#i have no many clips of me staring at death so many times and somehow winging it

[sqwdkllr]

Pikmin 2 is literally everything everyone said it was, it feels like I’m being beaten with a hammer over and over again for simple mistakes I can typically get away with and just expands it so it’s just SO MUCH WORSE

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

--------------------

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[mondaymelon]

RAHHHHHH HIHIHIIIIII MELONNN <33

"i had a good dream that i thought was going to be very silly but then the ending was sad and i woke up and was like WAIT NO IT CANT END LIKE THAT . so i reworked the plot in my head and tried to go back to sleep to continue and fix the dream but wegh it didnt work... SOBS."

STOP WAIT I DO THAT A LOT TOO LIKE its like oh no i dont like this scene BOOM rewind! noooo the story cant end like that TRY AGAIN! ueueueueue thats so sad why didnt it work ueueue sobes with you also. FICTIONAL CHARS APPEARING IN YOUR DREAMS IS SO REAL HELP i rmb once i watched a fan animatic of xiao playing the kazoo n that night i dreamt that he was playing a saxophone which sounded like a kazoo n i was throwing confetti n paper money at him,, i hope he appears in your dreams soon i think it will be a very interesting dream hehe.

ALSO. AKABANE KARMA??? HELLO?????? when is it my turn smh. ...vox... akuma.... his cooking streams were the death of me omfg AND WHAT. HYUNJIN AND BEOMGYU??? WHAT. 😀 that was a very interesting dream CRYING they THREW CEREAL AT YOU ?? i.. i won't ask any further. mhm.

THE HEADBOPPING WITH LIGHTS OFF IS SO REAL HAHAHKJDHFKS but for me it's more like my brother walking in on me aggressively bopping to music and walks straight out :'D fun times!

japanese is a nightmare i tell you. i am quite effectively illiterate in japanese sobs n falls to the ground HAHAHSKLJFHLDSJK why. why does 怪我 and 怪我 mean different things WHY. (one is 'blame me' and one is 'injury') why is 娘 mother and daughter at the same time. why. 日本語話とても難しです。*weary noises* but duolingo is actually p good for building vocab i think !! YIPPEE!!

ok yes questions. im a kaeya [BEEEEEEP] i meant kaeya main. LOL i cant think of other fictional chars atm so i will just say!! fav genshin chars!! kaeya beidou ayato kazuha fischl furina kirara collei childe && uhm uhm i forgot the rest OMG YEAH 呵呵以后不想让任何人知道我们在谈什么就可以用华语🤭 RAHHHH i recently became absolutely obsessed with modern family i think its really funny && animes! uhhhhhh spyxfam! campfire cooking! senko-san! the genius prince! my next life as a villainess! parallel world pharmacy! and i forgot the rest! HAHAHAHA ooh ooh okok adding on!! what are the top 3 items on your bucket list for 2024?

giggles loudly back at you HAHAHKJSKJF i get loads of bye-lingual moments though,, (forgot the word for tissue in all 4 languages but somehow knew it was spelt taschentuch in german) & yeahh i switch a lot w my brothers esp when we wanna say stuff we don't want people understanding (read: parents) && normally it's mandarin with parents + english sometimes!! yippee!!

NAH CAUSE THeRE WERE. TWO KARMAS. SOBBING. DONT ASK ME WHY BUT HE HAD A CLONE AND THEY WERE BOTH ROMANCING (?) ME?? idk. that dream was a blur and i dont remember it anymore UGHSDJK

the vox. the vox one. i remember. so vividly. i was a vtuber and we were playing minecraft and i did something super cool and funny and the next day there were clips about me and i sobbed wtih joy and then i woke up in my hotel and laid there for a solid half hour questioning if that was real and knowing it wasnt but praying it was. sobs.

wAI WAIA RYUU ARE YOU. ARE YOU A KPOP FAN. STARES AT YOU. SHAKES YOUR SHOULDERS VIOLENTLY if you are. fave groups and biases pretty please. i am in love with skz + txt + enhypen. E E E EE. E E JFSDODJkldlkjlajs biases are hyunjin (big surprise) n miho, txt bias is beomgyu (another crazy, wild, surprise!!) and honestly i cant choose with enhypen but im sorta leaning towards ni-ki rn... e e e e

dont be shy ryuu. whats the redacted. :) aaa for me fave characters... wai have i already said this idc uhm uhm xiao + kaveh + gorou + dori + nahida + venti + furina + fischl + oh so many more. ik some people dislike dori but she just wants the mula and honestly girl same LMAO

ooo spy x family is the silliest!! (have you seen buddy daddies).. for me im watching several things at once rn but its the apothecary diaries, the eminence in the shadow, and migi n dali !! these are all still airing rn so im having a silly time

uhhodkoadsfd tbf i dont really have a bucket list... if we're talking abt small goals ig its just to get good grades cause of my asian parents, to improve my art, and to finally bring my smau out of its stalemate cause i havent touched it in months and i feel bad abt it... sjdflkd

help when i talk with my brother about things we dont want our parents to hear we cant speak in mandarin cause they know it so we just replace the first letter of every word with b except for some few select examples

like. "brek babing bot bis bere" is shrek's bathing spot is here and dont even ask me why i wouldnt be able to tell you LMAO

and "b-b-b-b-b-beer" is like how are you or soemthing along those lines. my brain fries every time we attempt to speak in bod (dont ask why we named it that either i cant tell you too my brain is empty) and WOADOJFOS SAME HERE !!! uhalkdf hmm more questions... do you read any manhwa / manhua and if so which. because i NEED MORE MANHWA READERS IN MY FEED PLE. A S E

[spookyagentfmulder]

The fear of death is one of the oldest and most primal fears known to human kind. It stems from the root of all fears, from the greatest unknown ever documented by science, and by faith. What lies beyond life? What awaits us when we draw our final breath? Many claim there is some sort of reward, for a hard existence of suffering and pain. Others claim that the pain continues, moving into eternal torture and damnation. For those who don't choose to believe in a cycle, or anything at all, nothing but the dirt and rot await us once the final neuron fires in our brains.

If you were to ask me, I don't know what I would pick. Somewhere between the hope that there is something that waits for me, and the idea that the cycle begins anew and I continue my quest for knowledge is where I find I've placed my flag. I have seen beyond the line of here and there. I have experienced moments between worlds, and experienced things I cannot truly begin to understand or define. I have touched death already, and I do not doubt that I will touch death many times before I must take my eternal rest.

This was not how I had hoped to greet the reaper once again.

@talentforlying

I found myself trapped, surrounded on all sides by rusting metal and he clear scent of layers upon layers, upon layers of dried and drying blood. Even the very air itself seemed hostile, like it was driving straight into my brain with each pull of breath. I had been running, trying to escape the thing that cornered me against the impossibly high chain link fence that ended my flight. I was afraid.

The very real fear of death made itself known, and I pressed my back against the unbending barrier that sealed my fate as my stomach dropped into my feet. My pistol only had a few remaining bullets left. I was going to die. I knew it was certain and all I was doing was delaying the inevitable.

It's not my time. I bargained, checking the chamber as I could hear the heavy feet and scraping metal of my pursuer. I still have so much left to uncover. There's still so much to be done. So much to say. This can't be the end. I can't die here.

It was this terror, this horror, this gut wrenching realization that drove me to stare dead into the face of that monster. I would not take my death like a coward. I would not submit myself to the defeat of a barrel to the temple. I would take my final breath as I have taken every breath: with a fight. As I pointed my pistol into the unforgiving gaze that drew ever closer I screamed in defiance of what I knew was to come. I yelled a battle cry that I would not go quietly. I would not give in.

My clip was soon emptied. Nothing but clicks remained as the shadow cast itself upon me. Thankfully, it seemed my hunter was merciful, and struck true into the very core of me with a long, piercing blade. It caught on my rib cage, holding me and pinning me aloft against the unmerciful chain behind my back. Like a delicate butterfly held down by a single strait-pin. I was being displayed for the martyr I had always hoped I would be.

Blood spilled from my lips. My brain couldn't even begin to process the pain that surged through every part of me. It ripped, it tore, it slid inside my cavity in a way that I knew there was no coming back from this. I knew that this was it. That I was to die. Held in my makeshift, back alley crucifixion, I allowed myself to finally let go. Beads of tears and blood trickled down my face as breath after struggling breath exited my lungs.

Scully. I'm sorry. I failed you, and now you will be alone in this world.

Even though my life was fading from me, somehow my mind continued to hold. It remained with such clarity that somehow I knew something was wrong. I lifted my head again, thinking somehow that maybe there was a way to survive against all odds. That perhaps there was something in the dark behind the hulking boogieman that twisted its great knife into my flesh. To my surprise, there was.

I knew him. I saw him. Even though my lungs had shut down and the blood had drained from my face, I took in a breath of hope. He stood stalwart, like a knight in shining armor with a pinprick of light casting a ray of defiance in the fog of uncertainty.

John Constantine.

Sweat coated the entirety of my body as I awoke. I cried out in terror, in relief, in anguish as I pawed at my chest to make sure that yes, I was alive and in one piece. My whole body was shaking, and I pulled myself from the couch in order to find myself a glass of water and rejuvenate myself. It was then I got the call. It was then I had the familiar gut sinking feeling that something was about to happen. That there was a epiphany waiting just beyond the cellular waves that triggered the ringing in my ears.

'Hi, Fox. Er. Y'alright, then?' Genuine relief gripped my heart. A certainty and a solidity that my sleep hazed brain so desperately needed in that moment flooded every inch of me. I tried very hard to keep back the emotions that were bubbling to the surface, but even as I managed to keep my voice an even keel, I felt the hot sting of joy at the corners of my eyes. John fucking Constantine.

I don't remember what else he said. I don't remember how I knew, but as he continued to talk I was drawn to my window. Just as he had done in my dream, there John stood out on the street with the glow of his cell phone cast against the side of his face.

"... I need you to come up." I muttered finally, emotion evident in my voice, "... I need you. Please."

☎️ ring (x7) Banana Phone

dying's fine if you do it with the right people. FOR the right people.

utter fucking drivel.

if dying was so fucking fine, he'd be back in bed, shaking off that awful dream and lighting up to drag the sick feeling out of his gut and expel it into the night air. if the results were any kinder than a footnote in a fucking story and flaming, fiery torture six feet under, he wouldn't have shrugged his coat on and gone barreling through the streets in his night shirt and shorts. if nobility made the bloodletting any easier, he wouldn't have the charnel house advertisement of mulder's blank eyes and bloodstained face seared into the striate cortex of his electrified fucking brain.

he doesn't know the score on mulder's soul, but he knows that mulder's killed people. he knows the first of the fallen likes to paint with a big, broad brush and what it means to get even a drop of that condemnation on your nice, clean file.

getting him killed is inevitable, but getting him damned is far from fucking fine. neither is going to happen now, not if constantine has his way about it.

it's only when he gets to the road outside mulder's apartment that the sledgehammer beat of common fucking sense cracks down the door and crushes the frenetic, shrieking hindbrain into pulp. hold the fucking phone, here, the smart part hisses — it was a dream. it was a stupid bloody dream. you haven't even had enough of them yet to consider it a prophecy or a warning, for chrissakes, so we're running all the way across the city over a nightmare? over a vague worst-case scenario? who've we pissed off lately, eh? this week? this month? kept our nose clean recently, been trying not to get those two lovely fbi agents killed, no reason for anything to be going wrong, and you still can't turn off the savior complex.

that's sad, constantine. that's really fucking sad.

