#i don't know what it's all supposed to mean yet but

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

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How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[glypt0don]

So, this is quite a rant. You can skip to the bottom, if you want to know my opinion but don't want to read that much... But I worked hard on it and I think it's important, so it would make me very happy if you read through the whole text.

So this fits into something I wanted to post about anyway: a broader theme of why do we frame things as wars? Like, why is it culture war, specifically. First I liked the concept, I thought it described something quite complicated reasonably easily. But I pondered on it a bit more and I think there's more going on.

It's pretty trivial, that most societies went through a huge change over the last half century. It's not just feminism. I could make a whole list of things we as a people took on. Anti-racism and civil rights, religious acceptance, global trade, reinterpreting the meaning of peace, connecting the word through the world-wide web, etc. We ( or, as I am barely an adult and have no idea how to change things for the better, I should say you, or maybe chat) decided it was time for change, so change came. You brought it about.

And I agree. Change WAS and IS necessary. What that change should entail, well, we all have our ideas, right? And they have the ugly tendency to differ from each other. The question then is, how do we coincide our contradictory ideas on society? The answer is both worrying and very important.

To be fair, our race doesn't have a great track record on solving these kinds of issues. I dug into my historical knowledge, since, you know, those who don't learn from it, repeat it... The only thing I can compare to what's happening today would be the Reformation (which probably says a lot about my historical knowledge). That's the only time I know, where societal assumptions were altered so much in such a short time. That time it was specifically about the Catholic church (if you don't know, what I'm talking about, you really should, so Google it), and the result was a series of wars, that ultimately may have wiped out about a fifth of Europes population. The wars were of course led by powerful men, who capitalised on the divide to further their own goals.

As back then, now too, we can't rely on institutions to tame the public. Many media and political identities have a direct interest in polarising society. Because that's what happens. All these contentious issues about gender, class, or foreign policy become dividing lines between folks who are supposed to be parts of the same whole (call it community, state, nation or humanity, depending on how wide you can think). You know, how it works, probably saw it a few times, whatever your interests are. It's literally everywhere! We fight it out with the perceived enemy of the week sometimes, when there is an election, something notable happens, or it's simply Pride Month. Then everyone goes back to their respective corners, where they vehemently agree with themselves. We don't talk a lot, just throw words at each other, like Buggs Bunny, playing tennis with a dynamite.

I should say, this post is a notable and refreshing outlier. Thanks, @trans-androgyne , for starting a discussion for a change!

I know, it's a bit like nuclear armament. You can't just stop, because THEY won't, and then they win, and you can't allow that. It's life and death! And I don't have some magic pill to make it all go right, or believe me, I wouldn't sit here, typing this out at 3 in the morning Central European Time. But let me propose this: don't call it a war! Neither culture war, nor gender war, nor anything like that. Because this isn't a war. Just ask anyone in the middle east! They can tell you, what is war, and THIS IS NOT IT! And also, because it may not be guns and destruction yet, but nothing guarantees, that it stays that way. We already had multiple attempted takeovers of capital buildings since this cursed decade began, because our social reality became so fragmented, that you can't accept the results of a popular election anymore. That should raise alarm bells. I know it does, but it can be much worse! Learn from history, do not repeat it! Hit the Wiki page on the Huguenot war! On the siege of Magdeburg. Or, if that's not your cup of tea, watch Civil War! I genuinely think it's the best movie of the year.

Call it Social Discourse! That sounds much more manageable, doesn't it? Or you can come up with something else, as long as it isn't some warmongering bullshit. And maybe the next time you meet someone with sexist, homophobic, racist, or maybe radical left and anarchistic views (whatever you're opposing), don't attack them with your words! Those aren't weapons. Try to talk to them instead! Try talking about feelings! Listen to theirs, make them understand yours! I say feelings, because you both have those. Try finding a common ground, however small, and build up from there. Like Minecraft Skyblock. It can be hard in a challenging way, instead of making you want to shoot yourself in the head. Remember, you aren't fighting a war. You are having a discourse.

All of it is to say, the world and society are changing, wether you like it or not, and we have to change with it, to survive. That is the simple fact. If you call that change a war, that's just gonna make the whole thing unnecessarily painful for everyone involved.

This was sociopolitical advice from a giant armadillo.

Genuinely, what happened to “feminism is for everyone”?

That’s the feminism I grew up with: encouraging people to recognize that fighting sexism and restrictive gender roles helps folks of every gender. We’d push back on the idea that feminists hate men, pointing to inclusive feminist literature and how many men are feminists.

Now, there are so many people insisting that the solution to patriarchy is to openly hate and ostracize men no matter what. Why? What is the benefit? It’s certainly not effective in fighting oppressive structures to exclude half the population from your cause on the basis of immutable traits. It may feel cathartic to say horrible things about men and try to punish them for your frustrations with patriarchy. But the only actual effect I see is the increasing right-wing radicalization of young men, who are being told that the left hates them for the way they were born and presented with an abundance of proof that it’s true.

Why are we going back to treating men and women as different species? It doesn’t fix things to say “well women are the good gender and men are the bad one” this time. If you sincerely want to dismantle sexism, you’re going to have to unpack and let go of all sex and gender essentialism—even that which considers women inherently pure and men inherently immoral.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe

[quantum1mmortality]

The crew & using toys on their S/O in bed please with a cherry on top??

First time writing the whole crew kinda nervous 🤭🤭 I'm not writing Swansea tho I will NOT be writing nsfw of a married man

Tw/cw; Afab!reader, winners love winning in Anyas hcs (use of the term pillow princess), jorkinit jumpscare

Not proofread

Curly

I'm actually not sure if he'd be into toys

I've literally only written for Curly so I'd say I'm a Curly expert, and I just don't think he'd be into toys

He'd use a vibrator on you every now and then, but he'd just use it to tease you and make you beg for him.

He'd probably use cock rings. I am a firm believer Curly would use cock rings. Not all the time, but if he's had a really stressful day at work, he's wanting an extra hard hitting orgasm.

Omg not a toy but APHRODISIACS!!! This man would go crazy for some aphrodisiacs, whether he's taking it or you are.

Now I wanna write a wedding night one shot with Curly and aphrodisiacs thanks a lot anon 😔😔😔 I've got enough shit to write already

Anya

I don't care what any of you say this woman is a pillow princess

YOU'D be using toys on HER

She'd also be a cryer but that's not the point

She'd have a drawer dedicated to sex toys. She's trying to get into med school, she's CONSTANTLY stressed, how else is she supposed to release some of that stress? Don't judge her.

She wouldn't be into straps or dildos, she'd be into shit that vibrates. Vibrators obviously, rose toys, anything that stimulates the clit honestly

I lied she is into dildos this woman is a sucker for a RABBIT!!! Like I said, if it vibrates, she wants it.

Her favorite combo is the rose toy/vibrator + pussy licking. She cums so fast, then gets embarrassed, then begs for more. Praise her a bunch and she'll be able to go a few more rounds

BONUS CONTENT!!; she has a Christina and Princess Albertina, no further comments

Daisuke

Oh yeah, he's using toys.

He has a tongue piercing and sometimes he'll swap it out for a bar that vibrates but y'all aren't ready for that convo

He's gonna use the basic toys, nothing we haven't gone over yet. Vibrators, rose toys, cock rings, ect. He's just trying to figure out what he likes for right now, and he likes all of them

In missionary, he'd hold either a vibrator or rose up to your clit while he fucks you. Kind of uncomfortable as a position, but if it gets you off, it's worth it to him.

Not sure if this is considered a toy but he'd be interested in sounding. He's definitely had you try it on him once or twice, and he never lasts for more than a minute 😭 poor boy

He's just trying new things out. He's new to having a committed relationship, so anything you'd be into, he'd be willing to try. He'd let you peg him if you wanted, but don't ask me to write that.

My pegging days are over

Jonathan

The kinkiest cunt that ever cursed this god forsaken ship

Toys are a must have for him. On you, not him. He only likes using them on you, because it gives him a sense of power over you.

He'd be one of those assholes that would put a bluetooth vibrator in your panties and wait till you're in public to turn it on the highest setting. Like an asshole

Jizzdaddy would have a lot of toys. He'd have one of those robotic dildo setups that like.. idk does the thrusting how the fuck do I explain this????

You guys get what I mean if you've ever been on a porn site you've seen one

Anyway, he'd have one of those setups and watch it fuck you. Ass up, head down, grasping at whatever you could since HIS sadistic ass turned it up to the highest speed.

Eventually hed get pissed off and fuck you himself, claiming that you love the toy more than you love him 😔 the allegations are true but he doesn't have to know that

He'd also use plugs on you. In public, too. He doesn't care. If you humiliate yourself, that's your fault, not his.

vibrators are used during sex, nothing new. But it's the same situation as before. Claiming you love the toy more than him, so he stops using it.

Sometimes he'll just give in though and decide he doesn't care, and wants to tease you more than anything. Highest speed it can go, or the slowest. No in-between. He'll have you begging one way or another.

Chat I hate writing rough characters someone request ooc soft Joshua hcs so I can write him like I do Curly 🙏🙏🙏

A/N; Anya makes me wanna kiss girls

[redroomreflections]

Something With Sea Turtles

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family Of Her Own AU

(Natasha has a secret family)

Summary: Pregnant R and Natasha loves on her.

Natasha is good at many things. Intimidating bad guys, disappearing without a trace, dismantling a firearm in seconds. Painting walls? Well, that’s a skill she’s still figuring out.

She had insisted on painting the nursery walls for the arrival of your little one in a few months. It was supposed to be a nice bonding experience. But, as with most things involving the two of you, it had quickly turned into a bit of a disaster.

"You said this would be easy," You teased from your spot on the floor, perched on a pile of cushions Natasha had painstakingly arranged for your comfort. Your hand rested on your growing belly as you watched her, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Natasha stood on a step stool, paint roller in hand, squinting at the wall. She was trying her best to create a soft, underwater gradient—blues and greens swirling together like an aquarium, the perfect theme for your baby’s nursery. But the brush strokes were uneven, and there was a smudge where she got a little overzealous with the darker blue.

"It is easy," she replied, her tone stubborn. "I’m just… experimenting with technique."

"Right," You muttered to yourself. "We could just hire someone."

"No!" She exclaimed, then, more gently: "No. I want to do this."

And, honestly, she did. The baby wasn't a shock by any means. Natasha had been dreaming about this day since the first time she fell in love with you. She had planned every detail down to the color of the paint, but when it came time to do the actual painting, she wanted nothing more than to do it herself.

"I know, but we don't even know if our baby will like water or animals..." You reached into your lap to open a bag of chips. "What if they hate all this ocean stuff?"

"If our baby hates all of this ocean stuff, then we'll just paint over it," Natasha lowered her paintbrush to glance back at you. "When did you become such a pessimist?"

"It's called being realistic."

Natasha huffed and dipped the roller in the pan, then continued her work.

"You're supposed to be relaxing."

"I can't relax when I have paint splattered all over my clothes," You gestured to the splotches of green and blue across your sweatshirt. "I'll never get these stains out."

Natasha glanced over her shoulder at you and smiled softly.

"Well, if you remove your clothes, I promise I'll be gentle."

"You're a dork," You chuckled. "And I'm not stripping in front of the baby."

"The baby's not even born yet."

"Still."

"Fine, then how about I strip for you," Natasha wiggled her hips and hummed playfully. "How's that for relaxation?"

"Tempting, but maybe you should finish the wall before we do anything else," You said. You looked down at the sweater to tug it over your belly. It seemed a bit tight these days. "Do you think I'm getting too big for this?"

"Your shirt?"

"Yeah, I mean... I feel like my stomach is stretching the fabric."

"Hmmm," Natasha mused. "Well, I'd say it looks pretty good."

"Good?"

"Perfect," She smiled to herself. "Absolutely perfect."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Of course."

"You're not lying to me right?" You tilted your head.

"When have I ever lied to you, Y/n?"

"A bunch of times actually," You raised a brow. "I was your superior."

"That doesn't count. Besides, it's my job."

"Your job is to tell me the truth," You sighed. "Do my boobs look too huge?"

"What? No!" She turned on the stool, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"But I've grown a size," You frowned, running a hand over your breasts. "You should be telling me to cover up."

"Are you crazy?" She asked, her eyes wide. "Y/n, you're carrying our child; I think you're allowed to dress comfortably. Also, I'm not complaining about your breast size."

"Yeah, but—"

"Listen," She set the paint roller down and stepped off the stool, "You're beautiful. Okay? And your tits are a part of that. You know, they're like an extra gift from the universe."

"Extra gift?"

"Like I'm already grateful for our baby," She said. "But then, your boobs get bigger, and, you know, I'm a very appreciative person."

"You won't be able to touch them for a while," You reminded her.

"I'm willing to wait."

"And I'm going to have stretch marks."

"So?"

"And my stomach will look weird and puffy," You sighed. "I mean, it's not going to go away."

"I don't care," she said. "Y/n, none of that matters. You're giving us a baby."

You were about to make a joke about how much it would probably hurt to push something the size of a melon out of your vagina, but when you saw the look in her eyes, your smile faded. She was so earnest, and suddenly, you felt guilty for not appreciating everything she was saying.

"Sorry," You said.

"For what?"

"Not listening to you," You shrugged.

"Don't apologize," Natasha walked toward you, then knelt beside your spot on the pillows. "I get it. There are days when I feel like I'm losing my mind. But, no matter what, you'll always be my favorite thing to look at."

"Nat," You grinned.

"Seriously," She smiled back. "And I'm gonna tell you that every single day until the end of time."

"Well, you'll be busy painting."

"Then, I'll paint it on the wall," She winked.

"God, I love you," You murmured, leaning forward to kiss her.

"Love you too," She replied, her breath warm against your lips. "Both of you."

"Now, go back to painting before you ruin it." You gestured. "I can kind of see the vision for the whale."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. I'm making art."

"Do you mind taking a breath to come rub this on my belly?" You gestured to the container of cocoa butter next to you.

"Of course," Natasha grabbed the tube, and unscrewed the cap. Then, she squeezed a generous amount onto her palm and set the bottle aside.

"You know," She began, "what you said earlier. I hope you don't believe that about yourself. That I won't find you attractive."

"No, I don't, not really," You shrugged. "It's just hard sometimes. My brain goes all crazy and my hormones are making me all weepy. But, I have you. And, you're not going anywhere, right?"

"Of course not."

"Good," You murmured. "'Cause I don't think I'd last long without you."

"Don't say that," She said, her voice quiet.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," She scolded. "You'll be fine. I'll be fine. Everything will be fine. Now, can we focus on the positive? Like, for example, the fact that you're pregnant."

"I am pregnant."

"You are." She rested her hands on your belly. She began to rub the cocoa butter in circular motions against your skin. "You look so good like this."

"Really?"

"Yeah," She smiled, looking down at her hands pressing against the curve of your abdomen. She was so gentle with the bump. "This is exactly what I always imagined."

"What did you imagine?"

"A cute wife who was carrying my child," She smirked. "I guess I've always had a fantasy about having a family of my own."

"Well, you're living the dream." You grinned at her. For a second there wasn't much talking until you felt a slight movement inside of you. "She's awake."

"Really?" Natasha looked down.

"Yeah," You said. "Can you feel her?"

"Um, well," Natasha hesitated. "I mean, not really."

"Here," You reached down and took her hand, guiding it a bit further up your belly. "There. Do you feel that?"

"I—" Natasha paused, and then, she felt it, a faint movement against her hand. "Yeah?"

"Whenever you're near she gets to moving," You point out. "I think she recognizes your voice already."

A soft, surprised laugh escaped Natasha’s lips as she watched her hand rest against your belly, her expression melting into something softer than usual. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she let it linger, her thumb tracing circles on your skin.

"I think she’s already got me wrapped around her finger," she murmured, her voice full of affection and wonder. "Just like her mother."

"That's how it starts."

"Oh, is that a warning?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She leaned forward to kiss your belly. Then, she rested her cheek against your skin. "I couldn't be any happier than in this moment."

"That's good," You brushed her hair from her forehead, stroking her scalp gently. "But, just so you know, when I'm back on my feet, I'm kicking your ass for making me paint a sea turtle."

"Hey," she said, her tone playful. "You're the one who agreed to help."

"I regret everything."

[what-if-i-just-did]

"Are you okay?"

I spoke softly, so as not to startle him. I'd come back to the room to find him sitting up, and I could almost feel his panic and confusion. Upon seeing me, he calmed down.

"Yeah," he nodded, and it looked painful. "Just, I woke up and you weren't there, so.. "

I understood the problem instantly. I'd only gone to get water, but.. I would have reacted the same way, had it been him. Strange. Just days ago, I would not have hesitated to kill him. He would have easily done the same- nearly did, on a few occasions. Subconciously, my hand raised to the side of my throat, tracing an old scar. Very nearly.

Sitting down on the bed again, I could tell he was still looking at me. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Well... not beyond what We already know."

Right. We. Capital-W-we, like capital-U-us. Something that had happened in a single second that seemed to span a century. Mortal enemies to codependancy, a complete united front, within a second. We were lucky, We supposed. By myth and legend, the few that found what We did either came out with their sanity in fragmented shards, or did not come out at all.

Perhaps that's why We came out alive and sane- Well, sane... As close as could. One mind would shatter... but two would meld. Still incapable of grasping the... the magnitude, the insignificance, the severity of what We witnessed. Of what We know. But not catatonically so.

I sigh. We've spent the past few days in a hotel, avoiding Our respective teammates, mentors, minions, superiors... I know the exact look my mentor would give me if We even tried to explain this. How do We explain what happened to Us? How do We explain why there even is an Us, when We don't know Ourself? They would have his head most likely, or at least try to talk to me alone. But the difference, the line between me and him has thinned and blurred into infathomability. We don't know how, We can only guess at why. How could We convince them of it? The truth is We can't, and we know it. And his side.. has it's own complications. It's been days... We've been getting used to being Us, but We're running out of time.

