meant. The massive disk of light and dust that surrounded it slowly spiraling inward towards a pit of nothingness.

The halo ring of light that surrounded it glowed upward as unbelievable gravity refracted the back of the black hole towards the front.

It was like a dark eye in the middle of space staring outward at us unblinkingly as it lurked in the darkness...

This 

Was the center

Of the Milky Way. 

[hypingthesway]

The Moment - Noah Beck

Chapter Forty-Four

His lips brushed mine and I knew I should have stopped him but there was something telling me not to. He was the one who was always there...he’s the one who’s still here. My hand found his neck, pulling him closer but what happened next shocked me the most.

“I’m sorry.” My hand fell from his neck as he pulled away, stepping away from me. “I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. I um-”

“Ryland, it’s okay, really-” I explained, trying to reassure him as I took his wrist in my hand.

“No, it’s...not.” Pulling away, he made his way to the doorway as he spoke, “We should go, Cross, we don’t want them to suspect anything.” Watching as he left, I couldn’t help but mentally slap myself in the face. What was I thinking?

“Ryland?” Letting out a sigh as I reached the doorway, I knew exactly who had caught us. Looking at Casey’s surprised face, I knew if she had never caught us together, she would have never figured it out. 

“Ryland.” I repeated. I honestly didn’t feel the need to explain myself, as it seemed things between me and Ryland were going to be left in the past. Heading back out to the pool area, I stood next to Jaden and Nick in the circle and waited for the music to begin.

“Alright! The rules,” Tayler shouted, getting everyone’s attention. “We’re going to start with Josh, when the first Thunder comes up, Josh will begin drinking until the next Thunder comes up, in which he will stop and Nessa will start and then so on and so forth. This game is designed to get you fucked up, so if you’re not on that level, we go again until you are! Start!” The music began playing and everyone began singing along and I just knew it was going to be a wild time.

---

Sitting down on the pool chair, I brought the can to my lips as I mumbled against it, “So after all that, we’re just going to ignore each other again?” He hadn’t spoke to me since the kitchen and honestly, I thought we would’ve just been able to have a conversation out in the open, as it felt like we were in a good place. 

“You ignored me, Cross.”

“And now you’re ignoring me. Does it really matter?” I asked, not understanding why it mattered who ignored who first. Deciding to ignore the fact that everyone was around us and would probably, at some point, clue into the fact that we were having more than just a causal conversation, I turned to face him, crossing my legs in the process. “Do you remember, it was at some random party at Hype, when everyone was so fucked up and you and I actually spent the entire time together? We weren’t worried about people seeing us or wondering what was going on; it was just...us.”

“Regan, it was you,” Looking away as my first name left his mouth, I knew what happened...well what almost happened in the kitchen was really getting to him. “who was worried the entire time. You know how many times I sat in a room full of people and I wanted to just blurt it out? You know how many times Fletcher asked me if I was seeing anyone and it killed me to say no? I hated keeping you a secret; to me, it downplayed how much I actually cared about you. I wanted to kiss you, in the kitchen. God, I wanted to kiss you so bad,” swinging his legs to the edge of his chair as he faced me, he took my hands in his as he continued, “ but it wouldn’t have done either of us any good. There’s something about Noah that you’re holding onto and there’s something about you that I’m holding onto. The only difference between us is that I know what it is; you don’t. Talk to him...forgive him...figure it out.” Leaning over to me, his right hand found my cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to the other one. before getting up from the chair. “I’m not going to say it again, Regan, cause it’s not my place but I don’t think you should go and I think you know that too.”

Looking down towards my phone as he walked away, I knew there was really only one thing left to do but the question was...did I have the balls to do it?

A/N: Has anyone actually played Thunderstruck? Cause I have and oof, it really does get you! But it’s a good time so if you haven’t, (and you’re of age) try it out with your friends, when it’s safe to do so!

[cenestpasmoi-bechloe]

As I Lost My Heart in You

When you’re 16, initials of your soulmate appears on your wrist.It varies by person, but everyone usually spends time trying to find theirs.  It doesn’t always mean that there’s going to be a relationship, sometimes you spend your whole life trying to find your soulmate. 

Title from Mariah Carey's Underneath the Stars.

Gifted to @177-8 for the Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive!

Thank you for contributing!

I hope you enjoy it and I apologize for taking so long!!

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page.

Read on Ao3 

Beca Mitchell got hers the week of her 16th birthday. She didn’t believe in soulmates and initials. Her dad and her mom had their initials, but they had gotten divorced, her mom died of cancer, and while she was fighting it, her dad had found his ‘soulmate’. She couldn’t forgive her father for ding that to her mother.  But she had gotten her initials whether she liked them or not, two letters, CB in cursive.

By that time, she had figured that she was gay, and she had dated a few people.

Her first girlfriend, was Juliana Taylor, but they had broken up, just because they weren’t feeling ‘it’ anymore. Juliana had BM on her wrist, but it probably wasn't her anyways.

She’d decided she’d give boys a try when Conner Basin asked her out. It was less of a date and more of a hangout with a bro, but she had figured he wasn’t the one either, after he had criticized Beca’s favorite video game. He had said the graphics were bad, and that the settings weren’t enough. Beca had called for her friend Stacie to come pick her up at the mall right away, which she did, with her flavor of the week, Jesse Owens.

Boys were a no-go.

Two years later, she was off to college, Barden University, full ride by her father, who is a faculty at Barden. Stacie went along with her, but with a full ride scholarship with her amazing high school grades. Barden had a weird rule about roommates, where everyone had their roommates select randomly by the housing office. That meant that she couldn’t room with Stacie, and she was bunked with Kimmy-Jin, the international student from Korea. Stacie had been roomed with a girl named Alisha, who stacie couldn’t stand. Stacie was literally trying to find a sorority just for their housing.  

Chloe Beale had gotten her initials on her 16th birthday. She didn’t have one before her party, but somehow had one when she took a shower that night. It was a BM in bold letters. She had tried hard to find her soulmate, but couldn’t find anyone that was the ‘one’. She had dated a Bobby Markham, but his birth name was Robert, which made his initials RM, thus making it impossible for him to be her soulmate. But where was the rush anyways? She was still 17. She had college plus a few more years to figure out this whole soulmate thing.

She was off to Barden which had an amazing pre-vetrenary program. She met her best friend, Aubrey Posen during her first year biology class, and they had joined the Barden Bellas together soon after. She started dating Bay Matthews, a boy going to Georgia State at a party during the summer, but had broken up due to him being very possessive.

She had worked hard in the Bellas until her junior year, the senior Bellas that year were a bitch. The captain, Alice was the worst of them all. She bossed everyone around, and made Aubrey and Chloe do all the hard work. She was sick and tired of being bossed around like disposable objects. She had been so happy when the seniors graduated and they were finally the leaders of the group. She and Aubrey had decided to become co-captains instead of closing one leader for their group. After Aubrey and the puke incident, they were out of members and desperate to get freshmen on their team.  During the activities fair on the quad, they had to ask so many girls to join,  they couldn’t keep track. Although their determination, not a lot of people seemed to be interested. Chloe had almost given up when a beautiful brunette had walked past, not interested at first, but had taken their flier.  She had said that acapella was lame, and that she didn’t even sing. That made Aubrey nearly puke, but Chloe had hope.

One day, she’s taking a shower, actually, hooking up in the shower with her flavor of the month or two, Tom, when she hears Davis Guetta’s Titanium sung by a beautiful voice. She stops mid  kiss and walks out of her stall to try to find the owner of her beautiful voice.

“You can sing!” She’s surprised to see the brunette she had just seen at the activities fair in the afternoon.

“Dude!” She closes the curtains, but Chloe opens them back and asks her about how high her belt goes, and about how she should Jon the Bellas.

They sing together, and Chloe leaves the brunette’s shower stall with her boy toy.  What she realizes is that she gad forgotten to ask her her name. All she had managed to see was the brunettes initials on her wrist, which had her initials, CB.

The day of the audition comes, and the brunette decides to arrive at the audition, and sings a song with cups at the end. She can tell that Aubrey is pissed at the fact that she was the best in all of the auditions, and Chloe convinces Aubrey to let her join the Bellas.

After the audition, she finds out that the brunette’s name is Beca Mitchell from the papers Chloe had asked her to fill out.

Beca Mitchell. Chloe’s already so interested in her.

They start with 10 girls on invitation night. The next day, two girls are dismissed, breaking their Bellas promise of not sleeping with a Treblemaker.

Beca didn’t think that shed be joining a female acapella group, and actually taking part in it. Her dad had told her that if she tried her first year, and she still wanted to become a DJ in LA despite trying hard to participate in college life, that he’d let her. That was the biggest reason that she had joined the Bellas, and second being that Chloe, the girl who had caught her at the activities fair, and barged into her shower, was kind of hot. Maybe some hot girl motivation couldn’t hurt. Right?

After the incident at the Semi-finals of the ICCAs, she was definitely getting banned from the group. They had fallen in third place after Beca had sung bulletproof during their set. Aubrey had gotten angry, and she had gotten accused of sleeping with Jesse by her. She was for sure banned from the group.

Thats what she thought, when she got a message from Chloe during the break. The Bellas were back in the Finals, and that she wanted Beca to join the practice on Monday. She thought she was going to be banned, so the message took her by surprise, but talking it through with her dad, she had decided she would go back to practice.

She walks into the auditorium 15 minutes late, when Aubrey is puking her head off, and all the girls are trying to get ahold of the pitch pipe.

She stops the whole argument, and the group shares an amazing moment and the next second, Aubreys tossing her pitch pipe over to Beca. She mis-catches it, and it lands in the pile of puke. Gross.

They head to the pool and have an impromptu mashup session where they find their harmony. They all hug, and Beca somehow catches a glance at Chloes wrist, which says BM. She tries to shake it off of her mind, but she fails.

Chloe had a BM on her wrist, and Beca has a CB. Could this mean that they could be soulmates? But Chloe hasn’t ever said that she was gay, and didn’t she have a boyfriend in the shower that day?

Beca tries to forget.

She really tries.

Beca didn’t believe in soulmates. At least that’s what she had thought. Right?

When she gets back to her dorm after practice one day, she tries to work on her mixes.  She can’t seem to concentrate on anything. Chloe had looked at her more than usual, and Beca was getting nervous. Did she have something to say to her?  Had she done something wrong?

Thats when she gets a knock on the door. Its usually Kimmy-Jin’s friends, so she lets the girl answer it, but to her surprise, what she hears next is a voice that belongs to Chloe.

“Hey Beca. Can I talk to you for a second?” She asks, and Beca looks at her from her desk.

“Yeah. Sure. What’s up?”

Chloe frowns, “Outside maybe?” Beca nods, getting up and walking out the room.

“What’s  up?” Beca asks the ginger as she walks down the hall, and out the door, and she knows she’s heading to the Bellas house. The Bellas had a house, the house Tri Delta had used before moving to a new buildings. It was basically a sorority house, and they were allowed to move in from sophomore year.

“What’s up with you? You’re acting strange lately. “ Chloe says to her.

Beca shrugs. “Its nothing.  N-nothing in general. “ She answers nervously.

“You saw my initials didn’t you?”

Shit. Had Chloe seen her that night?

“You did, huh?” Chloe says turning her wrist to show Beca. “Look, I saw yours in the shower that day. CB. Right?”

Beca nods, a bit more comfortable.

“And you’ve been thinking about this, correct?” She asks her. Beca nods again. “That we have each other’s initials.”

“I don’t even believe in soulmates…..”Beca mutters, looking into Chloe’s eyes.

“They don’t have to be relationships, you know.”

“Yeah, have you seen anyone with a soulmate friendship? They always end up dating, or getting married, or whatever. “Beca scoffs.

Chloe doesn’t say anything. She can’t find anything to say. She tries, but no words come out.

“See. And I don’t believe in this whole soulmates bullshit anyways. Can I go now?” She doesn’t wait for Chloes answer, and just leaves the building, leaving Chloe behind her. She doesn’t know why her aches so much, but she pushes her feelings down, and goes back to her room, crawls into bed, and lets her tears shed. Why was she crying right now?

Chloe stands there in silence, not being able to say anything. She doesn’t know how long she’s just standing in the doorway, until Aubrey comes back from her meeting with her professor.

“God, Chloe. You almost gave me a heart attack. Chloe? Chloe!” She holds on to her shoulder and shakes her.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit tired.” She shakes it off, trying to escape from Aubrey’s tightening grip on her shoulders.

“Oh bullcrap. I know you so well Chloe.” She scoffs. “What’s wrong Chloe? Is it Tom? Because if he’s hurting you, I swear to god Chloe, I’m gonna kill him….”

“No no. It’s not Tom.”

“What is it then? Its Beca isn’t it? Oh my god Chloe. It is! What happened with ear monstrosities?”

“Nothing. Can you leave me alone?” She runs up to her room and slams the door shut, and bursting into tears. Why did she have to be like that to Aubrey? She knows she shouldn’t have, and she’s regretting it so much. And she shouldn’t have confronted Beca. Now she had ruined her relationship with Beca and Aubrey.

Somehow, she’s managed to fall asleep, and she’s woken up with a gentle knock on the door. “Chloe. I’m sorry about earlier. Can I come in?” She hears Aubrey’s voice. She gets out of bed, and opens the door.

“Chloe I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stepped in. I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know.” She say, giving her a hug.

“I know Bree.” She sighs, burying her face in Aubrey’s shoulder.

“Do you like her Chloe?”Aubrey asks, and she doesn’t even need to answer. “I know Chloe. It’s okay.” She rubs her back as Chloe sobs into her shoulder.

Beca ’s about to miss two days of classes when her father comes in to her room. “Beca. Wake up. Beca?”

She flutters her eyes open. “Huh?”

“Beca. What’s wrong? I know you’re upset at me but you’re upset for a whole another reason. What’s up?”He asks.

“NOthinggggg. Just some soulmate bullshit.”

“Beca, are we talking about me and your mother, because…” He tries to start but Beca intervenes.

“No. It’s not about you and mom or you and Sheila. It’s about my soulmate. That is, if there is even one anymore.” She scoffs.

“Who do you think it is?”

“Chloe.”

“Chloe in the Bellas. Chloe Beale?” He opens his eyes wide. “Oh Beca. That’s great!”

“No it isn’t. I just messed up our whole friendship. I just yelled at her and ran off.” She says looking down.

“Oh Beca, go talk to her. You might even find out that she’s not even your soulmate.” He says patting her on her shoulder. “Now go talk to her or go to your philosophy class.” He says to her and leaves the room.

Now Beca had no choice. She had to go see Chloe. Right? She gets up, takes a shower and gets ready to head to the auditorium to find Chloe.

Chloe decided that she would keep skipping practice until she was okay, and that probably meant for eternity. That’s why she’s surprised, when she hears a knock at the door. It couldn’t be anyone other than Aubrey, right? But Aubreys at practice right now, and she always texts before she comes back, asking if she needed anything from the mini-mart. That meant someone else was at the door. Right? What if its a…..

“Chloe?” The door opens and Chloe jumps, but there she is, Beca Mitchell, standing in front of the doorway of Chloe’s room.

“Oh my god Beca! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” She says now trying to calm herself down. Her heart was pounding and it didn’t seem to stop. Was it her being scared, or was it because Beca’s here?

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I went to the auditorium, and you weren’t there. Aubrey gave me her keys and told me you were here.” She says as she slowly steps into the room. “I should’ve called. Or whatever….” She mutters, waiting for permission to come into the room. “I needed to talk to you.” Chloe shifts in her bed, making room for Beca to sit, and she takes it as an go sign to walk into the room.

“What’s up?” Chloe says in her most normal-im-okay-but-kinda-not tone.

“Soulmates.” She just says, looking at Chloe.

“Soulmates.” She repeats. “What about them?” She grips her fist tight, nails turning her palms white as she clutches. She’s nervous. She didn’t realize it until now, but she’s nervous. She’s nervous about what Beca is going to say. How it might change their relationship forever. How it might just come crashing down.

“What do you think about them? Do you believe in it?” Beca pauses. “Do you think we are?”

She’s been waiting for her to say this to hear her say it. She looks into her eyes. Beca’s beautiful blue eyes are twinkling. her tears are just barely there, right before spilling out of her eyes.

“Beca. I can’t. I can’t anymore…. I can’t pretend like we don’t have chemistry. Like we aren’t meant to be. I can’t do this anymore. Please tell me if I’m crazy, and I’m the only one feeling this between us. Because I’ll stop. I’ll stop if this is just me. So tell me. Am I the only one feeling our chemistry? The way sparks fly when we look at each other, how we slipped into it own world, that days in the shower? Tell me. please….” Chloe lets her tears spill out of her eyes, down her cheeks, and onto the comforter.

“Chloe….” Beca says, looking into her eyes, with her own tears down her cheeks. “I’m messed up. I’m damaged goods. You don’t want me….”

“I do though Beca. I really do. I can’t fight this anymore.”

That moment, no-one really knows what happens, or who kissed who first. It doesn’t matter anymore. Their lips touch, and their hands are around one another, and it’s perfect. No-one could break this moment.

“I love you Beca. I can’t help but love you.” Chloe smiles as she says so, lips still touching.

“I think I love you too Beale.” Beca chuckles.

“You THINK!? Beca THINK!? You don’t love me?” Chloe pouts, jokingly pushing her away.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. I love you Beale. There! Happy?” She says pecking her lip once again.

They’re kissing each other back and fourth, enjoying their moment together when they hear a knock on the door, and then the door opens.

“Finally. What took you so long?” Aubrey chuckles as she looks at them from the doorway.

“Nothing. Beca just had to realize that I was here.”Chloe chuckles as she pokes the younger brunette.

“Heyyyyyy!” Beca pouts, burying her face in Chloe’s hair.

“You two are disgustingly adorable. Don’t hurt her Beca. Or else, I’ll hunt you down and murder you. I’m not kidding.” Aubrey ays as she walks out.