' fuck off. ' it's a half-hearted snarl to himself, no one else around to hear, and he's already rummaging in his pocket for his cell phone like he should have done back at the flat, dialing the number. jesus, if he came here out of pure sentimentality, then he's going to need to think about some things, and hard. ( think about anything but mulder's glassy, lifeless eyes. )

it doesn't take many rings before pick-up, even this late at night. typical, is what he thinks, almost fondly. and then kicks himself for knowing well enough to think it. clears his throat and tries not to sound rattled.

' hi, fox. er. y'alright, then? '

if he cranes his neck and squints, he can count out which window belongs to mulder: lights on behind drawn shades. the gut-twisting need to see him up there, alive and well and wandering around thinking up conspiracies, or whatever he does at night, is a brutal ache that constantine bites down on and mashes into an unrecognizable shape. he's on the sodding phone. stop being fucking desperate.

' just . . . checkin' in. weird night. ' yeah, that doesn't sound sad and soppy in the slightest. fuck's sake. he clears his throat again. ' listen, you 'ad any dreams lately, or anythin'? off ones? only ask 'cos you looked, er. tired, yesterday. '

@spookyagentfmulder / MIDNIGHT CALLS

[a-stupid-capricorn]

Better than you could aspire to be (Part 2)

So this is gonna follow the reader, and I'm planning on a part 3 lol. Angsty but nothing like death here, gender neutral reader! Part 1 is here!

--

You wake up in a hospital bed, and you look down to see all of your personal items have been taken away. In a hospital dress that had its back distastefully showing, you get up to investigate your surrounding area. You touch a book that you saw, and you open it with the hopes of locating where you are. You furrow your brows when you realise this was where Tighnari was. You see nothing to indicate you were in Teyvat, and you hate the sinking feeling in your gut.

The staff weren't horrible, but when they were talking to you it felt like they took you as a joke. They'd keep making comments about what you were saying the day before, when you weren't lucid, and you were unable to hide your interest in other people possibly finding out about this place. You decide to ask if any of them knew who Tighnari was, and they would give you a weird look before explaining he went missing, gone without a trace.

One night, when everyone else is asleep and resting, someone you hadn't met before hands you a bag. Looking at their ears, you have an idea of who it was. They ask you some questions, and they inform you that the items in the bag were for Tighnari. When you tell them Tighnari was really good at his job, thoroughly enjoying it, you see the massive wave of relief that washes over the person. They tell you that when you next see him, you should give him the bag. You tell them you may not be able to see him again, but they shrug it off and wish you a speedy recovery.

--

You didn't expect to wake up washed up on Port Ormos, and it wasn't in the least bit reassuring that your bare ass was exposed thanks to your hospital gown. Thanking the gods for making sure nobody was there to witness it, you frantically turn to cover your backside, only to make uncomfortable eye contact with a man.

"..."

"..."

"...I think I know who you are." The man breaks the silence. "Follow me."

He doesn't bring up the obvious problem of your clothing, but he gives you some silent support by giving you some paper clips he had handy, aiding you in tying up the gown to cover yourself.

He eventually lets you into his apartment, closing the door and grabbing you some clothes to change into.

"There was a bag that was next to you, before you ask." The man begins, walking you to the bathroom. "Somehow the bag was dry. I haven't checked the contents." He finishes, letting you change.

You don't waste any time, wanting to get your life back on track. The man is sitting, a file in his hand as he reads through it before looking up at you, gesturing for you to take a seat as well.

"Cyno asked for this to be burned, but I managed to take it away without him knowing." The man almost brags. "Are you _? Please confirm your date of birth, your occupation." The man runs through the identifying questions, and he nods as he realises this was, in fact, your file.

"Many people don't remember you, this was not an easy decision to make." The man continues, you growing confused at his words. "'After the successful procedure, this document must be incinerated to remove any and all evidence of this person's existence. As such, those who have memories of the individual will be subjected to various treatments that will render them unable to recall similar memories.'"

You stare silently at the man, who seems to decide it was a lot to process.

"I have a free day today, so if you would like we could get that bag to Tighnari." The man states.

"Sorry, could you tell me who you are?" You ask, hoping you don't offend him.

"Alhaitham." He states. "Honestly, I'm surprised it took you this long to ask me that, but given how we met that's hardly surprising." He stands up, taking the bag in his hands as he looks down. "Let's go."

--

Seeing Tighnari after you last saw him kinda hurt, seeing how much better he was at the role you were in. It felt like you were supposed to be in his ‘original world’, but you didn’t understand why you were back in Teyvat. Alhaitham takes the lead, knowing about your background with Tighnari as he approaches the man.

“How many times do I have to tell you people that I do not intend on joining the Akedemiya?” Tighnari huffs as he spots Alhaitham, and you trailing behind. 

“Here.” Alhaitham states, preferring not to have an argument about Tighnaris current work. “_ told me someone was wanting to give this to you.” He speaks for your behalf, which you are eternally grateful for.

Tighnari opens the bag reluctantly, and he pulls out a botany book from his originating world. Reading the back, he scoffs as he begins to pinpoint how this book would be of any use to him.

“Fictional books are not going to sway me.” Tighnari states coldly, tossing the book at you. You flinch, fearing the speed the book was going, only to hear Alhaitham catch it. “The other items, however, look useful.” He finishes, leaving the both of you without thanking either of you. Alhaitham turns to look at you, clearly struggling to not throw the book back at Tighnari. You nod, silently agreeing that you were done there, and you turn to leave.

“_?” You hear a forest ranger you trained when you were first in charge call out.”I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been ages.” 

How was this person remembering who you were? Did they not receive the same treatment everyone else has had so far? 

“I’m just paying a small visit.” You state, feeling the curious eyes on you that didn’t know who you were. “I trust Tighnari’s been looking after you?” You ask, the forest ranger nodding eagerly. They begin talking about the changes he implemented since you didn’t return, and the feeling of worthlessness builds up violently. 

“Ah, I’ve just remembered I have something I need to complete. Sorry, gotta go!” You say, catching up to Alhaitham. 

The walk back is quiet, and you’re telling Alhaitham about your experience as a forest ranger from your point of view when he puts a hand up, stopping you. The both of you stand in silence, only being disturbed when you hear weapons clashing against each other. Looking over, you see your childhood friend fighting Alhaitham. 

“Cyno!” You call out, causing both people to stop. Cyno looks over, giving you a deadly look as he contemplates your punishment.

“Do I know you?” Cyno asks, his voice piercing you. 

“We’re friends, Cyno. Do you not remember?” You plead, Cyno’s glare growing more intense.

“We have never met before.” Cyno explains, putting away his polearm as he hears people running over. “Watch yourself.” He warns you, leaving you with Alhaitham as some children start to run through the forest to play. 

Alhhaitham doesn’t acknowledge the way you seemed to forget about Cyno subjecting himself to the amnestic treatment, which you are thankful for, but he brings it up when you’re both by yourselves in his room.

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself as you explain Cyno was close to you before you went over to the other world, explaining you forgot about the fact he didn’t remember you because of what he did after the ritual was completed. You briefly ask him if he knew why the forest ranger who called out for you remembered you when nobody else did. Alhaitham tilts his head, clearly not knowing about the short discussion that happened, and you explain that this person was relatively close to you due to you training them, but adding on the fact you trained other people. Alhaitham takes a mental note of all of this, making sure he would write this all down to document before he forgets. 

Alhaitham turns his attention to the book in his hands, and he gets an idea on how to pass the time.

“Sit with me while I read.” Alhaitham states, you nodding as you sit next to him, him extending his hand so that the both of you could read through the book. 

Neither of you talk, and you weren’t sure if he was going to tell you off for not explaining things to him, but you also knew that he probably didn’t want to be disturbed during his reading. 

--

Over the next week, Alhaitham opts to keep you next to him. Even with his work, he manages to keep you by his side. When you ask him if he had any ideas as to where you would be able to work, Alhaitham responds by saying that you were working as an ‘assistant’. Truth be told, he enjoyed your company. Although you didn’t speak much, you proved yourself by getting the items Alhaitham wanted when he had to finish a paper. 

He asks for you to collect some ingredients for dinner, giving you the mora to do so, and you go out by yourself. Successfully getting the basic components for a nutritious meal, you feel a presence behind you. Turning around, your heart sinks when it’s a member of the Fatui. They try to make you feel guilty for returning to this world, putting a lot of emphasis on Tighnari and even sprinkling in the confusion you must have given Cyno. At one point, they imply that you are simply a very good liar, and thats when they suggest you join their ranks. Your hand clutches your bag, and you try to lose the person by ducking and weaving between buildings. Nothing works, which you partially expected, and you stop in your tracks when you realise your attempts would be in vain. The person starts to close in on you, opening their mouth to continue their attempts at convincing you to join them...

Only for them to fall unconscious. You turn when you hear someone fall to the ground, Alhaitham clearly knocked the person out as they check you haven’t been harmed. After seeing you were alright, he escorts you home closely, turning every once in a while to ensure nobody else was going to harm you. 

“Tomorrow, I have a day off.” Alhaitham states, locking the door behind him. “I think we need to interview the forest ranger that knows about you.” 

[watevermelon]

Just Enough | Diluc (Genshin) x Traveler!Reader

✧ Summary: Between freeing Dvalin and pursuing the Geo Archon, you were constantly moving forward to find your brother with hardly a second to look back. You were in a rush to find your lost sibling, not realizing how your heart had stopped in Mondstadt. Visiting the city while waiting for things to die down after Rex Lapis’ death, you return to a… jealous Diluc?

➳ Spoilers for the Dark Knight Hero quest and some of the manga background ➳ Notes: lots of fluff, slight angst and jealousy, character development, mutual pining at one point, a long one-shot that covers the (1.0) beginning of the Liyue story  ➳ Navigation

---xXxXxXxXxXx---

If he had only asked you to stay.

To say that these past few weeks were a blur would be a severe understatement. For months you were simply a lost wanderer, traveling from world to world for any sort of clue that could lead you to your brother.

And in just a matter of weeks you were suddenly Mondstadt’s hero.

From bringing peace to Dvalin’s heart to meeting Mondstadt’s infamous Dark-knight hero, you were familiarizing yourself with a people and a place for a world you knew you did not belong to. Learning of the history of the Seven Archons, the Gods’ of contracts or of freedoms, suddenly you were being thrust into it all at once.

You shared the burden of knowledge with a few of Mondstadt’s elite, the true God of Freedom walking in plain sight to the citizens of his nation. And with him, were the quick allies you found side-by-side when fighting a dragon. 

It was all happening so suddenly and Lord Barbatos himself was giving you directions to the next country over, to continue on your journey in meeting all seven Archons to Liyue. 

To this day, you could fondly recall your final celebration in Mondstadt.

“To think that despite his small stature he can drink so much.” Kaeya commented from his seat at the table, eyes slid in the direction of Venti at the bar next to you. You could see the impatient stare behind Diluc’s eyes, not at all happy that their God was indulging himself so freely.