"You're troubled."

Had it been anyone else, the observation would have startled me, seeing as how deep in thought I was. As it is, it's like he'd already been in my mind. Our mind. Days ago, my greatest enemy. Now, I don't believe he will ever be capable of even startling me again.

"We're running out of time. It's been a few days. They were aware of the risk in Our respective missions, but they will be expecting a result, and soon. Our corpses, or Our success. We need to decide what to do. We required the time to re-adjust, We still need more time, but... if We are not to do something soon, something to monitor or influence the consequences, then consequences will find Us, Our preferences and needs be damned."

He nodded. I didn't need more of an answer, anyways. He was already aware of everything I said. That's another thing, this.. near psychic bond. It wasn't like We could hear eachother's thoughts, it was more like.. like We had no need to. His body, his emotions, felt like an extension of what had originally been my own. We were still seperate and yet, connected. His feelings felt like an echo in my mind, his presence bringing me comfort despite feeling like my shadow. He was me, and more. He was still him. I was still me. But We were Us, and that was irreversible and incomprehensible.

Silently, we thought. Going through our options, sharing opinions, it required no words, no means of communication. Eventually We came to a conclusion. We would have to make sure that Our other halves weren't to be injured, that We weren't to be seperated, by either of Our previous sides. We didn't question those instincts, those needs. They had been instilled in Us the second we became Us, and it had left Us a scared, shivering mess as We clung to eachother, Ourself, for the first few hours. We had worked past that, had learnt to become seperate enough to operate independantly. Still, We stayed close.

It wasn't so much as that it hurt to be apart, as that it was massively unpleasant. Well, it hadn't hurt up until then, but We'd only been apart for short times and short distances since then- the bathroom, grabbing something, switching off the lights. It would not surprise Us if being further apart or for longer amounts of time would end up causing pain. We are One, after all.

Reassured, we both nodded. The lights had remained off, so there was no need to seperate Ourself. We slept in one bed, skin-to-skin, the closest We could get to physically being one. Social convention and strangers' assumptions were not something We were bothered by anymore. Although some leaned towards unpleasant accusations, We'd considered it an occupational hazard of almost always being in physical contact of some sort.

Sleep reached Us simultaniously, as it had ever since We became Us. It was a peaceful sleep, preparing for the day ahead.

Enemies who experience an inescapable horror together and can't imagine being without one another again

The one you hated just days before becomes the one you need curled against you to feel safe, the back of your neck now a hearth for his fiery breath while he sleeps. Flames that once terrified you have become a comfort, a barrier from evil that wishes for your shared demise.

[luthordamnvers]

Outgrowing Supergirl

A/N: The finale I deserved, tbh (Also on AO3)

Cat's voice kept repeating in Kara's head since Alex and Kelly's wedding.

'Ker-rah, you need to stop making excuses, and you need to decide what your course will be. Now, there is important work to be done, and I hope you'll join me. But more than that, I hope that you will choose to become your full self, because that would really be something to see. And it would be interesting because this is boring.'

Boring.

Her life had been torn to pieces a few times over, with destruction and missing on half the happenings of her own life because she was busy saving the world… the universe, and Cat Grant categorized it as boring.

Kara laughed to herself. She didn't know the half of it. And yet, her reluctant mentor also had some encouraging words.

'I believe in you, I always have.'

She had offered an Editor-In-Chief position.

One position she wasn't entirely sure she deserved, but as Alex said, 'That was her dream job.' Not one she expected to get, so soon. It was one she expected for when her superheroing had dwindled, and she was well into her human midlife. When her birth-date would say she was in her late forties, and she had to pretend she followed some strict regimen to look as good as she did, because the yellow sun wouldn't really let her age that much.

Her own words, also bounced in her head.

'I give speeches inspiring people to live their best lives. But she's right. I am too afraid to live my own.'

'My entire life, I've hid behind these glasses. It's gotten in the way of every job I've ever had, everything I've ever wanted to do, every relationship.'

'I think hiding who I am is the reason I couldn't pass the courage Gauntlet. I created Supergirl that night because the thought of saving my sister as myself was too terrifying.'

At that precise moment, she did thought that. but in the days since her sister's wedding, she could ponder long and wide over it. That may have been the totem's argument. But the totem didn't know about her safety. All the times people knowing her identity, put them in danger.

The totem didn't live Jeremiah having to surrender himself to work for the D.E.O to protect her. The totem didn't know about the D.E.O recruiting her sister out of college, because she was an alien. The totem didn't know about Max Lord trying to date her sister just to try and uncover Supergirl's identity. Or Rick Malverne keeping Alex hostage, so Supergirl would do his bidding. Or Haley finding out her identity, and use it to manipulate her sister and herself.

The totem didn't understand Lex Luthor capturing her niece in exchange for more power.

Or Agent Liberty kidnapping Lena to force her to reveal her identity.

That didn't happen in this reality, but it did happened to her. And she caved, of course she did. But it was dangerous. Too dangerous.

Lena's words constantly swam in her mind too, 'You've had your entire life, people telling you who you're supposed to be and that if you didn't hide your true self then the people would get hurt. I mean, it's tough to move beyond those type of core wounds.'

"It wasn't until Lillian told me the truth that I realized I haven't been living my own life. And finally, now I am. And it feels amazing." She had said, as they walked together, one next to the other.

"I don't even know what that would feel like for me. Connecting with someone as my whole self. To not be afraid to just be who I am.." Kara confessed. "It sounds like it could be empowering," Lena encouraged her.

It wasn't until days later, that she realized she'd lied to her best friend.

They were both sitting in her couch, watching The Great British Baking Show. Kara didn't even remember which season they were on.

"Are you even paying attention to the TV?" Lena asked, like reading her mind.

"No, not really," Kara sincerely admitted."I was thinking about what we talked at the wedding. About living my own life."

Lena turned to look at her instead of the TV, "You took of your glasses."

"I did. But I don't think that's the correct move for me," Kara confessed.

"Then, what is it?"

Kara sighed, "I'll accept the Editor-In-Chief job."

"You seem awfully conflicted for someone accepting her dream job," Lena frowned.

"I just need to convince Cat Grant to accept my conditions."

"Ah," Lena let out. "I see." She looked at her with a smile. "If anyone can convince her of anything, is you."

Kara was mesmerized by her. She thought about how much their life has changed, since they met. How miserable she was when Lena wasn't in her life. How unhappy she was when she had to run away from her, a lie in her lips. And how much better it was now that she knew the truth and was a willing participant of her life as a superhero.

She didn't realized she had done it, get so close to Lena she'd just had to lean in a few inches to touch her lips to hers.

"I lied at the wedding, too." Kara whispered.

"Lied about what?" Lena asked, in an equally low mumble.

"That I didn't know how it felt connecting with someone as my whole self," Kara explained. "I do know. I've always done it with you, even without the obvious. But especially in the last year." Kara paused. "And I think… I think you are more than my best friend."

Lena didn't move, she kept looking into Kara's eyes looking for something, and it seemingly she found it. "And what are you going to do about it?" She muttered.

"I'm going to kiss you, if that's okay with you," Kara said, finally closing the distance between their lips.

Kara could fly, and yet nothing had ever felt like kissing Lena.

"I got it," Lena announced, entering the loft.

Kara was nervous. She had managed to convince Cat Grant of it, but of course, her mentor and boss, couldn't let the dramatics go, and didn't let Kara even look at the cover of the magazine before sending it to print.

"You do look very good," her girlfriend said.

She was still over the moon about calling Lena her girlfriend, but not even that could squelch her nervousness. The kiss Lena gave her as a greeting did, though.

"Ready?" Lena asked.

"As ready as I can be."

Lena flipped the magazine in front of her, showing the cover to Kara. A picture of herself in her SuperSuit looked back at her.

'Supergirl is out, Superwoman is in.'

"She could have gone with a less cliched headline," Kara commented in a whisper.

"It's not that bad," Lena said, throwing her hands around Kara's neck, keeping her close. "But if I'm completely honest, you know Kara has always been my hero."

[lexxiie]

Hey!!! I LOVE YOUR FICS AAAA

I was thinking of something funny and cute for jjk where the reader is hit by someone with a curse that turns people into their child selves for a little while, how would the guys act?

When A Curse Turns You Into A Child

This is like... The cutest idea ever????

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami.

Gojo Satoru

He was actually a bit worried when the curse first hit you, especially since you didn't even remember him... However, now? He's not worried at all, he's actually quite amused.

"Pleaaaaseee" you almost cried to the tall, mean man in front of you. "No. No ice cream for you." He responded with a huge smile on his face, which only made you burst out crying. "Whyyyyy?" You asked him with a face now covered in tears. He actually didn't mean to take it this far, but he was having so much fun with this. You will definitely be mortified when the effects of the curse vanish, and the thought makes him scaringly happy.

"Fine, Fine. But just one, you have to learn that no means no." You didn't seem to care at all about the last part of his sentence since your tears went away immediately, being replaced by a huge smile that almost made his heart melt. He picked you up and headed to the ice cream shop. He never knew you were so spoiled when you were a kid, you never told him. All he could think about was how hard it must have been for your parents to have such a whiny child. But in the depths of his mind, he also wondered if it would be like this if he ever had a child with you, and the idea didn't bother him one bit. It would be... Nice, wouldn't it?

He got you your ice cream and took you back home. You played Mario kart for a little while, he won the first rounds, but you cried every single time, so he was now letting you win. Once the final round was over, he pretended to be sad to see if you felt a little bad, but no. You jumped and laughed and yelled at him that he was a huge looser. What an annoying little monster you were.

Nanami Kento

He is the most stressed he's ever been in his whole life, what is he supposed to do? He knows nothing about children. To be honest, he wishes your parents lived closer so that he could just leave you there and come back once the curse is over.

"I want my mommyyyy" you cried to the stranger in front of you. "I know, I know, she'll be back soon, you don't have to cry." He said as he wiped your tears with a handkerchief. "Let's do something fun while we wait for her." He tried to cheer you up, even as a child, he hated to see you cry. "Like what?" You asked, still sobbing. "Do you like cookies?"

Kento looked at the kitchen and sighed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a mess, but at least you were happy. "Are they ready yet?" You asked, jumping excitedly. "They are." The man said with a subtle smile. He pulled the cookies out of the oven and warned you about the heat.

Once they were cold enough, you both sat down and had a couple, you with a glass of milk, and Kento with a cup of coffee. They had way too many chocolate chips for his liking, but you were the happiest child he'd ever seen while eating them. You rambled to him about how much you hated broccoli and how you wished you could eat cookies everyday, and he realized he wouldn't mind doing this for more than a couple of hours, he might be a family man, after all.

Geto Suguru

Well, weren't you the cutest little thing to ever exist? He was amazed by this, it is definitely the best thing that has happened to him in a while. He was already thinking of how he would tease you when it all ended.

But now, he was way more focused on not pushing the swing too hard. You were having so much fun, but he was so scared you would hit the ground. Yet, you seemed to have no worries or fear, making your biggest effort to move the swing faster. "How about we go to the slide?" Geto asked, tired of preventing the swing from throwing you to the other side of the playground. "But I like it here!" You yelled, visibly annoyed that he stopped pushing you. Geto looked around to try to find something else. "Wouldn't you like to go to the roundabout?"

He didn't often regret things in his life, but he sure was regretting ever suggesting this. He thought you would get tired soon, but no. He had been holding his vomit for about 5 minutes now, but it was already too late, he gave up and turned around to let it all out on the ground. The mothers and kids gave him disgusted looks, but you bursted out laughing, which made him laugh too. It hadn't been such a bad day, after all.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, Kifaji! How are you doing? I hope Leona-sama isn't causing you any trouble. I know how tough it is to deal with him, but he does have some good qualities, even though he doesn't show them often. Anyway, I wish you the best.

I don't know how common of a take this is, but I get a little sad when I see Kifaji being depicted as a relentless hater or someone who doesn't acknowledge any of Leona's strengths 😅 He's stern with Leona, yes! But Kifaji doesn't insult him or talk down to him. if anything, he reminds me a lot of Trein, who is austere too--but it comes from a place of genuine caring. I hope that this interaction, however brief it is, can be a positive showing of Kifaji's character.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Ah, you are one of Leona-sama's guests from school. How good of you to pay respects to your elders.” Kifaji’s gnarled face yielded for a smile. “It's been quite some time since the Bead Brawl. I hope that you've been well since then."

"Yessir! All good on my end," you replied, tilting your head forward in a slight bow, "and happy to report that Leona-senpai's been in a pretty good mood lately!"

"A good mood..." The bird beastman sighed. He knew--in spite of your attempt to word your praise carefully--that it didn't necessarily mean his prince was being attentive. "If I may ask... Has Leona-sama been on his best behavior since his return to campus? He's been avoiding my messages and calls again, and it's troublesome not being able to check in with him."

"I wouldn't call it his best behavior," you admitted sheepishly, "but he's attending class every now and then, getting assignments done. I heard from Ruggie and Epel that he's also driving the Magift Club pretty hard during practice. Leona-senpai is definitely putting forth more of an effort than he was before."

"Hmmm." After a long pause, Kifaji sighed. "Well, I suppose that's an improvement. It sounds as though he has started to find a place for himself here at Night Raven College. That's wonderful. I'm happy for him."

"Kifaji..." You scrunched your brows. "Was this really about his behavior?"

"But of course. Being a member of the royal family, Leona-sama is expected to maintain a certain level of decorum. However, if you will lend this old bird an ear..." He held his breath, then released the secret upon it. "I worry for Leona-sama. That young man has such a bright mind, and yet he has been lost in the dark for so long, squandering that light within him.

"You understand, don't you? Despite how difficult he can be, he is overflowing with so much potential and love for Sunset Savanna. My only wish--Grand Chamberlain or no--is that Leona-sama is able to recognize his worth."

Stricken by the earnest in his words, you found yourself nodding. "Yeah, that's what I'm hoping too."

"Then it appears that we are in agreement." Again, Kifaji smiled, warm as the sun upon the plains. "I do believe he is in good hands here--and that I can trust his peers, such as yourself, to keep an eye on him."

[sunnybunnyy2]

My Ex-boyfriends New Girl

prologue

chapter summary: the events that force your hand in your revenge scheme come to light as you find out the man who you have loved for the past three years isn't the man you needed him to be. 

word count: 4.1k

pairings: Rafe Cameron x ex!fem!reader, Sofia x fem!reader

warnings: angst, cheating, toxic relationship, asshole Rafe, swearing, not much Sofia :/ and probably bad writing.

authors note: hi!! This is the prologue to my new Sofia fic series. Tumblr has not been doing my girl justice so I decided to take matters into my own hands and write for her. I deeply apologize for any typos or any mistakes (mostly if I confuse second person and third because I am not used to writing in second). Please reach out of you want to be added to the taglist!!

series masterlist next chapter

"Wow...I can't believe you did all of this..." you said as you admired the beautifully set table in front of you. It was littered with plucked red roses and lit-up orange candles. It was perfect- well at least nearly perfect. As much as you appreciated the gesture, you couldn't help but be saddened that the only flower on the table was the one you couldn't stand. 

You felt as though they were overused and cliche, but it wasn't necessarily the flowers that downed your mood but the mere fact that you had told him countless times how much you loathed them and yet, once again he had stuffed them in your face.

It was as though he never heard a single word that came out of your mouth. It was okay, you supposed as at least he put the effort in, in the first place. 

"Of course, I would, baby. It's our three year, I would be stupid if I didn't." Rafe stated with a small smile, that was all he was willing to offer after the events of his father's death. You could tell it was weighing him down but you couldn't do more than you already were. 

You were skipping your classes, sleeping over every night, had arranged the funeral with him and been by his side every step of the way. You were exhausted but you knew he was going through the worst time of his life and was going through worse than you. That's what you kept telling yourself, that he needed comfort more than you did. That had calmed you down for the time being but it had been months and you knew that you were gonna snap one day soon, leading you to truly hope that it was when Rafe was in a good headspace but with the way life was going, you didn't know when that would be. 

"Well, the stupid part is kind of debatable." You shrugged as you stabbed a piece of carrot with your fork. 

"Hey!" Rafe laughed softly as he kicked your leg under the table, his hand reaching for his glass of scotch. 

"I mean it though... thank you for doing all of this."

You said as you looked at him, your eyes full of love for the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. He simply nods as he pours himself another drink, but you can tell from the light coat of pink on his cheeks that he is blushing. "I love you." You finished as you reached your hand over to hold the one that had a grasp on the bottle while he was still pouring a flood of alcohol into his glass. The action stopped him in his tracks as you lowered his hand and he let go of the half-full bottle. 

"I love you too, baby." He muttered the phrase as he looked into your eyes causing yours to water as you pulled away to fix the napkin on your lap and then began to eat the slightly burnt food your boyfriend had prepared.

-Six days later- 

From: Sister-in-law✨

Hey

Sent 4:34 pm

It's Sarah. I changed my number a few weeks ago I'm not sure if you have it or not.

Sent 4:34 pm

I just wanted to let you know that I broke into Tannyhill like an hour ago to get a few of my things and heard a girl in Rafe's room. 

Sent 4:36 pm

It didn't sound like you and if I'm wrong then I'm sorry but I don't think I am. 

Sent 4:37 pm

You stared at the messages in front of you as your eyes continued to read over them just like they had for the last five minutes. You couldn't seem to tear them away. 

You had known Sarah for the last three years, even before she went all pogue and left the only life she had ever known. And though you were confused about why she did at first- when Ward's toxic actions had come to light, you had driven your overly priced car over to the shack John B called home and simply hugged the girl. She had cried in your arms because she knew that even though you loved her brother, you had believed her and loved her too. 

Even when you had sat on the kook side of the courthouse the day John B was arrested, your sympathetic gaze was enough to let her know that you weren't sure what to do and chose to stick by the only life you had ever known, and she couldn't fault you for that. She would have done the same if it was just another Pogue, but it wasn't. It was the man she loved and she knew that you loved Rafe and needed to do what was right for your relationship.