“I love you too!” Chloe giggles kissing Beca’s head. “So are you going to come back to practice now?” She asks as she wraps her arms around Beca and pulls her down to her bed, making them lay down.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, you’re gonna drag me to them now right?” Beca asks, lifting her head up, and looking at the ginger’s eyes.

“Yup. That’s totally going to happen. But don’t worry. It’ll be worth it.” She gives a quick peck on the lips. “So, does this mean you’re gonna be mine girlfriend?”

“Um…… I guess?”

“Um… YOU GUESS!? Seriously? Get out of my room!” She jokingly pushes the brunette off of her.

“Sorry! Sorry! I would love to be your girlfriend. “ She says to her, trying to not get pushed off of the bed.

“Awwwww. Yay!” She wraps her arms back around her.

“Love you too. “ Beca says laying back on top of her.  She didn’t believe in soulmates before, but now she did, and it’s a good change for her. She knows she’s going to be so much happier, and maybe Barden wasn’t that bad after all.

She then realizes that Chloe’s a senior.

But right now, it doesn’t matter, she presses a gentle kiss on the ginger’s lips and closes her eyes, falling asleep.

[cle1024]

save me, save you | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin 

genre: angst, fluff 

summary: getting involved with the mafia was certainly not something you aimed to do in life―it was something you would’ve gratefully avoided, you much preferred breathing and living peacefully. yet, somehow, meeting him made the danger worth it.  mafia!au, gang!au, fem!reader 

warnings: mentions of murder, violence, drugs, swearing 

a/n: so uh,, i know nothing about saving someone’s life or fixing up a stab/bullet wound, and i also wasn’t taught much about human anatomy, so there WILL be inaccuracies in the medical scenes. i apologise in advance and i guess this is a cringe warning for anyone who is actually educated on those situations, i dropped out of science so can’t relate. i started this not long after miroh dropped i could just never be bothered to finish it until recently, but third hyunjin fanfic in a row here we come!!!!!! 

There was no doubt in your mind that Felix Lee was your best friend and always had been. 

The two of you grew up near one another, subsequently attending school together for the majority of your lives. It was the third day of school when the freckled boy approached you, tanned skin and dark hair, but a bright smile and sparkly eyes. 

“My name is Felix, let’s be friends!” 

“Okay.” 

Life by Felix’s side was enjoyable, content. Life was normal. And so, when Felix broke the news that he was moving to South Korea, you were understandably devastated. Though, you knew how much it meant to Felix: getting more in touch with his culture, family, and pursuing his studies more seriously and competitively. Nonetheless, despite all the pain and upset you felt, you supported his decision and maintained contact with him. 

That was six years ago when Felix left. Now, you’d both graduated from high school, Felix had acquired a stable job (that’s all he would tell you about it), and you were applying for an international studies program. You had no interest in the program initially, but your local universities had less than stellar resources for the course you wanted to study, and your teachers had constantly reassured that you were smart enough for a more prestigious institution elsewhere in the world. That and the fact the program meant your tuition would cost much less. You hadn’t expected to be accepted into the program, nor did you expect to receive a letter from the prestigious Seoul National University accepting your enrolment, yet you sat there with the printed letter in front of your awestruck face. It was only natural that you immediately text Felix—you told each other, almost, everything and he lived in Seoul, this could be the reunion you’d joked about when he first left. 

  |  so i got accepted into seoul national university    |  but i don’t speak good korean    |  lix: LMAO ME NEITHER HOLY FUCK 

Twelve months had passed since that message was sent. Your were almost fluent in speaking Korean, you much preferred just listening to it and speaking English with Felix. A sigh escaped your lips as you trudged to your apartment door, exhaustion racked your body from the unbearable demand of studying medical science. You tried to convince yourself it would pay off, but you weren’t certain yet. Perhaps when you sit your exams you’ll find out. Exams. Why did you have to think that up? It drew a small groan from your mouth as you shoved the key into your apartment door, prepared to fall face first into the couch and complain to the air. Though your desires could not be fulfilled. Sitting on the very couch you intended to fall into was Felix, twirling a swiss army knife twirl around his right fingers as he watched his phone intently. There was also a gun on the coffee table. Someone’s gun was on your coffee table. You had a lot running through your mind, many questions and minor concerns about why the fuck Felix had illicit weaponry in your house, but all you managed to say was, “oh.” The boy obviously hadn’t heard you come in, his head snapping up and his fingers halting their twirling. Looking in your eyes, he felt obligated to tell you everything.  

“That means I’m, basically, part of the mafia,” he paused to lick his lips, “we don’t sell weapons to the wrong people or kill for money. It’s more about… corruption and the occasional cocaine,” he summed up gently. You could definitively say it was the wildest fucking thing Felix had ever said to you, and you’d had some pretty odd conversations at two in the morning. As far as you knew, his job was stable and high paying, but you didn’t know it was completely and utterly illegal. Most sane people would flip their shit in this situation, cut off ties with Felix and shove him—along with all his weapons—out of the apartment. You didn’t react that way, and you weren’t sure whether it was because you were far too open-minded or because you had slowly lost your mind over time and become desensitised to any sort of shocking news. 

“Oh.” 

Felix chewed on his lip as you processed the information, clasping and unclasping his hands. He prepared for the worst, but you simply shrugged, “okay.” 

Felix was beyond bewildered, “y-you’re not mad? Or scared?” Your eyes softened at his questioning. 

“Felix, why would I be mad? It’s your life, do whatever you want with it. Your job doesn’t change the fact you’re a freckled sook who cried when you made your ramen too spicy.” 

“Okay, that was one time,” you laughed at his defensive expression and that was enough to break the facade completely. The two of you laughed for a little while until Felix’s face returned to a more serious expression, “Y/N, I promise you, you’re in no danger whatsoever. The golden rule in this district is to leave innocent people out of it, regardless of how much someone fucked you over. If anyone, and I mean anyone, does anything that alarms you or threatens you, you call me right away. Understand?” 

A soft smile stretched across your face at his concern, “of course I will,” Felix breathed a sigh of relief. If anything happened to you, especially at the fault of his job, he’d never forgive himself. To him, family came before his own safety; you were his unbiological sibling and he would always protect you as best as he could. 

It was all fine and dandy until someone broke that rule. Your eyes stung with exhaustion, the bright screen of your laptop glared at you as you tiredly read the words displayed on the screen. There was nothing you craved more at the moment than sleep; you seemed to be craving that a lot since you came to Korea. At first, you thought the distant sound of a doorknob being wobbled was one of your neighbours. It was a Friday night—or Saturday morning, you supposed—they’d probably gone out, got shit-faced and stumbled back home, having forgotten how to unlock a door. But then the noise stopped, a door squeaked open and was gently shut. You heard the door click back into place, and that’s when things started to feel off. It sounded too close to be next door—now that you thought about it, neither of your neighbours would even be out at this time. Perhaps it was Felix, he had often complained about how shitty the door to your apartment was. With a stretch of your arms and legs momentarily you pushed yourself from the bed, creeping towards your bedroom door. The cool metal of the doorknob brushed against your skin, seconds away from being opened when a series of crashes sounded from the small living room on the other side of the door. Felix may be clumsy, he may sit up too quickly and hit his head on tables, but he rarely managed to break anything in the process—if he did then the sound was followed with a string of English curses, but cuss words never came. You were starting to believe it was Felix. With all the courage you could muster, you opened the bedroom door and stood shocked at the scene in front of you. A vase lay broken on the floor—crash one. Your white sofa had been tipped backwards, the cushions scattered the floor. The coffee table had been overturned, candles left strewn on the floor. Your porcelain plate, which had previously sat by the sink, was attempting to escape the kitchen in hundreds of pieces—crash two. The wooden shelving unit diagonal to your bedroom had been tipped over, all your picture frames smashed into dangerous shards of glass—crash three. The chest of drawers near your bedroom door had been left untouched for the time being, a photo of you and Felix at seven years old perfectly intact. In the midst of chaos, a man stood with a black ski mask covering his face. All you could see where his ominous brown eyes, staring right back at you. It felt like you were staring into a dark pool, full of mystery yet devoid of emotion or sense of reality. It seemed to happen in an instant; one minute you were standing there in an intense stare off, the next you had been shoved against the wall of your living room right next to your bedroom door, your phone falling from your free hand in the process. His glove-clad hand wrapped securely around your throat, the pressure of his fingers increasing to cut off your air supply once and for all. You clawed at him, but you already knew it was no use. He was twice the size of you, had the upper hand, and had already weakened you significantly. You’d already accepted that you were destined to die at some point, everyone was, but you’d always secretly prayed that you’d get to say goodbye first. You didn’t want to leave without telling your parents you loved them, or telling your friends back home that they were some of the greatest people you’d ever met, or just saying a simple ‘cya’ to Felix, as you always did. Felix. The memory struck you like lightning as your vision started to spot slightly. When he confessed to you about his career, made that promise of protection, he had purposefully left something behind. 

“Take this,” Felix said as he held the swiss army knife towards you. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“If you ever need to defend yourself and I can’t, for some reason, use it.” 

You’d made the wise decision to hide it in your living room, behind that picture of you and Felix. If you could stretch your arm just a little further, you could grab the red covering. Your fingers strained as you held out for the weapon, head lifting up as your vision worsened. The sharp metal tickled at your fingers, causing you to desperately snatch the weapon up. You used all the coherence you had left, swiftly flicking the knife out of the plastic covering. Your vision was blurred, severely, and you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Just a little longer. With all the strength you could muster, you brought the blade upwards, taking no notice of where you stabbed him. A grunt left his lips, followed by some choked gasps. His hand unlatched from your neck to grab his own. You fell to your knees, wheezing for oxygen desperately, taking deep breaths as you coughed and gasped. Your eyes traveled downwards, catching sight of the red. There was blood all along the knife, staining your fingers. The man lay ahead of you on his back, blood spilling from his throat as he twitched and choked up the metallic substance. It was all over the floor around him. You could tell you’d caught an artery. In desperation, you tugged the purple hoodie from your shoulders, holding it against the man’s open neck wound. It seemed to get harder to breathe, even without the hand working to restrict your. Hands shaking, covered in the man’s crimson blood, tears streamed down your face. With the absence of your purple hoodie, now stained with the blood of someone else, the cold air nipped at your exposed skin. There were some red smears on your once white singlet. Why was there so much red? The shaking of your hands only worsened as you crawled to sit against the wall, hand reaching for the cellphone you’d dropped in the commotion. You only needed one person right now. The phone didn’t ring for long. 

“Y/N, what’s up?” Felix spoke calmly through the phone, blissfully unaware. A sob forced up your throat as you tried to talk. 

“F-Felix, I killed someone. Oh, God, I killed someone,” your voice came out between broken sobs. You could imagine Felix standing up in a panic, gathering his shit and furrowing his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean? Where are you?” 

“I-I’m at home, someone came in and I didn’t know what was happening and I-I stabbed him, Felix I sta-” 

“Hey, take a deep breath, okay? I’m on my way right now, don’t move,” you nodded in response, knowing fully well that Felix couldn’t see you. Mumbling an okay, you ended the call. 

Felix gently pushed open the door, ushering in the others. Chan, Minho and Changbin had insisted on coming along with Felix, worried someone else could be lurking and waiting for Felix to enter your apartment block. The apartment was in disarray: furniture tipped, photo frames shattered, a plate thrown carelessly like a toy. A body surrounded by blood, and Felix’s childhood friend sitting against the wall behind it, shaking. The purple material of your hoodie was stained, noticeably so, laying across your legs haphazardly. Felix rushed forward, crouching to your level and pulling you into his chest. The others watched from a few feet away, uncertain of what to say or do. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Felix cooed as sobs wracked your form. He swayed you gently, petting your hair to calm you down. The youngest turned his attention towards the other boys once your sobs quietened slightly, “Minho, can you take Y/N back down to the car? We’ll be down in a minute,” Minho nodded silently, gently walking towards you to scoop you up in his arms, the hoodie remaining bundled up on your legs. Neither of you said a word once you entered the car. Minho peeled the cover up from your lap, slightly gagging at the toxic iron scent of the blood. He gently take your hands in his as he washed off as much blood as he could with a white cloth and water bottle. Your mind was evidently elsewhere. 

Chan and Felix returned to the car ten minutes later after thoroughly searching for stolen possessions. Chan filled Minho in on the details, hoping you’d gain some closure from hearing them, “he was from NCT, had some silver bracelets and their wallet shoved in his bag. Changbin called Woojin, they’ll put everything back in place,” Minho nodded softly as Felix opened up the car door on your other side. The car starts as Felix takes one of your hands in his, the red stains faded to a lighter tone. You seemed to take no notice, staring blankly at the car’s console in front of you. 

It was late, or early depending on how you see it. Red lines illuminated in formation of the time, 3:36am. The car had pulled up in front of a dark house in a quieter area of Seoul, yet still off one of the main roads. You concluded that it was only quiet because of the ungodly time, otherwise there would be cars cramming the streets, honking left and right. Chan exited the car first, purposefully closing the door gently to not alarm or shock you, Minho following suit. Felix opened his door, tugging your hand gently to encourage you to leave the vehicle. It was as if you were on autopilot. Blood splattered legs moved on their own as the green hoodie Minho had leant you protected your arms from the chilling night air, Felix’s arm slipped around your waist to support you as you walked into the house. He noticed that Woojin’s car was missing from the street; he wondered how long it would take Woojin and Changbin to fix up your apartment. As you stepped foot inside the quiet house, it revealed itself to be much larger than you initially thought. The kitchen was furthest from you, a spiral staircase to the right that led you both upstairs and downstairs, a hallway that trailed off from the left side of the living room. The living room was cozy and inhabited by two boys packing cocaine. Lovely. 

“Hey ma- what the fuck?” The smaller of the two, a brunette boy with chubby cheeks, spoke as he raised his head to greet the returning members. The other boy, with lighter brown hair, almost a dirty blonde, mirrored the other’s confusion. Neither had expected to see a random person with bloody hands, legs and absent eyes being guided through the house by Felix. The freckled boy didn’t stop to greet them, immediately guiding you upstairs to wash off in the bathroom. The two boys immediately understood the severity of the situation, but they still craved for answers. 

“NCT went after them. All they did was defend themselves from death,” Chan spoke firmly, his eyebrows slightly curved in a mix of sympathy and fury.  

Jisung’s eyebrows furrowed, “but we don’t go after innocent people?” 

Chan huffed in response, “clearly NCT had other plans. Where’s Seungmin?”  

“Basement. Jeongin’s there too,” Hyunjin spoke as he turned his attention back to the white substance on the coffee table. Chan nodded firmly before leaving, Minho falling onto the empty couch across from the two boys to stretch his tired limbs. Hyunjin sat with furrowed eyebrows, staring at the table intensely. 

“Hyunjin, you good?” Minho questioned in concern. 

“Yeah, just… something feels off about this.” 

Jisung huffed a laugh, “well, yeah, NCT just broke a golden rule.” 

“That’s the point, why would they?” Jisung had suddenly lost interest in the business transaction being organised on the table, Minho sitting up in curiosity. Hyunjin flickered his eyes to the staircase momentarily, “you know how anal they are about maintaining that rule. Taeyong made the damn rule after…” Hyunjin trailed off as all eyes lowered solemnly, no one wanted to utter her name. They all knew how much it hurt Taeyong when she was murdered, everyone was hurt, shocked. There was no reason to bring up old pain, “why would they break it now?” Minho tilted his head as he wandered over the possibilities, Jisung put his focus back on the white substance with a sigh. 

“Whatever the reason, Chan will make them pay,” his nimbled hands continued with his previous work, “no fucking doubt.” 

Chan stood as Taeyong entered the cafe, bowing and shaking hands before sitting down again. It was better to meet in a public setting, less likely for emotions and irrationality to get the better of anyone involved. The older ran a hand through his fiery red hair in frustration, “what happened?” 

Chan lowered his voice cautiously, “Felix’s friend, Y/N... one of your men tried to kill them this past Friday.” 

Taeyong moved forward in his seat, leaning his elbows on the table with narrowed eyes, “what are you talking about?” 

“Ji Hansol broke into their apartment and almost killed an innocent person. One of your men broke the golden rule.” 

“Where is he?” Taeyong was evidently furious; that rule was the one thing he drilled into his employees’ minds. 

“Dead. It was either him or them.” 

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “if they hadn’t have already killed him I would’ve done it myself,” he paused abruptly, eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, “wait—Ji Hansol?” Chan nodded, “how is that possible? He’s meant to be in China.” 

Chan mirrored Taeyong’s look of confusion, “then what the hell was he doing here?” 

Taeyong sighed, “as suspicious as it looks, I swear on her life that NCT was not behind this in any way. I’ll get the documents to prove he wasn’t meant to be here, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this, I’ll do whatever I can,” his voice softened significantly, “no innocent person deserves to die.” 

Lee Taeyong, as intimidating as he could be, was truly a weakened man. Behind the eyebrow slit, dark narrowed eyes, fiery red hair and commanding presence, he was a grieving lover, a leader of men who could die under his call. Chan knew he hadn’t lived the same experiences as the older, but he understood the fear that plagued him. The fear of losing everything, everyone—the only difference was that Taeyong had already experienced that when she died. Seulgi had done such a good job at keeping Taeyong together, but in doing so she became the only thing that could tear him apart. 

No one had a clue as to why you were targeted to begin with. NCT had proven their lack of involvement, none of Chan’s gang — which you’d come to know as ‘Stray Kids’ — had done anything to provoke Hansol, and he clearly wasn’t here to give an explanation. Seungmin had spent weeks researching the man, with the occasional help of Jeongin when he wasn’t at school or using an innocent childlike facade to coax information. After just over two months, Seungmin had finally found out what happened. During that time, you hadn’t left the guest room unless it was absolutely necessary. Felix and Changbin had returned to your apartment the day after the break-in to collect the belongings you’d need most desperately; none of them wanted you returning to the apartment until there was an answer. 

Seungmin’s chair swivelled around to face Chan and Taeyong in the doorway, “Voler.” 