“Honorary Knight, Mondstadt thanks you for your service.” Jean formally stated, for the nth time since Dvalin had been freed.

“I’m just glad I was at the right place at the right time.” You answered back, offering a placating smile in return.

“Humility doesn’t pay for dinner!” Paimon hmphed next to you.

“But aren’t we at a feast now?” You countered, gesturing to the table. 

She sighed again before moving to get a taste of some of the honey roasted ham. “Fine, don’t blame me when we have to settle into that poor excuse of a tent!”

“Please, do not feel you are in any rush to leave.” Jean offered, “You are welcome lodgings at our Favonius Headquarters.”

“With the other Knights of Favonius?” Diluc asked, face completely blank if not for the small upward tilt of his left brow.

Kaeya flirted with you from across the room, uncaring of the other partygoers, “You could always stay with me.”

You laughed lightly and responded, “That’s a hard pass.”

The Cavalry Captain simply shrugged, offering it to you again if you changed your mind before grabbing another glass of wine and walking with Jean toward the busy table.

Barbara was trying different dishes and offering some to her older sister, spouting descriptions with medicinal purposes and flavors that compliment one another. Lisa was no better as Amber egged both of them on, completely sober as she continued to feast on the food laid before her. Other Knights of Favonius that you recognized were scattered about, enjoying the first truly peaceful night in the past few weeks.

“You are welcome to stay at the Dawn Winery, while you look for your brother.”

He relished in the sight of your smile.

“Thank you, Diluc.”

That was three months ago.

And since then you had been thrown into more of not your business but suddenly IS your business, business.

You remembered your last day before setting off from Mondstadt. The Knights of Favonius would surely call on you again and so you had quick goodbyes with Jean and Kaeya the day before. Venti was saved for last, a somewhat light-hearted and yet somber goodbye as he was the first and last person for you to see in Mondstadt. 

But Diluc… How could you even start that conversation?

He was the lone wolf with a prickly reputation and an even worse sense of patience. You remembered the first time you even spoke to him, clipped words meant to get straight to the point. Not to mention that he was the first person to antagonize Kaeya, who was one of the few people you kinda trusted in the beginning.

It was not until the side adventures, the little quests you did one-on-one that you realized how much more there was to the edgelord that was Diluc. 

Of course, he was still the strict type to focus solely on the mission. 

But you realized more about why Diluc had come to be this way. 

‘The uncrowned king of Mondstadt.’

As you worked together against the possible abyss invasion of Mondstadt, you poured over strategies and testing of his slime potion. And while slimes were not the hardest enemies to fight, he still complimented you on your form and appreciated your quick style with the sword.

You had a unique style, unlike Kaeya or anyone else of this world.

“Elegant, but deadly.”

You took that as a compliment.

And little by little Diluc opened up to you, cluing you into his personal history. 

He and Kaeya were step-brothers, growing up together at the Dawn Winery. How he knew Jean since he was child and once served as her superior in the very organization he now despised. How he still has things to protect, to avenge. And while his description about what happened to his father was nothing more than a quiet stare, you were still grateful that he was entrusting you into his world.

You remembered Kaeya’s words as he discovered Diluc’s nighttime secret:

“I’m glad you’re working with an assistant.”

Kaeya’s tone may have come out scathing, but you knew better. Kaeya and Diluc used to be close, close enough to entrust their lives with one another. There was no doubt that Kaeya still cared about his brother, but with Diluc pushing everyone away….

Again, you were so appreciative that he chose to let you in.

When Kaeya finally left the bar, you turned to Diluc with a smile. “I think my work tonight earned me at least one glass of wine?”

That broke a small smile on his face, not the slight tilt on the sides or the wistful, far off look he got when he recalled something beyond your knowledge.

“Alright.” He waved over a nearby waitress, all of the customers tonight employees of the Dawn Winery. “Let’s take this up to the balcony, I’m going to close up anyway.”

“Oh?” Paimon’s squeaky tone somehow went up another octave in curiosity, “I just remembered I have to ask Venti something! Why don’t you two enjoy your date alone.”

She flew away before you could swat at her for her teasing words, blush apparent on your face. Diluc kept his flat face as he maneuvered things behind the bar, wiping at something before putting something in the below cabinet. 

To your surprise, he handed you a bottle and two glasses, motioning with his head toward the second floor. Charles was among some of the ‘customers’ tonight, taking his usual spot behind the bar as Diluc stepped out.

You followed him wordlessly, walking up the steps and out the second-floor door closely behind him. He pulled out a wooden chair next to the table outside, you taking the seat underneath the stars as he plopped down alongside you.

“I thought the stars here in the city would get overcrowded by the lights.” You admitted, “But they’re beautiful even here.”

“Yeah, they are.” Diluc agreed, making you smile before turning to him.

“You’re not even looking at the stars.”

The pyro-user simply smirked, before looking up at the starry sky with you. You relished in the moment, glad to have some time alone with Diluc. Many had commented that the winery owner was so elusive, missing from the bar weeks at a time and unseen within the city walls. And yet here he was, enjoying the crisp air and a glass of wine with you.

“Thank you.” You started.

“Shouldn’t you be demanding thanks from me?” Diluc asked.

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, cause I’m sure that the abyss mage would have totally kicked your ass without me.”

Diluc had that slightly amused expression on, looking a bit more light-hearted as he turned to you with a slight tilt at the corner of his lips.

You continued, “I mean, thanks for entrusting me with your secret.”

Diluc paused, looking you straight in the eyes, probably to gauge your honesty. And he would concede that there was nothing else there. You wanted to be his friend, the first in a long time to have approached him without your own agenda regarding either the winery or his fortune.

In return, he poured you a glass of wine and replied, “You’ve long earned it.”

“Thank you, Diluc.” You took the glass and felt your heart flutter at the brush of his fingers. “I’m glad I got to know you.”

“I’m glad you’re in my life too.”

He shot you another one of his genuine, millisecond smiles before pouring some from the bottle for himself. 

“Wine and not grape juice today?”

But he did not answer, instead eyes latching onto the rise of goosebumps on your arms. You could not help it against the crisp Mondstadt air, naturally feeling a chill at this time of night. Without a word, he shrugged off his outer coat, the thick black one he wore at almost all times of day, and rested it casually on your shoulders.

You muttered a small thanks as you snuggled into it. Diluc’s iconic dark coat, a complete contrast to yourself. While you wore a white dress with open sleeves and plenty of skin, Diluc wore black covering most of his body with the exception of his neck and face. Seeing it on your shoulders only reminded you of that fact.

“Don’t need you getting sick anytime soon.” Diluc stated plainly, as he returned to his seat.

You huddled into it more and replied, “Aw, Diluc cares.” Again, you were rewarded with another flat expression. “Or rather, if the events of today are to show anything, you’ve always cared. Just in your own, protective way.”

He slung an arm across the back of your seat, leaning closer before stating in a low voice. “Don’t forget that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, the both of you basically sharing the same breath in your close proximity. His scarlet eyes, usually a searing color when on the battlefield, looked surprisingly tender only inches from yours.

“You mean so much to me, Diluc.” You whispered back, afraid that anything above a whisper would punctuate this amorous atmosphere.

He slowly dragged his face alongside yours, stopping beside your ear and continuing in his low voice. “So do you.”

There was no stopping the shiver of anticipation that crawled up your spine.

You could feel the small smirk grow against your skin before he pulled off and grazed his lips against your forehead.

The expression on your face was practically begging him to kiss you. From the small lean in your side against his arm slung around you to the way your eyes slowly fluttered closed, it took all of his self-control to stop himself before he pulled you closer. He wanted nothing more than to grasp you by the back of your neck, relish in the way you melt against him. To kiss you now and tomorrow and maybe even the morning after at the winery.

Diluc had to remind himself that in less than a week you were going to be long gone.

He did not want to ruin this memory a week from now, asking what if and why. And so he settled on a simple kiss above your brow before leaning back in his seat, enjoying the moment he had with you tonight.

You were disappointed, but actually not surprised. It was a feat in itself that you were so close to Diluc in this short amount of time, it would do no good in pressuring him into anything else. But also, another more rational part of you, had to remind yourself that getting attached to the people of this world would only make it hurt more when you had to return home.

This was for the better.

But no matter how much rational thought Diluc used to push you away, you were sure that you had already fallen for him. From the small interactions with Diluc, you could barely recognize the moment that you were completely enamored with him. It was not during the first time you saw him fight or even the night he leant you his jacket. No, you feared it was much before then.

To think you had gotten attached to Diluc in such a short amount of time.

But then you had to say goodbye.

“Safe travels.” Diluc stated from behind the bar when he saw you enter on your last day.

You were not sure what you expected, a drawn out goodbye or a fore longed hug, but Diluc was still, well. He was still Diluc. And to see him re-erecting his walls before you left for your journey was a sad thought, but needed while the two of you were hundreds of miles away from one another.

But you would regret it if you didn’t say anything.

Instead you settled on, “I’ll miss you.”

The hopeful look in your eyes spelled out exactly what you wanted to hear back.

Diluc instead replied, “You fight good.”

“Oh. Um.” The hesitation was clear in your voice.

Was this really how you were going to leave things?

But with Diluc turning his attention back to the wine glass he was previously wiping, yes. It seemed that this was exactly how he wanted to leave it. Paimon scoffed, but said her own goodbyes before flying away.

“Goodbye, Diluc.”

Outside the tavern, you let your frown grow at that interaction. After everything you had been through together, Diluc complimented you on your fighting? Then said peace out?

“That was really lame.” Paimon commented aloud as she floated alongside you. You could not help but internally agree, but you had a whole journey ahead of you. At least the busyness of Liyue would keep you busy from dwelling on that conversation.

But as you said goodbye to Venti, the both of you stood in silence under the giant tree staring at the city. You thought about going back three times, to get a proper goodbye out of Diluc. But doing so would do neither of you any good, since it would only open more issues.

“No more questions about the other Archons?” Venti asked, voice surprisingly serious.

“Can’t think of anything.”

“None even of a certain… winery owner?” You could almost hear the smile in his voice.

You rolled your eyes and responded, “You’re such a little shit.”

“Hehe.”

You both continued to stare at the city, the marvels of its people and history within its high walls. To think Barbatos and Dvalin were finally free, because of your otherworldly intervention. Venti was truly thankful for you, and while he knew his words were on the more mischievous side, he knew that you understood.

Venti’s voice permeated the air. “Be safe in Liyue.”

You smiled back and offered him a tight hug, replying. “As always.”

To think that the same day that you stepped into Liyue, Rex Lapis was murdered before your very eyes. It was like the Gods actually hated you, having to rely on a Fatui to run away from the government officials hot on your trail.

Since then you had been working with Zhongli to prepare for a parting ceremony. From running around for certain types of Jade materials to singing to flowers, you were happy to take a second to yourself at all. You were afraid that trouncing around Liyue with a bounty on your head would do you no good and often stayed in the wild areas. Visits to the city were for necessities only, which often left you relying on the ever so truthful Childe or the mora-averse Zhongli.

More than three months after your initial departure to Liyue, you stepped back into the walls of Mondstadt’s bustling city, a commission nearby and you figured you were safe simply due to your reputation under the Knights of Favonius.

Venti was the last face you saw and the first face that greeted you, beckoning to join him for lunch. With your final commission of the day finished, you joined him with a smile and ordered some honey roasted ham.