You had called her later that night to give her any information that you might have known about what Rafe and Ward were planning which ultimately led to John B getting out... she would never forget what you did. 

You were her sister more than Rafe was her brother and that wasn't going to change just because you were doing what it took to keep the man you loved safe, just like she was. 

A tear dropped from your eye and landed on the blue messages causing some of the words to blur as you hastily pulled yourself out of your bedroom and ran to your car.

You couldn't even remember the ride over as you hurried up the stairs of Tannyhill. You did know one thing though, Sarah wouldn't have lied to you and even when you hoped Rafe hadn’t lied to you earlier that morning when he assured you that you could head back to your family home- It made sense to you. He sent you home so he could finally get alone time with his side piece. 

You whipped his door open and simply nodded to yourself when your boyfriend quickly pulled away from the blue-eyed redhead to meet your eyes before quickly rolling off the bed and pulling on his shorts when he finally processed who was standing in the doorway. You ran down the stairs of the biggest home on the island and the place that you had called your second home for the last three years.

You could hear the sound of the girl calling for him and the sound of him practically flying down the stairs behind you in hopes of catching you before you made it to your car and the probability of you running him over became more likely than you hearing him out.

He was faster than you thought as his large hand wrapped around your forearm, stopping you in your tracks. You whip around with your hand raised as you prepare to smack him across the face but he catches your arm with his other hand before he harshly shoves you backward. Tears run down your cheeks as you head down his too-long driveway and it certainly doesn't help that you decided to park right at the gate and run to his home. 

"Baby, just stop-" He started his voice thick as he ran after you, but he was cut off before he could speak further.

"Don't call me that! You can't just baby me and I'll somehow find it in myself to forgive you. It's not happening. Have a nice life with Merida." You shot back, your tone quickly turned from heartbroken to mocking as the second stage of grief took over.

"Look... after my dad, I just..." He bowed his head after he had finally found an excuse you may actually fall for as all the kind actions you had done for him after his father died flashed through his mind, a chill ran through him as guilt began to run through him as the extent of his choices had begun to settle in. He chose getting in the pants of a random girl over his girlfriend who had stood by him after all the bad he had done. A part of him hoped that you would do that this time- bend your morals to keep him by your side. 

"Jesus Christ! Don't you dare use his death as an excuse!" You shutter out a breath as you refuse to fall for his guilt-tripping. You knew that you act crazy when experiencing grief, you had experienced it yourself when you had lost your mother a few years back. You went through the stages of grief alone as your father travelled in hopes of returning and being a better father to you but instead of him becoming a better father, his running off completely ruined your relationship. You were all alone for months with no one by your side, until you met Rafe six months after the death of your mother. And though he didn't help you through it directly, his presence had filled some of the hole in your heart and had given you something else to focus on. 

You had been through the loss of your mother who died of stomach cancer, the loss of your cousin who was murdered and the loss of your younger sister who had perished in a car accident when you were twelve. You had known more about loss than anyone you had been close with and knew firsthand how grief could affect you- especially when you lose a parent- but Rafe had, had your support and love through it all. You had been by his side through it all even though he and his dad weren't close, even though your boyfriend had hired a hitman on his own father only to cheat on his girlfriend and blame it on his father when he had been dead for four and a half months. 

"Look," You continued as you brought your weakened arms up to your hips as you scrutinized him dead in his eye. "I'm sorry about your dad. I really am- but newsflash the guys dead! And he has been for months- and for months, I've been bending over backwards to help you get through it just for you... to prove to me that I made a mistake. That I wasted not just months of my life helping you but years of my life loving you." You saw the range of emotions that flashed over his face as he attempted to process your words. It started with tears at the mention of his father, but his sadness flashed to anger as you began to mention all you had done for him and looked as though he was about to interrupt you but you just kept going, until it flashed to something darker.

"I told you when we started out that I had three deal breakers. Disrespect of any kind, lying and cheating- and so far you've managed to cross them all off, didn't you? Should I start yelling bingo?" You let out an angry laugh that resembles a heartbroken one as you turn around and head to your car.

"If you take one more step, I will make sure you regret it." His words came out like they were natural like you were one of the people he despised most. As if you hadn’t been the most important person to him for the last three years. It was jarring how different his voice was when he wasn’t telling you he loved you. 

You stop in your tracks as a chill runs down your spine, there is something in his tone... an edge it has that sends a warning through you. You know what he's done and what he's capable of. And as much as it hurt you to think this, you could count every time he had ever scared on one hand but right now, this wasn't just fear creeping through you- it was terror. 

He didn't have anything to lose anymore. His mother had been gone since he was thirteen, Sarah had chosen her true family over her blood family, Rose had taken Wheezie just days after Ward's body was found and had run for the hills without even taking a second thought about the grief her stepchildren were going through while holding on to the remaining gold and lastly, the one person he loved more than this his siblings and more than you- his father- was gone and he was never coming back. 

He was no longer enrolled in college anymore and even if he was, he never went to his classes and definitely wouldn't now. He didn't have a job other than his half-assed company he was so hellbent on making. A large part of you felt sorry for him; he was going through a lot and didn't have anyone by his side, but an even larger part of you felt more bad for yourself. You loved him blindly, stuck with him after he took someone's life, stayed with him after he tried to kill his sister twice, stayed with him through his cocaine addiction, stayed with him after the death of his father and after his youngest sister was taken from him. You would have willingly been his home had he not shown you time and time again that he would stray for something else that caught his attention. First it it was the coke, then the gold, then his father's approval and now some random girl. You would have been crazed to even consider staying with him this time and to be frank, it didn't even cross your mind. 

"Is that a threat, Rafe? You gonna kill me like you killed Peterkin?" You asked sharply.

"Nah...you'll just have to wait and see. You're gonna regret ever leaving his driveway." A small, creepy smile spread across his face and it was that damn smile that showed you that you were right to be done with him. He had finally lost it. 

"Yeah, I don't think I will. Nothing you do to me would be worse than staying with you." And with those words you took that one step, the one that would seal your fate as you took those final steps to your sleek car before you pulled yourself in and slammed the door. Through the windshield window, you could see Rafe still standing there with his arms crossed as if he was expecting you to hop out of your car and run to him but he was clearly mistaken as you shifted your car gear and stepped on the gas like your life depended on it and in your defence, you were as you hurtled out of Tannyhill without looking back.

And though it was reckless you pulled out your phone as you slowed down on the gas when you considered yourself a safe distance away from your crazed ex boyfriend. With your phone in your hand, you opened up Sarah's contact and your eyes locked on her earlier messages. The same messages that seemed to blow up your three-year relationship. 

Hey

Sent 4:34 pm

It's Sarah. I changed my number a few weeks ago I'm not sure if you have it or not.

Sent 4:34 pm

I just wanted to let you know that I broke into Tannyhill like an hour ago to get a few of my things and heard a girl in Rafe's room. 

Sent 4:36 pm

It didn't sound like you and if I'm wrong then I'm sorry but I don't think I am. 

Sent 4:37 pm

You changed contact to: Sista from another mista ✨

To: Sista from another mista ✨

Thank you for telling me. It wasn't me. It was some rando Rafe was screwing.

Sent 5:59 pm

Me and your brother are done

Sent 5:59 pm

I am so sorry that I didn't leave him sooner, I was stupid but I'm not anymore. 

Sent 6:00 pm

I love you :/

Sent 6:02 pm

And a few minutes later you were in some fast food restaurant parking lot eating way too much food while slurping down a large milkshake as you accepted that multiple years of your life were wasted when Sarah finally responded. 

From: Sista from another mista✨

Omg Y/N, I'm so so so sorry

Read 6:16 pm

As much as I thought he loved you, he can never put anyone above himself and I'm sorry if you're not in the mood to shit talk him but you deserve better

Read 6:17 pm

You always have and it hurts that you're just realizing it now. 

Read 6:17 pm

No matter what you will always be my sister. I may love you even more now that you had the guts to leave him. 

Read 6:18 pm

To: Sista from another mista✨

It's fine. I was dumb asf, I guess I needed him to screw someone else to realize. 

Read 6:18 pm

Rafe is chaos and I guess I am too. 

Read 6:18 pm

Nothing has to change between you and me. I could even stop by more without Rafe on my ass. 

Read 6:18 pm

From: Sista from another mista✨

Yes!! That's such an upside and don't beat yourself up over it. You are not chaos. Rafe is. At least you left, my mom never did.

Read 6:19 pm

You could feel the hurt through the message. She loved her mom but she had never left her father even though he was a less-than-stellar husband. You had done what her mother didn't. 

I'm ALWAYS here if you need to talk, no judgment. 

Read 6:20 pm

I love you💗 always

Read 6:20 pm

To: Sista from another mista✨

I love you too Sare<3

Hearted 6:21 pm

The next day your life was flipped upside down after you received a call from Yale University to personally notify you that you had been expelled for unlawful drug use after Rafe had anonymously sent a video to your university of you doing coke for the first time two years ago after he had talked you into it and you hadn’t done it since as you didn't like how it made you feel. He even went as far as getting someone to plant a small amount of coke in your car resulting in you getting arrested in a ditch after being pulled over. After that, your father gave you an ultimatum. He speaks to Topper's grandfather who is a respected judge- and gets him to let you off the hook if you go to a rehab centre or you get charged for carrying drugs in your car and get up to a year in prison. And no matter how much you tried to convince him that you didn't do cocaine and that it was only that one time, he didn't even want to hear you out.

And as much as you didn't want to go to rehab, you knew that it was better than prison. 

Though you knew Rafe would want to get revenge on you for breaking it off with him, you never would have expected him to partake in such a deliberate and evil takedown for experiencing the consequences of his selfish actions. It was insane to think that you had spent years of your life with a man who you thought would do anything for you, he had looked at you like you hung the moon and the stars yet he had disrespected you and humiliated you beyond belief for some random girl? You had never seen her before so you could only assume she was a Pogue which you highly doubted from the way he spoke about lower-class people, so that could only mean that she was a tourist. He had thrown your whole relationship away for some girl who was gonna leave a few days later but he felt the need to single-handedly ruin your life for having a problem with it? 

You had kicked yourself every day you spent in the hellhole that was rehab, the doctors looked down upon you like you were the bane of their existence, it was exhausting constantly being judged for being an addict when you weren't even one, to begin with. Hell, the place made you want to do drugs. You couldn't quite understand why a place that was supposed to help you overcome addiction would do so little good with the amount of money that goes into funding them. 

Your stay at the rehab centre was only two months but it took you seven months to return to OBX as you were sent to go live with your aunt, Mae, in New York. And in those five months, you stewed as you put a plan into action to wreak havoc upon the man who ruined your life.

Now, eight months after the fall of the most talked about couple on the island- you were sitting in the country club sipping a pina colada that a pretty bartender made while wearing a beautiful floral dress. 

The booming sound of your ex-boyfriend's laugh brought you out of your head as you slowly turned your neck to look over at the approaching man, and thankfully he was by the other side of the bar which caused a smile to curl up your lips slightly as your plan seemed to set into motion, however- your smile dropped as he leaned down to kiss the pretty bartender who made your drink just a few minutes prior shocking you to your core. 

You had heard from Sarah that Rafe was dating some poor girl from the cut but you hadn't expected it to be the girl you had just made small talk with a few minutes ago, and you certainly hadn't expected her to be...her.

From your conversation, you could tell that she was a very sweet girl who was just trying to change the financial situation that she had been born into and you admired that deeply. In said conversation, you had learned that she was twenty-two making you two the same age and that she was born in Mexico City but moved to the cut when she was very young. 

You also couldn't ignore the fact that she was beautiful and if you were going to be serious, you were pretty jealous and not because Rafe had moved on- but because he was dating one of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen while you were tucked away in a facility or stuck in the presence of your annoying cousins.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you listen to their conversation.

"Hey, baby." He used to call me that. "I missed you this morning." So their sleeping over? You picked apart every word of their conversation, you couldn't even help yourself.

"I know," she laughed, "I'm sorry, again. I had to cover Gaby's shift."

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say." He laughed causing her to grin before she slapped his chest. "I gotta go, Toppers waiting. I just wanted to say hi and put our drinks in. I'll take-" He began to list what he wanted before the shorter girl shook her head as if she had already memorized his order, and she had.

"I know... Topper want the usual?" She asked as she began to tap on the device behind the bar to type in his drink order.

"Yeah, thanks." She nods in response, her eyes fixated on the task at hand. "Love you." He smiles as he backs away, his eyes still focused on his girlfriend. 

He used to say that to me all the time, you thought. 

Those words grab her attention as she looks up with a smile so wide you guessed that it hurt but it suited her quite nicely. "Love you." After that; he turned away and headed to his table and Sofia turned back to the monitor in front of her. Then, as if she sensed your eyes on her she pulled hers away from the screen and looked over at you. She smiled at you and if it wasn't so sweet you would have guessed that she was rubbing it in your face. 

"Would you like another?" She asked as she pointed to your nearly empty drink, you nodded gently and she turned around to work on your drink, deciding that her boyfriends and his best friends could wait. 

A wide smile fills the space of the small one that had covered your face just a minute ago as you mentally changed your whole plan of taking Rafe down for a crime he didn't commit after deciding that you had a better one in mind. One that he wouldn't never see coming and it all involved your ex-boyfriend's new girl and man- it was going to feel good.

[igglemouse]

Hey look who's here to kick off my day, Niklas, the man of destiny himself. I'm not surprised but he is sporting a big smile on his face which I love to see! It's supposed to be Summerday, by the way, but as you can tell the weather here doesn't really think so.

"I was thinking," Niklas says after I invite him inside, his cheerful mood radiating off of him and bringing a smile to my face too. "It's summer, maybe we can go out and do some summery stuff?"

"Oh?" I glance at one of the windows and peer beyond the glass to see the dreary gray morning that is common here oft times in Windenburg. "It sure doesn't feel like summer."

"That's Windenburg for you!" he agrees with a laugh and yeah, can't argue there but what kind of summery things can we do with a day like this?

"What did you have in mind?" I ask.

"Just something simple, maybe, head out to the public pool?"

I can't help but smirk and tease him a little, it is a good idea buuuut I have a feeling I know why he's thinking about a little date out to the pool. "Ah, wanting to see me in a swimsuit then?"

So we head to the Bathe De Rill and thankfully we're a little early so the pool is pretty much empty. It's also raining which probably explains the lack of people but honestly why would rain stop a trip to the pool? You're going to get wet any ways, so what's the difference? Ah well, public pools are no fun if there's too much of a crowd.

After a few casual laps, nothing competitive, but we both use enough energy so that we had to pause and catch our breaths giving us a perfect time to start a conversation. "So, any water tricks you can show me?"

"Hmm? No," he gives his head a little shake, wading restlessly in the water. "It's always hard to manipulate the elements. Fire, water, air, those forces take a lot of skill and power to get a handle of."

"I can imagine but you're telling me you have no tricks at all!?" He's so lame sometimes! "Not even a bubble or a little sprout of water or-"

"Oh, I know a trick I can do with water?" He says but his tone is a little too playful now and it makes me suspicious of what he might say next and yet I can't help but ask.

"Yesss?" my eyes narrow, knowing the set up suddenly, it's going to be a lewd joke isn't it?

"I can show you later tonight."

Ugh, I knew it! Let me guess, something something make me wet something something? Yeah, that's He's also snickering like a child too as if he's told the most clever of jokes! All I can do is groan, roll my eyes, and float over to the edge of pool to make my exit.

He follows me outside of the pool and we both decide to hang out a little longer here. For a while we just walk, letting ourselves dry with the help of a very mild sun and a slight breeze but eventually we find somewhere to stop. Away from the trickle of people who have waited out the rain to visit the famous Bathe de Rill. I am mostly focused though on his watch, there is something about it that draws the eyes, it looks ordinary and yet clearly it isn't.

"So is that thing waterproof?" I ask, my eyes glaring at it as if it had asked me a question instead.

"Yea, fireproof too. It can withstand a lot, it's...well, it's very old. My great grandmother had her house burned down in a fire, attempted arson we think, but she later retrieved it in the ashes as if it were brand new."

"That...that thing seems pretty powerful?" Fire usually is all powerful, after all, it's like pure energy. Fire kills everything, doesn't it? Except for his watch I guess.

He shrugs as if it the answer was obvious. "Yeah, it is, but honestly it's a passive kind of power. Not an active kind of power."

"So you say it points you to where you need to be but for what purpose like...is it trying to help you succeed or..."

Another shrug. "Simply where I need to be, whatever that means. It's not always serving me, at least that's what I've been told but honestly I don't think my father even knows what it does."

"What do you mean?" I ask, because the more I hear about it the more confusing it gets. He used it to claim that that we were meant to be but what if it dragged him my way for another reason?

"It's...hard to explain," he rubs the back of his neck for lack of a better answer. "It's not trying to make me rich or anything, it's just simply...where I need to be."

"Ugh, I'm starting to understand why you avoid magic!"

I head back home with Niklas because by the time we left the pool night had fallen and you know he insisted on walking me home. He warned of vampires and werewolves and the mothman and bigfoot too...okay, he only warned me about vampires because he seriously has a hatred for them.

Either way, I mentioned to him that he couldn't stay long because I had some cleaning to do and once again he deployed his magic to help me out. Cleaning the tub with a few swirls of his arms and some sparkly sparkles on top of it and voila, a clean tub! Yeah so, that's a neat trick! I'd be fine with just learning that honestly.

Also, yes, he never did change out of his swimshorts? Yeah so, that was my day, I guess I made the most of it.

Episode List - Next Episode 3.3

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 8

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, Diane is her own warning, Grey's Anatomy & alcoholism, uhm... hard to explain the last one without spoilering. You'll be fine 😂

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Oh boy, I'll save you guys long explanations. Life got in the way, so let's just all be glad we're back here 😅 Some of you brilliant sleuths already caught breadcrumbs of my scheming in the last part, so here's The One You've Been Waiting For...