“What?” 

“It’s French for ‘steal’ apparently,” Seungmin gestured his pen towards his desk, “it’s also the name of a huge hitman and robbery scheme across Asia. It’s believed to have stemmed from the Yakuza, but nothing’s confirmed. Our dear Hansol happened to be a loyal member.” 

Taeyong shook his head in disbelief, “I-I don’t understand, how could he betray us like that?” 

Seungmin sighed softly, “it paid very high, mainly because the stakes were so high. That doesn’t matter though, we’ve got a bigger problem on our hands now,” Seungmin’s hands sifted through the scattered information on his desk, a small noise of triumph leaving his soft lips once he retrieved the piece he was looking for, “they’ve got a base in Ilsandong-gu, Hansol was stationed at that specific base-” 

“Which means they were more likely to have involvement in Y/N’s robbery,” Chan voiced earning a satisfied nod from Seungmin. The curly-haired man turned to Taeyong, “you in?” 

Taeyong eyed the younger two momentarily, “without a fucking doubt.” 

Woojin grunted slightly as he supported Hyunjin with his left arm. They all knew the dangers this mission presented, but none of them quite preempted severe injury. Everything had been going to plan; Changbin sniped the first man who presented himself, Minho snuck up on the second, then all hell broke loose. There was blood everywhere, gunshots whizzing past barricades left and right, it was pure chaos. Hyunjin had been grappling with a rival member, trying to gain dominance in order to reach for the gun abandoned beside the two. He had almost reached it when the other forced a knife through his abdomen towards the upper right of his belly button. Changbin took the chance to shoot the perpetrator in the head after noticing the situation, desperately signalling to Woojin. Soon, all of SKZ were alerted of Hyunjin’s state, covering Woojin from gunfire as he half-dragged half-carried Hyunjin out of the warehouse. 

When you heard the door burst open, the last thing you expected to see was a groaning Hyunjin leaning on Woojin for support. You saw the blood staining his shirt, pouring from his abdomen, causing your stomach to churn and rid of the desire to eat the sandwich you’d just made. You hardly knew Hyunjin, or Woojin, or any of SKZ except for Felix, but you knew where your morals lied. If there was a man bleeding out in front of you, you’d do everything you could to save his life. There’s no denying that you didn’t have extreme confidence in your medical ability, at least in terms of operating on dying people, but you put that aside in the moment. You knew how the human body worked and how to save it, all you had to do was not fuck up in the process. Instantly, you snap into action, trailing behind Woojin towards their designated medical room. The only time you’d entered the room was when Felix forced you inside so Woojin could properly check the bruises on your neck. You had taken notice of the lack of anesthesia or oxygen masks to be used in desperate situations—Felix had once told you that Woojin always patched them up, but he also told you that no one had ever been fatally wounded. 

Woojin’s panic was evident in the way he hastily laid Hyunjin down on the operating table, eyes darting around frantically. With quick steps, you moved beside Woojin, “get a cloth or something to put in his mouth, it’ll muffle the screams,” the older nodded quickly. You turned your attention back to Hyunjin—he was paler than usual, sweating and groaning, his condition was only worsening. As soon as Woojin had shoved the cloth in his mouth you proceeded, ordering him to hold Hyunjin down to the best of his ability. You were glad Woojin was strong; Hyunjin would be in a hell of a lot of pain. Hyunjin’s neck tensed as you placed a hand on the knife’s handle, grunting slightly at the movement. You took a deep breath, laying a hand on his abdomen for support as you removed the knife from him as quickly as you could. A pained scream tore from Hyunjin’s throat, guttural and haunting. The cloth had done little to muffle the sound. Your hands applied pressure to the wound, frantically working to halt the bleeding before it was too late, all the while Woojin promised he would treat Hyunjin to a free meal if he got through the pain. 

Hyunjin’s chest raised up and down peacefully as he slept in the white bed of the medical room. After screaming and groaning his way through the process of getting stitches, he haphazardly downed a glass of water before falling asleep. You found it difficult to monitor whether the boy had made it or not due to the lack of heart monitor, the peaceful sounds of his breathing would have to do for now. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N, really,” Woojin spoke warmly. You’d have previous assumptions about the mafia and gangs, mainly based on Hollywood flicks that dramatised the career choice, but the nine boys seemed to throw those all out the window. Woojin had a nurturing and calming presence, Felix was playful and giving, that Minho guy who’d fixed you up that night was quiet and respectful. To be fair, the rest of them could have entirely fit the stereotype of the mafia, you just hadn’t interacted with them enough to find out. After the events that brought you here, you decided it would be best to just stay out of the way and keep to yourself—both for your benefit and theirs. You didn’t want to interrupt what they had going on and you didn’t want to interact with anyone. With a polite smile you nodded your head, unsure of how to respond to Woojin. 

Chan stood in the doorway as you laid the damp cloth on Hyunjin’s head. Two days had passed since the stabbing and you’d devoted all your time to helping Hyunjin—you figured it would be a good way to repay them for letting you stay here, and you were the most qualified to do so. Hyunjin wanted nothing more than to get back to work but his body simply refused. Exhaustion wracked his limbs when he was awake and every time he attempted to sit up, let alone stand, his head felt like a bowling ball and weighed him back down. He’d fallen asleep not long ago, before Chan came to check on him. You weren’t aware of the older’s presence until he spoke up, startling you into a flinch of fright. 

“Thank you for doing this.” 

You half-smiled at him, “it’s okay.” 

The male sighed gently before walking into the room, the click of the door shutting behind him sliced through the room’s air. You felt his presence beside you as you refused to meet his gaze—he was far too intimidating even by just standing there, “I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” his voice was gentler than before. Soft, calm, genuine—he probably wouldn’t fit the stone cold stereotype set by Vito Corleone in The Godfather, “we’ll figure out a safer place for you to go, but, in the meantime, just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I truly am sorry that you got dragged into this.” 

You turned your head in order to meet Chan’s gaze. It was soft, genuine, and almost broken. You got the feeling that he didn’t enter this lifestyle willingly, that he knew exactly what it was like to suddenly be affiliated with a lifestyle you had little to no prior knowledge about. Chan wasn’t here by choice, but he stuck by it. He followed through with what fate served him and he built an empire from it, he found a family to live through the darkest of days. You admired that more than he could know, “I will. Thank you for what you’ve done.” 

Chan didn’t voice it, but he saw your arrival as a potential opportunity. You were familiar with medicine and how to properly patch someone up after they receive a life-threatening injury. Rather than losing two fighters when someone is injured, surely it would be better to have a designated nurse who could stick to the job, instead of forcing Woojin to rush through life-saving surgery in order to make it back to a mission in time to drive everyone back to the house. Chan knew it was a desperate deal, stupid and selfish in all honesty, but your arrival could’ve been a long-term blessing in disguise. After all, Chan’s life had been largely riddled with bad luck, perhaps karma had finally taken mercy on him. 

At least a month had passed since the incident—you really had no concept of time in this place—and Hyunjin was slowly, but surely, recovering with no sign of infection. You’d also seen his bare abdomen one too many times at this point since he insists on being shirtless―he avidly insists “it’ll be easier than fucking up my shirt.” Aside from monitoring his recovery and trying not to stare at his perfectly sculpted abdomen, you’d began to form a good bond with Hyunjin during your time together. You never talked to him until the incident, mainly because you never had a reason to leave the room you were staying in, and you couldn’t deny you were slightly mad with yourself for not conversing sooner. He was entertaining to talk to, a little bit of a drama queen sometimes, yet intelligent and open-minded. Hyunjin had a good mix of personality traits, you slightly envied him for such. Surely conversing with someone like yourself was bland and repetitive. 

Of course it was unbeknownst to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth; Hyunjin had taken an interest in you since you began caring for him. All he had known about you prior to your care was that you and Felix had been good friends for a while, you were studying at university, and your shit got rocked by someone you didn’t even know―it was an unfortunate turn to say the least. The fact it happened to you made Hyunjin curse the forces that caused it; there was no reason for you to be dragged into this kind of unforgiving, inescapable lifestyle when you had a heart of gold. He could vividly recall the conversation that prompted the revelation, it must’ve been two or more weeks into his recovery. 

“I assume you study nursing or something, right?” 

“Medical science, but close enough,” you shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Why medical science instead of becoming a doctor or something?” 

“We all die one day, I’d rather help find a cure for something than force people to suffer through it slowly.” 

Hyunjin hadn’t known how to respond to that, so he didn’t, but it resonated with him. The whole reason he’d joined the business, this kind of inescapable lifestyle, was to earn enough money to pay for better treatment for his mother. He got close, really damn close, but he just didn’t get there in time. The first non-business phone call he got was to inform him about his mother’s passing, he hadn’t received another since. 

It was evident to Hyunjin, and every other member, that you were incredibly smart―a fact Felix would boast as if it was his own. Your skills, mainly in the science field, could come in useful to the gang: you had a good medical understanding, knew which chemicals could do harm or hinder a person momentarily. Chan was intrigued by your abilities and more than willing to take you on board, but no one ever joined without the approval of every member. Gaining such had been a difficult task, with Felix insisting that he didn’t want to see you hurt or in harm’s way―his mind quickly changed when Jeongin asked “wouldn’t it be just like a sleepover?” Hyunjin wasn’t as easy to persuade. He didn’t share the fact he was hesitant, but he didn’t need to. It was written all over his symmetrical face. 

Truthfully, Hyunjin had grown a little too close to you during his recovery, obliviously until he had a startling epiphany. You were the last thing he saw when he fell asleep, the first thing he saw when he woke up. You cared for him more than yourself, it was evident in your under eye bags and weight loss ― to the point where he had refused to eat unless you were eating with him. When he looked at you, the evening sunset highlighting you perfectly and your hair unstyled, yet sitting neatly on your head, he knew he was in deep. Regarding his feelings, he had two concerns: whether you felt the same way, and whether Felix would be accepting of his feelings and approve him as a candidate for your love; he didn’t need the added possibility of you fucking dying to become the third concern. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn’t matter. Felix would never want anyone to hurt you, and even if he didn’t intend to, Hyunjin knew he would inevitably end up doing so. 

When Chan proposed for you to join their gang, you were hesitant to say the least. For you, there was no desperate situation in which you needed cash quickly, no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. It was dangerous, Chan admitted that to your face, but he promised you consistent protection and a position that didn’t include staring down the barrel of a gun. 

“Y/N, you’ve been here for four months already. How many times have you been hurt?” 

You didn’t like his persuasiveness, or the fact he was right. Since you moved into their guest bedroom you’d felt safer, no longer feeling eyes follow you or whispers of your name in the middle of the night. There was a small part of you that wanted to decline the offer, return home to your apartment and never look in the eyes of Chan or Hyunjin ever again. Of course, that was only a small part of you. Although you hated to admit it, you knew you’d never be able to return to that apartment. Not without seeing the blood all over again, feeling the breath leave your lungs or hearing unexplainable noises elsewhere in the apartment. With a soft movement of your head, you agreed, “okay.” 

Chan smiled with a strong nod, he was fond of you after all, as were the others in the group. It seemed that everyone was in support of the decision, especially your freckled friend who beamed as he exclaimed, “it’ll be like an eternal sleepover!” 

“That sounds like a nightmare if you’re involved,” Seungmin deadpanned, but his stoic expression was quickly replaced by an amused smile at Felix’s pout. Though, everything wasn’t as it seemed. Hyunjin, as much as he wanted to be, wasn’t excited. You joining the gang ― regardless of whether you would be in the middle of the action ― meant seeing you everyday. Seeing you everyday meant realising how much he admired you. And admiring you meant he would only fall deeper. How could he tell anyone that, though? Such an objection would send a rift of embarrassment, discomfort, awkwardness through the house; everything would fall. There was no time for silly crushes. All he could do was admire you from afar and ache every time you walked away from him, completely oblivious to how he felt. When did he become so weak? Hyunjin didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and that’s exactly how you made him feel. With a soft sigh, he decided it would be better to just stay away. 

It was a solid plan―for a month, until Hyunjin was injured again in a trade gone wrong. If he was being completely honest with himself, which he recently was not, the constant thought of you kept him from concentrating during the trade. He felt so out of it, blocking out the sounds of his non-biological brothers yelling as a bullet whizzed towards him. No, all he saw was the way you looked so ethereal in the light, the way you would always be just out of reach. All he could think about with you, there was no time to consider the scars being etched in his abdomen. Faintly, he could feel the burning in his chest, Chan’s arms dragging him away as bullets rang out from Changbin’s position on the roof. He didn’t register being put in the car, or Chan demanding he keep his eyes open with a hand pressed tightly against his chest. He could feel his feet dragging slightly as Chan and Woojin dragged him inside, the sight of Hyunjin’s pale face and bleeding chest forcing Seungmin, Minho and Jeongin to abandon their intense game of uno. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, shit,” Chan and Woojin couldn’t find the time to scold Jeongin’s language, too concerned with the dying boy in their arms. Jeongin’s feet pounded up the stairs, throwing your door open and tugging you to the first aid room. The confusion on your features transformed to gut-wrenching worry as soon as you caught sight of Hyunjin, his shirt off and a cloth being stuffed in his mouth―you couldn’t tell whether it was Minho or Woojin who was holding him down while the other gathered the necessary equipment, everything seemed to blur as you jumped into action. You’d found someone willing to sell you, an unlicensed medical student, anesthesia, but it was due to arrive next week―just your luck. Chan’s hands clamped on Hyunjin’s legs, Seungmin turned away to avoid the gruesome sight, Jeongin lingered by the door. 

“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a whisper as you took the scalpel from Woojin, slicing across where the bullet had entered. The entry hole was too small to get it out safety―who were you kidding, you weren’t even sure if you could get it out. The cloth only slightly muffled the pained groan Hyunjin let out, gosh, you wished that anesthesia could’ve come sooner. Screams of agony tore from his throat as tweezers worked to remove the bullet, the writhing of his legs causing anxiety to rise in your chest. 

“Keep him still,” Woojin ordered. One sudden move and you’d live with the crushing guilt of knowing you let Hyunjin die. Hyunjin seemed to vaguely register Woojin’s words, opting to tense his muscles rather than squirm away from the pain. Seungmin covered his ears with a solemn expression while Jeongin looked away in discomfort, the shrill cries continuing. It was close, too close for your liking, to hitting Hyunjin in a fatal area or embedding deeply in his chest. 

“I got it,” you mumbled as the bloody metal was dumped in the dish beside you. Woojin ushered everyone out of the room, Hyunjin’s screams of agony downgrading to groans. 

“Give me a call if you need anything,” the oldest closed the door behind him. You heard the front door slam open and shut with frantic footsteps, marking the return of Felix, Changbin and Jisung. Words were calmly and indistinguishably spoken by Chan. Though, it didn’t matter what he was telling them, your priority was making sure Hyunjin wouldn’t cease breathing. His eyelids were fluttering shut from exhaustion, an action that would flare alarm in your chest. 

“Please, don’t fall asleep.” 

The cloth was removed from his mouth when it was over, your hand raking his hair away from his sweaty forehead, ridding of the uncomfortable sensation. A sigh passed your lips, voice soft as you spoke, “you need to stop making a habit out of this,” it was directed towards Hyunjin, but you weren’t sure he heard it. 

Hyunjin wanted to respond, something flirty he could blame on his disorientation and pain, but you were already urging him to down some bottled water. As you cleaned the utensils, Hyunjin allowed his eyes to flutter closed, whispering a gentle “thank you, Y/N.” 

Time passed without your acknowledgement; had it been weeks, months? It all blended together, you couldn’t be certain. Hyunjin was close to recovery, but not quite there. Frankly, you were getting tired of his occasional complaints about not “being in action”. Part of you hoped he’d stay out of action if it kept him safe, but you knew that wasn’t an option in this kind of lifestyle. The roots of his hair were coming through, the dirty blonde darkening to have a light brown tone instead. It was the little things that were becoming noticeable as you spent more time with him; the moles on his face, the way the sun seeped through the window and reflected so clearly in his eyes. He sat on what was referred to as the ‘operation table’―except it wasn’t padded and was likely meant for veterinarians―as you searched for mild pain medication. When you turned around, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him. His head was turned away from you, gazing wistfully out the window, the setting sun illuminating his honey skin in rays of golden sunshine. He looked like a statue from Greek mythology, sculpted by the Gods to embody perfection, frame marked with the scars of a warrior. They littered his abdomen, one from the stabbing, one from the bullet, one on his lower back that Woojin had patched up for him before you came ― it was obvious in the way it was majorly faded. A sigh passed the male’s plump lips, looking down at his fidgeting hands before looking up at you. If only you knew what he thought about you. How he felt you were incomparable, the finest piece of art to ever be masterfully painted. The oversized white shirt you wore contrasted your glowing skin and hung around your figure in an unfitted, yet still accentuating, manner. It wasn’t quite long enough to hide your blue pyjama shorts from sight. You approached him quietly, holding out the painkillers and a glass of water. Pulling yourself on the table, you sit beside Hyunjin as he downs the painkillers and watch the sunset. He glances over at you curiously, gulping down a mouthful of water, “you seem to be pretty good at saving lives, why aren’t you a doctor already?” A light laugh passed your lips. 

“Because I’m not studying to become a doctor, and I haven’t spent, what? Nine years studying?” 

“It takes nine years to become a doctor?” Hyunjin’s eyes almost bulged out of his skull. You shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Something like that,” a comfortable silence settled between the two of you, watching as the sun swam closer to the horizon, “besides, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the pressure of saving someone’s life.” 

A chuckle sounded from Hyunjin, “you say that, yet you’ve saved me from death twice.” You grew silent, he looked at you knowingly. The thought had never crossed your mind, you didn’t want to consider the possibility of Hyunjin dying―you didn’t want to imagine any of them dying, Hyunjin was the only one who’d come close so far. 

“Yeah, but that’s… different.” 

“How is it different?” Hyunjin looked towards you with a quirked eyebrow; you often wondered that too. You refused to look at him, too afraid of spilling all your secrets with one glance―but they came out in whispers, regardless. 