You recounted some of the news to Venti, meeting many of the adeptus and how out of touch they seemed with the region. You described Zhongli from the funeral parlor who always felt like he knew more and played a higher part in Liyue (and you inwardly noted how Venti’s eyes lit up in recognition at the name). And also, Childe the Fatui Harbinger that had you on edge. 

“You’re hanging out with a harbinger?” Venti asked.

“Uh oh.” Paimon reacted.

“Well.” You remembered your last encounter with Signora. “It’s complicated.”

Venti paused before sighing, “Is he cute?”

“That’s not why!” You huffed back instantly.

“So he is cute!”

“And rich!” Paimon added, joining in on the teasing.

“Not the issue here.” You stated, “He saved me from the Millelith and helped me get into contact with the adepti.”

Venti’s mischievous smile from the earlier teasing turned blank, as if he was fully ingesting your words. “... Why would he do that?”

“Huh?”

But Venti quickly recovered, waving away the question and urging you to move past it. “Just thinking out loud, continue. What happened after?”

And so you recalled everything from then. How the soldiers followed you all the way up the mountain and how you had to defend yourself from people that were supposed to be on the same side as you. 

How there was someone out there with the strength to take down a God.

Venti laughed at you for like, twenty minutes.

After his laughter subsided, he held a hand over his stomach and asked. “They think you killed Rex Lapis?”

He took another look at your pouting face and laughed again.

It only made you scowl further. “I’m glad you think my supposed war crimes are so funny.”

“I think I’m missing the punchline again.” Paimon added.

“Hehe. You’ll be fine.” Venti shot back his mischievous smile, “Besides, I’m sure you’re looking forward to laying low here with a certain… someone here.”

You paused and put your fork back down, “What are you trying to say?”

“Well, the Dawn Winery is throwing a festival tonight.” Venti stated clearly, “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Wait, really?”

The mischievous light was back in Venti’s eyes, “I’m sure the winds of fate have brought you here purely on coincidence.”

You sighed and turned to him fully. “You trying to fight, old man?”

“Hehe.” His signature giggle, one you found almost endearing, was undoubtedly mocking you. “We should go together later.”

And true to his word, somehow you found yourself with the Anemo Archon heading over to the bar. To think that it was Venti who introduced you here and now he was bringing you along again.

That is, if you even had a chance to make it inside at this rate.

The area was packed to the brim, all the seats outside in front and on the side of the building already taken. There was a line out the door, many hopeful young women with gleaming eyes trying to get a one-on-one conversation with the current barkeep and owner.

You peered into the open door and saw Diluc and Charles behind the bar, the red-head adorned with his usual flat-expression. It was the first time in months since you had seen him, but he looked exactly as the day you had left. Still the same colored wardrobe and prickly atmosphere, Diluc was still, Diluc.

What did not help was the ever growing line of flirty men and women trying to vye for his attention.

It only seemed to further nail the pit in your stomach.

Was this… jealousy?

You didn’t dwell on the thought for long.

Instead, you considered for a single-second if you should just turn tail now, but Venti must have seen your hesitation and grabbed you by the arm to walk inside. Dozens of eyes followed you on the way in, many people recognizing you as the young hero of Mondstadt and honorary knight of Favonius.

The crowd was surprisingly less inside, but knowing Diluc he probably would have tried to corral everyone to the outdoor areas. Venti continued to lead you towards a table in the back and you saw a familiar red-bowed Outrider.

“I didn’t even know you were going to be here today!” She greeted you excitedly. 

“Tone-Deaf Bard here convinced us to stay the night.” Paimon replied.

“Oh?” Her voice lifted in a tone that only spelled trouble, “No matter, I’m glad to see you in one piece.”

“I’m assuming you’ve heard.”

Amber stretched in her seat and lowered her voice, smile turning to a smirk. “Well, I won’t confirm anything. But my suspicions are that the blonde person the Knights were pursuing for stealing the Holy Lyre may be the same blonde person running from the Millelith.”

“What a crazy theory.” Paimon responded as she cleared her throat.

“At least it’s just a theory, right?” Amber replied. “Anyway, we’ll hold the seats. Do you mind going up to the bar to order?”

Paimon chimed up as she floated down into the wooden seat, “Yeah, you should go.”

You barely had a second to object before Venti agreed and was motioning for you to go back to the bar. If not for their eager stares at you, you would have rolled your eyes at how obvious they were being.

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” You stated aloud, getting up from the seat you inhabited for at most ten minutes. 

Turning towards the bar, you took in a deep breath to collect your thoughts. To think you fought the Wolf of the North and Oceanid with more courage - it was just Diluc.

“Long time no see.” You greeted, trying to sound extremely casual. “Bottle of wine for one of your favorite people?”

Diluc looked at you for a quick second, then back down to the bar, then rapidly snapping back up to you in surprise. “Hey. Of course.”

Unsure what to say, you responded back with a simple, “Thank you.”

“Didn’t know you’d be in town today.”

“It was all coincidence. Venti told me about your event tonight.” You mentioned, motioning behind you to the table where the three of them were waiting. Amber waggled her eyebrows in response and you turned back to Diluc in embarrassment.

But he was looking at you the entire time. “For a war criminal, you look well.”

“Ugh, not you too.”

“Ironic how you delinquents always return here while hiding it out.” Diluc did not answer, instead openly teasing you.

Honestly, it was a little ironic that you and Venti ran here after stealing the Holy Lyre, just to end up back here while the Millelith were on the hunt for you.

Instead you replied, “They didn’t release any names.”

“Right, it’s probably some other sword-wielding blonde with white clothes and access to the Anemo vision.”

“Obviously.”

To think you were so involved in Teyvat's politics. An otherworldly being with no prior connections to the people or nations was somehow involved with the highest ranking people of every country you’ve stumbled into.

Everyone from the Dvalin team knew about your primary objectives: to find your brother and regain your full power through the seven Archons. And when news of Rex Lapis’ death reached Mondstadt, Diluc could almost physically feel the dread in his heart that something had happened to you. And when the Millelith released their man-hunt of your exact profile, there was no doubt that you were involved. 

To see you standing before him, in association with an Archon of all people, it was like a breath of fresh air on his heart. You were here in the tavern, fine and even enjoying the night. 

A large part of him wanted to ask about your journey, what was it that had you on the run again? But with the growing line out the door, he knew he barely had time to keep this conversation going.

So instead, Diluc grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from beneath the bar and asked, “Spare a few minutes for me later?”

You nodded quietly, handing him the necessary Mora before returning back to the table.

Amber did not pull her punches, “So, you guys dating yet?”

You almost dropped the bottle, but Venti was quick even through his laughter.

“Yeah and I’m the Archon of Snezhnaya.” Paimon replied sarcastically.

“Shut up.” You pouted, “It was just nice to see each other after all this time.”

“Oh so you had a good conversation? Did he ask you to stay after? Are you going to stay the night? Did he offer for you to stay at the Dawn Winery?” Amber spit out question after question, not a sense of patience or tact in her words.

Venti was still laughing like the Archon of assholes he was.

While they prodded through their multiple questions, you tried to wave them away to another conversation topic. If Amber was prodding you like this, you could only imagine that the other Knights, such as Kaeya and Jean, were also aware of your strange relationship.

Amber tried to push it a bit more, but you were able to spin the conversation to ask what the others were up to. It was interesting to hear about the little tasks in Mondstadt, small commissions that the Knights take care of in the city as well as guarding the areas further out into the country.

And while you hated to drift off with them sitting right in front of you, your mind often wandered toward the red-head behind the bar. Diluc had personally asked you to stay back later, undoubtedly to speak to you about something one-on-one. Would it be cowardly if you left early? Would the others notice if you tried to make a break for it at one point?

Again, it seemed as if Venti was capable of reading your mind, lightly calling you to attention and putting a casual hand on the back of your chair.

He was not letting you get away from this.

Venti even shifted the conversation to you, asking about Liyue and the local adventures you had while in the city. Unable to ignore the direct questions, you told them about the stories of the people you met so far and the strange events you seemed to be dragged into.

“Wait, start over.” Amber cut into your most recent story about a ship just outside of the Liyue city. ”You just glided down onto the Pearl Galley?”

You paused then replied, “Well. I mean the ship was just sitting there outside the harbor and I was curious.”

“And so you boarded a luxury ship without an invitation?”

“Yeah, so?” Paimon answered with a question, genuinely confused.

“And yet you wonder how you keep getting involved in all these crazy schemes.” Amber answered ambiguously.

“Well, eventually I did get an invitation.”

“But after you were already on the ship.” Amber pointed out. “How did you even glide that far out?”

“I climbed to the top of the nearby mountain and then just dropped down.”

“Wow.”

“Is it really a surprise?” Venti commented, “She doesn’t even follow the proper stairs here in the city. Don’t think we don’t see you climbing over every wall here in Mondstadt.”

“You’re such a weirdo.” Amber sighed with a smile, “You’re lucky we love you so much.”

You continued on with your stories, some in the city and others within hidden temples deep in the wilderness, puzzles and timed traps masking treasures you sought to find. Amber and Venti listened on in rapt attention, asking questions here and there and even teasing you about your constant climbing.

You hadn’t even noticed how the bar patrons were starting to slowly thin out.

The night with Venti and Amber was such a refreshing feeling compared to the nights you spent staring up silently at the night sky, only Paimon at your side. It was nice to hear and speak to other people, to not be on the run and always looking over your shoulder.

Feeling a light tap on the side, you turned to see Diluc standing at attention.

“Hey.” He greeted you again.

“We were just on our way out!” Amber exclaimed, standing instantly with Venti not far behind her. “Mondstadt’s star Outrider has to be up bright and early tomorrow.”

“Which is why you’re both leaving…?” You asked.

“It’s my duty to ensure the safety of the city and we said we were going to discuss something.” Venti answered ambiguously.

You crossed your arms, “Discuss what?”

“The— !” Amber paused, “The thing. You know, with the stuff at the Seven Winds Temple.”

“Right! Let’s get going.” Venti turned to Paimon at the last second, “I think this will interest you.”

Paimon winked at you before turning to Diluc, ”Right, the stuff!”

Diluc motioned you to follow him and so, once again, you found yourself following behind the Pyro-user out the second-floor balcony. However, instead of sitting at the table, you learned against the railing while Diluc stood to the side.

“Wasn't expecting you to be gone for so long.” Diluc started with a flat voice.

You turned to him with a slight grimace. “I’m sorry, I ended up getting caught in something important back in Liyue.”

More important than him.

The implication was quiet in the back of Diluc’s mind.

But that would always be the case. To think that the first person in years to open up his shell was someone who could only be in his life temporarily. You intrigued him to the high heavens - the strange mix of both pride and humility as you fought and carried yourself. You were strong, but merciful. Kind, but a purveyor of your own brand of justice.

It had been a while since he met someone with such genuine reservations as you.

But your time together was already ticking down, from your time in Mondstadt to your time in his world. You were looking for your brother and who knew if he was even in Tyvat currently? It would be unfair to be bitter towards you. And so he resolved long ago to simply cherish the moments you had together.

So instead of snapping back, Diluc teased you.

“I’m sure. I’ve heard of your extensive… wanted days.”

You sighed aloud, “How did the news travel here so fast?”