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

“Where is she?”

Your boot soles thudded on the floor as you dashed inside the station, your questioning look aimed at Jenny, who leaned against her desk with crossed arms and a stern brow. Beau was hot on your heels, just jogging in behind you. You practically raced him from the car across the parking lot.

“She’s in Interrogation Room 3,” Jenny informed you.

“Is she cuffed?” Beau asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger caused by concern. He had a whole car ride to the department to rile himself up and let his head spin with reasons. None of them soothing; all of them terrifying.

Jenny shook her head. “No. She’s not officially under arrest and hasn’t confessed yet, either. ‘Sides, she willingly came in and just all too happily sat down. She’s clearly playing a game. I’d be careful.”

“Alright, thanks,” Beau said and looked at you. “How you wanna do this?”

“Let’s just go in and talk to her. See what she has to say and what angle she’s playing,” you suggested, and Beau agreed with a nod, both of you falling into step as you headed down the hallway.

“My favorite couple. There you are,” Diane greeted you with a smirk that could only be described as lunacy as soon as you and Beau walked into the interrogation room. “Hope I didn’t disturb your evening.”

“Not at all,” you replied with an easy smile and took a seat across from her, Beau settling down right next to you and leaning back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Diane?”

“Well, I figured I come here before you call in the cavalry. There’s no need for all this drama. I have a feeling you two have enough of that,” she quipped and grinned devilishly at the both of you.

“So, you waltzed in here to confess to twenty-four murders?” Beau arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Beau and you shared a look. Neither of you liked this, but you supposed you had to play along if it led to a confession. You nodded at Diane. “Fine, what d’you wanna know?”

Diane grinned in triumphant satisfaction and folded her arms on the metal table, curiously leaning forward. “Look, I think it’s cute you two found each other… after divorce and death, of course. ‘Cause who likes a cheater, right?” she posed theoretically, her smirk getting wider. “I guess, for me at least, it’s just hard to believe there’ve never been any feelings before that. Seems kinda odd to me.”

You smiled wryly. “Well, for me at least, it seems kinda odd and, frankly, hard to believe some psychotic bitch would murder over twenty innocent people just because her husband was a cheating dirtbag. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed, Agent,” Diane snarked with a pleased smile. “And I’d be wary throwing the word ‘innocent’ around so carelessly. After all, just look at you two. I mean, I’m not saying you’ve planned this little hot love affair, but c'mon! What, no lingering looks? No fluttering hearts, dirty thoughts, or wistful what-ifs?”

You remained cool and held your gaze stern. No quiver of a lip, no twitch of an eye, no flinch of a muscle betrayed you. But Beau must’ve signaled something when Diane’s eyes drifted to him. She tilted her head with a delighted sneer forming on her face. Your heart halted in your chest. You knew she’d locked in on a target like a lioness on the prowl.

“Whoop, Sheriff Arlen, do you have something to tell me? You seem awfully quiet and… shifty,” Diane prodded the tip of her metaphorical knife into his ribcage, prying it open just enough to see inside. “If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

“Okay, enough,” you snapped and drew a line in the sand, noticing how Beau withdrew more and more upon her words. She was getting to him and enjoying it. “Neither of us has done anything wrong, got it?”

Diane chuckled amusedly. “Sheriff Arlen, you should learn from your girlfriend here. She’s better at acting than you are. Or is it lying?” Her questioning gaze turned to you.

“What d’you want, huh?” you prompted with stern annoyance, hoping to take some heat off of Beau. “You want some weird confession, so you can throw one of us into a bunker?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent. We’re just having a friendly chat among colleagues, getting to know each other.” She grinned, her icy gray eyes sparkling with devilish joy. She leaned closer to Beau, circling in on him. She could smell he was close to a breaking point and aimed her sledgehammer at him. “Tell me, Sheriff, were you happy when your partner died? I mean, you must’ve been. She was finally free and all yours for the taking. Is that why your marriage crumbled so soon after his death? Why you followed her all the way to Mexico, leaving your family behind? Be honest, did you lead her husband into that warehouse on purpose?”

“Shut up!” Beau yelled and bristled, his voice trembling with anger as did every single muscle of his. He jumped up from his seat and kicked the chair roughly against the wall before storming out and slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shocked, you rose from your seat as well and threw Jenny a worried look through the one-way mirror. As you followed Beau outside, you could still hear Diane’s heinous laugh.

November 2020

‘¿Recuerdas que en tu infancia creías en cuentos de hadas? En la fantasia de lo que podría ser tu vida. Tu vestido blanco, un príncipe azul que te llevaría en sus brazos a un castillo sobre una colina…’

A knock on your door rattled you and snapped your attention away from the small, old TV in your room. The image was grainy at best, and you were sure the television itself was bought sometime in the early 2000s. Yet, you still managed to hook it up to your laptop and stream a few shows. Drinking and watching television was all you had for entertainment down here whenever you were on the lay-low and had some time off.

Oh, and there was the crying, of course.

You hurriedly blew your nose in one of the tissues in your hand and wiped the tears out of your eyes. Bolting into the bathroom first, you did a quick check of your appearance in the stained, wonky mirror. Well, good enough. Who were you trying to impress? You were a grieving widow. People expected you to look like shit.

Beau blinked at you as the door opened. He offered you a friendly smile, although he could tell you had cried again. You never admitted it, always telling him you were fine and brushing away any and all of his concerns. But your red and puffy eyes were hard to hide and even harder to ignore when he stopped by your room at night. It broke his heart every single time.

“Hey, I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet, darlin’,” he said and tried not to sound too scolding. Since Randy’s death you’d been basically on a grief diet, although you seemed to be more willing to eat since you’d come to Mexico. But Beau had taken it upon himself to ensure your stomach was always full.

“Uh, thanks, but I’m not hungry,” you said quietly and were already keen to close the door to get rid of him again. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t.

Beau frowned and already slid his boot between the door and its jamb. “You know I’m not leaving till you ate. And since you’re being particularly difficult tonight, I’m just gonna have to watch you till that whole bag is empty. Now, trust me. This ain’t fun for me, either. Don’t make me spoon-feed you and do airplane noises. It’s been a while, but I have experience in that field. You wanna hear my lecture about your essential vitamins and minerals again?”

You sighed dramatically and were close to a whine. “Beau, I’m really not in the mood right now. Can you please just–” You stopped when you noticed the man wasn’t even listening to you. With a curiously furrowed brow, he cocked his head and leaned inside your room with a skillful weight shift, his green eyes focusing on the TV.

‘Vamos a domir a tu casa esta noche.’

‘¿Qué?’

‘¿Por qué siempre dormirmos en mi casa? ¿O no tienes una?’

“What are you watching?” Beau had fully stepped inside your room, and you knew your probability of kicking him out again sunk by the second. You sighed once more and closed the door behind you two.

“Grey’s Anatomy in Spanish. I already know the episodes, so I figured I could learn a little. I already forgot most of it from school,” you replied.

“Huh. Never watched this show.” Yet, he sat down on the foot of your bed and seemed hooked. His eyes were glued to the screen, brow lightly creased above the bridge of his nose that showed his interest. If you had popcorn, you would’ve handed it to him.

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled nonetheless. Randy had been the same. He’d teased you for watching till he caught one episode and was immediately enthralled. Afterward, you weren’t allowed to watch a single episode without him anymore.

“You wanna watch with me?” You grabbed the bag of food and crawled onto your bed, leaning against the headboard. You quickly discarded the tissues that were strewn all over your mattress. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed them yet, or you would’ve received a look full of worry and pity.

“Sure.” Beau nodded and smiled at you over his shoulder, happy you had decided to eat, after all. “So, what’s this show about?”

“A hospital in Seattle. But honestly, everyone’s just sleeping with everyone…”

It took a while till you had explained all the intricacies of each relationship to him. Fortunately, this was only the first season. He gasped when you informed him the show had seventeen of it – so far. By the end of the episode, he had joined you by the headboard, sitting next to you as you shared the remaining tacos.

‘Me gusta el helado de café, whisky de malta de una sola destilería, de vez en cuando un buen habano.’

“Ah! Now that’s a home,” Beau declared with a broad and longing smile, raising his beer bottle to the TV. “You know, I’ve always wanted an Airstream trailer exactly like this.”

“Uh-huh. Un remolque.”

His brow quirked. “Is that Spanish for trailer?”

“Yes, he just said it. You need to pay attention,” you chided playfully and took a sip from your beer.

“Hey, look, I’m just glad I can keep up with who’s sleeping with who, alright? Don’t need to add Spanish vocabulary to the mix,” Beau quipped, making you giggle. “I actually almost bought a trailer like that when me and Carla first got married.”

You grinned knowingly. “Lemme guess, Carla said no and almost shot you?”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, she definitely came close that time. But Emily was already on the way, so I guess it would’ve been impractical with a baby.”

“Smart choice.”

As your eyes traveled back to the TV, Beau’s gaze landed on you. He watched as your cheeks moved when you laughed with your whole heart. How your pink, full lips sealed around the bottle opening whenever you sipped on your beer. How your shimmering hair fell into your face in waves as you leaned forward and hugged your knees. Lingering looks.

“You wanna open a bottle of tequila with me and watch another episode?” you asked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s do that,” he agreed, swallowing lightly. A part of him almost felt caught in his shameless staring. But he was willing to do anything as long as it kept you from crying yourself to sleep for another night.

Jumping up from the bed, you sauntered over to the mini bar and bent down, hauling a bottle of tequila from the small fridge you’d stored in there earlier. Beau tried not to stare at the curve of your ass and how tightly those dark blue jeans hugged it. But he couldn’t control his heart as it undeniably accelerated and thumped loudly against its prison. Fluttering hearts.

Four episodes and two Margarita pitchers in, you stretched with a yawn, barely able to keep your eyes open. You glanced at Beau with an amused smile as he was still transfixed by the TV and heavily engaged in the show.

“I’m beat. You mind if we turn in?” you checked and laughed a little when his green eyes blinked at you in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll head back to my room,” he said, nodding. “You, uh, wanna do this every night, maybe? I mean, it’s not like there’s much else to do here… We could hang out and binge-watch, as the kids say. Netflix and chill.”

You snorted. “Beau, that’s not what you think it means…”

His brow furrowed. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Sex,” you said bluntly and watched his mouth open and close. It was rare to render that man speechless.

Beau pursed his lips, his cheeks redder than the desert sand. “Yeah, uh, no Netflix and chill, then.” He cleared his throat a couple of times while you stifled your laughs. “Can I just finish this episode before I go?”

You giggled, getting up from the bed. “Sure. Knock yourself out. I need some bathroom time before, anyways.”

As you sauntered into the small, dingy bathroom, you briefly glanced back and saw Beau’s focus was already back on the sexy doctors. You laughed a little, shaking your head before you began to wash your face and slip into your pajamas, which were just a pair of sweat shorts and an old college shirt of Randy’s. Go Cougars!

Unbeknownst to you, Beau’s gaze didn’t remain on the TV for long. At first, he only caught a glimpse of you from his periphery in the bathroom mirror through the cracked door. For a moment, he stared, unable to tear his eyes away as you shed out of your shirt. But when your bra came off as well, he averted his eyes shamefully back to the TV. His mind, however, still wandered, incapable of shaking the image of you, various unholy ideas gathering for a villainous summit. Dirty thoughts.

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

“Still hooked, huh?” Amused, you arched a brow at him as you strolled out of the bathroom and saw he was still enchanted by the magic of dramatic television.

“He’s gonna go back to the cheatin’ ex, isn’t he?” Beau asked without looking at you. He sat on the bed with arms crossed and his brow scrunched.

You pressed your lips together as you smothered another laugh. “Oh, no spoilers from me, but it’s a bit of a ride. And we haven’t even gotten to Dr. Caliente yet,” you said, grinning.

You waited a moment for Beau to catch the hint that you wanted to go to bed. But soon you realized it wasn’t going to happen. The man had done a full deep dive into that show, and there was no way of pulling him back out.

“You know, you can stay and keep watching if you want to. I don’t mind. I’ve been sleeping with the TV on, anyways,” you said.

His gaze met yours, brow finally rising with realization. “Oh, uh, sorry. No, I can go. Let you catch some–” His eyes wandered back to the TV before he shook his head and tried to refocus. He blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s really okay. You can stay. I don’t care,” you assured him with a soft smile and climbed under the covers, resting your head on the pillow. You switched off the lamp by your bedside table, the blue glow of the screen remaining the only source of light.

“Maybe just this episode,” he mumbled, his shoulders deflating as he sunk back into a more comfortable position again.

“This is nice,” you noted with a blissful sigh and closed your eyes. “I kinda hate being alone.”

Beau watched you as you peacefully fell asleep, the TV suddenly forgotten. For once you didn’t cry yourself to sleep. Tears, nightmares, and loneliness gone. And he wondered – what it would be like if he watched you fall asleep every night. What if he was still there in the morning. What if he could hold you as you wore his shirt. Then, the guilt came swiftly like the rising tide and washed those thoughts away. Wistful what-ifs.

“What the hell happened in there?” you hissed as quietly as possible as you caught up with Beau in the lowly lit hallway of the station. Luckily, the other cops had enough sense to stay away and keep their distance while the two of you hashed things out.

Beau dragged a hand over his face, kept his palm clasped on his mouth as he paced in a circle. You were surprised he hadn’t punched a wall yet, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

“You can’t let her get to you,” you reminded him gently, your face softening when you noticed how distraught and upset he really was. What Diane said to him must’ve cut deep.

“You know it’s not true, right? What she said in there? I-I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t… Fuck!” His eyes were brimming with desperate tears, his breathing quick. You could hear his heart race from feet away.

“Of course not. She’s a deranged psychopath,” you emphasized, although you didn’t understand why you had to spell it out for him. He already knew that. “Why are you so upset? Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s thriving off it like a hyena.”

“I know. I just-…” He took a deep breath. “What if she’s right?”

Confused, your brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Me. Us,” he said, not making necessarily more sense. “What if it’s true, huh?” He blinked at you and swallowed harshly, completely out of breath. “Look, uhm… I-I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never admitted it before, but recently, things have become a lot clearer to me…” He paused for a moment, rubbing his mouth with two fingers before he found your eyes again. “I’ve always had feelings for you, you know? There’s always been this… pull. Even back then. Since the first time I met you.”

You inhaled sharply, your lungs incapable of fitting more air as you held your breath for several heartbeats. “Beau, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if it is,” he said. The tortured tone of his voice pained you. “I mean, I would’ve never done anything. You need to know that, okay? I would’ve never hurt you or Randy. I never would’ve come between you two.”

“I know that,” you assured him. You wanted to take his hands in yours, touch him, hold him. But you knew it would only make the turmoil of emotions worse instead of better, like pouring oil into the fire.

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose and finally took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers as you squeezed them. “I know all of that,” you said, his brow rising in bewildered surprise. “In terms of being honest… I guess a part of me always knew you felt this way, but I never let myself go there. And yeah, considering everything, it’s only natural to feel guilty. But you’ve still done nothing wrong. We’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t control how you feel. Neither can I. And I’m not saying everything always was exactly right, and we did everything by the book, but I loved Randy with all my heart. There wasn’t room for anyone else… And now, I love you. But it was never at the same time, you know?”

Beau pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, kissing your crown. “No, I know. Trust me. I know that part.”

“I love you, okay?” You tiptoed to claim his lips, putting your whole heart into the kiss. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you wouldn’t lie, either. “Diane doesn’t get to use that against us. Everything that happened, everything we’ve done right or wrong – that’s between you and me… and maybe God at some point. But surely not that psychotic bitch in there. She’s doesn’t know what we think or feel, so don’t give her ammunition, alright?”

Beau nodded and pecked your lips, his hands caressing your cheeks. “I love you, too.”

Jenny cleared her throat as she carefully snuck up on you. “You guys okay?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah. What d’you got?”

“Well, since Diane walked in and became our prime suspect, the new DA on the case signed a search warrant for her property, office, car, and all her devices,” Jenny informed you.

“Alright, take Pops with you and head to her house first. Call me if you find somethin’ we can burn that witch with,” Beau ordered, putting his sheriff hat back on, jumping into the saddle full-throttle.

“On it, boss.” Jenny gave him a resolute nod and hurried down the hall.

January 2021

“¡Feliz navidad!”

As you opened the motel room door, you found Beau on your doorstep with a giant grin on his freckled face and not one but two bottles of tequila. One in each hand that he joyfully wiggled in the air.

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “Christmas was two weeks ago, payaso.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t here, so merry belated Christmas,” he retorted and strolled right in as you held the door open for him. “Can’t believe you stayed here and didn’t go home for Christmas.”

“Meh, wasn’t in the mood to be placated and pitied by my whole family. I know they all mean well, but if I get one more concerned head tilt and a ‘How are you holding up, sweetie?’, tendré que apuñalar a alguien,” you huffed.

Beau narrowed his eyes at you, slightly amused. “I only understood the word ‘stab’, but I think I get the gist,” he joked, laughing. “I see your Spanish is getting better. So, how was your depressing and lonely Christmas without your family?”

“Nice guilt trip, asshole,” you retorted playfully and scoffed. “Great, actually. I went out with the guys from our team who stayed here, too. Got insanely drunk on some Christmas cocktail Ignacio created. And some hot guy taught me how to Salsa dance. He got a little handsy towards the end, which, granted, is the most action I’ve seen in five months, so…”

Beau’s lips thinned as he weighted your words. “Huh, so to recap: you got wasted with five guys in a dingy bar and second base with some stranger. Sounds like Christmas-y fun.”

You frowned slightly, watching him open one of the bottles of tequila. “Alright, there were no bases being hit, Judge Judy. How was your Christmas?”