“Because… I can’t live a life where you’re dead.” 

The words almost slipped by him, blending in with the light breeze swirling outside, but he caught them. In one sentence, Hyunjin had the answers to every question that’d swarmed his brain since the week after his stabbing. There was no hesitation in his actions, cupping your left cheek in his hand and turning your face towards him. The sun glistened in your eyes, highlighting the enchanting colour of your orbs, shadows danced lightly on your face. In that moment, he wanted you to know that you wouldn’t lose him, no matter what. His eyes fluttered shut as his head dipped down, fulfilling the dream he’d chased since you first saved him. Your lips pressed together in a warm embrace, melting together as if they were made for each other. His tongue swiped at your lower lip, asking for access that you granted. As the sun rays of gold heated your skin and framed your soul, Hyunjin swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

[kz-i-co]

Sorority Secrets: Part IV

Summary: You were officially banished but you couldn't give up without a fight.

Pairing: Kim Jiwon (Bobby) / Reader

Genre: angst/fluff

Words: 2.7k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 || Part 5 ╫ m.list ╫ ikon masterlist

m.list  ╫ ikon masterlist

-

You paced back and fourth as anger was fuming. You crumbled the note tossing it away and made you way out to the corridor. You saw Haeryung's room lit up the dark hall and immediately went over to her door knocking with rage.

"Oh hello (Y/N)." She just smiled enjoying every second. "I see you're not taking it well. Don't worry you can still sleep here tonight but tomorrow-"

"This is bullshit and you know it." You cut her off. "You can't kick me out, you got nothing on me."

"Huh. Think again." She pulled out her phone with a picture of you and Bobby kissing only an hour ago. "I got my proof right here so don't you dare threaten me." She said proudly.

"This is a fake rule. It's not even in the handbook."

"You talking about this handbook?" She held up her official book. "Caught you stealing as well. Wow."

"It's a rule if you like it or not and there's nothing you can do about it." She continued.

"I'll just go to the Dean then." You spoke up.

"Go ahead." She smirked once again. "He knows about this rule so it's official.....What?....Were you going to get your theata boyfriend to get Dk to steal from his father. Good plan." You hated to admit it but she was way ahead of you. "The Dean knows of our little rivalry. Pff he's the one that even suggested the rule....so sorry you have to leave us so soon."

"I don't believe you."

"Then go ask him yourself. You have been nothing but trouble since you got here. Wait until your mother finds out, she'll be so disappointed that her own daughter-"

You couldn't take it anymore. You slapped her across the face causing her to pull your hair quickly as the fight officially broke out. The girls from downstairs were up quickly from the commotion and tried to break you both away from each other.

"What the fuck is going on?" Mimi raised her voice. Haeryung was looking at you with rage as her hair was a mess and her clothes all ruffled.

"She slapped me first." She was quick to defend herself. "She's taking her banishment harshly."

"You can't banish me for a made up rule that's not even in the official handbook. Even if it was this is against initiation. First warning, then fine, then the banishment. You just skipped to the end because you couldn't stand me since I've gotten here."

"I did give you a warning sweetheart."

"It has to be in writing."

"Everyone downstairs." Haeryung spoke since the tight hallway was closing in.

She had all the girls in an open circle, as you stood in the middle. "I didn't get the chance to explain everything yet so here it goes. Jennie was banished from our Kappa house this morning because we caught her with a theata, more then once. Next Miss (Y/N) here is also banished from our Kappa house, too caught with a theata several times. And not only that, snuck into this very house, now that's two rules breaks right there."

"I'm not a idiot (Y/N). I see everything that goes on around here. That's why I kept my eye on you very closely. You don't deserve to get a warning and you're sure as shit lucky you didn't get a Fine. But once I go to the Dean about this, you mine as well be banished from school property."

"Please I barely touched you." You fought back.

"I was gonna let you spend the night but I can't bare to see your face another second. You can come back for your stuff tomorrow as security stands watch."

"May I have a word before I go?" You said.

"Of course not." Haeryung folded her arms.

"My past sisters need to hear this." You began to take the floor as Haeryung watched from the side.

"Yes I may have started a fight with sister Haeryung and I'm very sorry. But she hasn't let me breath since I've gotten in this house. She knew who I was and knew who my mother was. Like she was afraid the mothers were gonna give me her title or something."

You laughed but got to the point. "But yes it's true I've been caught with a theata, I've actually met him at the first party. And yes he was your typical party theata who was annoying and obnoxious like Haeryung warned but then he was talking to me during school, still annoying but then he started holding my hand, carrying my books, comforting me when Haeryung constantly harassed me." You sighed. "He was just a boy, who cares if he is a theata or sigma or whatever. I fell for him and he's very sweet and kind and one stupid rule isn't gonna keep me away from him. The rule is made up because of Haeryung past experiences and it's not fair that we get to all suffer because of it. The theatas are not bad. They're just regular guys, some are assholes and some aren't."

"Nice speech (Y/N) but it's too late. Your banishment was already emailed to the Dean." Haeryung smiled.

"Haeryung hasn't been honest with everyone here." You smirked. "Haeryung fell in love with a theata too. You all know him from the day we moved in. Theata leader himself Seunghoon." The girls looked at Haeryung with shock. "You are obviously still in love with him unless this stupid rule wouldn't be so enforced."

She squinted at you. "I'm not in love with that moron."

"But you are Haeryung unless this rule would fade out. You have a grudge against him because he made one stupid mistake and still regrets it, you know why Haeryung? It's because he's still in love with you."

"Bobby told me the truth. You were the perfect couple almost your whole freshman year but the last night for the seniors got too carried away. The theatas back then were harsh on their brothers and always forced them to do stupid shit they didn't want to do......But anyway he got wasted and cheated on you with a fellow kappa. He begged for forgiveness but you just pushed him away and worse you got that Kappa in trouble and got her kicked out for something she didn't do. You are a liar and manipulator and it's not fair to have someone like you as our leader."

"Who cares. The theatas have proved they are no good and the Dean agrees. That's why we have this rule. Anyone who disagrees can leave to."

"I understand the rule but banishment is out of the question Haeryung and my mother would agree with me. She was a leader once too."

"Then go cry to her and leave our house." She yelled.

"Another thing before I go." Haeryung rolled her eyes. "I'll keep their identity a secret but there is another Kappa here who has been dating a theata far way longer then I have. Years actually. Surprised you haven't found them out Haeryung, since they are constantly on your side." You smirked. "One thing I like about the theatas is that they are honest. They don't have secrets like everyone in this damn house."

You finally left. It was dark outside but you still had enough street lights guiding your way. You didn't know where Jennie was but you had to find out. You were going to fight this thing.

....

"What are you doing here Kappa?" Seunghoon answered the door with a smirk.

"Your evil ex kicked me out." You said returning the look.

He shook his head with a chuckle and opened the door wider for you to enter. "She wasn't always like that you know."

"I'm sorry, are you sober? I'm not used to that."

"I have a mid term tomorrow." He raised his eyebrows. "Bobby's upstairs."

"By the way." You started. "I think she is still crazy about you unless this stupid rule wouldn't exist. She's still hurting."

He sighed looking down. "I've tried talking to her."

"Maybe you can-"

"It's not gonna work. She's changed."

"It's funny. As much as I hate her, I just want to see everyone happy."

He smiled and went back to the living room as you went upstairs.

"Hey It's pool girl." Another theata caught you in the hallway as you passed their open room. He leaned against the door only wearing a towel around his waist. He had blond hair with a labret piercing.

"Is that what you guys call me?" You asked curious looking passed him as you noticed his roommate come closer. You remembered him as Jinu, the senior that was dating Jeonghwa. You still couldn't believe he was a senior from just looking at him, his face was so young and pure.

"Or we just call you Kappa." Towel dude continued.

"Oh yeah I remember you at our party." Jinu said.

"I'm not a Kappa anymore. I got "banished"." You confirmed.

"How come?" Jinu asked.

"I'm sorta dating Bobby. Do you know what room is his? Last time I was here I was pretty drunk."

"It's that one over there." He leaned out the doorway and pointed to the correct door. He smile was very genuine.

"Thank you." You nodded and slowly began to take off.

"Wait...." Jinu closes the door behind him to continue talking to you.

"You really got kicked out for dating a theata? We knew that was a rule but we thought it bogus."

"I thought you would know that out of anyone." You turned back towards him.

"You know?" He looked worried.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone." You smiled. "I thought at first it would help me break this stupid rule but it's too late now."

"It's not too late. I'll help you if you want it, just let me know."

"Thank you Theata senior. That's kind of you." You bowed respectfully.

"Ugh, please don't call me that." He turned around back towards his room.

You continued back towards Bobby's room and knocked on the door. You just hoped he wasn't asleep since it was already past midnight.

"Hey what are you doing here?" Bobby answered as Hanbin leaned up in bed seeing you at the door.

"Well....." You sighed deeply. "I was banished from the Kappa nu house and I have nowhere to sleep tonight."

"They can't just kick you out in the middle of the night like that." Bobby said growing angry.

"I was allowed to just sleep the night at first but then I started a fight with Haeryung so yeah. Now I'm here."

"Jennie was banished too, have you seen her?" You continued looking at Hanbin.

"She was banished?" He said sitting up.

"Has she talked to you at all?" You asked.

"She said she was feeling sick and going home for a few days." He pulled out his phone and started texting.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do." You said and Bobby pulled you into his chest.

"We'll go to the Dean tomorrow and get this straightened out."

"Haeryung said he knows already and it's an official rule."

He signed. "We'll figure this out tomorrow. Let's just get some sleep."

You took your shoes off and laid down cuddling into his chest. By this point you rather just live here so you could do this every night.

"Hey." Hanbin walked back in the room after getting off his phone with Jennie. "She said there's no more dorms that's why she's home. Have you thought about the apartments down the road? They are mostly students anyway."

"I wouldn't be able to afford it, I would have to get a job."

"I'll just talk to the Dean, and hopefully get this all straightened out." You continued.

-

Your face scrunched as the sudden ringtone alerted you awake. You leaned over trying to grab the device but you felt the sudden pull from Bobby's sleep state behind you. You let the call go straight to voicemail as you turned around closer into his chest to try to wake him up. You kissed up his neck causing him to groan in his sleep. Once his eyes slowly drifted open you continued to deepen your kiss until they met up to his lips.

"You guys better not do what I think you're about to do." Hanbin groaned as he slowly rose from his bed.

You giggled as you lied back down. "No worries."

"I better hit the shower before the other guys wake up." Bobby groaned as he left your side leaving you with a cold empty bed.

You went back to pick up your phone seeing it was only 9:30 and saw your new notification for a voice mail from Haeryung. You took a deep sigh trying not to let her bother you and began to listen.

"Good morning (Y/N), I hope you had a good night's sleep from everything that happened last night. I do wish you could of acted more mature so we can deal with this in a clean manor but unfortunately my hands are tied from your aggressive behavior. I will only be able to have campus security here by noon so I do wish to ONLY see you then. We will have helping hands here for you as a gratitude on my behalf because I did wish to see you rise above the other pledges and see you one of us but I guess we can't always get what we want. I wish for the best in your future." And with that the voicemail ended.

She really continued to get under your skin with that positive optimistic attitude. She's fake and a manipulator. How were you going to beat someone like that? She had everyone believing her bullshit and it's been that way for years.

"Did you want to shower (Y/N)?" You looked at your boyfriend as his hair dripped with fresh water and he continued to use his towel to dry it as fast as possible.

"No thanks." You made a face of judgment.

"Oh I get it. You think having only two showers in a house full of guys is probably disgusting. But I promise you......it could be worse." You couldn't help but giggle at his attempt.

"I'll just use the locker rooms to shower, no biggie. I have to be at the kappa house by noon so I guess I'll see you later." You said kissing him goodbye.

....

You were on your way over to the hell house to finally get this over with. The only problem was where you suppose to go after this? There was no more dorms and you weren't in a position to get an apartment. Would begging to stay be ridiculous? Could you sink to that level?

You rolled your eyes as you saw actually campus security waiting by the front door. "Hi (Y/N). Right on time." Haeryung came out side with her stupid fake smile.

"Are they really necessary. I'm not dangerous."

"Must I bring up last night?"

"That was just all my emotions build up from everything that was happening and I do apologize. I promise I'm not a violent person." You bowed respectfully.

"Trying to kiss up to me in front of security? That's cute."

"I'm not." You looked at her with sincerity. "I thought about everything you said and I was stupid and careless. I should of listened."

"What? Did you break up with your theata already?"

"If I did would that make a difference?" You asked not hurting anyone.

"Of course it would but then you attacked me. I'm not dumb (Y/N). You've been lying to my face since you joined us. Can't have girls like you in this sorority."

"Don't you mean cult." You glares at you but then her eyes lit up going past you.

You turned around to see what made her mood shift and immediately felt chills. Your mother stood before you with her arms crossed and the look of disappointment. It was worse then seeing her angry but you knew this wasn't gonna end well. Kappa Nu was your mother's everything and you messed up.

"Mom I can explain." You began.

[hookedonapirate]

Miss Fix-It

Summary: Miracle worker. Relationship Guru. Savior.

Those are just a few of her monikers, but most people have taken to call her Miss Fix-It. Helping broken-hearted women get back together with their former boyfriends is her specialty. How does she do it, you ask? Simple—she becomes his date from hell so he’ll realize what a catch he had before he let her go.

Emma Swan is an expert at fixing relationships, it’s just too bad she’ll never have one of her own.

Her particular set of talents is put to the test, however, when a cheating ex-girlfriend requests her services. Emma’s reluctant at first. It’s not an easy task to make someone seem like a catch when they’ve cheated, but the potential client is an emotional wreck desperate to get her former boyfriend back before he heads back to England. Besides, Emma Swan never backs down from a challenge. They don’t call her Miss Fix-It for nothing. She’ll find a way to make him wish he was back in his ex-girlfriend’s arms, no matter what it takes. If only she can squash the feelings she develops for him and stop breaking her rules.

A/N: Thank you everyone for the responses so far! I seemed to have shocked a lot of people by making Ruby Killian's ex-girlfriend instead of Milah. You will see some of my reasons in this chapter and in later ones. You also may have some concerns after reading this chapter, so please bear with me, there is a method to my madness.

For those of you who have been patiently waiting for a Set My Soul on Fire update, I promise I'm working on that one next. Thanks for your patience!

A big shout out to @ultraluckycatnd​ for beta reading and to @onceuponaprincessworld​ for letting me share my ideas with her!

Also available on: AO3 l FF.N

Catch up: Ch 1 Ch 2

Chapter 3

Emma has a sinking feeling in her chest as she glances between the top of Ruby’s head and Mary Margaret, narrowing her eyes at them. “Wait, you're not asking me to…” Her words trail off, face draining of color when the guilt-ridden look Mary Margaret gives her is all the confirmation she needs. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they summoned her. Ruby doesn’t need another shoulder to cry on, or another pair of ears to listen as she spouts off her tale of woe and blabbers on about how badly she screwed up and wants her boyfriend back. No, what she needs is a freaking miracle. She needs Miss Fix-It. But Emma refuses to help her. She’s been on the other side, and she knows there’s no coming back from this, especially if this guy, Killian, is as perfect as Ruby says he is. If that’s the case, it won’t take him long to find someone he’s better suited for.

Ruby lifts her head, wiping her tears with the tissue. The hopeful glint in her eyes further confirms Emma’s speculation. “MM here says you’re good at getting couples back together, so I was wondering if you could help me get my Killy Bear back.”

Killy Bear? Really? Emma refrains from rolling her eyes as she stands from the couch, shaking her head, and waving her hands in refusal. “Absolutely not.”

Hope and optimism are immediately extinguished from Ruby’s eyes. “But why not? This is what you do, isn’t it? You save relationships.”

“Yes, I save relationships… but only if they’re worth saving.” Emma immediately regrets her statement as soon as it leaves her lips. She hadn’t meant to say it so harshly.

Anger replaces Ruby’s sadness as she rises from the sofa, scowling at Emma. “Our relationship is worth saving.”

Emma narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Let me ask you something… and please don’t take this the wrong way; I’m just trying to figure how things went wrong, okay?”

Ruby nods and crosses her arms, her features softening as she waits for Emma to continue.

“If Killian is such a great guy, then why did you feel the need to…” she pauses, fumbling for the right words to avoid offending her. 

“Why did I feel the need to cheat?”

Emma shrugs. “Well… yeah.”

Ruby’s shoulders slump and she turns around, pacing the length of the room as Mary Margaret eyes her in concern. 

“I was drunk, okay? I wasn’t thinking clearly. Killy was working, and I was hanging out at his place with his roommate, Victor. We ended up drinking a little too much and kissed. Pretty soon things got out of hand and we ended up in Vic’s bed. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did.” 

Emma’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open. “Wait a minute, you cheated on him with his roommate?!” Oh no, this will be impossible to repair. 

“Well, technically they’re not roommates anymore. Killian kicked him out.” Ruby’s bottom lip quivers, and she cries again. “If I could take it back, I would.”

She sighs deeply in her hands to avoid the stares Mary Margaret and Ruby are giving her. This woman is obviously trying to put her on a guilt trip, but Emma refuses to be pressured into this. She lowers her hands and joins them together as she steps closer to Ruby, looking her dead in the eye. “Look, even if I did this, even if I made Killian run back into your arms again, how do I know you won’t make the same mistake?” If there’s one thing Emma doesn’t do, it’s waste her time.

Ruby shakes her head furiously. “I promise, I won’t. The truth is, I’m in love with Killian, and I was too afraid to tell him.”

Emma arches a brow. She doesn't understand why Ruby thought sleeping with someone else would fix anything. “So, instead you slept with his roommate?”

Ruby looks like she’s going to fall apart again. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I didn’t realize what a huge mistake I made until I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.” She lunges toward Emma and grabs her hands. “All I want is a second chance, Emma. Isn’t that what Miss Fix-It is all about—giving couples second chances?”