Diluc smirked, “First Barbatos and now Rex Lapis? What kind of luck do you have?”

“The worst kind.”

Of course, there was something he wanted to learn more about. After he had caught wind from Katheryn in Liyue, Diluc still wanted to be informed about your current situation. To think that you were in close association with one of the high Fatui Harbingers after Signora personally attacked you, it was almost like you were openly inviting trouble.

It also did not help that many of the gossip mills included how attractive this particular Fatui was.

He goes by the alias of ‘Childe.’ Young, but deadly!

A Fatui, but doesn’t wear his mask - for good reason! He’s quite the looker.

I wouldn’t mind if he impaled me somewhere. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Needless to say, his sources did not alleviate his worries.

Of all people? A Fatui was one of your close associates in Liyue? A party of him wanted to snarl, the thought a worse downgrade from the Knights of Favonius. At least he knew Kaeya would do you no harm; he doubted the same could be said about Childe.

Archons, why did he care so much?

Diluc told himself multiple times that your abrupt parting was necessary to keep himself from getting too attached to you. But it hardly mattered when he was worrying this much anyway in spite of that.

Fuck, why did he just let you walk away like that?

Diluc was not going to make the same mistake.

He turned to you and asked, “Like the Fatui kind?”

You sighed, “Believe me, I don’t like it either.”

“And yet somehow here we are.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

“When is it not with you?” Diluc asked, more hypothetically. And while from anyone else, it may have felt offensive, you could tell from his tone that it was just a tired sigh.

“Tell me about your journey.” He continued.

“What?” You answered with a question, genuinely surprised. “It’s a long story, not all that interesting.”

Diluc took a step forward, taking the spot next to you against the rail as your shoulders touched. “I want to hear it from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Okay.”

And so you recounted your journey to find the Geo Archon, how the adepti set up strange puzzles and at some point you swore you were pulled into a teacup that somehow contained a full domain.

There were also other missions on the side, other things you would do to collect Mora or materials if you were going to get any stronger. Some of them made sense — doing deliveries, clearing abyss camps, and other mercenary like duties. Other instances, not so much.

“Only you would accept a commission from a ghost.” Diluc teased as you recounted the treasure in the mines.

“In my defense, I didn’t think he was a ghost at first.”

“Right. Nothing suspicious at all about a transparent old man in the middle of an abandoned village.”

“I was reading the poster he was showing!”

“And when did you realize he was a ghost?”

“... After I met three other ghosts.”

Diluc cracked a smile at that, only making you pout more. You had adjusted your postures overtime, standing against with rails to your backs as you faced the tavern.

“He paid me good Mora!” 

“How…?” Diluc thought about it before waving it off, “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

You laughed back before you saw the lights inside the tavern switch off, complete darkness in the windows as the remaining employees packed up and went home. 

“Oh wow, I hadn’t even realized how long we were out here.” You admitted, “I’m sorry I took up so much of your time.”

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to spend this time with you.”

“Still, it’s already late.”

“You’re right. Where were you and Paimon going to spend the night?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You admitted, “Venti convinced us to stay, but I don’t even know where he is.”

Diluc pushed off the railing to stand facing you, “You could stay the night at the winery. We can retrieve Paimon tomorrow.”

What game was he playing? Your disappointing departure with Diluc cutting you off and now he was asking for your time and space back into his life? You hated that he pushed you away just to pull you back in at his convenience. And while you understood his personality tended to keep people at a distance, you had your own limits as to what you could withstand. 

“... Diluc, what are you doing?”

“You’ll have to be more clear.”

You closed your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts and hamper down on your rising temper. “Come on, why are you being so nice to me?”

He stared at you expectedly, blank eyes urging you to continue.

It only served to make you more angry.

“Diluc, when I left you hardly blinked. And now that I’m here, after months of us not talking, you want me to spend the night?”

“I told you before how much you meant to Mondstadt.”

To Mondstadt? Not even to himself personally? 

You decided it was better to confront him cleanly asking, “Why didn’t you kiss me that night we were drinking here?”

Diluc paused, not a single hint of surprise on his face as you addressed the situation head-on. “Why should I have?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t feel it. There was something between us.” You scoffed.

He noticed your use of past tense.

“Does it honestly matter? You would’ve left anyway, I saved us both the trouble.”

You visibly recoiled in response. “Is that what this is about? I have to go to Liyue and the other counties, Diluc. I have to find my brother.”

“I know that.” Diluc cut in, before you got the wrong idea. “You don’t think I’m acutely aware of that fact? The fact that this is my home and not yours. That one day you’ll find your brother and I’ll never see you again?”

“Wait.”

“Believe me, I know better than anyone that you’re off to find your brother. And I’ll help you in any way that I can.” Diluc continued, not heeding your confused attempts to stop him. “But let’s not pretend like I was anything more than a stepping stone in your journey.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh?” Diluc’s tone was almost challenging,  “It’s not? So once the dust is settled, if I asked you to stay here with me, would I be enough?”

You stuttered over your words, “I --”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse because we both know the answer.” He cut you off, “I was trying to save myself from that before it happened.”

“Will you let me speak, you idiot!?” Your voice cut through the silent evening air.

Diluc paused, standing a good ten feet away from you and looking angrier than you’d ever seen. But he did, thankfully, stop talking.

“Is it crazy to think that I feel the same way about you?”

“What?”

“Diluc, I’m just me!” You answered, “I have nothing to my name but an objective to find my brother — if he’s even alive at this point. I need to try and I need to continue on this path…”

He crossed his arms, but stayed quiet as he listened. 

“But just because I have so much ahead of me, that doesn’t I don’t care about where I’ve already seen.” You took a few steps toward Diluc as you spoke, “You mean so much to me and I wouldn’t ever want to throw that away.”

“You won’t have a choice if you have to leave this world.”

“If!” You pointed out, “Diluc you’re so worried about the future, about me walking away from you forever, but it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“And suddenly there’s an alternative?”

“There’s always been one, you idiot! You just never bothered to actually talk to me.” You put your hands on his chest, the light material of his dark clothes underneath your palms. “I would’ve tried. If you asked me to make this work, to come back to you at the winery back then, I would’ve done it.”

Diluc closed his eyes, taking in your words as his hands snaked down to your wrists.

“Don’t give me empty promises.”

“I mean it!” You defended, “You aren’t just another person, Diluc. I—“

He opened his eyes then, reflecting back to you as hopeful and curious. “You…?”

“I care about you more than you know.” You settled on, still unsure about the extent of your feelings. “Why are you giving up on us before even starting?”

You stared right back at Diluc, his silence paramount to the inner turmoil you were sure he was going through. From his late father to the betrayal from the Knights, there were plenty of reasons why Diluc was so hesitant to connect with other people.

But you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

Your hands felt heavy against his chest. Despite your small demeanor and even smaller palms, the weight of your hands seemed to play seesaw between his heart and mind. He had logical reasons to keep you at a distance, but here you were trying to carve your way through back to him.

It had been a long time since he cared about anyone like this. And Diluc could not even recall the last time he wanted to sorely kiss someone at all. But how could he not want to now? You stared up at him, eyes blazing with determination as you tried to convey your feelings.

“You mean so much to me.” Diluc stated after a few silent minutes, “Let’s make this work.”

The smile you shot him was wide and radiant, a private blessing that only he was gifted tonight. He wrapped his arms around your waist, eager to feel more of you — to envelop you in his arms and keep you within them tonight. 

One hand strayed upward, carding itself in your hair and pulling you closer until both your eyes fluttered closed. The soft skin of your lips slotted against his, an endearing frenzy to give one another tender pecks. You could not help the happy mewl that escaped your lips as Diluc licked against the crease of your skin.

Moaning aloud to his tender touch, Diluc was eager to explore every inch of your wet cavern. There was no battle of tongues, simply moving in tandem as Diluc dominated the kiss. You tried to maneuver to give him more access, but with your height difference it was the best you could do.

Diluc lifted one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist and lightly tapping the other to do the same. Eyes clouded with lust, you did as instructed and quickly felt the soft thump behind you, the wall of the tavern helping hold you upright.

You fell more and more into the passionate lip lock, pushing to match his intensity as Diluc connected you in one of the most intimate ways possible. One hand was still in your hair while the other continued its scandalized trail downward.

You prayed to Barbatos that nobody heard you outside the tavern.

The both of you would later attribute this impassioned frenzy due to the prolonged time apart and mutual pining (culminating in a mistake outside on the balcony, twice inside the bar, and the rest of the night back at the winery).

For the first time, you enjoyed the morning sun streaming in through the windows, a lazy arm strung across your waist as you snuggled in the chest of the man you were growing to love.

Diluc woke long before you, hand threading through your hair silently as he resolved to remember this moment. You kissed at the naked skin of his chest twice before nuzzling him, feeling the light arm pull you closer.

“Good morning.” You started, voice muffled against his skin.

But you would have never expected Diluc to be so affectionate.

He kissed the top of your head, murmuring in a low tone. “Good morning, my love.”

Nothing about your relationship was perfect. You still fought and cried like every other couple. But you both knew that what you had was real, willing to fight for it no matter the obstacles that came with the future.

It did not matter that Tyvat was not your home.

Wherever Diluc was, that was where you’d return.

---xXxXxXxXxXx---

Extra: “What if they end up fighting?” Amber asked the other two as they walked down a side-street of the city.

“Then we’ll find out the moment it breaks out. Trust me.” Paimon replied. After all, your Anemo power would only serve to make any fire larger.

“They’ve both been in that pining puppy phase for so long, I doubt it’ll come down to that.” Venti added.

“500 Mora says they’ll be dating by the end of this week.” Amber bet.

“1,000 that they’ll be together by tonight!” Paimon countered.

“10,000 that they’ll be joined in every way by tonight.” Venti added, the mischievous tone not missed by either woman.

“You tone-deaf bard!” Paimon exclaimed as she slapped her hands over her red cheeks. “The traveler is more dignified than that!”

Amber had a hand on her chin, “Dating? Probably. But more than that…?”

Venti held out a hand to both, vying for both to shake one and accept the bet.

Nothing, but a couple of suckers. 

Amber grumbled once when she heard the news, but otherwise excitedly congratulated you two on finally accepting your feelings. Paimon’s whine could probably be heard in a fifteen mile radius and Venti’s proud smile didn’t help either — accepting the easiest twenty thousand Mora he ever made. 

And, just to gode the tiny guide a little more, Venti turned to Paimon in the middle of her complaining rant. 

“Hehe.”

---xXxXxXxXxXx---

A/N:

The festival idea comes from Diluc’s story 1: “The winery holds festivities from time to time. These events are routinely attended by enthusiastic fathers, eager to introduce their wonderful daughters to the young and single winery master.”