“Not as fun, I can tell you that much,” Beau muttered and gulped some tequila straight from the bottle.

Your nose scrunched, lips pursed. “You and Carla got into it again?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” he replied. “I’ve only been home twice, including Christmas. You’d think she’d be more happy to see me, but instead I get yelled at for not being home more and criticized like I’m some drunk.”

Your narrowed look drifted to the bottle of liquor tightly clasped in his hands as he plopped down on the bed with a sigh. “Well, you know, not really making an argument for yourself there, gaucho.”

He scowled at you. “Who’s side are you on?”

“No one’s!”

“What, you think I’m some alcoholic?”

You pursed your lips and hesitated briefly. “No… But I do think you have a slight issue with... occurrence and... volume.”

He sent you a small glare. “That’s the same thing, just different words.”

“Look, I get it. It’s not like I’ve been a healthy example these past months,” you said, hoping a softer approach would work. You sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s been hard for all of us. Grief wrecks you. But you have a family to think about. Maybe it’s time you go home… for good.”

His brow drew into creases, green eyes drilling a hole into you. “Do you want me to go?”

Your lips parted for a moment, reluctant to answer as his question hung in the air between you two. “It’s not about what I want. You should do what’s best for you.”

Beau considered your words, his head bobbing. “I wanna stay. I need to see this through. For Randy,” he declared, although it was only partially true. Another part of him stayed for you. There was an electrostatic force, invisible to the naked heart and irresistible to the free mind. A force that kept him in your orbit and bonded his atoms with yours.

Maybe you should’ve told him to go home, been more insistent on making him leave, clearer on what was best. But truthfully and selfishly so, you liked having him around. He was your constant, your little piece of home in a strange land and an even stranger new life. And you didn’t want to navigate this new life alone.

“You sure?” you still asked for the sake of your conscience, but the determination on his face over his decision made your heart sing in relief.

“I’m sure. Just wish things were easier…”

Walking back into the interrogation room, you smiled victoriously as you slapped a folder full of evidence on the metal table in front of Diane. The deputies had found “a buttload” in Poppernak’s words.

Regardless, you knew Diane wasn’t stupid. If the deputies found something, she had wanted you to find it. For some reason, she wanted to be arrested. But you didn’t care what sick game she was playing. Cuffing her meant there’d be no more bodies, no more victims.

She gave you a titillated sneer, glimpsing at the file in front of her before finding your eyes again. She bit her lip, smirking. “Oooh, lookey, what you found there,” she mocked.

“It’s over, Diane. You’re under arrest for multiple murders among a plethora of other charges. But you already know that,” you told her firmly.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Diane did as told without any protest. She grinned at you the whole time when Beau manhandled her roughly into her handcuffs, bending her over the metal table as he read her the Miranda rights. You couldn’t shake the eerie feeling in your stomach, though. You had your killer, but somehow this felt far from over. You knew she had an ace up her sleeve and was waiting to lay it on the table.

“But we were just getting started,” she snarled. “Aren’t we having fun?”

“Fun usually looks a little different for me,” Beau retorted and forced her back onto the chair as soon as she was cuffed.

“I bet it does, Sheriff,” she purred with a flirtatious glimmer in her gray eyes. “I think I’ll wait with my confession till tomorrow. Let you two lovebirds enjoy your last night together.”

Beau and you shared a wary look at that. But deep in your heart, you knew there was nothing that could tear you apart. And you hoped Beau knew it, too.

“Look, bitch, I don’t care what you think you’ve planned, but it won’t drive a wedge between us. All it’s gonna do is piss us off more, got it?” you threatened and leaned forward on the table with an angrily knit brow.

Diane chuckled. “Confident. I always liked you, Agent. Aren’t you even a little curious what I’ve got in store for you?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation. You looked up at Beau and rose from your seat. “Let’s go. She’s not gonna talk tonight.”

Beau nodded, putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside the door. And just as your hand reached the handle, Diane decided to play her ace of hearts.

“It’s about your husband,” she noted innocently. You could hear the satisfaction in her voice as your whole body stiffened, muscles freezing. Beau felt it, too. His heart began to race. “Dead husband, of course. I always forget that part. Silly me.”

Beau’s hand on your back gave you a soft caress, telling you it was okay to turn around and find out. You didn’t want to care. And most of all, you didn’t want Beau to see that you did. But as you met his forest-green eyes, they were full of understanding.

“What about him?” you asked bravely, your chin held high as you faced her.

Her grin widened before her gaze wandered to Beau. “It’s in my pocket. Mind giving me a hand, Sheriff? You can even touch. I know you have a hard time keeping those hands to yourself,” she taunted.

You scoffed exasperatedly, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Agent. Let me have a little fun. I’m about to be felt up by enough women,” she quipped.

You ignored her, hauling her to her feet by her elbow and holding her in place as your other hand dived into her back pocket. Your brow furrowed as your fingers identified a small plastic stick. Your frown deepened as you pulled out a familiar thumb drive. It wasn’t the first one you had received from her.

Twenty-five.

Had she taken another victim before giving herself up? What was so special about this one? What did it have to do with Randy? Did he ever cheat on you? Did Beau know?

You found that quite unbelievable. In fact, you knew there was no chance in hell that was true. But that did nothing to ease your conscience.

Your hand trembled in sync with your palpitating heartbeats. You tried to steady it as best as you could and keep your jumpy nerves in line as you slipped the small drive into its designated outlet on your laptop, not wanting the team that had gathered around and behind you to catch on to your unnerving emotions.

As you clicked on the MP4 file, your heart came to a standstill when a video popped open in the player. Pressing Play, you sucked in a breath and then forgot to breathe at all.

It only took you a glimpse to die inside.

“Oh God…”

It felt like suffocating. Like jumping off a steep seaside cliff and drowning. Your body hit the ocean rocks; your heart split open.

It only took Beau a second longer to catch on. The horror in your voice had put him on immediate alert before he recognized the figure on the screen, too.

As your head spun and your stomach turned upside down, you couldn’t find any words and bolted outside. You needed fresh air. You needed to breathe. And you needed to goddamn puke.

“Beau, what’s going on? Who’s the guy on the video? You know him?” Jenny asked, her gaze worriedly flashing in the direction you had fled.

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Chapter 9: Marooned – NOVEMBER 29

Dun, dun, dun... The dead have risen in Montana! This is where it becomes a Walking Dead crossover (at least if you ask Donno 😂). Did you call the little resurrection action beforehand? 👀 Lemme know all your wild thoughts in the comments! 💭

So happy to be back with y'all! 🤍

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[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you and Skye try to relearn how to be friends again, you realise it’s harder than you thought.

warning/s: mentions of injury, substance abuse, poor mental health and basically everything Skye goes through oof.

author's note: here’s part 2! so sorry it was delayed, i’ve been stuffed with cold for the past few days so didn’t have chance to share it. Hope this makes up for it anyway :)

"...and I'm just outside your building now," I said to Skye over the phone, lingering outside.

"I was just about to call," she said in a rushed voice, sounding apologetic. "I'm running late, but I'm almost there. Give or take ten minutes. You can head straight up. The doorman knows to let you in and the spare key is in the same place as always."

I hesitated at her response.

It wasn't a big deal, I'd been to her apartment many times, but it had also been a year since I'd last been and it felt strange to go up alone. Especially because I was just supposed to be meeting her to go out, not actually going inside.

"Oh, I can just wait outside, it's okay," I said, maybe a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, it's fine, you head up, I'll be with you soon," she assured me, before I heard a sound in the background. "I gotta go. See you in ten!"

I chewed my lip before putting my phone away and heading straight inside. As Skye said, the doorman recognised me and let me straight up, and it felt odd. The last time I'd been in the lift, I was crying on the way down from that awful argument between Skye and I. I hadn't been back since – I'd had no need to. But now...

It wasn't the same, I had to remind myself of that. She wasn't the same. None of this was.

Over the past few weeks, we'd somewhat returned to how things used to be, but it was all baby steps. Being each other's friend was second nature, and yet moments like this sometimes had me stumbling in the dark.

I found her door at the end of the hall, digging out the spare key from behind the framed painting next to it. A stupid place to keep it I'd always thought, but the whole place was guarded anyway so it didn't matter.

After opening the door, I returned the key to its spot before letting myself in. Everything looked the same as I last remembered it, and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I'd missed it. I still remembered when she bought it and moved in, after her career picked up overnight. We'd had countless movie nights here, sleepovers that lasted days sometimes, and it just brought back so many memories. Good, as well as bad, but I tried not to focus on the latter.

I began to walk around aimlessly, waiting for her to return, eyeing the cabinet full of awards, the framed albums, admiring the penthouse view from her living room, and then I came across some framed photos hung on the wall. Some were of her and her mum when she was a kid, others were as she grew up, and then I spotted a familiar one.

It was a photo of Skye performing her first ever single on her first ever TV appearance years ago, and it was a photo taken by me, one of my first professional gigs as a photographer. A small smile tugged at my lips, realising she hadn't taken it down. I was touched that she kept it.

The door opening made me glance away and see Skye rushing in, looking a bit dishevelled. When she spotted me, she smiled with relief.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to run late," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"It's fine," I said dismissively, before joking, "You know, you're a little too trustworthy. It's been a year. I totally could have come up here and, like, I don't know, robbed you or something. Sold your shit on eBay."

She tossed her bag to the couch as she laughed quietly, quirking a brow. "Oh, really? A year and you've suddenly turned into a criminal?"

"I could've."

"What a personality change."

I laughed as she stopped by my side, nudging me in the arm slightly, before her gaze fell to the photos hung on the wall.

"Ah, going through memory lane, I see," she teased lightheartedly.

I glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's cute that you've still got it. Even if it is a terrible photo."

"It's not," she said with a chuckle, looking at it with pride. "It's a two in one, I had to keep it. My first TV appearance and the day I met you. It just makes it extra special that you took the photo."  

My cheeks grew warm at her words, and I found myself staring at her profile as she smiled reminiscently at the photo. We'd come so far since then and yet I still did a double take whenever I looked to her. Maybe some things hadn't changed...

"I'm just gonna change my clothes and then we can head out," she said after a moment. "Won't be long."

"It's cool, take your time," I said with a nod, watching as she went to her room, before looking back to the photo and finding myself smiling all over again.

—

Becoming friends with Skye again made it easy to remember all the best parts of having a friendship with her, so much that I almost forgot what led to everything being ruined in the first place.

Of course there was the substance abuse, but the reason for that was the anxieties and stresses that came with being one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And it definitely didn't help that Skye never had a lot of support from her team, who only ever saw her as a commodity. Clearly that hadn't changed.

I'd just finished some work one morning and had plans to hang out with Skye after, maybe catch a movie or something as she had the day off, we hadn't really decided. But when I called her, she answered groggily.

"Hey, Skye, you good?" I asked jokingly.

She made a sound like a yawn before humming. "Yes, sorry, I was just napping. Just been tired."

"Oh, I was calling to say I'm free now, but we can rearrange if–"

"No, no, I want to see you," she cut me off with assurance, forcing herself to sound more lively. "A movie, right? Or lunch?"

I tried not to snicker. "Skye, it's your day off and you sound exhausted. It's alright."

"I'm fine, honest," she said confidently, or an attempt at it. "Please, I was looking forward to seeing you."

I sighed, debating whether or not to listen to her. Then, I thought of a solution. "How about we stay in? I can come to yours and we can watch a movie there?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she said with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll get the blankets warmed up in the dryer, ready for your arrival."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds good. I'll bring some snacks and be over soon."

And just like that, we both kept to our word and got comfortable on her couch barely half an hour later. Snacks were laid out on the coffee table whilst two fluffy blankets covered us completely. Still, we leaned against each other for warmth.

Skye was definitely burnt out, her general enthusiasm diminished temporarily and her movements sluggish, but she was smiling all the same as she spent time with me. I knew she meant it, but it still worried me that she wasn't getting enough time to simply rest.

"How's tour stuff going?" I asked as she loaded up a film on Netflix.

She shrugged as she focused on the task at hand. "Alright. Been busy. You know how it can get."

I glanced at her. "I do."

She must have noticed my staring as she stopped what she was doing and looked over at me with an amused smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, looking to the TV. "Just remember that you can take a break if you need to. It's important or you'll risk burning out."

She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder and playing with the blanket mindlessly. "I know. I am."

"Enough breaks," I clarified, watching her hands play with it. "I mean, your team are supportive, I'm sure, but they don't always know what's best for you."

She snorted with amusement, glancing up at me. "And you do?"

I met her gaze, half playful and half serious. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll always be an advocate of you taking a freakin' break."

She suppressed a smile as she nudged me appreciatively. "You're right. I will. I guess I've just been busy making sure everything is perfect. It has to be, you know? Especially after everything."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "I get it. Just... take care of yourself. Please."

She nodded, though sunk further into the couch as she laced her hands around my arm to get comfortable, almost like she was ending the conversation without saying so. I took the hint and looked back to the screen.

"Picked a film yet?" I asked.

"Almost."

—

Despite how easy it was to fall back into everything with Skye, there were still topics we didn't discuss. Like we never brought up our friendship-ending argument again, or her time in rehab, and she never talked about the accident. It wasn't that I didn't leave that space open for her to discuss, but it was definitely her way of keeping that separate by not bringing it up. And naturally, I didn't want to force her to relive it by bringing it up either.

But not talking about it meant I didn't always know how to help her.

We were walking around a park near her apartment one evening, enjoying a stroll at first, but then we started to mess around on some of the playing equipment since the place was deserted.

"You really think you can clear it in ten seconds?" I asked her with a laugh as she looked up at the monkey bars.

"I do, yeah," she said, mirroring my laughter as she glanced at me. "You just watch. Go on. Grab your phone. Timer at the ready please."

Curious, I pulled out my phone and stepped back, finger hovering over the timer. "Ready when you are, idiot."

She grinned before standing beneath the monkey bars. Looking up at them, she took a deep breath, about to jump up, but I intentionally interrupted to throw her off.

"You sure you don't wanna stretch first?"

She jumped and glared at me playfully. "Shut up. Just get ready."

I laughed and waited patiently, watching as she readied herself once more. And then she jumped up to grab the bars and I started the timer.

She managed to move down three bars before faltering at the fourth one and then letting go all of a sudden. My eyes widened when she landed on the tarmac with a sharp gasp, and I forgot all about the stupid timer as I rushed to check on her.

"Shit, Skye, you okay?" I asked quickly, kneeling down beside her.

Her face contorted in pain as her hand clutched her back. She was leaning on her elbow, clearly hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered quickly, though she winced and her eyes were squeezing shut to suppress the pain.

I noticed she was holding her back – not really putting together that it was from her existing back pain from the accident – and tried to help by reaching for her jacket to see if she'd hurt it from the fall.

"No!" she suddenly shouted when she saw me attempting to touch her, and I jumped.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," I apologised, not wanting to overwhelm or upset her anymore than she already was.

I moved my hand back, but she grabbed it and squeezed gently before I could, an attempt at an apology for her outburst. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she breathed out the pain, and I didn't say anything more as I held her hand, waiting patiently. Though my heart was clenching with concern the longer she took.

"It hurts sometimes," she finally spoke, avoiding my eyes, "from the accident. That's all."

When I realised it was much more than just falling from the monkey bars, I felt stupid and spoke without thinking. "Do you have medicine?"

She tensed her jaw as she glanced at me.

"Stupid question, sorry," I realised, grimacing.

She let go of my hand and shook her head, expression softening. "No, it wasn't."

Something was bothering her, more than the pain, but now wasn't the time to ask, so I settled on helping her stand up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," I said carefully. "It's getting late anyway."

She nodded, still avoiding my eyes, and we both walked back to her apartment in an awkward silence. A million things were running through my mind, mostly out of concern for Skye, and acknowledging my utter stupidity. For once, I couldn't read her.

When we reached the lobby inside, we paused by the lift.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to dial down my worry for her sake.

"Yes, sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine," I assured her, eyes scanning her expression as she purposely looked at my shirt and not me. "I didn't mean to overstep before. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She shook her head, eyes flickering to mine briefly, sad, before looking down to her shoes. "You didn't. I just–"

She paused, a moment too long, enough to make me wonder what had her so uneasy.

"It's not pretty," she finally spoke, quieter than usual. "The... the scar. It's..."

"You don't need to explain," I said, when she didn't speak anymore, though my heart ached with concern, soon realising her uneasiness was embarrassment. An unnecessary embarrassment at that, as if I'd care about a scar when she was still here, alive.

I gave her a moment, hoping she'd say something more, but she didn't.

"Will you be okay?" I asked worriedly, not wanting to leave her tonight if her back was flaring up.

She nodded. "Yeah."

I nodded too, though was unsure how to say my goodbyes. Usually I'd go in for a hug, but she was already uncomfortable with me touching her before and the last thing I wanted was to do that again.

But then she finally looked up, eyes meeting mine gratefully, before she hugged me.

"Thanks for not thinking I'm weird," she mumbled into my shoulder, arms wrapped around them tightly.

I returned the hug gently. "I could never."

She didn't let go straight away and neither did I, not until she made the first move since clearly she needed this hug more than I did.

Finally, she pulled apart and offered me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," I said, returning her smile, before reluctantly leaving her.

—

It was the first time we'd even come close to talking about the accident and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. She wasn't opening up and I wondered if she felt like she couldn't. But maybe that incident was the key, because things changed soon after.

About a week later, I was fast asleep when I woke up to my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Confused, I cracked an eye open, wondering who could be calling in the middle of the night, but then the vibrating stopped. I considered if I cared that much, before deciding it could've been an emergency and checking who it was.

When I saw Skye's name, I woke up a little more, overcome with concern since she'd never called like this before. Immediately, I rang her back. It took two rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she answered with confusion.

Still half asleep, I answered groggily, "Why are you confused? You just called me."

She sighed. "I did. Sorry. I cut it off when I realised."