“Well, yes, but I only help couples when the client possesses true love. If that’s not the case, then the relationship isn’t worth saving.”

“But it is, Emma, I promise, it is. Just ask MM.” She turns her head, seeking support from Mary Margaret, who rises from the couch and approaches them. “You saw how happy I was, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did, Ruby, but Emma’s right. If Killian gives you a second chance, you can’t squander it.”

“I won’t.” Ruby reverts her eyes to Emma. “I’ll even pay double your usual rate.”

Emma sighs at the offer. Now if she says no, she’ll look like an ass. Because what decent human being would refuse to help someone save their relationship for money, especially if they're being paid double? “Mary Margaret, can I speak to you for a moment?” she asks her, pulling her hands from Ruby's grip.

“Yes, of course.”

They step into her's and David’s room with the door closed. “Why would you tell Ruby I could do this for her? Weren’t you the one who said I should do something else? And besides, you know this particular case hits too close to home for me.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes pool with guilt. “I did tell you that, and I know this request may not be an easy one for you considering your history with Neal, so if you don’t want to do it, I would understand.”

Ah, yes, reverse psychology. So that’s the card she wants to play? Emma narrows her eyes at Mary Margaret as she crosses her arms, giving her friend a telling look, letting her know she’s onto her little strategy. “So, it’s okay if I’m Miss Fix-It, as long as I’m helping your friend?”

Mary Margaret sighs and places her hands gently on Emma’s upper arms. “Look, you don’t know Ruby like I do. She’s a good person, Emma. Just because she did a terrible thing, doesn’t mean she’s a terrible person. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a second chance.”

“But how would you feel if David cheated on you? Would you want to give him a second chance?”

Mary Margaret doesn’t even flinch. “David would never cheat on me.”

“I know he wouldn’t, but that’s not the point.” She sighs when Mary Margaret wrinkles her brows in confusion. “Okay, bad example. What if Neal wanted a second chance with me? Would you want me to take him back?”

Mary Margaret frowns. “Of course not, but that’s different. Neal’s an asshole. I was against your relationship with him from the beginning, in case you forgot.”

“Yeah, I remember very clearly,” Emma answers sullenly. Mary Margaret was so upset when she found out her best friend had not only gone to Las Vegas to get married without inviting her, but that she married the man she’d been warning Emma about since day one. Their friendship was almost destroyed because of it. Emma didn’t want to hear about all the reasons Neal was wrong for her, so she stopped talking to her best friend. Then she found out Neal had cheated the night before their wedding day, and she came running to Mary Margaret on her knees, begging for forgiveness. 

“Ruby’s not like Neal. She’s actually remorseful. She loves Killian, she just lost her way, Emma. There’s a difference between Neal and other people who’ve messed up. They realized they messed up and try to be better, but Neal? He’ll continue causing destruction in his path.” 

Mary Margaret’s not wrong there. 

“But it still doesn’t make Ruby’s actions okay. She should've known better.” 

“Look, Emma, if I didn’t have faith in Ruby, I never would’ve recommended you to her. But I do have faith in her, and I know she can turn this around if Killian gives her another chance. But he won’t even return her calls or texts, and he’s never home when she goes to his place. So she needs your help. Please, Emma.”

She takes a moment to mull it over. If Ruby were any other person, if Emma didn’t trust Mary Margaret completely, then she would never consider doing this. And her friend is right. It will take a lot more than a phone call, or a visit, or an apology to win Killian back. It will take time and some intervention. 

Emma gives a slight nod and a tight-lipped smile. “You’re lucky I trust your judgment, or rather, Ruby’s lucky I trust your judgment.”

Mary Margaret’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Emma takes a deep, heavy breath in defeat. “Yes, I’ll do it.” She points a finger at her friend. “But I’m doing it for you.”

Mary Margaret claps her hands and bounces up and down before pulling Emma into a hug. “Thank you, Emma, you’re the best!”

Emma instantly regrets her decision; she doesn’t have a good feeling about this whole situation. Normally, her clients are women with good, honest intentions who just need a little light to guide them, but a cheater? Ruby’s gonna need a whole lot more than a flashlight. She’s gonna need the freaking sun. 

When she and Mary Margaret return to the living room, Ruby is sitting on the edge of her seat with her elbows resting on her knees and her hands folded together like she’s praying. When she hears the two women enter the room, she springs up from her seat, her hands still linked together under her chin as she awaits the verdict.

Emma sucks in a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”

Ruby’s eyes light up and she grins from ear to ear and throws her arms around Emma. “Thank, you, thank you, thank you!!!!” she chants excitedly.

Emma breaks the hug and pulls away before the woman ends up kneeling before her and kissing her feet. “Before I do this, you need to know how this works.” She strides over to the door and grabs her purse, looking back at Ruby. “Meet me at my office tomorrow afternoon with a list of things I should know about Killian, and we’ll discuss the details.” She glances at Mary Margaret and asks, “You'll give her the address?”

She nods. “Of course.”

“What kind of things?” Ruby inquires before Emma gets a chance to head out the door.

“You know, like his interests, hobbies, his likes, his dislikes and pet peeves. What’s his favorite place to eat, his favorite movies, things like that?”

“Okay, I’ll be there at noon.” 

Emma leaves the apartment, shutting the door and leaning against it, expelling a heavy sigh. What the hell did she sign up for?

~*~

Later that night, as Emma brushes her teeth, clad in her pajamas, she’s trying to come up with a plan. She needs something concrete, something that will top Ruby’s betrayal. Her usual tactics involve doing the exact opposite of what her clients had done that presumably caused the breakup. And Emma always goes to extreme measures to make the men realize that what they had wasn’t so bad after all. Her goal is to make them appreciate their girlfriend’s qualities, and their flaws. But Emma has a feeling that showing Killian she’s overly honest and monogamous will not do the trick. Monogamy is an appealing trait for someone who wants a monogamous relationship, and obviously Killian does. And she’s not trying to make him fall in love with her, she’s trying to make him realize that Ruby’s admirable qualities supersede her flaws. There are worse things Ruby could’ve done, Emma supposes. So she focuses on those scenarios. Ruby could’ve had an ongoing affair behind Killian’s back, or she could’ve been secretly married. Or she could’ve contracted some STI and gave it to Killian, like Neal did to Emma. The asshole. 

Emma spits out the toothpaste and rinses her mouth, watching as the water and light blue foam swirl into the drain, anger seeping over her. Ha, maybe she could take a page from Neal’s book to help her with this situation. She could get inside Neal’s head, think how he does, or at least how he did when he decided to sleep with that hooker.

She sets down the toothbrush, heads to her bedroom and goes to her closet. Taking a deep breath, she slides open the bypass doors, trying not to let thoughts of Neal make her sad or miserable. It was ten years ago and shouldn’t still affect her, but sometimes those feelings seem to creep up on her unexpectedly and rattle her soul. 

Emma gets on her tiptoes and reaches for a shoebox on the shelf toward the back. She pulls it down and brings it to the bed, removing the lid.  If she ever needs a reminder of what Neal did to her, a reminder to never trust anyone ever again, all she has to do is look in this box. She hasn't been able to open it in years though because it always makes her furious and start sobbing. She holds up the dreamcatcher they found in a motel room a family had left behind right before Neal proposed to her. She wishes the dreamcatcher actually could replace her nightmares with good dreams. She wishes she could forget everything bad that ever happened to her, every memory that still haunts her. 

She tosses it on the bed and goes through some other items and picks them up, studying each item as they bring back bittersweet memories. There’s the album, Up from Below by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, which included their song, Home, a song she and Neal had listened to on repeat and sang along to while driving to Las Vegas. And there's the magnet they got in Las Vegas that reads Home is Wherever I’m with You, and the dice Neal rolled at the casino the night before their wedding. He’d said she was his good luck charm, and they were planning on using the money he’d won to make a down payment on a house. Their house. Instead, he’d squandered some of the cash on a prostitute after Emma headed back to their hotel suite and went to bed with a headache. And yet, her wedding gift from Neal was a key chain he stole from a gas station. Tears prick her eyes as she lets the dice fall from her hands and picks up the keychain, fingering the swan pendant.

Reverting her eyes to the items in the shoebox, she spots the framed wedding picture and sets down the keychain to pick it up. She was wearing a simple white dress and a crown of yellow buttercup roses, and he was wearing a blue suit jacket with jeans. They were both smiling so big, they were showing teeth. She had been so sure he was the one when she married him. Little did she know how completely wrong and stupid she was. Little did she know of the betrayal and deceit hidden behind his smile. She didn’t know until it was too late. Until her dreams were shattered, until her marriage had ended with an annulment and a case of the Clap. 

Emma’s blood boils under her skin as her fingers tighten around the frame, her body vibrating with anger. She doesn’t even know why she still has this fucking photograph. Hot tears stream down her cheeks as all the rage and emotions she’s buried for so long erupt to the surface. “Fucking asshole!” She lifts the frame and retracts her arm, flinging it across the room. 

The frame hits the wall with a clatter and lands on the carpet. Emma walks over and picks it up, the pad of her finger tracing the crack in the glass as she studies it through bleary eyes. She tightens her jaw and breathes heavily through her nose, trying to stave off the urge to break down and cry on her bedroom floor. She often wonders how her life would’ve gone differently if Neal hadn’t turned out to be a fucking scumbag, if he had actually been the man she thought he was. Maybe they’d be living in a big house with children running around the backyard like they had once talked about, and maybe they’d be happy. But instead, she’s living alone with a hole in her heart, still mourning over the betrayal of a man she hates with every fiber of her being. 

Happily ever after, my ass.

Emma marches to her hallway closet, opens her toolbox and pulls out a hammer, gripping the handle firmly in her hand. She sets the photo on her dresser and wonders how good it would feel to smash the damn photo, how amazing it would feel to watch the glass shatter like her heart had shattered ten years ago. Judging by that photo alone, they look happy, with their sickly sweet smiles and googly eyes. They appear to be your typical newlyweds looking forward to the journey ahead. You wouldn't be able to tell that the groom was about to destroy the bride's life and rip her heart to pieces. 

As Emma lifts the hammer above her head, prepared to obliterate the photo and all of her memories of Neal, a thought strikes her like a lightning bolt, and she lowers the hammer, staring at the photo with wide eyes. The photo of how happy they looked—how happy they could’ve been. 

What if the answer she’s been searching for is staring her in the face? 

She wipes the tears from her cheeks and sets down the hammer to pick up the photograph. She’s thought of something that will not only top Ruby’s betrayal but make Killian hate Emma with every fiber of his being, like how she feels about Neal. And no, she’s not thinking about giving him the Clap. No, what she’s thinking is much worse. In fact, she should kick herself for even thinking about doing this. And not just because it’s evil, but because she has to swallow her pride and do something she would never in a million years think she’d be doing ever again. 

It takes some effort and time, but after some Facebook stalking and Instagram lurking and after private messaging some former friends, she’s able to extract a phone number.  

She changes her mind four times, she reconsiders her plan about nine times and almost chickens out about twelve times the next morning before Ruby is supposed to be here. She’s doing this for Mary Margaret, though—her best friend in the entire world. So she finally finds the courage and presses the phone icon. 

Emma sucks in a long, shaky breath, praying he doesn’t answer. If he doesn’t answer, then that would be that. She’ll have no choice but to think of another plan.

“Hello?”

Fuck. He answered. Emma squeezes her eyes shut, immediately regretting this whole idea.

“Who is this?” he demands impatiently.

She opens her eyes and takes a soundless breath. “Um… hi,” she says, her voice shaking.

There’s silence... silence... silence…. and more silence before he finally responds.

“Ems?”

The nickname makes her stomach churn, and she cringes at the sound of his voice. “Listen, I’m just going to skip the fake pretenses and get right to the point.” She takes another breath and pushes down the hatred she feels, she pushes down the anger and loathing and pure disgust, and everything else the thought of him conjures up, and she’s able to say the one thing she never thought she’d ever say to him after what happened ten years ago. And she says it in a firm, rigid tone. “I need a favor. You owe me that at least.”

~*~

Half an hour later, Ruby arrives promptly at Emma’s house.

“Thank you for the list, it’s very helpful,” Emma remarks after skimming through it, her nose twisting as she recalls the unnecessary details, “although I didn't really need to know he’s a God in bed or that he likes when you nibble his ear when he’s fucking you, or when you massage his balls,” Emma groans.

Ruby shrugs and smirks shamelessly. "Sorry, I got a little carried away talking about my Killy Bear. Besides, you said you needed to know everything."

“Yeah, everything that would help me gather information about him and the relationship,” Emma clarifies, “not his penis size or sex fetishes.” Seven and a half inches is a good size, though, she has to admit. But if he’s as good in bed as Ruby says he is, then why would she need another dick? She wonders how big the hot British guy’s dick is. 

She clears her throat, shaking the thought from her mind and sets the list aside, joining her hands together on her desk. She really needs to get laid. “So, here’s how it usually works—I go on a date with the ex-boyfriend and use what I know about him to act like the perfect woman for him, right before I make his night a living hell and make him so repelled by me, he runs screaming back to the ex-girlfriend.” 

Emma stands up and walks around the room, reciting the typical spiel. “Research shows that whatever reason a man has for dumping a woman begins with doubt. Whether they’re doubting the relationship is as exciting as it was in the beginning, that it’s better than being single, or that he can’t do better. But whatever his reason, chances are he’s already fantasizing about another woman who presents different possibilities, or he’s already with her. Sure, he’ll try to do the noble thing and blame himself, saying things like it’s not a good time in his life or he’s not ready for a relationship, but deep down they want the same thing—another woman—because he feels like something’s missing in the relationship.” She goes back to her chair and sits down, crossing her legs and joining her hands on the desk. “That’s where I come in. I show the man exactly what he’s missing.”

Ruby nods, indicating she’s following along so far, even though Emma’s usual spiel may not be all that relevant to her.

“But, this is a special case because, in order for you to get Killian back, he has to regain your trust. That may not happen in the month before he leaves for England. So, I’ll be his distraction. For four weeks, I’ll be the perfect girlfriend, and he’ll want to stay here in Storybrooke. But his world will turn upside down when I tell him that everything he knows about me is a lie. I’m talking lies of epic proportions that will make your betrayal seem like child’s play. He’ll come running back to you so fast, it’ll be like you never cheated.”

Ruby grins like a Cheshire Cat; she appears to be super confident that Emma can pull this off. Emma, however, is not so confident, but she can’t let her client know that.

“The terms and conditions are stated in this contract, and I’ll go over them with you to make sure we’re on the same page.” Emma extends the papers over the desk and places them in front of Ruby. 

“Okay,” she nods, scanning the first page.

Emma points to the first rule with the end of her ballpoint pen. “Okay, rule number one—I’m doing this to help you, not for my own personal agenda or to gain any pleasure from this. This is only a job to me, and in order for me to do my job, you can’t track us down or keep tabs on us. I don’t want you showing up when I’m on a date with Killian and going all crazy ex-girlfriend on my ass, got it? You’re paying me to date him, so you have to trust me.” Emma lifts her eyes from the page and looks at her firmly. “If there’s no trust, there’s no deal.”

Ruby shakes her head. “I promise that won’t happen. I trust you.”

“Rule number two—this job has to remain strictly confidential. The only time you can mention Miss Fix-It is if you’re referring me to a potential client through word of mouth. I only get jobs through referrals. If my operation leaks to social media, then that could be the end of Miss Fix-It. If you break this rule, the fee is three times what you hired me to do, no exceptions. And the same goes for me; I never discuss a client’s business with anyone, whether it be future clients, family or friends.”

When Ruby nods in understanding, Emma continues.

“And rule number three—I don’t have sex with the ex-boyfriend under any circumstance. That one‘s pretty self-explanatory, so I’ll move on to rule number four—if my efforts don’t result in you getting back together with Killian, or if I breach this contract in any way, I’ll give you a full refund. But once you’ve reconciled with him, it’s up to you to maintain the relationship. If he ends up breaking up with you after the reconciliation, there is no refund. Any questions so far?”

Ruby shakes her head and gives her an appreciative grin. “No, I’m just happy you’re doing this, Emma.”

Emma returns with a rueful smile and proceeds, going over more details and the matter of payment. Because this one will take more time than usual, she asks for half of the money upfront and the rest of it once Ruby and Killian have been reconciled. Ruby agrees with everything, no questions asked and pays her in cash. This woman really is desperate. Either that, or she’s just naïve.

“Okay, I just need you to sign here, here and here,” Emma says flipping through the pages and pointing to the x’s with her pen.

As Ruby signs the documents, Emma goes through the plan in her head, trying to think of anything she may have missed before Ruby leaves. She’s laid out everything in the contract, but she has an inkling she’s forgetting something. 

Ah yes, she has no clue what Killian looks like. And since he most likely won’t agree to being set up on a date so soon after what Ruby did to him, Emma has to make it seem like their meeting is coincidental and not planned.

After Ruby thanks her once again, she rises from her seat and makes her way to the door, Emma following behind her.

“Oh, and one more thing?”

“Sure, what is it?” Ruby asks, spinning around to face her again.

“Do you have a picture of him? I need to be able to recognize him in a public setting.”

“Sure.” Ruby pulls out her phone and unlocks the screen before extending the device to her.

Emma takes the phone, her eyes scanning the wallpaper photo. Her face immediately pales and her throat goes completely dry when she sees those familiar blue eyes. That dark disheveled hair. That smile—the one that will forever haunt her dreams. It may have been two months since she ran into him, but she’ll never forget those alluring eyes or that charming smile. She’d hoped she would see him again, she just hadn’t expected to see him on Ruby’s home screen with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. And they truly do look happy, like Mary Margaret had said.

“I know what you’re thinking—how could anyone cheat on him, right?” Ruby mumbles glumly as she takes back the phone.

“Um, no, I wasn’t thinking that at all,” Emma claims, her voice cracked. Though one would certainly wonder how any woman in their right mind could cheat on this beautiful man, Emma’s not thinking about that. She’s thinking about how fucking devastating it is that Ruby’s ex-boyfriend is the same guy she ran into on the elevator. The same guy who’s been the star of her fantasies for two goddamn months. “I was just observing how happy you two look together.” 