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! adore your work love. could you maybe do smth where stark!reader has to get her wisdom teeth out but HATES the dentist so she brings her boyf peter and her dad w her?? and then when they get home the avengers are all waiting with like comical amounts of flowers and stuffed animals and then reader says some funny shiii and thor thinks she’s like dying lol. idk if that made sense but i’m getting my wisdom teeth out soon and i’m scared😭 thank u so so much love u babe

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: tysm lovely :,) i rushed through this like my life depended on it, but i hope i’m not too late. either way, i hope you’re okay! it’s frightening but those bad boys gotta go because we don’t need that kind of energy in our lives. enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wisdom teeth? more like wisdoom

y/n has to get her wisdom teeth removed and it’s the singular most dreadful thing she’s ever had to do, which says a lot because her dad is tony richling stark

doing dreadful things she doesn’t want to do but still somehow end up doing just because she can is a personality trait at this point

no one really makes a big deal out of it since ~death~ is part of their job description, but y/n is terrified

and when a stark is terrified the only thing that will keep them one step from insanity is researching the hell out of it

that information will be info dumped into every conversation for the next few weeks leading up to the appointment

“y/n you need anything from the store?” "no thanks, did you know the side effects of getting your wisdom teeth out include ✨sudden death or blood clots✨ tho” “……..i have a coupon?”

the day of the appointment, peter comes along and literally doesn’t let go of y/n’s hand. he keeps touching her to let her know that he’s there and it’s so. adorable

he would rest his hand on her knee, gently stroke her back while holding her, or just play with her hair

happy drops them off and he’s too Cool™ for emotions but he knows y/n’s a wreck, so he just fist bumps her with a single nod and she almost breaks down bc it’s really affectionate

y/n is sitting in the dentist chair and genuinely nothing is happening yet, but she’s squeezing peter’s hand like it’s a sponge

peter might have a high pain tolerance but he’s in pain pain and he prays that his hand won’t just explode on him

the dentist notices how peter tries to keep it together and chuckles

“you okay there, son?” “yea it’s fine, had a better time when a building fell on me tho haha” “pardon?” “oh i mean i didn’t have a good time, i just had a better time”

because y/n is running Anxious Town™, the dentist gives her a sedative to help her relax 

plus, an injection of local anaesthetic to numb the tooth and surrounding area

she doesn’t feel anything and it’s GREAT

the procedure is quicker than expected and now the real fun begins

she tries to walk but she falls down so peter scoops her up bridal style and happy stays glued at her side

y/n doesn’t mind although she literally doesn’t recognise them and they’re practically strangers to her

but girly sees an opportunity and tries to flirt with peter bc why wouldn’t she

“you’re pretty” *blushes* “why thanks” “you should let your girlfriend know” “i should let her know i’m pretty?” “so you do have a gf? :(” “yea it’s you” “:)”

they stop for gas and peter goes in to get some water for y/n, and in her infinite wisdom, she decides it’s burger time

her mouth is completely numb and she’s practically leaving a trail of drool behind her, but she’d kill for a burger right now

so she wobbles around aimlessly for an hour on some random parking lot as if the ground might just magically open up like a rabbit hole and lead her to five guys

she’s going places. not back to the car. definitely not five guys. they’re closed. but places

peter finally finds her and he’s drenched from head to toe in sweat. he doEsn’T wAnt tO tALk abOut iT tho so she lets him take her to subway instead

normally, she would know that peter’s usual subway order is bread-lettuce-jalapeño

but in her drugged-up state, it had simply slipped her mind so now she’s staring at him like he’d just murdered someone right in front of her

“that- that’s your order?? no meat or anything just bread, lettuce, and a little spice?”

meanwhile at the compound, sam and steve are ordering everyone around bc they want to decorate this place before y/n gets home to surprise her

they take it very seriously too. they’ve watched like one HGTV show and said it’s our time

they finally get home and tony gives y/n a big hug, asking her what took so long

happy tells him that she was keen on getting burgers bc apparently someone has taught her that stressful times call for ~cheeseburgers~

he proceeds to look at tony with a pointed look

tony just shrugs and goes “she was a problem child. we don’t mention her dark past”

she’s swaying on the spot and keeps grinning like a fool and thor just stares at her weirdly before elbowing bruce and whispering loudly,

“what’s wrong with her? is she dying? should i start collecting leaves, i know this remedy—"

no one can tell if y/n is just happy to see the newly decorated home or if she’s just delighted to see everyone but then she goes around hugging the entire team

she doesn’t even acknowledge the sky-high pile of teddy bears and flowers everywhere bc she’s just squeezing everybody

y/n is so high, she just starts to spill all of her feelings about everyone and they’re already so overwhelmed by the hug chain they can’t take this too

“wanda i just want you to know that you’re like my big sister and you’re always taking care of me and i know you and vision are just going to make such good parents one day”

“bucky you absolute PRICK, you FIEND, you’re the best chess player ever and that’ll never change and i wouldn’t be good without you, i hate to say it but you deserve happiness even after you made me lose five times in a row yesterday”

“dad, you’re so strong and smart, even though we’re like never on the same page, you’re always along for the ride, i want to be like you when i grow up, i swear i’m gonna try to be as good to the avengers as you were to us” “aww- wait makes you think i'll be the first to die“

“nat you’re such a bitch about your protein shakes but you’re my best friend and i wouldn’t have it any other way, you can try out as many make up looks on me as you want”

“bruce, brucey, i would live with you in your lab for the rest of my days if i had to, whenever you ask me to hand you stuff i feel useful and important”

“laura’s way out of your league clint i have no idea how the fuck you got her but don’t lose her and i want to be your next child’s godmother”

“steve…we’re your family now. we’re always gonna be your family now. okay?”

“loki you’re not fooling anyone with your attitude, we all know you’re part of the family, you were just misunderstood and messed up bc of your dad–FUCK him by the way–but i realised everyone deserves as many chances as they need because of you”

“sam i would genuinely kill anyone who wronged you, even if they cut you in line at the grocery store, i would knife them no hesitation”

“thor, you poor golden retriever have been through so much, on my way here i made a wish on an eyelash for you bc you deserve better, your postcards always make my day, love you”

she mumbles something to peter that no one else can hear but he blushes and chokes back a sob

y/n orders hot soup and bucky brings it to her but before he even has time to react peter drops everything and ZOOMS across the room in .3 seconds

he barrels into bucky so hard they both go flying, but peter just smoothly rolls out of it and onto his feet like some kind of super ninja

“DUDE WHAT THE HELL” “😠 y/n is not supposed to drink hot liquids 😠”

all of this happens in mere seconds but sam has filmed it all and now slow mo clips go viral online of some mysterious kid knocking over the winter soldier

y/n’s a little in and out after that, but when she fully regains consciousness, she’s on a pile of blankets, surrounded by the team on the floor <3

* * *

let me know if this is actually comforting lmao stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

[celestialmango]

Ok alternate dino thing staring Eclipse who likes to mess with people.

Tw for death mentions(I mean it's Jurassic park based of course some people aren't getting out fine but it's only a mention) tw there is also a small part I wrote that made me cry but not in an angst way, more Eclipse saves little kids and gets them back to their parents safe type crying. Also mentions of raptors getting yeeted.

Eclipse as a mixture of aquatic dinos, reader is one of his handlers but they're his favorite one, big boy is carnivorous but not agressive until provoked as one of the unfortunate previous handlers were. When reader was first introduced to him while he was peeking out of the water, a shaky little thing, told to put on a wetsuit and get in the water with him, reader tried avoiding it saying that they're a bad swimmer(might use the bad swimmer bit in a fic)

Bad swimmer? That's okay he'll help them out a little, either way reader is made to go into the water anyway, Eclipse gets close to the poor thing that's having a hard time in the water and just puts his hand under them and scoops them up enough that they're still in the water but sitting on his hand startled. So reader was told to get in and stay in the water for a certain amount of time or they'd be fired, Eclipse the little shit recordnize a loop hole, reader was told to stay in the water, they're still in the water just sitting in his hand rather than swimming with him.

He does this sort of thing alot, finds loopholes and uses them to annoy people because he finds it funny, he also found it funny when he splashed a tiny bit of water at reader, reader made offended noise and to his delight tried to splash him back, aiming for his face but failing because small. None of the others did that and that was the first step to reader becoming his favorite for basically sassing him.

Now onto the break out thing, I remember a clip of one of the giant Dinos eating a flying dinosaur I don't remember the name of that was carrying off some human lady. Now put reader in that situation with an angry eclipse because that is his human and no one is allowed to eat them.... except maybe him, he snaps them both up, bites down on it's wings that are sticking out of his mouth a little to make it let his favorite go, it works, Eclipse get panicked little reader safely under his tongue to avoid swallowing them with the other dino.

Now reader is in his mouth calming down just a little, because Eclipse didn't snap them both up to eat them both, just the dino carrying them away, they're still tucked under his tongue and he's not sure what to do now, it's absolute chaos on the surface and he's certainly not going to let reader out to get snatched up again. Cue Eclipse looking for the rest of his little handler's, sees only two out of his eight handlers (he needs that many to do check ups and thing because him huge) being chased just a little out of his reach again gestures for them to get over to him quickly, they see this gesture out of the corners of their eyes and hop the fence with raptors chasing them. Because hey, the big guy is basically a gentle giant unless angry.

They're in his reach, he snatches them up, stuffs them in his mouth with reader and move to tuck those two who are panicking slightly till they see reader, nervous but calm after he stuffs them into his cheek so he can lift his tongue with his mouth open just a tiny bit of light shining in. Reader's like, hey, he put you in his mouth to rescue you too? As he proceeds to grab the raptors and yeet them into the distance.

Eclipse keeps looking out, worried at the many panicking people looking out for the rest of his handlers, good thing there's no kids around, then he stands corrected, he sees two more of his handlers trying to herd a bunch of kids they somehow managed to find due to their class having a field trip, directly to his enclosure because "he's a brat sometimes but he's a good boy" Eclipse is like, shit, can't hold all of them in my mouth under my tongue, one of the handlers in his mouth has an emergency glow stick they've cracked. Eclipse is like, welp, time to put that crop to use.

Swallow the handlers that, they all panic once inside his crop till reader's like, the dino that snatched me isn't here, the others are like "what?" Reader proceeds to tell them how they ended up in Eclipse's mouth not very long ago, there's not even an acidic smell. one's like, oh fuck, so he has a crop.

While this is going on Eclipse has snatched the kids and the other two handlers, keeping them caged with one of his arms why he swallows them all as fast as he can into his crop, reader and the others who are already there explain to them that no need to panic this is his crop not his stomach, when asked how they know they explain the whole event with how reader ended up in Eclipse's mouth.

So Eclipse finishes all of them in about a minute, it feels really weird to him but they're are more little humans that need rescue, he snatches up teenagers, some more random adults, he's concerned because he doesn't see the last of his handlers yet and is very worried, he might mess with them alot but he still cares. he doesn't have much room left, he's been nomming everyone he can reach. His abdomen starting to bulge out uncomfortably, finally he sees the rest of his handlers, relief till he see one basically trying to sacrifice themselves to keep the others safe, he forces himself up a bit more to snatch them up as well, nom.

Nausea, not going to stop though, noms till he doesn't see anymore humans passing by but he did find a few more kids who had been separated from their parents, now he's just rubbing his stuffed gut lightly to try and get the discomfort and nausea from stuffing himself that much till his belly adjusts to having all those squirmy humans in his gut, he knows they're probably not too comfortable all crammed in there.

Everyone knows this is just his crop from readers whole "this is how I ended up in this situation" Eclipse knows he is going to have to get away from the island so he can spit them all up somewhere safe and the humans did talk about some human dwellings quite a bit away, now he could have jumped into the sea at any point he wanted to before the whole breakout thing, he just didn't want to because messing and interacting with humans was just too fun, he liked when he made funny faces through the glass at them and some made funny faces back.