She sounded different, her voice hoarse.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry, I just–" She tutted at herself. "It's late, Y/N, go back to sleep."

Even half conscious, I knew she wasn't okay. "Skye."

It went quiet, but she gave in, to my relief. "I had a bad dream," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted to distract myself. I didn't mean to wake you."

I frowned to myself. "Are you okay?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "I will be. Really, just go to sleep, I'll be fine."

"I can't sleep knowing you're by yourself," I told her, too tired to hide my worry.

She paused, and then her voice came out guiltily, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," I said gently, before asking, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she answered quickly, before adding, "It's late. I don't want you up and about this late into the night."

I was already pulling my duvet off and sitting at the edge of my bed as I said, "It's not a problem, Skye." It went quiet on her end, so I prompted, "Skye?"

"You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

Realising she did in fact want me there, I tried to reassure her. "No, of course not. I can come now."

She practically held her breath. "I owe you."

"You don't."

Exhaling softly, she said, "I'll send a cab to get you. I'll cover the cost. I don't want you on public transport in New York when all the weirdos are out."

I cracked a small smile. "Okay, Skye, see you soon."

Sounding relieved, she said, "See you soon."

I yawned as I hung up, trying to move quickly but still trying to wake up and so unintentionally moving at snail speed. After packing a small bag, including a change of clothes and some toiletries, I pulled on my shoes and a jacket before leaving for Skye's.

The taxi ride wasn't long since the streets weren't busy, and I found myself at Skye's door in less than twenty minutes. As soon as I knocked, she opened up.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile, before hugging her in greeting. "How are you?"

She hugged me back and let me in, closing the door behind me. I noticed she was wearing her pyjamas, hair dishevelled and eyes a little red.

"Better now," she admitted, before frowning. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you did," I told her, before leaving my bag by the kitchen counter. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You're tired," she noticed.

I waved a hand dismissively, trying to look more awake. "I can stay awake if you want, Skye."

She sighed, shaking her head, before wordlessly grabbing my hand and dragging me to her bedroom.

"Come on," she said as she climbed into her queen sized bed, so I got out of my shoes and jacket and followed suit, settling in beside her.

We laid on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I glanced at her, her expression dimly lit by the moonlight and lights shining through her blinds. She was weary, though attempting to hide it.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" I asked curiously.

She swallowed visibly. "Not as much as I used to, but... sometimes, yeah." She paused, as if stuck in an internal debate, before admitting, "It was about the accident."

At the mention of the accident, the air in the room felt charged with uncertainty, and Skye's jaw tensed slightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked tenderly, and when she didn't reply, I quickly added, "Or you don't have to at all."

Her dark eyes flickered to mine, surprisingly calm. "It's okay. It's just– it's a lot. And when I'm alone, it's..."

"A lot," I finished for her.

She nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

I found her hand between us, squeezing it gently in support.

"I remember how difficult it was after," she muttered. "That, and the withdrawals, and all of it – it was a lot. Being in the hospital... I had my mum, but it felt so lonely."

I frowned as she recalled the experience, hearing it for the first time from her lips. And then she looked over at me and I looked back, realising there were tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked, voice cracking and eyes welling up. "I wanted you to visit so bad. I– I thought you would."

Not expecting that, I struggled to speak. "I told you, Skye, I thought you wouldn't want me there. I..."

She let go of my hand and wiped her eyes shamefully, looking away. I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow to look down at her, not wanting her to bottle everything up now.

"I waited," she whispered. "Every day, hoping you'd come to see me."

My heart crumbled at her words, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not your fault, I know that. But I just..."

With the nightmare still fresh and her recollection of the past at the forefront of her mind, I knew her emotions were heightened and she was overwhelmed, and it hurt to witness.

I pulled her into my chest for a hug, rubbing her back gently. "I wish I had. I wanted nothing more than to see you then, Skye, truly. But I'm here now. I promise."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away either. Her sniffles were heard in the silence of the room and she kept a firm grip on my tee shirt, and I didn't know what else to do other than continue to rub her back soothingly.

At some point, we must have dosed off like that because when I opened my eyes next, it was morning. I yawned as I rubbed my face, confused to where I was at first. And then I recognised Skye's room and it all came back to me.

I looked beside me, seeing Skye fast asleep, face smushed against her pillow adorably. She looked a lot better than she did last night and I was glad for it, seriously worried about her. Hopefully she'd gotten some sleep after everything.

Trying not to stare too long, reminding myself that it wasn't very platonic of me, I looked away and carefully clambered out of her bed to freshen up. After doing so, I went into her kitchen to find something to eat.

I was eating from a bowl of cereal at her kitchen island when I heard footsteps, looking up to see her leaving her bedroom.

"Good morning," I greeted. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed tiredly, yawning and running a hand through her dishevelled hair. I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"Better," she finally spoke, brown eyes meeting mine across the counter. "Thanks, Y/N. For coming last night."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, and looked down thoughtfully. After a moment, she said, "I know I haven't talked to you much about it all."

My expression softened. "I don't expect you to."

"I know," she said quietly, before meeting my gaze. "I want to. I do. Otherwise the way I am, how I act... it doesn't make sense and I don't want you to feel confused or think I'm insane or–"

"Hey," I cut her off, furrowing my brows. "I don't think that, Skye."

She chewed her lip momentarily, eyes flickering to the counter top. "I want you to know. Eventually. I just– it'll be bit by bit because I can't go through it all at once. It's too much."

I frowned sympathetically. "That's alright. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you just want the support, I can give you that too. It's what friends do."

She smiled a little, nodding. "Right."

I studied her expression, unsure what to make of it. "Did you get any sleep? Last night?"

She nodded, looking up. "I did, yeah. Thanks for coming. I know it was late. And I'm sorry for breaking down on you."

I gave her a knowing look, offering a small smile. "You need to stop apologising."

She exhaled. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Never mind that. You want breakfast? I can make whatever you want, providing you have it of course."

She smiled as she took a seat. "That would be nice, yeah. Eggs couldn't hurt."

"Eggs it is then," I said, eating the last bite of my cereal before standing up. "Give me five minutes.”

She nodded and watched me, relaxed for even the smallest of moments, enough to put me at ease too.

[hollowsart]

Thaal Sinestro of Korugar

-cracks knuckles-

Here's ALL of his lore that I cooked up:

(warning for: the sheer ungodly length of this, mentions of death, and a low-key humorous mention of alien physiology at the end cuz I couldn't help myself--)

(Some of this might still be a slight work in progress and/or may be subject to change later on. I'm not sure yet.)

-----

Backstory:

It wasn’t supposed to end that way. He wanted her to be safe and far away from the threat of action. Unfortunately.. he had made a mistake and it cost him greatly. Both heart and mind.

The loss of his wife.. the loss of his best friend, Abin Sur’s sister.. it caused quite the disruption in their friendship.

Some time well after that horrible event, Sinestro and Abin got into an altercation. An argument while out on duty. Abin had heard of Sinestro’s plans, but he didn’t agree with them. Both men were already still rocky and broken from the loss of Arin. So, when Sinestro was plotting some way of utilizing his GL powers to enforce order and protection.. no matter how unreasonable. Abin Sur lashed out. Calling him crazy, delusional, that nothing will ever bring her back.

Sinestro.. well.. he wasn’t thinking and without any ill intention.. he attacked Abin Sur. He only wanted to try and reason with him. He didn’t mean to do it.. but a stray blast from his ring managed to wreck the ship they were traveling in.. and the blast severely damaged Abin Sur.

..Sinestro fled the ship in horror, not seeing the fate of his friend as the ship hurtled down to a particular blue planet. The thought of having presumably killed his own partner and friend on top of having already dealt with the loss of his wife.. well.

That absolutely destroyed him. Shattered him so deeply.. he’s grown distant. Disconnected and apathetic. Bottling up, locking away, and throwing the key away with his emotions..

This was the beginning of the end of his GL career.. and the lead up to him being picked up by the Yellow Corps. The immense fear and angst building up inside him being strong enough he found a new life with the Yellow Lanterns. However, he couldn’t take the life and went rogue. Taking the ring with him and starting his own little sect.

----

imagine. some late series episode that ends with a little close up of some guy who looks a bit like Vincent Price for some reason lowering his newspaper and staring in Guy & Feste's direction as they head back home for the day after having a chat at some outdoor cafe.

you don't know who this weird guy is until it's later revealed that it was Sinestro. He ALSO used his ring to go incognito and appear human so as not to attract any attention while he "stalks" Guy & Feste for some reason idk I didn't think this far.

---

it kinda adds weight to the act of killing him. but like.. it probably killed Sinestro, too.. to do it. maybe it was an accident..? unintentional… during a fight.. and Sinestro was hiding it. and although Guy reminds him of Abin Sur… he hates Guy because he reminds him of Abin Sur and what he did to him. like a weird sort of "reincarnation" thing?? if that makes sense??

Guy being so angry at Sinestro for what he did feels almost cathartic for Sinestro cuz he knows he deserves it.

---

Sinestro sees occasional visions of his wife and friend begging and pleading for his help that will never come. This fuels his fear to power his ring. he needs fear to wield it. and that is a big fear. the repetitive action of losing his wife and friend and not being able to do anything about it.

---

Miscellaneous:

Soranik Natu was given the Natu surname as she was raised by another family. whether on Ungara or Korugar is undecided, but she does keep it.

Sinestro was unable to continue raising her as he was in no condition to do so, and Arin was.. well. out of the picture.

Sinestro sees Soranik and hears her name and he knows that's his daughter and he feels sick. She looks like her mother, he can see it. There's the underlying fear of what she may think of him and how much she may take after him. He is very aware of the terrible things he has done but he is blinded, in a sense, thinking what he is doing is for the greater good. to protect people..

To protect Soranik.

From a fate that fell upon Arin Sur and many others.

---

Soranik is like a combination of the two. her horns are smaller and so are her ears. she has tiny "tusks" (fangs?) compared to her mom.

but she also has elements similar to her dad.

also I can't help but think about Sinestro saying he wishes for his daughter to not become like him, but to instead become more like her mother. honor her memory. it's a terrible loss for the universe for someone like Arin Sur to no longer be in it..

---

I 100% want there to be a moment in an episode where Sinestro's backstory is revealed. like… his life he had up to when Guy first met him. We get to see just how tragic his backstory is.

There's been some subtle little hints here and there before, like someone from on Oa hearing Guy make a remark about Sinestro's weird earring and they tell him what they know.. how it's actually something very meaningful, a combination of two races and their culture. how it is a show of respect and mourning..

the mourning rituals of both Ungarans and Korugarians came together when Sinestro lost Arin. The piercings worn by those who lost a partner from Korugar.. and the wearing of a specific flora from Ungara..

Sinestro's mournful earring has a unique flora depicted hanging from it. A custom metal made to resemble that flora from Ungara.. to honor the memory of Arin Sur. He wears it always except when bathing or resting, but he keeps it with him ever so close at all times.

Should he lose that earring at all… well…

we might just see Sinestro become a Red Lantern.

---

I do kinda like the idea that Ungara and Korugar are relatively close planets with their own races inhabiting them. and because of this, the two races are uniquely compatible, genetically speaking, which leads to how Soranik Natu was born at all when Thaal Sinestro got with Abin Sur's sister, Arin Sur. Sinestro & Arin were the first ones to discover this.

Also, Ungarans are taller than Korugarians. Soranik stands a little taller than Sinestro.

Sinestro is 5'5" (average)

Soranik is 5'9"

Arin & Abin Sur: 6'6" 6'8" (average)

---

(Warning for alien physiology talk & humor)

what if Sinestro has never seen a human before and the first time he sees Guy shirtless in the Oa locker room he notices Guy only has 2 n1ps and Sinestro is like:

"Only 2? However will you feed all your young? Surely they should starve with such a lack of bodily provisions."

And Guy stands there extremely confused. Asks him what in the ever-loving heck he's talking about. Sinestro responds by merely removing his own clothes and presents his 8 n1ps.

Guy is understandably disturbed by the implications now registering in his mind.

If Guy ever mentions pregnancy, Sinestro responds "The women carry the young and the men provide for the young. ..What does your kind do? Don't tell me the women do all the work and that you're utterly useless? You humans are quite the odd creature."

Guy is very much offended.

[canmom]

you must have this many dead friends to ride

it's TDOR (well, it was). unable to sleep, i read through all the deaths reported in the 2022-23 trans murder report (a year out of date, I don't think they've released this year's one yet.)

I'm not quite sure why i felt i should do this. if it's a gesture for the victims... well, if someone murders me one day, i don't think it will mean much one way or another if someone in faraway country reads a brief two sentence report that a 30-35 year old trans woman with 'other' occupation was found tied up with burn marks or something. nevertheless, it is the time of year for this ritual.

most of the deaths are reported in central and south american countries, largely due to reporting bias, though there's more reporting now from countries like India and Pakistan - almost nothing from east asia though, probably due to language barriers. it's hard to draw much of a conclusion about anything since many of the reports don't say much, the stats are subject to extreme sampling bias, etc etc. but the general types of story are: "her partner murdered her", "she was killed by gunmen on the street/in her house", "there was an argument and the other person decided to kill her over it", "the mob killed her for extortion reasons", 'her body was found in some awful condition", "the cops killed her" (including Tortugita, who they shot 57 times at the 'cop city' protest), and of course good old "explicitly anti trans hate crime" (which covers Brianna Ghey, the one death from my country, and several from the US).

my murdered sisters are in most cases very young. younger than me.

the statistician in my brain wants me to acknowledge that i don't know the degree that trans women are specifically subject to murder for being trans women or by abusive partners etc, and how much it's "just" about being poor and racialised and living in a place where paramilitaries, gangs etc routinely murder people. sex work is a dangerous line of work for many reasons, but it's also going to be the case that a lot of us are sex workers so even if we were all equally likely to be murdered, a huge number of the dead would be sex workers, just as many of them were beauticians.

but honestly, even bearing that in mind, a whole lot of sex workers were killed.

there is something particularly ghoulish in talking so drily about death statistics; the website uses the painful phrase 'concerning trend' in regards to the demographics of people killed (overwhelmingly trans women, sex workers and not white), as if a perfectly proportional series of murders would be less 'concerning' somehow, but what exactly are you supposed to say? it is of course a window into who a society is comfortable getting rid of, but we already knew that. there's a reason that a sex worker is the go-to plot-inciting murder victim in fiction.

collating death reports like this... in part it is done as a matter of political advocacy, saying 'look, we are being murdered by the hundreds [multiplied by some nebulous but significant underreporting factor]'. but of course, if that's our goal, we are holding our deaths up against, for example, the tens of, likely hundreds of thousands of people killed by violence in Gaza, Sudan and Ukraine in the last year - events which have already divided the world into people who can't stop it, and people who can but don't care to. and what do we want done about it? to beg the state to come down and apply its monopoly on violence more stringently? often the police are the ones killing trans women.

so what remains is ritual. we light candles, and read out the names of strangers who nevertheless have this one important thing in common with us, the ~global community~ of trannies and such - this was a person who refused to take the awful role they were given, asserted their own will to change their body, managed to live a life at least partly on their own terms, and then got killed over it.

but we don't have time to tell the life story, no time to describe the mess of relationships and aspirations that drive a life; there is no time to imagine what feelings we shared, what they enjoyed, what stories we might have laughed about if we'd known each other...

we have time for 'found dead in a car'.

if that.

in my country, we face a very different threat distribution - i don't really expect anyone i know to get murdered (though it's not impossible, there are people I'm close to who have been viciously attacked and there was little to do to stop the attacker coming back), but I'm sure Fall won't be the last of my friends to die by suicide. if we are 'fighting like hell for the living', our project here is more about trying to build lives that are worth living for, and weathering whatever fashy deluge is coming down the political pipes. what does fighting like hell even mean here? i think i used to think i knew.

but this night at least, I'm remembering my friend Fall, who we lost back in 2022. I made this page about her, and the feelings that came up from her death, with writing from friends who knew her better than me. I'd be grateful if you read it and helped some part of her memory live on. (apparently they wrote a little memorial for her in the recent translation of Shōnen Note: Boy Soprano which she worked on.)

I never got to ask what Fall thought of all these TDoR rituals - it's one of many things I didn't get to talk to her about and I bet she'd give me something unexpected to think about, formed some ingenious connection. or maybe she didn't think much of it! but it's as good a reason to think of her as any. she was awesome, she should have been given a much better hand by this world, and it is more shit for not having her in it.

I bet the friends of any of the 321 people on that list, and everyone on this year's list, would be able to say something pretty similar.

entropy always gets its way. but I'll hold onto what I can of her, my fragment of her ghost, for as long as we can. i guess that's the point of the ritual. hold onto our ghosts. tell each other that, one day, they'll stop accumulating so fast.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

2 Minus 1 - Act Three

Seungcheol is doing good without you. Really good, in fact! He’s got a great job, has his own apartment, and has many friends surrounding him. He’s even done some dating in the three years that you’ve been gone. On some blissful days, you don’t even cross his mind. But when you reappear in his life, he has to come to terms with the fact that he might not be doing as good as he thought he was. 

Genres: ANGST with a little bit of fluff here and there. One suggestive scene (minors, use caution). 

Word count: 7.7k

Requested? Yes!

You can find the series masterlist here.

Minghao’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party. Seungcheol seemed to have found out last because it’s you that asks him if he’s going when you both step out for lunch a couple days before. Instead of going back to his office, he stops into his team’s office, hanging over Minghao’s cubicle wall. “When were you going to tell me you were throwing a New Year’s Eve party? Is this your way of telling me I’m not invited?”

“Huh?” Minghao mumbles, still typing up something. “Oh, yeah. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing. Didn’t get a chance to send a message about it yet.” Seungcheol sort of accepts this answer because things have been pretty busy around here in preparation for the new year. New budget means new plans and new goals, along with a renewed push from leadership to break records. There’s been a lot of pressure to start out the year on the right foot. 