“Uh-huh,” Ruby says sarcastically; she obviously doesn’t believe her. 

After she leaves, Emma buries her face in her hands, fighting off the urge to bang her head against the door. To think, she’d even considered knocking on every door on the eleventh floor to find him, and assuming he was single when she found him, she was going to fuck his brains out.

So much for that idea.

[monstrous-femme]

C + Student

Written for @mcuthere for the prompt:  Maybe Paxton asks Devi to help him study for a test in their shared history class and Paxton opens up to Devi about his insecurity of people assuming he’s dumb

Read it here or on ao3.

The halls are full of noise. Football players shoving each other and landing in lockers, couples talking slightly louder than normal people ever talked (what, did they think they were on reality TV or something? There’s no hidden cameras,) and most of all, the noise that stomped its way through his brain the harder he tried not to think about the crumpled essay at the bottom of his bag.

 not good enough not good enough not good enough not good enough not

 and it’s almost midterms and last time he tried to take a test his mind had frozen up, his hands had sweat through the page like they never did before a swim meet, did teachers mark down for sweat marks on the paper, did they notice his lips moving as he read the questions to himself over and over

 Paxton Hall-Yoshida needs a fucking miracle, which was why he’s forcing himself to move, down the racket of the hallway, (and really, did high schoolers need to be this loud?), wondering if there was any good way to tell a girl you were mad at that she was your only hope if you didn’t want to retake sophomore history a third time.

 “Hey,” he says when he reaches her. His voice is so quiet that he doesn’t know if she can hear him over the din.

 But Devi, of course, looks up. She smiles hesitantly. “Hey! I’m so glad you’re talking to me. I thought you were mad at me. For lying. About us, having—”

 Paxton really, really does want to go over this all again. “I’ve thought of a way you can make it up to me.”

 “Oh?”

 He’s not trying to take advantage. He knows she has a crush on him, but he also knows that she’s brave, the kind of whirlpool of a girl who can proposition a boy for sex or talk to a coyote like it’s her dad. And he knows she’s loyal, and loves the people in her life, but most of all, what Paxton knows about Devi Vishwakumar is that when they turned in that project a few weeks ago, he and Trent had gotten by with B minuses and a suspicious glance from Mr. Shapiro. Devi had gotten an A and a little note from their teacher saying they knew she’d done most of the work.

 (He hadn’t meant to peek. He just couldn’t imagine Devi Vishwakumar getting a B minus.)

 “I need your help studying for our history midterm.”

 A favor that would have made any of his other friends laugh in his face, and here she is, beaming at him like he just brought her a dozen fucking roses, and he knows she idolizes him, but he really needs to pass this class.

 “I’ll meet you at your house after school,” she promises. “We won’t stop studying until you’re perfect to go. A+. I promise.”

 Paxton tries to smile, but the pounding in his head is getting worse. “I’ll give you a ride,” he offers. “I’m skipping practice to study. We can go right after school.”

 “Even better.”

 *

 The words in this textbook are too tiny and the section on Japanese internment uses misleading language to imply that it was voluntary. It wasn’t. Paxton might not be great at school, but he always listens when his grandpa talks to him, so he knows about his time in Manzanar, which the textbook misspells as Mazanar.

 “So, if you write down three important things from every page, it’ll help your brain anchor itself so you can remember more of what’s on here. Sort of like a mind map. Detail one and detail two will help you remember what connects them. That way you don’t have to write down every single thing.”

 Paxton nods, only half listening. The D- in his backpack is still weighing on him, and he doesn’t see how writing down three details from each page will do him any good when he wrote down every detail for the last test and still only scraped by with a C.

 “Paxton?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Are you listening?”

 “Not really, sorry, I just hate this stuff.” He tries to pass it off with a shrug, but he’s not sure it looks casual. Makes sense. He’s not feeling very casual right now.

 “What stuff?”

 “Tests.”

 “Why?”

 Paxton sighs. “I don’t know. I freeze up, and then I read the questions wrong, and I can hear everyone else writing while I’m still trying to understand what the hell I’m looking at.”

 Devi’s nose scrunches up like it does when she’s confused. “Do you want to be good at school?”

 “Um, yeah?”

 “Why?”

 “Why wouldn’t I? You know, my mom has a PHD in philosophy and my dad writes these crazy, like, sci-fi stories that I don’t understand at all.”

 “But you don’t have to be smart. You’re hot and popular.”

 He groans. “Devi, don’t do that.”

 “What? What am I doing?”

 “That thing where you refuse to notice that I’m a person because I have qualities that you specifically are interested in.”

 “Everyone’s interested in being hot and popular.”

 “Is that why you told the whole school you were having sex with me?”

 “Technically I just told them when we were going to have sex and didn’t tell them it didn’t happen. Anyway, you said that this would be a way I could make it up to you.”

 Paxton looks at her levelly. “But is that why you told them?”

 Devi hesitates. “Because you’re hot and popular?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Maybe.”

 “That’s what I thought.”

 She looks down for a moment, and this isn’t what he wanted, he wasn’t trying to dampen her spark, he’s just sick of everybody needing him for all the wrong things. All he wants to do is get into a pool and swim until his calves burn. Swimming makes sense. Taking care of his friends makes sense. Being popular makes enough sense, because there are rules to follow.

 But none of the rules should involve making someone as vibrant as Devi Vishwakumar look this sad.

 “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

 Devi shakes her head. “No. I’m just thinking about—something my dad taught me. He said he wasn’t good at tests either, so he taught me all these tricks—maybe that’s what you need.”

 “What kind of tricks?”

 She stretches out her legs, shoving the textbooks off to the side. “Have you ever read through a test and realized that one question has the answer for another one in it?”

 “Um, no.”

 “Well, it happens. And Mr. Shapiro is the kind of teacher who does that a lot, so you could start by reading through the whole test at the beginning and see what clues he gives you. And my dad had this whole thing about gum—he said if you chew gum while you study and chew the same gum while you take the test, it’ll help you do better.”

 “I don’t think Mr. Shapiro will let me have gum in class.”

 “He has to if you have a learning disability. Do you think you might be dyslexic? It’d be easy to find out and that might be why you have trouble reading quickly.”

 Paxton nods. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me more of these tricks. Maybe this’ll actually help.”

 He listens as well as he can, but his mind keeps drifting to Devi’s smile. He’s never heard her talk about her dad, except after the coyote attack. Her eyes grow soft, even as she’s explaining to him about how to phrase an answer to hide the parts you don’t know. She talks for a good forty-five minutes, and he doesn’t interrupt. Maybe he’ll get through a test for once, and maybe he won’t, but either way, he’ll be glad he got to see her like this.

 “Do you think that’ll help?” she asks finally.

 Paxton shakes himself back to reality. “Honestly? I don’t know. But if it works for Devi Vishwakumar, I’ll give it a try.”

 “So do you forgive me for telling everyone—you know?” Her fingers twitch nervously in her lap.

 “I do. Honestly, I might even owe you one at this point.”

 “I take Venmo and Cashapp.”

 Paxton laughes, and then, for the first time he can remember, Paxton Hall-Yoshida does something that isn’t in the rulebook.

 “How about this?” he says, and leans in.

 The kiss burns through him, the way Devi’s energy burns through everything. Paxton’s stomach drops like he’s thirteen fucking years old and being kissed for the first time. Only Devi’s lips are much softer, even as she moves in closer to bite his lower lip, and Devi’s hands are firmer, fingers gliding into his hair and holding him in place. He forgets to breath, but his hands have moved to her waist, and now he’s the one pulling her closer.

 And then, it’s over. And it’s just a moment. He could walk it back, like he’s done before with girls at parties who want more than he can give.

 “There,” he says. “Now you can tell the whole school you’ve kissed Paxton Hall-Yoshida, and you won’t be lying.”

 Devi’s mouth sharpens. “I’m not going to do that.”

 “Why not?”

 “Because,” she says, and there’s that fierceness of hers, that same energy she’d had when she propositioned him that first time he noticed her, the same energy she won battles with in the classroom. “You were right. I need to treat you like a person. Especially if I want this to happen again.”

 Paxton’s face feels warm. “Do you want it to happen again?”

 “If you do. If you can—I don’t know, trust me or whatever.”

 He nods. “I’ll, um, let you know.”

 Devi kisses him on the cheek, then gathers her textbook and notes into her backpack. “Knock ‘em dead tomorrow.”

 “What?”

 “The test?”

 “Right. Yeah, of course.” Paxton stands to get the door for her. “Thanks again.”

 “Any time.”

 It sounds like she means it.

 The next week, Paxton’s test comes back with a C plus.

 He couldn’t be happier about it.  

[bssaz97]

After knowing what Jaune (D Arc) did to Ironwood and his men do you think Cinder would try doing the same thing Jaune went through but it goes horribly wrong?

Jaune D’ Arc part 2

Weiss: Let me get this straight. After you were captured, they took you to Salem’s castle.

Jaune: Mm-Hmm.

Weiss: Where it was revealed to you that you are a descendants of one of Salem and Ozma’s once thought to be dead children.

Jaune: Yep.

Weiss: So because of that she tried to convince you to join her side and rule as her heir. But you said she could, and I quote-

Jaune/Weiss: “Go fuck herself and her batshit crazy ass cult!”

Jaune: Yes I did say all of that.

Qrow: But because she didn’t like that answer she had you transferred to Watts’ secured hideout laboratory.

Jaune: Ohhh yeah you should have seen the look on their faces. Especially Cindy, bitch was about to blow a gasket. But anyway, continue.

Qrow: Right...so after you were brought to the lab, where Watts tortured you behind Salem’s back and tried to pry information out of you about the rest of us.

Jaune: Damn. Right.

Ren: When all that failed, Arthur decided to do try another test which involved putting you in the tube that we found you in. Which was filled with...I’m sorry what did you call it?

Jaune: Red shit. But I’m also pretty much it was Grimm essence.

Weiss: And you survived that, how?

Jaune: I’m assuming my semblance.

Weiss/Qrow/Ren: Ah. Right.

Nora: But if you’re semblance saved you, why do you look like a scary boy Salem?

Jaune: Well while my semblance kept me alive. Didn’t really do much else to stop the effects of the red shit changing my body. Eventually my body and semblance was changed to the point where I could barely recognize myself. Also I now need to absorb the aura of others to fuel my own and my current mental health is pretty fucked if I do say so myself, but what else is new am I right?

Everyone: .....

Jaune: Ok joke didn’t work. Got it.

Ruby: Jaune.....Do you know if...this is permanent or not?

Jaune: Well. It’s supposed to be an almost exact same liquid from the pool that changed Salem to what she is now soooooo I’m gonna assume that this is not reversible.

Ruby: Oh...

Jaune: .....does it really bother you?

Ruby: What! No! Jaune, I’m happy to have you back alive! You have no idea how much everyone missed you, how I missed you. I just wanted to know if you are ok with these changes.

Jaune: .....no. But I don’t really have much choice in the matter anymore so I guess I’ll just have to live with it. But anyway that’s my story.

Qrow: Well kid, you’ve been through a helluva experience. Come on, let’s get going before anybody else gets here.

Jaune: That sounds great. How do we do that?

Ruby: We were able to get ahold of a Manta to get here. Now come on let’s get out of here. *Takes his hand but feels him not moving * Huh? Jaune?

Jaune: Actually.....I have a better idea.

He walks over to Ironwood’s unconscious body.

Jaune: Hey Jimmy how’s it going? You look great! Say I was wondering, do you mind if we borrow your ride? No you don’t mind. Great! You’re a pal! *Reaches into Ironwood’s coat and pulled out a keycard.*

Weiss: Jaune! What are you doing?!

Jaune: Getting us a new ride!

Time Skip; Elsewhere....

Salem: WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S GONE?!!!

Salem’s faction are all present in the War Room when Arthur had arrived to inform Salem of recent events. So naturally she was very displeased by the news.

Arthur: Uh, well...you see your grace, he didn’t actually escape rather he was.....recovered by the Rose child’s group. *Salem stood right in front of him*

Salem: Really? Very well then, for my next question I want to know as to WHY YOU LET THEM TAKE MY HEIR?!

Arthur: They caught me off guard you see! I was just doing my normal procedures-

Cinder: You mean dancing in your lab?

Arthur: My NORMAL procedures! And then suddenly the little ginger hell spawn bombed my facility.

Salem: And instead of securing my heir, ensuring that OUR ENEMIES do not get a hold of him.....what did you do?

Arthur: Um well.....you see.....I-

Mercury: Hid in his safe room like a bitch!

Emerald: MERC!

Salem: No! That’s quite alright young Sustrai, I believe that perfectly explains the behavior of our dear doctor here. *She stood up as her back faced the outside windows* So tell me Arthur, how are you going to make this up to me?

Arthur: *sweating* I can assure you my grace! I will retrieve the Arc, you see I installed a tracking device on his person after-! *Stops himself*

Salem: .....I’m sorry. What was that last part Arthur? *Side glances him*

Arthur: Well...forgive me your grace but I feel I should confess that.....I may have withheld some information about the Arc boy’s status at my facility.

Salem: Status...

Arthur: *Sweating profusely* He’s Fine! Really he’s just fine!.....for the most part. AH! *Magically pulled towards Salem, where she grabbed his shirt*

Salem: What did you do?

Arthur: N-Nothing life threatening! I think...

Salem: What did you do?

Arthur: I.....may have dabbled a little into..... Grimm Essence Research while he was at my facility.

Salem: .*Her eyes widened* ....what?

Arthur: But he’s fine! He survived the procedure perfectly. Honestly you should have seen the results, now he looks more like your descendant than ev-WAH! *Gets slammed into the front glass panel, causing multiple cracks to form*

Salem: Don’t you think that if I wanted him to be like me. I would have asked you to make so?

Arthur: You know I’m suddenly starting to realize that.

Salem: How much?

Arthur: W-What?

Salem: How much of the Grimm essence did you give him?

Arthur: uuuuuuuuuhhhh.

Salem: Arthur.....

Arthur: I put him in a tank of it.

Salem: YOU FOOL! *Throws him across the room, hitting the opposite wall*

Tyrian: Hehehehehehehe! Oh what fun we’re having today!

Emerald: Cinder, shouldn’t we try to stop her? I mean he is our only tech support.

Cinder: Shh! Not yet. I want to see how far she goes.

The negative aura surrounding the Grimm Queen seemed to emit off her person as she slowly walked towards Arthur. This caused him to scrabbles to steady himself on the wall, fear for his life very much on his mind.

Arthur: W-W-Wait! Your grace, I promise you we get him back!

Salem: It’s far too late for that Arthur. Even if you can track him down, you’ll never be able to recapture him. After all, if he’s anything like me now he’ll most likely try and succeed to kill you and anyone you send after him.

Arthur: Your Grace! I implore you, beg you to give me another chance. Have I ever failed you before!

Salem: .......You make a point. You’ve been faithful up until now, therefore I shall let you keep your life.

Arthur: *Sighs in relief* Thank you my grace...

Salem: But fail me again Arthur.....and I shall fill these very walls with your blood.

Arthur: ...I understand your grace.

Salem: Now go on then, it seems like you have some searching to do.....oh and take Tyrian and Cinder with you. Just to ensure you do not fail me again, right Arthur?

Arthur: Y-Yes your grace, we won’t fail! Come along Tyrian, Cinder.

The three followers and two subordinates of Salem make their way out of the room. Once they make it down the hall. They enter a second room where they can plan their operation.

Arthur: Alright everyone, since we all have our assignment from her Grace. I think it’s best we find out leads as to where the target is going.

Cinder: Before we do anything! Why don’t you show us exactly what you’ve been up to, do you have any record of the breakout?

Arthur: I do. But I must insist that we-

Cinder: You just claimed to have turned Jaune Arc into a replica of Salem, I think I speak for everyone here that I’m curious to know in what regard you meant.

Tyrian: I wouldn’t mind seeing for myself either of how the boy has been blessed by our goddess.~ I say role the tape!

Arthur: ‘Heavy Sigh’ Very well. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you...

Five Minutes Later....

Jaune: *in recording* What’s wrong Jimmy?! You were talking good shit a second ago! Why don’t you have one of your dead men give you a new arm?! I’m sure they gladly do it as they now have plenty to give.

Arthur at this point decided to pause the video as he’s sure everyone got the message. He turns to look at everyone and sees they have a variety of expressions. Cinder and Mercury have a pale expression of shock and fright on their faces, while Emerald had stopped watching halfway through the video to puke in the corner. Tyrian had a sickening gleeful expression as if he was watching a blockbuster movie. But that face dropped when the video ended.

Tyrian: Hey! Why did you stop it? It was getting to the good part!

Cinder: This.....is Jaune Arc?

Arthur: Unfortunately, yes.

Cinder: Watts.....BY THE GODS WHAT IN WORLD POSSESSED YOU TO CREATE THIS MONSTROSITY!!! AND WHY GIVE IT TO HIM OF ALL PEOPLE?!!!

Arthur: Look here! I don’t need anyone else here to tell me when I clearly have made a misjudgment!

Mercury: Doc this isn’t a misjudgment, this is a complete fuckin’ disaster! We already had one Salem on our backs, NOW WE GOT TWO OF EM!

Arthur: Look it’s not that bad!

Emerald: ‘Huff!’ Not that bad?! That.....THING turned a group of Atlesian specialists into burger meat! And you want US to go up against THAT! We’re going die!

Arthur: Don’t you think I’m already aware of that! I’m not even sure if sending a maiden will be enough to stop him! But I obviously cannot do this by myself!

Cinder: .....Then why don’t we even the odds.

Arthur/Mercury/Emerald: What?

Cinder: You were able to accomplish this process once. Couldn’t you do it again?

Emerald: Cinder. You’re not actually-?

Cinder: Power is power. And if I’m right that means if someone else had any similar abilities as him, they would be able to overpower him. Right?