So once his nausea settles enough he jumps out straight into the ocean, being subtle as he looks for a boat he can follow, quickly finds to boat of survivors who made it out, they all panic when they see him peaking out of the water and looking at them, they think he's gonna sink them, nope, he's just looking for the humans who may look similar to the lost kids he nommed (at this point his crop isn't so tight but it's still crowded so it a bit less uncomfortable) then he gets distracted because some of the flyers are in pursuit of the boat, the people on the boat notice he's now frowning at something behind them, see the flying Dino's, panic more, at least till they see Eclipse swat them into the water whenever they try to dive at the boat.

A few people high on adrenaline are laughing a little because of how ridiculous it looks. Not on of those dinos gets ahold of a single person on that boat and Eclipse made sure they couldn't get out of the water either by damaging their wings. nope, no eating the humans... though he feels like a bit of a hypocrite but hey! He's not doing it for keeps, they're not even actually in his stomach.

He then goes back under water, follows where they can't see so they think he's left, they arive at port during the night, they freak when Eclipse pops out of the water again, this time holding onto the dock, keeping his head a bit low, his face scrunching up, before he opens his mouth and a little kid slips off his tongue, a lady in the crowd crying out "my baby!" The kid going "Mommy!" Tears in her eyes she doesn't even care how close she is to the beast, she's just hugs her kid tight crying in relief(ok making myself cry now on that part)

She was so scared and hurt that she couldn't find her child, that they got separated during the panic, she can't help but thank him for bringing her baby back to her safe and sound. He tilts his head, face scrunching up again and the lady thinks he's not accepting her thanks(she visited his exhibit, knows he's very smart and understands a lot of words) then bleh, he spits out a teenager this time who's like "That was awesome!" Then another person and another person, some more kids, granting relief to many parents including the ones of the school kids who came after hearing about the incident.

He's not looking too great after he's got everyone up. But his handlers start petting his hands and face praising him which makes him feel a bit better, his insides are just sore from how they were forced to stretch. But he gets many thanks and praises which boost his ego alot, whines like a sad puppy when his handlers turn to leave him. A few just sigh and come pet him more(including reader) making him rumble happily. They playfully call him a big baby tell him they have to go take care of some things, reader just wanted a shower but they decided they'll just stay with Eclipse for a bit.

Basically the other handlers are going to be like" yes there is a big monster in the bay, no he's not dangerous unless you make him mad. He's probably going to head to deeper water's soon.(nobody knows Eclipse's hide is too strong to be damage, he's like a friggin Kaiju) some people do attempt to attack him or hunt him and it doesn't turn out well for them, the smart fisherman in the bay close to where Eclipse is staying say to the newbies to the port when giving warnings are like "and don't piss off the guardian sea beast, won't help you get back to shore during storm or help you when your boat is having a mishap. If he helps you just pet him and your good, also don't mess with (list of handler's names) the sea beast favors them and we don't want any trouble with it"

So now Eclipse is like a cryptid everyone in that city knows about, some people hear about him(cryptid researchers for one) and Eclipse just loves the attention, still messing with humans just a little, but also protecting the bay and boats from threats because if those humans are gone then he gets pet less, and less attention. Eclipse will still nom people tho, some people panic but the people who are regulars to they area are like "stop it, they're fine, big guy has a crop and that's where the people he swallows go, he's just being a baby cause he doesn't want them to leave yet and he couldn't convince them to stay longer with puppy dog eyes.

[a-supernatural-writer]

Playing With Their Hair

Poly Lost Boys, Michael and Star x Gender neutral reader

Came up with this while chatting with @aliypop. Thank you for giving me this idea, I had so much fun with this!

I love playing with hair/having my hair played with so here's an imagine where the reader like playing with their partners' hair and they receive some loving back.

Warnings?: there's like a few curse words...?

Playing with your multiple partners' hair was something that you did absentmindedly. Whether it be while you were doing a task that kept you in one spot, cuddling with them, being near them or even to just get your mind off things.

Though some of your partners allowed it more than others. Dwayne was at the top of your list of people that loved it when you played with his hair. He loved it when you would run your fingers through it and scratch his scalp. At times you would catch him almost falling asleep.

He also liked it when you would braid his hair. Sometimes when he would wake up in your nest he would find small random braids in his hair and thought it was absolutely adorable. He wore them the entire night and didn’t take them out until you did so yourself.

There were a handful of times that you’ve given him an actual french braid. You would smile when you would take it out the next day, his usual straight hair now a little wavy.

Dwayne would also reciprocate the action. If you were laying down with him or just leaning against him, he would play with your hair as well. If it was long enough, he would braid your hair as well. He’s the only one who kills it at braiding. If your hair was short, he would just run his fingers through it, scratching your scalp to lull you to sleep.

Beads were also a big thing between the two of you. If you wanted to give him a few braids, you sometimes wanted to add a couple of beads as you braided. He would do the same with you, picking out your favorite colors and wearing a smile the entire night when you wouldn’t take them out.

Paul enjoys it as well, I mean, have you seen his hair? The boy runs his hands through his hair to get that teased look. He loves it when you tease it yourself, trying to fix it from laying down in your nest or even just from causing chaos.

This boy purrs when you run his fingers through his hair. He’s like a big cat… or a golden retriever that loves the attention. He will lay practically on top of you as you play with his hair. You wanna put in a few braids? Sure! Just please take them out before he goes to sleep. He’ll wear them out no problem but he doesn’t want them for too long.

Paul mostly enjoys you just running your fingers through it. He will play with your hair, no questions asked. If he does, expect him to stare at your face like a love-sick puppy when he does. He loves you to death and just watching you be so relaxed by his touch could make his dead heart beat one more time.

Plus, he fidgets a lot so letting him play with your hair was a BIG thing. He would try his best to give you braids but would fail and you were lucky that he didn’t tie your hair into a knot if it was long enough. If it was short, he would still have fun just playing with the small strands of hair.

Michael 100% down with you touching his hair which made you very happy. Have you seen his curls?!?! They are so soft!! Probably has the softest hair out of the entire bunch. You love running your fingers through his hair and you are not the only one. Everyone seems to love the softness, everyone somehow and someway has run their fingers through his hair.

He loves affection and playing with his hair not only calmed you, but it also calmed him. Multiple times he has fallen asleep in your lap and you definitely aren’t complaining about it.

Since his hair isn’t necessarily long, you can braid it, but it isn’t going to be the best. You are incredibly lucky if you can get a couple braids. You mostly just play with the curls, pulling them and watching them spring back into place which always makes you giggle and make little sound effects with them. (Side note: I have really curly hair and so many people did this to me.)

He is the only one, apart from Star and Marko that you can put anything in his hair. Sometimes you’ll put in random clips, pulling some of the hair back into a new hairstyle. The clips would range from simple bobby pins to colorful metal snap clips to more fancier ones with tiny jewels on them. A pretty boy deserves pretty clips.

When he plays with your hair, he’s so gentle. Treating you like glass and mostly is pushing you hair out of your face so he could stare at it. Your heart clenches when he looks at you lovingly and running his fingers through your hair.

Star is on the same level as Paul. She melts from your touch. Her favorite thing to do is hug you as you play with her hair. You detangle her long curls, giving her braids like the others and even adding in small beads like Dwayne, but that’s very rarely.

You are convinced that her hair is the longest. Followed by Marko, Dwayne and then Paul. David’s is just a tiny bit longer than Michael’s, so you have so much fun with Star’s hair the most.

Even when you weren’t playing with it while relaxing, you were trying out new hairstyles out on her. You’ve both gone through multiple different looks for her. Experimenting to see what worked and what didn’t. Star could never see what you’ve done but you always explained it to her the best you could or even showed her pictures of what it looks like from magazines.

Star does the same for you. She’ll style it and play with it depending on what length or even what type of hair you had. She always tried her best, giving you looks that she knows you would love. Heck, she’ll even help you dye it or cut it to your wishes if you ask her too. To be honest, Star is the only one you’ll allow to cut or do anything drastic to your hair.

Marko is weird about his hair. He takes care of his luscious golden curls like it’s his baby. It’s on the same level of his jacket. Nobody can really touch or play with it. But if he’s in the mood or gets a little jealous that everyone else's hair is getting love, he wants it too!

Without a word, Marko will just either plop down in front of you or sit on your lap, pulling out the hair tie that keeps his hair back and just mumble that he wants you to play with it. How could you resist? Answer: you couldn’t.

His long beautiful curls were like Michael’s but had a bit more of a bounce to them. You would detangle them, he would love it when you scratched his scalp, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch.

Good luck doing anything to his hair because curly hair is very tricky to work with. The curls get caught easily on each other. You think you have it down? Nope. Nice try. Marko’s hair: 1 You: 0

Marko’s hair is the second softest. Again, he takes care of his curls, he takes pride in them and he will never cut it. Maybe trim it to keep it healthy, but nothing more than an inch off. He’ll lose it.

He LOVES playing with your hair though. Anytime the two of you are together, his hands are playing with anything he can get his hands on. He will even take tips from Star on how to take care of your hair. There are some nights that Marko will take Star’s place and try a style that he thinks will look good on you. You know he was happy with his work because he was smiling all night long.

Now David… David’s hair is a no. Don’t touch it in front of the others, don’t even think about it. He’s like Marko. His mullet is a part of him and he doesn’t like people fucking with it. But that’s when he’s around the others. In private, just the two of you, it’s a whole different story.

Even in private though, he’s still a little protective of it. Very rarely will he just let you "play" with it. It’s only if he’s in a really good mood or he’s stressed. If he’s stressed, it’s probably one of the best things you can do for him. He especially likes it when you scratch the lower back of his head, right where it connects with his neck. Don’t ask why, it just feels good.

Another thing that he really likes is when you push back any stray hairs of his. Your fingers would brush against his face, hitting a little bit of his scruff as you pushed back a stray hair behind his ear. If you do that, dear lord, have mercy on your soul because he likes it way too much.

Other than that, you aren’t touching it unless you two are doing some kinky shit, which is the only other time he’ll let you touch it. Just pulling his hair at the base, the same place he likes scratched, and that’s when I wish you all the luck in the world. He isn’t letting you go at all that night.

David really only plays with your hair if he’s thinking about something. He’ll usually be laying with you in your nest, smoking a cigarette in one hand while petting your hair with the other, deep in thought. He doesn’t say anything as he does so and that’s okay. He’s content and so are you.

Also, don’t let anybody else know, but how the hell do you think his hair is platinum blonde, almost white? You are the only one to bleach and dye his hair. He will never live down the teasing from the others if they saw him with the foil in his locks. The only one he would allow to see was Dwayne. Before you came along, he was the one helping.

Apart from that, there are multiple times when a handful of you have braid trains. And that includes Michael, you and Dwayne; in the specific order. Michael learns from both you and Dwayne on how to braid hair.

Occasionally, Marko might join, letting Dwayne braid his hair. You’re a little jealous cause somehow Dwayne has magic fingers and is able to braid Marko’s hair with no problem.

Of course, like David, all of them either like pulling your hair or getting theirs pulled in a certain way. More or less, it’s David, Dwayne, and Marko that prefer pulling yours. Paul and Michael like it when you do it to them and Star… this girl is a wild card, you never know with her.