Still, Seungcheol pouts a bit. “And Y/N knew before I did?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran into her in the elevator yesterday and mentioned it. Stop being a big baby,” Minghao says, totally unsympathetic. 

“Y/N is coming?” Chan pipes up from his cubicle, sounding excited. He rolls his chair into the aisle, running into Seungkwan when he does the same thing. They both groan and start pushing each other. The rest of them ignore the scuffle.

“Yes,” Minghao says shortly, turning to Seungcheol. “I assume you’ll be there since you’re attached to her hip.”

He doesn’t miss the sly look that all four of his friends give him at the mention. “Not sure what that’s supposed to mean. I thought you wanted me to get along with her.”

“As just a friend?” Vernon poses. 

Seungcheol stalls out for a second, blinking. “Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s a good thing, I guess. She asked if I minded if she brings a friend of hers. Someone from law school, or something. He’s in town for the holidays,” Minghao explains and Seungcheol can see clear as day that this is bait. Still, he can’t seem to help how his jaw clenches. 

“Did she happen to mention his name?”

“Jeonghan, something or other. It’s a law school friend, you wouldn’t know him right?” 

He knows they’re continuing to bait him. She’s a friend and this is a person he doesn’t know, so what’s the big deal? Seungcheol can’t help the curse he mutters. “No, I know Jeonghan. He’s from here, we went to school with him. And they dated while they were in California, apparently.”

An ‘oooo’ echoes throughout the office, then a cackle or two. They all look like they need bags of popcorn with how entertained they look at his suffering. “Oh no,” Seungkwan cries out in faux sympathy. “Cheol, what are you going to do? Her exboyfriend came all the way here to see her.”

“He didn’t come here just to see her,” Seungcheol defends, fists tightening on the wall of Minghao’s cubicle. “I just said he’s from here. He’s here to see family first, surely.”

“And run to see his ex before he goes back home? Maybe get a New Year’s Kiss from her?” Chan wiggles an eyebrow. The thought makes Seungcheol’s blood boil. He’d intentionally avoided spending much time thinking about you with Jeonghan. He knew you had kind of made the poor guy’s dreams come true by dating him. 

“Oh my god, look how red he’s getting,” Seungkwan chortles. 

Minghao turns to give them a warning look, though he sort of looks entertained too. He glances back to Seungcheol. “Don't pop a vein. You look pretty jealous for someone that fell apart when he found out she worked here.”

“I’m not jealous,” he insists stubbornly. Not a single one of them buy it and he huffs. “Get back to work. We have things due at the end of the day.”

He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous! It becomes his mantra the whole afternoon as he tries to get through his to-do list.

~

He is not jealous. He is not jealous. He is not jealous!

He chants it to himself in his head when he knocks on your door. Jeonghan opens the door with a wide grin. “Hey, Seungcheol. It’s been a while,” he says letting him in. Seungcheol had always liked Jeonghan in high school. He was funny, a little bit of a troublemaker, but also seemed to be incredibly intelligent, judging by how he was always in the running for top of the class. He tries to be warm, but Jeonghan looks far too comfortable in your apartment. He wonders if Jeonghan stayed here for a couple days while in town. He wonders where he slept - was it the guest bedroom or somewhere else?

“Yeah, it has. How have you been?” He sits with Jeonghan in the living room, doing small talk. They’re interrupted by a yell from the hallway. 

“Hannie, who are you talking to?” 

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan shouts back. 

“Oh!” You shout. “Hi Cheol. I promise I’m almost ready.”

“Yeah right,” Jeonghan mumbles. “I’ve never seen her be ready on time.”

This does make Seungcheol snort. “Never.”

Jeonghan gives him a curious look. “How are things going there? Between you two, I mean. She was pretty anxious about running into you.”

The question gives Seungcheol pause for so many reasons. So many, in fact that it makes him shake his head confused. “You want to hear how things are going with your ex?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, entertained. “Yes. Do you want to hear how things are going with your ex?” That question makes him grit his teeth and Jeonghan spots it, chuckling. “Yeah, that tracks. But yes, I want to know that things are going well between you two, no matter what it’s defined as.”

Seungcheol’s jaw is tight. “We’re fine. We always will be.”

He hates how Jeonghan leans back, feet propped up on your coffee table, sipping his drink like he owns the place. Like he has Seungcheol right where he wants him. “Uh huh. So no plans to rekindle anything then? Just going back to friends?” 

“Yes,” Seungcheol grinds out. “Have you always been this nosy?”

Jeonghan laughs. “Maybe not, but I’m invested when it comes to Y/N. The consequences of dating for a few years, I suppose.”

Seungcheol’s breath catches. When you said you had dated Jeonghan for a while, he was picturing a few months, not years. He doesn’t know why you didn’t just tell him the actual timeframe, but then he thinks better of it. If he’s not handling it well now, then he wouldn’t have handled it well a while back either.

Finally, Seungcheol decides he sort of hates Jeonghan - not him as a person necessarily, but because you sort of made a home with him in California for three years. Enough for Jeonghan to come see you when he’s in town. He wishes there was even a tinge of bitterness between you and Jeonghan post breakup.

“So, what? You've come to visit and get back together?” He can’t really hide his own bitterness. “How’s that going to work when you both live across the world from each other?”

Jeonghan shrugs casually. “Distance wouldn't be an issue for me personally, but I’m actually looking for jobs here.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply because he’s spiraling a bit and you’re rushing into the room, dressed to the nines and it’s all so distracting. “I’m ready! Let’s go!” You yell, shoving your feet in heels and grabbing a coat while Seungcheol and Jeonghan trail behind you. You chatter enough for everyone on the way to Minghao’s and when he leads you both into his friend’s apartment, he goes straight to the alcohol. He feels sick to his stomach before the first sip, but he needs the distraction from thinking about Jeonghan moving back and moving in with you next door and having to see you two together all the time. 

He’d have to move and probably quit his job. And maybe leave the face of the earth.

~

Jeonghan knows quite a few people here tonight, but he still stays glued to you. It’s nice, really. You’ve settled in and have gotten comfortable with the way things are since moving back, but Jeonghan is an extra slice of familiarity that comforts you, if only for a couple days before he has to fly back. 

It’s not like you two haven’t talked nearly every week since you moved, but there are so many things that you both seem to want to talk about now that you’re face to face. You missed him, and you missed Joshua, who you can get decent updates on now that Jeonghan is in front of you. Joshua has scheduled to take the bar exam and has been studying night and day, ignoring pretty much everyone since graduation. Jeonghan says he pops in every few days to get him to come up for air. 

You’ve told him about your job, which you feel pretty neutral about it. Like Seungcheol, Jeonghan assures you that it’s okay to just have a job now and not a career, and that the degree wasn’t wasted if you don’t take the bar and practice law. He even discourages it because even though he hasn’t hit the books as hard as Joshua has, he says it’s still miserable.

He’s also incredibly nosy about how things are going with Seungcheol. When you told him about your first run in and subsequent birthday parties, he’d chuckled and told you it was only a matter of time. You can’t share mutual friends for your whole lives and never see each other. But he flat out cackled when you told him that you’d unknowingly accepted a job at the same company that he worked for. Jeonghan reveals that he knew that all along and you wished you could strangle him through the screen. You even threaten to get on a plane to do it in person. He just rolled his eyes and said, “What? You don’t check LinkedIn from time to time? I knew the company you accepted the role from sounded familiar so I checked.” He was still more entertained when you told him who your new neighbor was and made some joke about fate.

In the present, Jeonghan’s grinning over his glass at you in the corner of the room. “Someone hates me, I think. I’m getting a death glare.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like it’s hard to hate you?” He shoves you lightly. “But who?”

Jeonghan snorts. “Who do you think? The most jealous person I think I’ve ever met.” He gestures across the room and it’s not hard to figure out who he’s talking about. Seungcheol looks pissed, but you’re confused because for the life of you you can’t figure out why he’d be pissed at you or Jeonghan. You thought things were good between you and Seungcheol now, especially after he said he didn’t hate you on Christmas just a week ago. He really looks like that could have been a lie right now.

“But why? He’s not entertained anything more than friendship, and even then that was like pulling teeth at first,” you sigh, looking down into your glass.

Jeonghan sighs lovingly. “Oh, honey. I love you so much, you know that, right?” You nod when it seems he actually wants an answer. “But sometimes, you’re incredibly dense. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”

Your eyes widen, hair standing on end. This doesn’t sound like a ‘spilled coffee on your laptop but here take mine’ kind of fix. The look on his face makes you nervous. “What are you planning, Yoon Jeonghan?”

He looks mildly entertained at your threatening tone before turning serious. “Do you trust me?” You stare up at him, blinking. “I need an answer to that. I can fix this but it might get worse before it gets better.”

“Define ‘fix’. And what are you fixing exactly?” You press.

“You and Seungcheol. It’s time to do something about this, but my methods might be unorthodox and you need to roll with it if it will work.”

Jeonghan has never led you astray and you do trust him implicitly. You glance to Seungcheol, who still looks angry, before looking back up at Jeonghan, huffing. “What did you have in mind?”

Minghao is coming around with flutes of champagne. The ball drop is queued up on the TV with the countdown ticking. You both take glasses from Minghao, setting your other ones to the side. “I promise it will be okay,” Jeonghan says evasively. It makes your anxiety spike.

“Hannie, please tell me what you’re planning.”

People are starting to countdown and he has to lean in close to your ear so you can hear him. “I’m going to help you make him jealous.”

You blanch, pulling away from him to give him a look. “What?!”

He’s pulling you back to him, hand now on the small of your back. “Just trust me. He’s holding back right now, but once all of that anger comes out I think he’ll be more upfront about his feelings. Namely that he’s not over you. You want that, don’t you?”

You think fast in seconds. You don’t like the pressure of the countdown. You do want to rekindle things with Seungcheol if he’d ever let you. You’d never really wanted it to end in the first place but it seemed inevitable at the time. And now he’s been a lock box for pretty much everything that isn’t professional as coworkers or casual as friends. He treats you like he wasn’t your best friend for years and it stings. He treats you like he wasn’t totally in love with you while dating, just as you were with him, and that stings even more. You want him back. 

The countdown has hit ten and you lean in to Jeonghan’s ear. “You’re sure this will work? How sure?”

“99% sure.”

“Okay, then. Don’t make me hate you.”

Jeonghan chuckles and his lips are on yours when the ball drops. 

~

It becomes apparent at approximately 11am on January 2nd that you should have doubted Jeonghan’s little plan. You have a meeting with Seungcheol's department to wrap up the contract revisions and Mrs. Jang and Seokmin have let you take the lead on it. It becomes clear within the first five minutes of the meeting that you’ve done something wrong.

Or everything wrong, really.

Seungcheol is cold, even flat out rude to you as you present the revisions, explaining the logic behind some of the changes. Nothing is good enough and he’s brutal about correcting your work in front of everyone. Minghao tries to delicately step in and get you back on track on some of the things you’ve done, but if he disagrees with the things he doesn’t speak up on, he doesn’t say so. Everyone’s uncomfortable and you close out the meeting as smoothly as possible, letting them know that you’ll make the revisions they mentioned and send out an updated version later today for review. 

In the elevator, Mrs. Jang kindly says that you did well and you’ll get better with those little things with time. You’re thankful that she’s not disappointed or upset with some of the mistakes you’ve made, and that she’s giving you grace to fix it. But still, you’re itching to go somewhere and cry because Seungcheol’s never treated you like that.

Seokmin seems to sense it because he’s handing you your coat as soon as you get back into your shared office. “Let’s go for a long lunch.” He doesn’t really leave room for an argument, and even threatens to go into the women’s restroom to get you if you take too long on your way out of the building. He promises he'll close the office door later this afternoon if you still wanted to cry.

At the restraurant down the street, he orders food before sitting back and sighing. “That was rough. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty fucking fragile,” you bite, trying to blink back your tears. You do not want to cry in this restaurant right now. You’re almost angry at how emotional of a reaction you’re having.

Seokmin looks sympathetic. “I’ll say. That must be the ‘unpleasantness’ some people alluded to before. What even prompted that? I thought things were going well there.”

You put your head in your hands, sighing. “My stupidity prompted it.” 

“What? What could you have possibly done to deserve that?” Seokmin cries out. You explain everything - Jeonghan, and your relationship back in California, and his bright idea on New Year’s. Seokmin hums, nodding his head with a deep sigh. “Okay, yeah. That might have been stupid.”

You groan, interrupted by the waiter bringing you and Seokmin your food. “It made sense at the time. And it’s not like Jeonghan doesn’t know Seungcheol. They might not have been super close, but Jeonghan’s usually pretty good at reading people and I trusted his assumption.”

“Eat,” Seokmin nudges, handing you chopsticks. “And his assumption was what? That Seungcheol would snap and confess his feelings?”

“Something like that,” you answer weakly. “Seems like it backfired. Yet another thing I’ve ruined.”

“Nuh uh,” Seokmin says automatically, waving his chopsticks at you. “Stop saying you ruin things. Ruining implies you can’t fix it.”

“And you think I can fix this? This felt pretty far gone before I made this most recent bad decision.”

Seokmin’s insistent though. “Going to law school abroad wasn’t a bad decision. Did it hurt? Probably. But stop acting like doing something for yourself ruins everything.” He pops a bite of chicken into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “Besides, I’m not doubting your trust in Jeonghan’s theory. Some people respond to jealousy… It just seems like it will get worse before it ever gets better.”

You play with your food, moving it around on the plate. “Yeah, Jeonghan said something like that. I just expected some silent treatment or something. Not to be berated in a work meeting.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s hearing about that as we speak.” You give Seokmin a look and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “His team loves you. They did not look happy about his behavior. Not sure it will change anything, but this does seem like a problem between you and Seungcheol, rather than a problem with your work itself. I’ve made the same mistakes you did.”

You groan. “And to think he’s my neighbor. I can’t even escape it at home.”

Seokmin’s choking on his food. “He’s your neighbor?!” 

“Oh,” you start. “Yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

When he’s no longer choking, he shakes his head. “That’s it, you’re paying this time. I know it was my turn and I was going to be nice because you’ve had a rough morning, but you better have your wallet ready because I’m ordering egg rolls to go.”

You get scolded all afternoon about keeping secrets from your only favorite office mate.

~

Seungcheol huffs from behind his monitor. He’s sent a message in the team group chat and it’s starting to look like he’s talking to himself as he scrolls through the recent chat history. He sends something, be it a task or a request for a status update, and he gets the shortest responses possible. Usually a thumbs up emoji, but sometimes a short answer if an explanation is required. Sometimes, it’s nothing at all. They’re doing the work, but it’s clear they’re mad. They have been since earlier this week. 

Seungcheol isn’t proud of himself for how he handled that meeting with you earlier this week. He didn’t stick around afterwards because he could tell his team was disappointed. But they usually aren’t shy about telling him their problems, even with him. The silence is deafening and he knows he’s fucked up.

Minghao comes in to drop off a stack of papers and looks like he’s trying to exit quickly, but Seungcheol stops him. “What’s this?” 

Minghao spins in the doorway. “Financials for last quarter. I need your signature on it before I can ship it off to Budgets.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbles. “I’ll just do it right now.” He grabs a pen and starts skimming, but Minghao cuts him off.

“Actually, do it later. I’m not ready to be berated for my work right now.”

Seungcheol pauses and purses his lips, placing the report and the pen back down. “Why would I do that? Your work is usually flawless. That’s why you’re the team lead.”

“I don’t know,” Minghao drawls coldly. “You can be pretty brutal it seems.” 

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. “Is that why you guys have been dodging me all week?” To his credit, Minghao doesn’t deny it and that’s answer enough. Seungcheol sighs. “Was it that bad?”

“Bad? I’m sure she ran off to cry after the meeting. I think even I would have had an emotional reaction,” Minghao says bluntly. The knife twists in Seungcheol’s chest. He was so angry, and still is, that he hadn’t been thinking about your reaction. Minghao’s sighing, coming back in to sit down. “I thought you could be civil. What the hell happened to that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol mumbles. He certainly does know, but he’s not brave enough to say it, lest he piss off his friends even more.

Still, Minghao scoffs. “Look. I saw her and Jeonghan on New Year’s. It really is okay if you just admit that you’re jealous. I’d even sympathize with you on it. You bottling things up is 90% of the problem here.”

Stubbornly, Seungcheol shakes his head. He doesn’t know why the word ‘jealous’ made him flip a switch so fast, but he’s back to being angry. “I’m not jealous. I did what you said and I tried to salvage some sort of friendship, but it’s hard to watch your ex with someone else. That’s not jealousy though. That’s me trying to accept the fact that things are different.”

“And your acceptance of these changes means ripping her apart in a professional setting?” Seungcheol doesn’t really have a response. No matter how he felt in the moment, he was embarrassed that he acted so unprofessionally. Minghao shakes his head. “I told you up front, you should just tell her you’re angry. Admit it and you’ll feel a lot lighter.”

“Why would she want to hear about that? I mean, who knows what’s going on with her and Jeonghan? He said he’s looking for jobs here.”

“And none of that might matter if you just admit how you feel,” Minghao insists. Seungcheol’s phone rings and Minghao stands up. “Take it. I’ve said all I can say now.”

~

It’s Saturday morning and your phone has gone off no less than ten times since 8am. You know who it is but you’ve been letting it ring. But after you’re ripped from sleep for the eleventh time, you’re starting to lose patience. You switch off the sound, turning on vibration. But the buzzing across your nightstand is just as obnoxious and by the thirteenth call, you’re snatching up your phone. “What?” You snap.

“Oh, so you aren’t dead!” Jeonghan cheers. 

“Nope, not dead. Just mad,” you bite, burying yourself back into the covers. 

“Uh huh, I kind of figured that out when you ignored everything I sent the whole week,” Jeonghan smarts. “Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it?”

You snort. “No, I will not let you fix anything else for a while.”