Arthur: .....It’s possible. However I highly recommend that you don’t undergo such a procedure.

Cinder: And why not?! If you’re not confident in your own work than what’s to stop me from-

Arthur: I don’t doubt my work! It’s the person I’m concerned over.

Cinder: What?

Arthur: You see this isn’t the first time I’ve dabbled into this kind of research. It’s only the first success.

Cinder: You’ve done this before?

Arthur: Yes.....it’s been a pet project of mine for sometime. However, I rarely ever had any test subjects survive. Those that do.....well they are far from ever being human again.

Cinder: How?

Arthur: Well most that do undergo the procedure, turn out to be more Grimm-like than desirable. They become mindless beasts that slowly decay into nothing.

Everyone: .....

Mercury: Oum, how long have you been doing this for?!

Arthur: About three to four years give or take.

Cinder: If that’s the case. Why shouldn’t I undergo the procedure?

Arthur: Do you really think Salem would accept or be pleased that I turned her Fall Maiden into a mindless beast?

Cinder: If Someone by the likes of Jaune Arc could survive, then so can I!

Arthur: Absolutely not! I already have her eyes behind my back, do you want me to kill myself!

Cinder: I can take it by force if I have to! I have magic!

Arthur: You wouldn’t survive!

Cinder: AND WHY NOT?!

Arthur: Because you lack a sense of humanity!

Cinder: *confused* What?!

Arthur: This procedure isn’t just about the physical capability of the recipient but the mental as well. You think it’s only a coincidence that someone like Jaune Arc survives solely for his semblance and genealogy to Salem?

Cinder: Oh you’ve got to be kidding? You’re telling me that the reason he survived and became this way is because of his humanity!

Arthur: .....As much as I despise the notion yes. Also they have to be a virgin.

Cinder: Watts, you damn well!

Arthur: Thought but didn’t want to assume. But I’m afraid I can’t allow you to undergo the procedure. You’re too important to the mission and we both know we shouldn’t give it to Tyrian. *Both look at the crazed scorpion licking his blades*

Cinder: Point taken.

Arthur: Yes, for this procedure we require someone who is.....expendable. *Looks at the two others in the room.*

Emerald: .....Why is he looking at us like that?

Mercury: Because we’re fucked.

End of Part 2.

Had fun writing this one and I hope you guys enjoyed!

[in-a-cave-with]

can you make a list of every mavel comic you've ever read (good and bad) i just finished iron man (1998) and i thoroughly loved it with all its best and weird bits

GOOD™

iron man stuff:

tales of suspense (1963) – a classic. 100/10. would read several times

iron man vol 1 (1968) – i’m on, like, issue 20 out of 300 something but it’s also very very good! the drama..the action……..wig

iron man vol 3 (1998) – obv i know youve read this one anon but for anyone out there starting comics this one’s SUPER good, and also Love Is Stored In The Tonyru

iron man vol 4 (2005) – listen this comic. so great, so iconic. maya hansen! epic fights! director stark! good art except for, like, the 6 issues of execute program but execute program is such a good story arc that you wont even notice! 

iron man noir (2010) – INDIANA JONES AU TONY STARK, LITERALLY THE BEST CONCEPT MARVEL’S COME UP WITH. PEAK COMICS IRONFAM

iron man legacy (2010) – i enjoyed this one a lot! i’m kind of confused as to, like, what’s going on but it’s fun

iron man season one (2013) – ok so this is, like, a modern remake of tony’s origin story and it’s..kind of average imo but thats ok! bc you can just look at the very very pretty pictures

iron man fatal frontier (2013) – tony becomes governor of the moon and fights doom! also he takes down an ai with weaponized fanfiction somewhere in there. read this one with a .cbr reader

invincible iron man vol 2 (2015) – gonna maybe fuck around and rec bendis’ entire iron man run bc . the art is gorgeous and the story isn’t the strongest but tony’s characterization is v good 

international iron man (2016) – ok i dont remember what happens in this one but alex maleev’s art is literally god 

invincible iron man vol 3 (2016) – RIRI WILLIAMS!!!! AND ALSO AI TONY STARK (MY SON MY BOY WHOM I LOVE)!!!!

other stuff:

new avengers vol 1 (2005) – as i have said before. new avengers GOT the sauce. stevetony and caroljess on one team was too powerful so marvel had to break em up with civil war . also stop reading this comic when you get to civil war

civil war: casualties of war (2007) and civil war: the confession (2007) – these are both oneshot comics and also the Only Civil War Content You Need To Subject Yourself To

spider-man noir (2010) – a break from the avengers stuff to tell you that this comic is very brutal and also very good

secret invasion (2010) – ok avengers emh did it better™ but this is still very neat! also it’s pretty trippy so its got that going for it too

siege (2010) – i dont understand what’s going on but the art is very good. also the avengers get to beat up norman osborn’s bitch ass

avengers prime (2011) – apparently this is the “stevetony bible” and …honestly there isn’t anything i can say in objection to that

avengers vol 4 (2010) – this comic is SUPER fun. after the fear itself tie ins the art and story get pretty eugh though so be careful

fear itself (2012) – BEST BEST BEST!!! my favorite crossover event in comics, with cool art and a badass storyline

captain marvel vol 4 (2012) – can we get a yeehaw for CAROL DANVERS . hell yeah. this is her first run with the name captain marvel and it’s Very Good

avengers: the enemy within (2014) – captain marvel vol 4 ends on a cliffhanger and the storyline’s capped off here

avengers vol 5 (2013) – ok so *clown noises* i haven’t exactly finished it but…this is the One Was Life The Other Was Death comic and it’s super good from what ive read so far

hawkeye (2013) – matt fraction’s run! everyone and their dog wants you to read it and you absolutely should if you have not. not too sure abt the volume numbering but heres a link to download in TPBs, it’s volumes 1-4

captain marvel vol 5 (2014) – this is the volume featuring chewie (!!) and carol in outer space with the guardians of the galaxy (!!!). super fun in general, would read again

ms marvel (2014) – again i am VERY confused as to what the official issue/volume numbering is, but here’s a list of TPBs that collect pretty much every kamala khan comic pre 2019 (im gonna rec all of them bc kamala is a treasure)

doctor strange vol 3 (2015) – literally everything i want from a comic tbh, also chris bachalo’s art is amazing

marvel 1872 (2015) – no one actually calls this Stevetony Bible 2 but lbr it’s basically Stevetony Bible 2

all-new all-different avengers (2015) – BEST AVENGERS TEAM EVER. EVER. PLEASE BENDIS WHY DID YOU BREAK THIS TEAM UP IM SAD

the unbelievable gwenpool (2016) – oh god oh fuck it’s miss GWEN POOLE . this comic is super funny and also surprisingly heartfelt, plus the art is . mmm.

champions (2016) – the gen z superhero team, i love all of them so much. i can almost forgive marvel for ending anad avengers

hunt for wolverine: adamantium agenda (2018) – so this is, after 11 goddamn years, closure for the first civil war regarding tony and the new avengers that sided with steve. amazing.

the life of captain marvel (2018) – the carol origin retcon is…eh. but it’s still very good! think of it as carol’s international iron man

avengers: back to basics (2018) – kamala goes back in time and accidentally reveals tony’s secret identity and it’s the funniest fucking thing

captain marvel (2019) – the first issue is everyone bullying tony which sucks but DONT LET THAT GET YOU DOWN bc it’s, like, actually good and also tony appears more in later issues without getting bullied

war of realms (2019) – i guess it’s a marvel rule that all crossover comics having to do with asgard are Top Notch? anyway

loki (2019) – AMAZING loki shenanigans and also the REAL reason you needed to read war of realms tbh

ironheart (2019) – gosh i love riri williams so much she’s so GREAT and you should DEFINITELY READ THIS

QUESTIONABLE™:

invincible iron man vol 1 (2008) – matt fraction’s iron man run…it’s ..ok story wise? however the characterization is a lil off at times and the art is HORRIBLE

iron man vol 5 (2013) – ok so this comic is super weird ? because it’s nice that tony spends time out in space but also it confirms that he’s a furry apparently. pretty much the only truly average iron man comic

avengers vol 8 (2018) – okay so i really like the art and the story’s okay but there’s a bit where tony flirts w carol and it’s the most ooc thing ive ever seen and that’s enough to land it in the questionable category

tony stark: iron man (2018) – i debated over whether to put this here or in the Bad™ category BUT valerio schiti’s art is too beautiful and the rhodeytony content fuels me. also issues 12 and 13 (war of realms) written by gail simone are pretty good. unfortunately dan slott wrote the rest and it AINT IT CHIEF

gwenpool strikes back (2019) – it starts off strong in the first issue but goes downhill from there and tbh it’s not really respectful of the previous gwenpool run

magnificent ms marvel (2019) – ok listen i love kamala a lot but if theres gonna be a romance plot between her and bruno it’s the electric chair

BAD. AVOID AT ALL COSTS™

iron man vol 2 (1996) – just. don’t touch this. it’s a hot mess

civil war (2006) – i hate this. so much. it’s unreal. all you need to know is that steve was real close to killing tony in the end but surrendered when he saw that he no longer had the moral high ground. and also steve got assassinated right before he was going to be put on trial

mighty avengers (2007) – this comic had the potential to be SO good. unfortunately the artists for the actual avengers issues don’t respect women at all

superior iron man (2015) – they made tony evil and i could not be more angry with it. who even fucking wants to read this theres not even any emotional payoff for any of this

civil war ii (2016) – i would hit this stupid comic in the knees if i could. there is not a single c*vil w*r with rights. all you need to know is that carol put tony into a coma and it’s super ooc

iron man 2020 (2020) – listen i know this comic hasn’t come out yet but it has all the ingredients to be EVEN WORSE than superior iron man which is saying a lot.

this took way too much effort

[sorrelstream]

entering “proper grammar” mode because I’m writing this on a google docs first and I don’t want to deal with all those ugly squiggles ahdfsdfds…

But!! Here’s the fully answered Ailuornymy question list, as requested by anon :D! More below the cut!

Favourite canon warrior name?

Hmm… let’s see… Honestly? Probably Silverstream! I don’t think we get many -stream suffixes anymore and there’s something soooo pretty about her name and the way it flows !!

Least favourite canon warrior name?

Snowbush. There’s something so clunky about the way this dude’s name reads in my head and I don’t know why!!! Also Harrybrook >:(

Warrior you’d most like to rename?

Harrybrook. I just!! It doesn’t sound nice at all please give him a better name :( Best name-change name? One-eye! I’m not sure if she asked for her name change or not, but I’ll admit “One-eye” is a pretty baller sounding name and I love that. Also Deadfoot has a cool name too (though I wish he had asked for that name change rather than saddled with it :/)!

Favourite canon character overall?

 Mousewhisker and Hazeltail! They’re two unimportant side characters that don’t really do anything ever but man do I love them with my whole heart <3!

Least favourite canon character overall? 

Thistleclaw and Crowfeather. I’ve talked about why I don’t like either of them a lot before so to keep it short they both make me incredibly uncomfortable nor do I enjoy reading about them at all.

Favourite Warriors book? 

The Darkest Hour! It was my first Warriors book that I read from the main series (Sasha's manga was the first Warriors book in general and how I got into Warriors), and MAN does it still stick with me! So many scenes from that book are just iconic. 

Least favourite Warriors book? 

Anything from Dawn Of The Clans honestly :'). I tried so many times to get into reading that arc and I never could get into it -- it just bored me any time I tried. Same for AVoS, eh.

Favourite canon scene or dialogue of all time? 

Such a random scene but there’s a scene I think about all the time from Power Of Three where Lionpaw has a nightmare about Hollypaw, and she just playfully (? ominously?) says “I’m going to get you” while hidden in the shadows before turning into a fox and attacking him. I think about it SO much…...

Favourite canon leader of all time? 

Crookedstar, followed closely by Tallstar! I love them…. 

Character you think deserved better? 

SO, SO MANY. IT’S UNREAL. Hollyleaf didn’t deserve to get killed off the VERY NEXT BOOK after she came back to ThunderClan, Snowkit didn’t deserve to get killed off just to push Speckletail into the nursery, Nightcloud didn’t deserve… literally anything she got both in canon and how the authors and fandom demonized her, Honeyfern…. Silverstream… the list goes on really :’/

Character you’d like to see “morally” flipped (made “bad” or made “good”)?

Leopardstar, kinda?? But not like. Morally flipped? I guess? I just mean I wish they had gone more into her redemption arc and why she allied herself with Tigerstar besides just “oh she was in love with him”. So it’s not that I wish she was morally flipped, but I wish they went more into her morality because she’s soo vague as it is (and, frankly, maybe I’m biased because I like her but I would’ve loved to see her overcome her initial prejudice or perhaps work for forgiveness for her Clan - perhaps her alliance with Tigerstar was out of worry for the entirety of her Clan since she saw him as the strongest cat and not just… because she “loved” him). Same for Breezepelt, honestly! They kept dancing between “he’s a troubled son of a negligent/abusive father” and “he’s evil :)” and personally? As a child of a negligent father who also abandoned me, it would’ve been way more … I’m not sure WHAT the word I’m looking for is but I think Breezepelt’s story would’ve been better if they focused on making him a troubled teen of a negligent, bad father and actually embraced Crowfeather being an antagonist in PO3 instead of not wanting to make him look bad. It’s just weird the erins flip flop between “this character is evil” and “this character is ok” so much it’s FRUSTRATING :/

Favourite AU (alternate universe) concept? 

Answered here! 

Warrior code rule you think is best?

Always help a kitten in need, no matter their heritage! I know that’s not the exact wording but anyways. Perhaps I’m biased because I, in general, don’t like reading about child death (I know it happens and I can handle it in some plots but sometimes it’s just so excessive), but in general I think it’s one of the best and genuinely helpful code laws, especially because kittens always deserve a chance at life. I think the second best rule would be the one that states a warrior does not need to kill to win a battle, because I think that adds a lot more depth (potentially) to how warriors value the lives of others and creates a bigger scene? scandal? when someone is killed in battle versus dying of wounds later on. It also, again, keeps the youngsters like apprentices safe!

Warrior code rule you think shouldn’t exist/should be changed?

If you know me, you won’t be surprised because it’s the same answer as always: the leader’s word is law. I’ve spoken a lot about that code before and even have a comic about its flaws, so I won’t go into it too much here, but I just think it’s a recipe for disaster.

Describe your ideal vision of Starclan/clan afterlife.

Hmmm let’s see… my ideal vision of StarClan/clan afterlife would be a little bit like what it’s like in canon at the moment but with a few twists. I think the borders would dissolve in StarClan so there’d be less in-fighting (though I imagine, after growing up your whole life hating your neighbors, a lot of cats have a hard time getting used to the no-boundary life-style of StarClan, and a lot of young/new spirits tend to stick within their own Clan cliques before venturing out and meeting former members of other Clans. Older spirits would be the ones most used to interacting with former members of other Clans). I think there’d be sections that mimic the corporeal Clan’s territories in theme, but with different landmarks and such so that new spirits have a new world to explore. I’d also take away the fading aspect because I don’t really think that’s… fair? I guess? It’s weird to me but I’d prefer not to go into it. I’d also make it so that there’s no great wisdom to these cats - or, at least, the wiser StarClan spirits are the ones that have been around for as long as anyone can remember. They wouldn’t be able to interfere with the living as much in canon and can only really visit medicine cats, or possibly leaders, in dreams; anyone else has to go to the sacred area to commune with the dead. Not sure what else though! This is just kind of a general idea.

Traditional or non-traditional naming. Thoughts?

I think both have their merits! While I prefer traditional naming systems because I enjoy seeing the way people develop suffix meanings and assign well-known meanings to them (and even connotations!), plus it helps me personally assign even the smallest trait to a side character so they feel just a little more real, I see why people would enjoy non-traditional naming systems as it does give more breathing room for individual name creation. Also, I’m not gonna lie, there’s some gorgeous lyrical names out there that flow beautifully. My heart will always belong to traditional naming, though, I think. 

If traditional: What non-traditional suffix would you include in your system? If non-traditional: What’s your favourite canon suffix?

Traditional! I actually have included some non-traditional suffixes in my system, just for variety! But those are: -throat, -pool, -belly, -fern, -bee, -berry, -chirp, and -tooth, for example. There’s actually quite a few more but I don’t wanna list every single addition shfbd!

Best thing about the clan system as a concept in your opinion?

Hard to pick, honestly! But I do think the best thing about clans as a system is their unity; they’re a little society that has each other’s backs, and the care for young and elderly a lot is touching!

Favourite Warriors fanfiction (or fanfiction writer)?

HA this might be an obvious answer, but 100% solacefruit on ao3 (also: @/ailuronymy and @/burnt-sycamore on tumblr!). His worldbuilding is to die for and there’s something so charming and attention grabbing about his writing style that always has me waiting for the next update. Seriously, probably one of my biggest writer inspirations. 

Favourite Warriors fanartist (includes animators)?

Answered here!

Most interesting villain?

Mapleshade and Sol, honestly. I’ve rambled about Mapleshade before, I think, but I think her story could have had a lot of potential to call out the misogyny and bias of StarClan and the code, and how mollies are often punished harsher than the toms for their code-breaking. Her story also features how weird the warriors are with the warrior code - it’s like they cherry pick what they want to believe? Oakstar sends three innocent kittens out of the Clan, presumably to die (which they do), despite the code speaking to never endanger a kitten’s life no matter their heritage, and no one ever questions him, or the rest of ThunderClan, for standing by to watch kittens die? Even Frecklewish outright stated she watched the kittens die and did nothing about it. Why? Why was everyone okay with punishing Mapleshade for breaking a rule of the code but no one questioned Oakstar or anyone else in ThunderClan for kicking out the kits alongside Mapleshade, when it was Mapleshade’s crime and not the kits? And why doesn’t Appledusk get punished or ostracized by his clanmates as severely as Mapleshade did? It had a lot of potential but it’s just a mess. Anyways - onto Sol. Another interesting concept kinda messed up by the Erins. In general, I really love villains that are just nuisances at best and no real threat - kind of like Heinz Doofenshmirtz - and with Sol’s backstory being the way it was, he was the perfect opportunity to have him be this little antagonistic shithead who, while annoying and causing problems, wasn’t actually a serious threat, and he of all villains would have had the best shot at redemption I think.

Favourite canon clan?

RiverClan! I love their aesthetic, their territory, and their general vibes. In love with water-based places <3!!

What would you ask Erin Hunter, if you could?

“Would you hand the series off to a new team of writers?” All good series must come to an end, but with Warriors being as broad as it is, I think this is a series where spin offs can be made and still thrive - just not with the current author staff we have at the moment. There’s lots of people with amazing, creative ideas for Warriors, and I know this is just a fantasy at best, but I would love to see a new writing team take over and weave brand new stories and worldbuilding with it in spin-offs. Hell, even I’d love to take a crack at publishing a Warriors spin off, but, again, it’s a fantasy at best.

Top five prefixes (canon or otherwise)?

Sorrel-, Chub-, Mink-, Rose-, and Vervain- (you can tell I like these prefixes considering these are all prefixes of characters featured in my webcomic besides Sorrel-, which is used for my wcsona’s name ha!) Honorable mentions to: Black- (or any color based prefix like Yellow-, Red-, Ginger-, Blue-, Gray-, White-, etc. I don’t know why but I’m fond of them), Beetle-, and Fidget- (which isn’t a traditional prefix, but I think it’s cute hehe.)

Top five suffixes (canon or otherwise)?

Just narrowing down for traditional because I need a smaller pool to pick from habdfsd but! -face, -flower, -stripe, -storm and -nose! 

If you were on Drunk Warriors Rants, what would you talk about?

I have no idea what Drunk Warriors Rants is actually but I’m assuming it’s something where you get drunk and rant about warrior cats so… I would absolutely rant about Hollyleaf and mainly the wild mischaracterization the fandom has made of her break down and the murder of Ashfur. It irks me to no end how so many people have pushed this weird concept that Hollyleaf was aware her parents were Crowfeather and Leafpool when she murdered Ashfur to the point that most people I talk to genuinely don’t realize this, because not only does it just make so sense narratively but I feel like it really does take away from the depth that is her character. I think Hollyleaf is one of the few characters we get, like, an actual depth to, who is developed beyond “typical protagonist with love interest”, and has an interesting arc, downfall, and redemption. When she killed Ashfur, she was totally unaware that Leafpool and Crowfeather were her parents - in fact, the entirety of Sunrise is about Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze trying to figure out who their parents are, so I honestly don’t know where this whole “Hollyleaf knew about her heritage when she killed Ashfur” thing came from. It really ruins her arc by making her out to be some nonsense cat who killed to keep a secret she spilled anyways, and not a cat who killed to keep a secret she didn’t fully understand yet, who then completely unraveled once she discovered the origins and how her existence completely went against everything she was raised to believe in.

What would your warrior name be?

Pretty obvious answer but my warrior name would be Sorrelstream! Or possibly Sorrelstripe, but I lean towards Sorrelstream. I love to swim a lot actually but I wouldn’t say I’m a particularly strong or skilled swimmer but hey… It’s my warriors sona and I get to give him one (1) skill.

Bonus questions:

Describe your favourite original Warriors characters! 

HONESTLY this question is a little tough because I have such a huuuge cast of original warrior characters it’s hard to narrow down! I’d say if you’re interested in hearing more about my ocs or seeing them in action to check out my @/roseface blog, which is dedicated to my wc comic, or check out my ao3 account (kiittenteeth) because I’ll probably be posting warriors-centric original character stories there soon!

Describe your original Warriors clans! 

Heyyy fun fact! I’m actually working on a small novel fanfic (only about ten chapters long) featuring my fanclans! They’re a group of four Clans set in an abandoned gated neighborhood/area - FernClan (located in the local abandoned mall), PondClan (located in the abandoned golf course), GleamClan (located in the local abandoned restaurant/diner), and FieldClan (located in the abandoned K-12 academy school). I won’t go too much into them here since I want to explore their worldbuilding in my fic, but keep an eye out for them when I drop the first chapter of Ribs! 

Talk about your feelings about the Warriors series! 

Oh man. A lot. The series itself is… disappointing, at best, but I’m awfully attached to it no matter how many times I try to break away from it. It was my biggest media interest growing up (keyword: media), so it’s a pretty big part of me and the way I grew up. Plus I met a good chunk of my friends through warrior cats related areas, so :’)!!! It’s a series that despite all its flaws is incredibly close to me but I’m mainly here to read everyone’s fan content because MAN does the fan content go above and beyond!

(Asked by @/whocares-idont) What’s your opinion on fan made Clan pantheons? 

I LOOVE fan made Clan pantheons actually! Mythology was always something I loved learning about as a kid, and I’m particularly fond of the worldbuilding people make for the Warriors setting. I feel like creating a pantheon and mythos tied to it adds to the depth of the world and makes it all the more interesting and realistic, especially since mythology is such a huge part of so many cultures, both ancient and modern one. I think creating pantheons really adds to the setting people make with warriors, and, honestly, they’re always really fun to read about!!

[supertweetycherry]

THE DECK PRINCESS - [i. The Card]

🔹Pairings: EXO x BTS X OC

🔹Genre: Fluff, Cardau, Adventure, Powers, Reverseharem, Love, Mates

🔹Ratings: General

🔹Warnings: Very Light swearing

🔹Word Count: 2.7k

Navigation-->| Masterlist --<<FOREWORD | NEXT>>

—————————————————————————-

Sneaking out was one of the best thing that a person could ever do in their life. The fun in lying to your parents and then the thrill of jumping out of your bedroom window only to be chased out by your own dog because he couldn’t recognise your scent and then nearly getting lost in the dark streets of the city was really a fun experience. Everyone should try it.

No, I’m kidding! Never ever try to sneak out unless you have a very good reason too. Why? The answer is simple.

Karma is a BITCH!

“How could he bite me like this?!” I exclaimed, wincing at the pain. “My own fucking dog bit me!”

Yup, you got it right. My own dog just bit the shit out of me. So much for getting him a new dog house.

“Ya! Stop moving. It’s just a small scratch.” A voice whined.

I looked at the tall chick beside me with my famous death glare. How could she call the two large holes on my leg a scratch? Doesn’t she see the amount of blood pouring out of it?

“Stop giving me that look, Yoonmi.” She scoffed, pressing a small cotton ball onto my wound. “You are being dramatic again.”

I pouted. She’s right. I’m being dramatic. I love being dramatic. She knows me so well. After all shes my best friend. My honey sunny bunny.

“Your being mean, Sunny” I squeaked out in fake hurt. Yes, it’s true. The wound on my leg was just a small scratch. But hey, a girl can dream right?

“You are such a baby, Yoonmi.” She scoffed again before placing a small bunny bux bandaid on my precious wound. “Will you ever grow up?”

I smiled.

“Never.”

Apparently that seemed to set her off and next thing I know, I’m being abandoned. I frowned as she threw me an irritated look over her shoulders before leaving me alone to serve her boyfriend of the week.

“Ya! Sunny! Why are you leaving me?!” I called out in protest but the words were lost in the loud music.

I looked longingly at her retreating figure and stared at my covered up wound. Did I say something wrong? I feel so lonely now.

Sunny has always been my only friend. We met when we were in diapers. We stayed together ever since. But now it felt weird around her. I used to have other friends but they all abandoned me when bullying started. Being a teacher’s pet and a top achiever of the school doesn’t really get you a free pass from the bullies. Only being popular does. And I’m not popular. I may have a slim, athletic body with all the curves and long dark brown hair that framed my face perfectly, it still wasn’t enough for me to earn loyal friends. Sunny was the only one who stuck around. But now, things have been a little strained between us. I wonder why?

I looked around the party hall quietly. Everyone was either dancing or getting their ass drunk.

Tonight’s celebration was dedicated to being a successful high school graduate. The ceremony happened in the morning while a secret party was thrown in the night to celebrate the new faze. Considering the party was held at one of the top clubs in the city of Seoul. It was enough for my lovely parents to ban me from going.

Honestly I don’t blame them. I’m still a year shy from 18 while all my peers have already reached the legal age. I’m still a baby.

“Here. Have this.” I looked up to see the handsome bartender that has been giving me free drinks throughout the night. He held two tequila shots for me to grab. I smiled taking the offered drinks. So what if I’m still underaged. The rules are meant to be broken after all.

“Thanks”. I said sweetly, looking up at his handsome face. Its weird how he just kept giving me free drinks tonight. I came out here tonight with the only intention to let loose some of the build up tension over the last few weeks of high school. Exams are harder to deal with when they have the capability of deciding your future.

“Having guy problems?” I heard his husky voice again, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I looked at him up and down. Seizing his body frame from top to bottom. Black pants, open white shirt and flashy toned abs. Yup, he’s a total eye candy.

“Nope.” He was pretty and handsome. But something tells me to stir clear away from his path. “More like friendship problems.” I continued, gulping the shot in one go. Damn, that burned. I took another Shot of the bitter drink and slammed the glass on the counter.

Why does tequila has to burn so much?

“Let me guess, best friend leaving you alone to mingle with other boys?”

“Someone’s been spying on me.” I teased. It’s not really a secret. The boy was literally standing behind me when Sunny decided to ditch me.

“I guess I’m just too observant.”

“No, you’re a spy.” I said, pointing my finger at his face playfully. “Let me guess, CIA?”

“No. That’s American, sweetheart. We’re in Seoul, South Korea.” He chuckled.

“Ah. It’s NIS then. I knew there was something suspicious about you.”

“You’re funny and... weird.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” I shrugged. People call me many things. I guess being Funny and weird is just a couple of those things.

“You seemed tensed.” I stared at him in confusion. I’m not tensed.

“Maybe I can help you... ” He whispered, sliding a card towards me with a small wink. I looked at the number on the card and gulped. “Yeah I’m pretty fast.”

Oh boy, please tell me he’s not offering himself.

“Think about it. I’ll be here for the rest of the night.” I coughed lightly as his fingers slowly grazed my hand. I felt my cheeks get warm. No-one has ever touched me in that way before. I don’t even know what to say.

“I like funny girls.” He continued before placing a soft kiss on my hand. I shivered at his touch. Ugh, it was not a good feeling. So much for being handsome.

“Haha... thanks for the drinks.” I quickly said, pulling my hand out of his grasp. “Gotta go.” I laughed before making a bee line for the furthest couch away from the bar. Yup, I’m a total coward when it comes to boys.

“What’s the rush, little Lee?”

“Huh?” I said turning around to my right, only to jump back in surprise. There, right infront of me sat my biggest bully of them all. Song Mina.

She was chewing on a piece of gum while her fingers twirled around her bleached blonde hair. Her crystal blue eyes were trained right on me.

I shivered. They were so blue. Just like the bright blue water in a swimming pool.

“Mina.”

“It’s madam Song Mina to you, little Lee.” She retorted.

I scoffed. Madam Song Mina my foot. She may be my bully, but I never let her get an upper hand on me.

“It’s nice to see you’re still in your happy cloud, Mina.” I said, scooting away from her resting figure. Why did I have to choose the same seat as her?

“What a teacher’s pet like you is doing in such a party like this, sweetheart?” The girl sassed with a curve of her lips. I gritted my teeth in anger. True, it was a graduation party but it was filled with students from all over Seoul. Did I mention the party was actually organised by the Song Family? Meaning only the populars were invited. Too bad the Song family hasn’t seen the wealth and riches of the Lee family yet.

“It’s none of your business.” I said before looking away. I hated her for what she did to me during my high school years. And I will continue to hate her until she gives me a good reason to forgive her.

Just then a shorter boy ran up to our seats and looked at Mina in worry.

“Have you found it yet?” I frowned at her question. Found what?

“Yes.” The boy nodded. That’s when I felt Mina stand up in excitement.

“Where?”

The short boy, who looked a year younger than me, pointed towards the bar. I looked around and noticed a small crowd forming behind the counter.

“But Madam Mina, your friend is about to claim it.” Wait, what? Claim what?

“That bitch.” The moment I heard Mina say those words out loud, I knew something bad was gonna happen.

“Come with me!” Mina ordered before storming to the place of commotion. The boy looked at me before shrugging and following Mina like a small kicked puppy.

I was obviously confused. It’s not always that someone manages to piss off Song Mina. There are some selected individuals who can blow her anger off but they are all from lower class. Considering it’s a high profile party, I can only think of one person.

Smiling to myself, I also stood up and followed the fuming girl and the short boy to the Bar counter. My curiosity has reached its peak. There’s no stopping me now.

“Give it back to me. It’s mine!” A deep voice screamed just as I reached the site of commotion.

There were quite a lot of people here. All gathered around in a circle. I could see pointing of fingers and excitement on their faces.

Apparently, a very tall boy was shouting over his lungs at someone. That someone happens to be a very familiar looking girl. He was making moves to grab whatever the girl held in her hands. The only thing stopping him was the herd of boys who had launched themselves at the poor boy.

“Relax, Wo Bin. I just want to know if it’s worth my time or not.” The female spoke, smirking at the boy who tried to claw her face again.

“Krystal.” I quietly whispered to myself. That’s who the female was. The voice was too familiar for me not to recognise. She was one of those neutral peers who would watch a crime happen but wouldn't help to stop it. Why? Simple. Because it has nothing to do with them.

“I found it first. It appeared to me!” The boy shouted, not caring that he was drawing unwanted attention.

I was utterly confused by this scene. Where were the bouncers? With this much screaming going on, security should have been here by now to separate these two. I could only detect few of the students lining around to see the outcome. But everyone else just ignored it as if it was invisible to them. Even that handsome bartender who was looking the other way is oblivious to the small crowd beside him.

“I know. I just want to check.” My brows furrowed in confusion. Check what?

“This is my last warning to you, Krystal. Give that card back to me!”

Wait, a card?

They’re fighting over a card?

I looked at Krystal’s right hand to find a large playing card being twirled around her fingers. I couldn’t see properly but I can guarantee it was bigger than any normal playing card.

“Krystal”. That was Mina. The sudden warning in the tone and the familiar temperature drop was enough for everyone in the circle to shuffle back a bit, allowing Mina to get a front seat view of the whole fight.

I could see another boy beside Mina, who looked viciously at the two fighting duo. He was scaring everyone off. The way his fingers twitched, and his eyes glowing. There was something unnatural about that boy.

“Mina.” As if on instinct, suddenly two people appeared on Krystal’s either side. An older girl and a young boy. Both with the same identical black hair and twin features. Their posture was defensive. It was as if they were there to protect Krystal.

“Is it same card?” I heard Mina ask. A small wicked smile appeared on Krystal’s lips.

“Exactly the same.”

“No!” The tall boy from earlier looked at both of them in fear. His eyes had grown to the size of a saucer. “You can’t! This isn’t fair.”

“Shut up!” Someone else yelled.

“Take him away, please.” Mina sighed as she moved towards Krystal But was stopped by the two twin looking people. They were glaring at her.

“Sorry Mina. First come first serve.” Krystal smiled, rubbing her long nails over the card’s surface.

I tried to hide my smile. Mina was known to be the biggest bully around here. Her only rule was based on first come first serve basis. It’s funny how Krystal used the same tactics back at her.

I could literally see Mina’s face turning cold. I’m so glad I followed her. Seeing Mina rile up like this completed my night of celebration.

“You don’t want uncle to know about this do you?”

At the mention of Krystal’s father, the dark long-haired beauty stiffened. Mina and Krystal are second cousins from their mother’s side. Although, both are from the same family tree, they are nothing like each other. Except maybe the evilness in both of them. Mina was straight forward where as Krystal was more reserved.

I’m so glad I’m the only child in my family. Might have some cousins but they never kept in contact with me for some reason. Oh well, it’s not like I care.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh but I will. And then you can say bye bye to the academy.” Mina threatened.

Academy? Are they really threatening each other over a simple playing card?

I watched as Krystal’s face lost all the colour. Something is definitely up with these two.

In the midst of this, I noticed the tall boy, Wo Bin, had lunged for the card again, scratching Krystal’s hand in the process.

“Yes! I finally got it. I’m its master.” The boy said loudly in glee as he held up the card in his hands. This time I could see the card more clearly. Like any other playing card, it’s one side had a dark wispy black background to it with a shiny silver diamond placed right in the middle. The other side was blank white. But what shocked me was the multiple tears and creases on the card. It was bent from all sides and looked a bit dirty. As if someone has dragged it across a muddy road for days.

I felt a small stab of pain in my chest. Something about that card made my heart ache. It was in a very bad shape and if these people continued to play pull-pull with it, I’m afraid it might not last very long.

“Stop him!”

And just like that a fight started. Before the boy could lift the card up, someone has already snatched it out of his hands and then another pairs of hands grabbed it. I moved back in fear as the whole crowd jumped at the new owner of the card. Even Song Mina.

There was shouts here and there as everyone tried to get access to the card. I didn’t know what to do. The poor thing must have been shredded into pieces by now.

Seeing as there is nothing else interesting about this issue, I started to move away from the area. It was getting too violent for my taste anyway.

But suddenly I felt a gust of wind hit my face. Something large and pointy flew by my face. It landed somewhere near my feet.

I was shocked and startled all at the same time. What the heck was that?

Holding onto my obvious racing heart, I looked at the stupid object which had dared to take my eye out.

It was the card.

The very same card that those idiots are fighting over. I sighed in relief and picked up the offending object.

“Ya! What was that huh? You nearly blinded me.” I scolded the card, noticing how it was darker than before. Am I going crazy for talking to a card?

“The Card! It’s gone!” Someone yelled over the music. I winced at the loud voice.

“Search the place. Find it!” That was Mina. I’m sure of it.

I gulped. The card was in my hands. And there are about 15 or so of them. It was a loosing situation.

So taking a deep breadth, I did the only thing that most people do in situations like this.

I ran.