“Ah,” Jeonghan’s voice lifts and it irritates you. “Well I did tell you it could get worse before it gets better.” You’re silent, and his voice turns gentle. “Come on. Tell Hannie about it.”

“No. You need to be going to bed,” you insist, thinking of the time difference. Mad as you are, he needs his sleep.

“And I haven’t been able to do much of that, what with my best friend ignoring me. Now, help me so I can help you.”

You sigh. “Hold on. Let me get coffee and switch to FaceTime.” Once dressed with a coffee mug in hand in front of your computer, you rant. It feels never ending and it brings you to tears. All of the frustration of the last week, and really the last few months of living here, are boiling over and you feel like you could sob. 

To his credit, Jeonghan looks sympathetic. He usually prevents these crying jags before they start, but he can’t really do that oceans away. “I’m sorry, honey. I did say it could get worse before it gets better, but I was genuinely hoping it would never get that bad. I kind of just wanted him to spit it out, you know?” He sighs, watching you rub your watery eyes. “Have you seen or talked to him since then?”

You scoff. “No. Thankfully, there haven’t been any more meetings and I’ve managed to avoid him at home too. I’ve been going in early and staying late, if only so he doesn’t feel compelled to give me a ride or anything.” You snort at the thought. “Not that he would do that right now, I think.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Jeonghan trails off. “You know, you could just ask what his deal is? At least, he wouldn’t be holding back because he thinks you don’t want to hear it.” He hesitates for a beat. “You do want to hear it, right?”

You sigh, swirling your now-cold coffee. “I don’t know. Who knows what he might have to say? Maybe it’s better if we just stick to being coworkers. Maybe we can manage that one day.”

“I’m sure,” Jeonghan says confidently. “But don’t be shy about clearing the air for everything else if he gives an opening. You’ll both feel better for it, I think.” Then he’s holding up his phone. “Now, play me back in Words with Friends. Our game is about to expire! You can’t ignore me like this!”

~

The following week, Seungcheol stays late to wrap up some things. It’s 7pm before he finally stands to stretch, grabbing his coat and logging out of his computer. He looks at his phone on the way to the elevator and mumbles a curse. He’s got multiple notifications about a winter storm that’s rolling in, well, right now. He’s relieved he drove today, but it seems it doesn’t matter because road conditions seem to be a problem at the rate that the snow is coming down. 

He steps into the elevator when it arrives and presses for the first floor, going back to his phone. He’s surprised when the elevator stops almost immediately on the tenth floor. He bites back a sigh when it’s you of all people waiting for it. You look like you might back away and not get in the elevator with him, but he waves you in impatiently. You come in, finding the opposite corner in silence. It’s crushing and uncomfortable. 

On the first floor, he lets you step out first and even gets the door for you at the main exit. Outside, he’s ready to hustle to the parking garage because he had every reason to be concerned about the road conditions and doesn't want to dally. But you haven’t moved and it makes him bite back a curse. He doesn’t want to offer you a ride but it would be beyond rude not too. Plus, if Wonwoo or Mingyu knew he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it. 

Seungcheol huffs irritably. “Come on.” You give him a confused look. “You’re not walking home. Come on before I change my mind.”

The only indication that you follow is the soft click of your heels behind him up into the parking garage. You don’t say anything as you climb into the passenger seat of his car, placing your bag in the floor. Seungcheol blasts the heat and pulls out of the space. The street is slick and he white knuckles it the whole way home as he drives around a number of accidents. You’re still silent, up until he pulls into his reserved spot in the parking garage at home. 

“Thank you,” you mumble softly. 

Seungcheol is tired in every sense of the word - mentally, physically, emotionally. So he mumbles back, “For what?” He rubs his eyes during the beat of silence that you let pass.

“For the ride. For making sure we got home safe.”

He’s exhausted by your constant thanks lately. ‘Thanks for asking.’ ‘Thanks for the help.’ ‘Thanks for the ride.’ It’d never occurred to him that you didn’t say it much before, but now it drives him up the wall that you do say it. “Why wouldn’t I do that?” He huffs tiredly. 

You hesitate again. “Because you hate me. It seems like it, anyway. You’re a good person for doing those things even if you feel that way, Cheol.”

His blood his boiling through the exhaustion and it occurs to him that this is a perfect opportunity to unload like Minghao has been encouraging him to do for months, so he does. His hand falls from his face, landing in his lap with a hard slap. He snaps his head to you sharply. “You know, yeah. I do hate you.” He watches how your perfectly guarded expression falls, but he’s on a roll already. “I do hate you. You make yourself a fixture in my life for over two decades. You let me in after I pined for you for years. You show me what it’s like to be loved by you. And then you rip it all away and move across the world like it all meant nothing.” His elbow lands on the door frame so he can lean into his hand in frustration. “And then you waltz back in like it’s no big deal and I can’t seem to get rid of you now because you’re everywhere. If I don’t see you at work or at home or with family and friends, I still hear about you. And I was doing good without any of that! I was happy again after you ripped my fucking heart out, and now I have to see you every goddamn day. So yeah. I do hate you.”

A thing about you that he should have remembered is that you have a temper to match his. You look livid now. “First of all, Choi Seungcheol, you act like you pined alone all that time. You know you didn’t. And you’re apparently still bitter that I did something for myself for once, rather than for you. I bent over backwards for everyone for years - taking care of my brothers and Mingyu, trying to be the perfect eldest daughter for my parents, and feeding your massive fucking ego. I needed to go explore that opportunity for myself for once but you didn’t have to leave my life because of it. The phone works both ways, asshole. I may have physically left, but you’re the one that ended all communication in the first place. Second of all, I didn’t come back for you! At least, not entirely! It’s not all about you! So you can keep being happy and pretend that I don’t exist if that’s what you prefer. Because I hate you too. I hate that I still want you even though I don’t even recognize you anymore sometimes.” 

Seungcheol scoffs heatedly. “Yeah, you wanted me enough to move on to Jeonghan as soon as you got to California. And you really wanted me on New Year’s while you were making out with him in the corner. Tell me, why did you even bother breaking up with him? Or is that just what you do? You seem rather good at it, two for two. And he’s still clinging on to your every word even though you left him, but that won’t be me.”

Your jaw drops briefly before you snap it back up sharply, eyes fiery. “You know what? Jeonghan was wrong about you. He’s been encouraging me this whole time to find a way to fix things with you, but I won’t be doing that anymore. You can watch me leave all over again.” You swing the car door open, lucky that there’s no car next to you to ding up, and slam it closed hard, marching into the apartment building. Seungcheol sits in the car for who knows how long until he realizes he shouldn’t let the car run inside the parking garage like this. He wanders into his own apartment and doesn’t see or hear from you the rest of the night. 

~

The snow comes down hard throughout the night and the city can barely keep up with it. Leadership in the office send out an email blast early the next day after your fight with Seungcheol saying that the offices will be closed. You enjoy the day off by going back to sleep to try to mend your broken heart. Around noon, you take a long shower and pile up on the couch with some hot chocolate to watch TV. As luck, or the lack of rather, would have it, the power cuts off within the first episode.

You curse out loud, clumsily dropping your mug onto the coffee table. It’s still bright out given that it’s midday, but the dark corners of your apartment unnerve you. You feel childish for it, but you don’t like the dark. It’s something you’ve never grown out of. Even in your mid to late twenties, you still like to sleep with the TV on at night if only to chase away the bad dreams. 

You think about who to call. It’s not a problem right now while it’s still light out, but if the power is still out when it’s dark out, you’ll be one big ball of anxiety. But you think better of calling anyone. You need to save your phone battery and you don’t want anyone out on the road to come and get you. Not your parents. Not Wonwoo or Mingyu. None of your other friends. Seungcheol has about twenty feet to travel, but reaching out to him is out of the question and it wouldn’t matter anyway because his apartment is just as dark as yours. You take some medicine that you rarely have to touch for anxiety anymore and plop down on the couch next to the window with a book to try to pass the time. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. 

It’s somewhere around 5:30pm when the light is beginning to dwindle. You’re trying to get through this last chapter when there’s a knock on your door. It startles you because the silence had your ears ringing all day, and you put your hand to your chest, book forgotten. Hesitantly, you stand up and go to the door, looking through the peep hole. However, it’s dark in the hall because there are no windows (not that they would have helped much now). 

“Who is it?” You call out, checking the lock. 

“It’s me,” a masculine voice says from the other side. You want to beat your head against the door because the voice is unmistakable. 

“Go away, Seungcheol. I’m fine,” you call out.

“Prove it,” he challenges. He knows he’s won by challenging you like that, but he has the good sense to not look overly pleased by it when you do open the door. In the dim light, he actually looks concerned. “I called and texted to check on you.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Well, I’m fine. Just reading.” Never mind that you had no idea he reached out.

“Well, your reading session is limited with the daylight fading. So get some stuff and come over to mine,” he says impatiently. 

You blanch. “Uh, why would I do that? You hate me, remember?”

In the darkness, you see him squeeze his eyes shut, looking frustrated. “Come on, Y/N. I’m trying to do something nice here,” he nearly begs. “You don’t like the dark, but at least you don’t have to be here alone. Plus, I got food and have some portable chargers for our phones.” 

“I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore,” you bite. You’re aware that you might be acting like a bit of a bitch, especially since he’s extending some kind of olive branch in the moment, but you’re still incredibly bitter about how the conversation last night ended. 

Seungcheol huffs, impatience bleeding out of him. “Y/N, that was me asking nicely. I’ll just throw you over my shoulder. You know that. Don’t test me.”

You know his threat is real, but you don’t budge. “When did you become so fucking hot and cold?” You hiss. “You hate me, and now you aren’t accepting no for an answer. Pick a lane, Seungcheol.”

“And you have yet to tell me no. You’ve just sassed, throwing things I said yesterday back in my face. So what will it be?” He snaps. 

“I don’t understand you!” You groan. “You are so fucking frustrating, Choi Seungcheol.”

He hums, looking resigned. “So be it.” Then he’s barreling into the doorway, scooping you up over his shoulder. He grabs your phone off the coffee table, stuffing it in his pocket, grabbing your keys off the hook to lock the door behind you both on the way out. What little kicking and screaming you do is over fast because you know him better than to think it will work. Your arms stay crossed when he puts you back on the ground inside his own apartment, totally unfazed by your glare. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says, handing you your phone. 

He walks farther into the apartment and you whirl around to bite back at him, but you’re surprised at the sight in the living room. Candles are lit all over the room. He does have dinner - bags of takeout that are still steaming on the coffee table. And there are many blankets on the couch. The portable chargers he mentioned are also on the coffee table, along with a few different cords. It’s… cozy, like you two are having a sleepover, something you’ve done more times than you can count. 

Seungcheol’s sitting on the couch now, splitting the takeout boxes up. He puts a few boxes in front of the spot next to him along with some chopsticks. “Broccoli beef. Come on.”

He doesn’t ask if it’s still your favorite, and your stomach grumbles loudly, so you sigh, joining him on the couch in silence. You both eat and nearly an hour passes before either of you say anything. 

You’re leaning back into the corner of the couch with one of the blankets up to your neck, staring at the wall ahead. “I don’t get you,” you mumble.

“I know,” he says softly, lacking any heat. It makes you tear up and you feel stupid for it. Still, you sniffle and you know he knows what it means. But he stays planted on his corner of the couch, matching your pose.

“I feel like I’ll never be able to get it right with you now. Not as coworkers. Not as friends. Not as anything more,” you mumble. “I don’t even know which one I’m supposed to try to get right, but I feel like I’ll always ruin everything anyway.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a long time and you almost forget you’re carrying a conversation until he speaks up again. “I don’t hate you. I should have never said that. What I meant is that sometimes I wish I did. I feel like I’m 22 all over again, getting my heart ripped out when you’re around.” You feel your chin tremble a bit at his words. “I shouldn’t have made that your problem though. Not the way I have lately anyway.”

“You know I didn’t leave without any guilt, right? Because I was drowning in it for a long time. I'm sorry for how I left things.” 

“I know,” Seungcheol whispers, sitting up to look at you. You sit up, matching his pose. “You were right last night. You needed to go to do something for yourself for once. I’m sorry my ego got in the way. I was thinking about the loss that I was about to experience and I was selfish.”

You take a deep breath, never really expecting to get an apology of any sort from him. “You had every right to be upset. I just… wanted you to be happy for me. Someday, anyway.”

“And I am,” he says solidly. “I am happy for you. That you went to the program that you wanted. That you moved back. That you might fix things with Jeonghan. I really am.”

You can’t help but give him a quizzical look. “Jeonghan? What does he have to do with this?”

Seungcheol gives you a matching quizzical look. “I… was under the impression that you guys might be getting back together. After New Year’s and all.”

You chuckle, putting your hands over your face. “Oh, yeah. That.”

“Have I misunderstood?” Seungcheol asks, confusion obvious.

“No, I guess that was the entire point. I’m not proud of it at all, but Jeonghan seemed to think that it would rile you up.” Seungcheol looks irritated even in the darkness, so you tack on an honest apology. 

“So you wanted me to be jealous?” He grinds out.

“No,” you quickly say. “I just wanted anything from you, honestly. There were a lot of things unspoken between us and I didn’t know how to get them out into the open.”

Seungcheol crooks his finger at you and you’re really helpless to not follow the instruction. You push off your blanket and sit on the cushion next to him. His finger finds your chin, holding it gently. “Well, it worked. I was jealous. Still am.” 

“Oh?” You mumble, wide eyed. There’s something about his intensity that makes you feel both shy and excited at the same time. He was somewhat possessive in the past, and it’s a little thrilling to know that he still might feel that way about you. 

He’s getting closer, creeping into your space. “I kind of hate him, actually. Wish you’d never given him a chance, because he’ll always rub it in my face.” His hand wanders from your chin, up your cheek, pushing your hair back. The touch is soft and makes you want to fold right away. It’s really totally unfair how much power he has over you. You’re reduced to a little hum in acknowledgement and he continues. “Wish you’d forget about him. I’d make you if you’d let me.”

The words spill out fast. “I’d let you do whatever.”

In the darkness, you can see Seungcheol’s eyes flare before he’s breathing a long sigh. His fingers in your hair tug lightly, pulling your head to the side. He’s crowding you, other hand wrapping around to your back, lips finding your neck delicately. Your hands find his chest, clinging to his hoodie. “I missed you.” 

The words make your eyes well up again, despite how his hand is crawling up the back of your sweatshirt and his lips are trailing up and down to the spots he knows you like. “I missed you too.”

The crack in your voice makes him lift up to meet your eyes. “If we go here again, I need you to be all in like I am. Are you?” You think he might be tearing up too, but you can’t be sure. 

“Yeah, Cheol,” you say, hands crawling up from his chest into his hair. “I’m all in.”

“Oh, thank god,” he groans, slamming his body into yours, lips finding yours. You both fall back onto the couch together and in a lot of ways it feels like you never left.

~

“You’re late.”

Minghao tries to look upset as Seungcheol rushes into the conference room for their team meeting. Luckily, Seungcheol’s supervisor isn’t in this one, just Seungcheol and his team. The others try to match the annoyance, but it doesn’t stick. They haven’t been good about looking annoyed with him in weeks. 

“Sorry, got a late start this morning,” Seungcheol excuses, pulling out his notebook and pen. 

“Date night on a Wednesday?” Seungkwan teases. “Come on, we have things to do. Save it for Friday.”

“No, Friday’s still date night. Who knows what kept him up late last night?” Chan says, though he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Seungcheol throws one of the thin coasters on the table in his direction.

“Let’s keep it professional, please,” Seungcheol says, hoping it comes out as a demand, but he knows it's more of a plea.

“Uh huh. Professional like making out with Y/N in your office in the middle of the day?” Seungkwan bites back. 

“Oh man, that was traumatizing,” Vernon chuckles. 

“He has glass doors, you think he’d be more aware of his surroundings,” Chan tacks on.

They’d known the day that everyone came back after the snow storm that something had changed and they’d refused to leave his office until they found out what it was. Seungcheol shouldn’t have been astonished by it, but they started trading money in front of him when he announced that he was official with you (again). Apparently, his behavior in meetings wasn’t the only bet they’d made. Minghao pocketed a pretty generous amount of money and was once again unfazed at the threat of going to HR. His exact words were, “okay, fire me.”

Seungcheol wouldn’t be doing that. 

But since then, they hadn’t let him breathe about much of anything. He takes two minutes extra for lunch? Must have stopped to see you. Lingers after a meeting? It’s only because you were in that meeting. Running late like today? Must be your fault. 

Still, Seungcheol is flushing about the fact that he was caught with you in his office last week, so he brings the meeting to order. He knows he’s only delaying the inevitable, but he can force them to stay on topic for the hour so he’ll do that. 

You miss each other most of the day between meetings and such, and he meets you at your office door at exactly 5pm, leaning against the door frame. You grin at him, pulling on your coat. “Hi,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. 

He pulls you in for one more. “Hi. Busy day?”

You sigh. “Yeah, what about you? Didn’t see you much.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, I know. I was booked most of the day. But they can’t keep me here anymore,” he insists. 

You giggle, before looking a little pensive. “Are you sure you’re okay with just going home today?”

Seungcheol nods automatically. “Of course. I’m fine with a night in.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, but a pout has settled on your lips that he just has to kiss. 

“Stop. Pouting is my job. But really, I don’t mind. We can always go out another night.”

“If you insist,” you sigh, leading him to the elevators. 

Later that night, he’s got you curled up into his side. You both rarely sleep alone anymore. It’s all too easy to just run to the other’s apartment when it's time for bed, if you weren't together already. He debates on mentioning moving in together to save the money, but it feels too soon, so he bites his tongue. 

“Thank you for the night in,” you mumble sleepily. He’s surprised because he thought you were asleep already, but he presses a kiss to your head. 

“Of course, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

You don’t say it back, but he’ll forgive you because you really are asleep now. He whispers a little ‘I love you’ just for good measure.