Either way, playing with their hair or them playing with yours is, in a way, therapeutic for all of you and it brings you all even closer together.

[hmspogue]

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that. 

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me. 

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused. 

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions? 

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught. 

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you. 

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike. 

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong. 

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what? 

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting. 

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏 

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time. 

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah. 

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident). 

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft. 

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug. 

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first. 

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.  

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me. 

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

[acourtofsnakes]

Kyr’am - Rogue Chapter 5| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Sick of the countless failures, Moff Gideon decides to call in the big guns. 

Warnings: Not many in this one, but mentions of violence(brief), brief mention of suicide, (literally barely touching on it), does another cliffhanger count as a warning?

AN: Ooooooo, new people 👀

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Wordcount: About 2184, a short one this time for introduction purposes

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo 

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl | 5: Kyr’am | 

Mando’a translation: Kyr’am - Death 

The atmosphere in the light cruiser was… tense. Beyond tense, actually. The tension as almost a living thing, vibrating throughout the room and threatening to explode into destruction if someone said but one thing wrong. 

Moff Gideon stood at the head of the huge table, staring at the holo-image in the middle of it with a look of distinct distaste. His hands were clasped behind his back as he surveyed the image, a young woman wearing a cloak, fire in her eyes and a ridiculously high bounty above her head. His anger and disappointment were evident, obvious to the men and women seated around the table before him. 

There was a break in the air, and then a young woman, Gideon’s Comms Officer and assistant, decked out in the dark grey green uniform walked in. Her even, regimented steps echoed on the floor and she stopped a little way away, offering a quick salute, “Sir, I have just received the report you requested from our spies in the field.”

The air tightened in the room, the people seated around the table holding their breath, hoping it was good. Hoping it wasn’t what had been rumoured. 

Gideon looked away from the table, seeing what his people were holding out for. He turned to his assistant, nodded for her to continue. 

The woman looked across the table, a glint in her eye and a faint smirk dancing across her lips fleetingly. “They got in touch with the contact who was representing you. Apparently, the hunter succeeded in finding the target.”

The collection of people around the table sagged in relief, one even going so far as to rub his eyes as he let out a sigh. 

The assistant couldn’t hide her smirk this time, allowing it for a few seconds, “And then he went rogue.”

Gideon knew this already, but this is a punishment for the people that promised him he’d get what he wanted “Rogue? What do you mean by that, officer?”

“He found the target and began to bring her back as requested. They got into an altercation at another planet, some witnesses said there was a fight in a back alley and the last they saw was the target dragging the hunter back to his ship.”

The table was still, dread beginning to curl around the room like a snake, twining around feet and legs and flicking out a tongue to taste the danger that lingered on the horizon. 

“And then?”

The assistant’s voice came out clear, almost disinterested, “And the next thing that we have, is the tracker and puck being destroyed. As of half an hour ago, no one knows where they are.”

Gideon dismissed her then turned to the table. He sighed, looking at the man who had recommended the Hunter this time, “’The best there is.’ That is what you told me, captain. ‘He’ll have her within a week and be back here to collect his reward.’ Well, captain, it’s been a week.” He spread his hands, his eyebrows raising in a mock expression of wonder. He looked around the room, then back at the captain, “Where is she? Are you hiding her under your seat?” 

The captain swallowed harshly, a sheen of sweat crawling over his skin. He kept his hands under the table because they were shaking, “N-no, sir.”

Gideon shrugged, that false wonder still in his voice too, “Then where is she? I took a great risk in following your advice. And it hasn’t paid off.”

“Sir, please! I didn’t know this would happen. I thought the bounty on her would be enough to keep him straight. My sources said he was running out of money, that he was exchanging favours instead of credits for the repair of his ship. He couldn’t have turned that money down. I don’t know what happened, maybe she tricked him. Used her power to-“

Gideon’s hands slammed onto the table, echoed only by his snarl, “Enough.”  

The captain cut off, unable to stop the pitiful whimper. No one moved, no one looked at him. They all knew what was inevitably coming. 

Gideon pointed at the pain, “Don’t you dare try to make a fool of me. It’s on your authority that this has gone wrong again.” He straightened up, “Every single one of you is to blame. Each one of you let me down. You will be punished. As it is, I have found other means. Expensive means.”

A lady lifted her hand, trembling. 

Gideon’s eyes slipped to her, his eyebrows raising just slightly. 

The lady swallowed, “Everyone knows she hasn’t used that power since she was a child. As far as we know, it doesn’t even exist in her anymore. I.. what’s the point?” 

Gideon looked at her, his dark eyes simmering but he said nothing. 

Only for a man across from the captain to speak up, “She’s right. They say if one of those types doesn’t use their power, they forget how to wield it. The Child repressed his powers for decades.”

Gideon was impatient now, waved his hand dismissively, “And then used it repeatedly in presence of the Mandalorian. It can come back. I have proof that it has. She used her power to heal him.”

“But, sir, we don’t know that-“

The atmosphere in the room noticeably shifted again. This time, the danger became something so much more. 

It became a truly living thing that pressed against the traitors around the table. It licked down their bones, caressed their minds but it sung a song of death and destruction. 

The door slid open, and then a figure walked into the room. 

He was clad head to toe in black, a black so dark it seemed to suck the light of the room. 

His tall, lithe body was armed with weapons of every variety, everything one could possibly imagine and more that were only rumoured, weapons that had been made just for him. 

He stalked into the room with all the ease of a predator walking into the den of some small, helpless animals. And relished in the sheer power he had without even trying. 

The harsh lighting of the room glinted off the blade sheathed down his back. The scabbard was engraved with symbols, symbols that had long since been used. The hilt was as black as his outfit, and intricately carved. If he had unsheathed it, the blade would have been as deep as obsidian, and so sharp it could have sliced off someone’s hand with a mere whisper. 

He stopped at the opposite end of the table to Gideon, shoulders back, posture tall and at ease, but coiled beneath the surface, waiting to strike. 

A hood covered his face, gold embroidery picked out by the lights and snaking around the edges of the hood. 

No light pierced the shadow that fell over his face, keeping him anonymous.  

Clearly the captain realised he wasn’t getting off this ship, because he suddenly broke the deathly silence by laughing. “Seriously? Is it dress up day or something?” He looked around the room at the horrified expressions looking back at him, “What? Are we supposed to be scared or something?” His arrogance was barred by the sweat pooling into the neckline of his uniform, the frantic pulse at his throat.

The night-clad figure said nothing. Merely rested his gloved hands on the table. A simple act. 

But the air in the room vibrated, a warning. 

Gideon inclined his head toward the figure, “Thank you for coming. You understand that I would have left your services be if these fools hadn’t failed me.”

The cloaked man nodded once, a slow incline of his head that somehow said everything he needed to. That he wouldn’t even have paid attention otherwise. 

Another woman at the table, a general, inquired quietly, “His services, sir? Does this mean-“

“Yes, General. It does. Never in my life have I been so spectacularly let down by a group of people before. You were supposed to the best in your fields, yet you couldn’t give me one tiny little girl.”

The woman swallowed, nodded and looked at the table in submission. 

Again, the Captain added another nail to his coffin, “You’re giving this freak the job? If we couldn’t find her, if even Trandoshans and Troopers and two Mandalorian’s can’t get her, what makes you think he’s qualified?” He stabbed a finger toward the figure, who remained silent, a predator watching their next mean. 

Gideon glared at him, losing his patience with this captain, “Because he is the best there is.” 

A snort from the foolish captain, “Oh? And why would you bring him in just now? Why not before?” 

Gideon’s glare could have cut through metal, his words clipped, “Because he has a very unique skill set that I would rather not be associated with using. However, because of this situation and the necessity of obtaining her, it makes him the most qualified.”

“Skill set? Like what? Is he going to bed the girl and then drag her in? Or does he have a-“

The captain’s words were cut off with a gurgle, and his eyes went wide. His chair pushed back and then he was rising from his seat, as if pulled up by strings. Every limb of his body was frozen, rigid. Like he was no longer in control. 

The figure had finally moved, lifting one of those gloved hands in a gesture that was almost casual. He tilted his head within his cloak, and a voice like silk slipped out, far too soft, far too seductive to belong to anyone good, “Perhaps you’ve been living under a rock and you’ve simply never heard of me.” His voice was crooning, desirable. It belonged to the deepest pits, full of monsters and creatures. It was the very darkness that plagued you, seduced you in a voice like honey – and then devoured you. 

Undiluted terror dawned on the captain’s face. He flinched, twitching, trying to claw at the invisible hold on his throat that was slowly crushing his windpipe. 

The cloaked figure lifted his head, like he was scenting the fear oozing from the captain. 

This man was a dark legend. A rumour that you had to be crazy to whisper, for fear of unleashing his dark wrath upon the speaker. Many, many people had heard the rumours of a hunter so precise, so ruthless that he left no trace. People went missing, and then showed up days later completely unrecognisable, bodies so destroyed that even the most advanced robots couldn’t extract enough DNA to give the victims a name. 

His work wasn’t messy though, that’s what made him so terrifying. 

It wasn’t just clean and efficient. It was beautiful. This was a man that relished in his skillset, lived for the hunt and the kill. Breathed it. It ran through his veins, worked the muscles of his heart. 

The fiercest warriors had dropped to their knees and wept for their lives before him. Mere mortals had died just from the sight of him.

As soon as he got the scent of someone, they may as well have ended their own lives to spare the pain. 

Many had. And it still didn’t stop him from finding the bodies and playing.  

The rumours also whispered that he wasn’t human. That he had sold his soul but even the vilest of monsters hadn’t wanted it. They’d taken one look and given it back. He wasn’t born by the Maker; he was something else entirely. He had no trace of soul in him aside from the Force, which he had twisted and utilised for his formidable beauty and indescribable actions.  

Gideon watched him play with the Captain, “You will receive the payment on her head and more. We know your prices and are grateful for your services, you may have whatever you need to assist you.”

The man flicked a finger and the Captain dropped to the ground, some guards dragging him away, “Just stay out of my way. You can keep the kid and the Mandalorian, but the girl is mine when you’re done with her.” The possession in his voice when said the word, “mine” sent a chill down the spines of everyone in the room. There was no room for disagreement, for challenge. They would finish what they needed to do with you, and then you would be given to him. Probably wrapped in a bow. 

Then he was gone, walking out of the room in a preternatural silence. 

This man… he didn’t just exude fear. He was fear. His were the eyes in the dark that watched you walk home.  He was the voice that whispered when no-one else could hear. His breath was the kiss of ice that licked down your spine when you were alone, making you lock the doors, pull the bed covers up higher. But he was like smoke, he seeped through the cracks, through carefully built defences and invaded, slumbering like a beast within, without his host even realising. 

He was death. 

And he was coming for you. 

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[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

Part 8:

It’s a sunday evening, and you’re kicking your feet up. The television is on low, and your apartment smells like the food you’d had for dinner earlier. All things considered, it’s the most relaxing day off you could’ve asked for. You’d slept in, stayed in, and not got off your couch for anything more than food or a bathroom break. It was perfection.

But perfection expires. Even quicker when somebody forcefully shatters it with a fist against your balcony door.

At the sight of Bakugou, you can’t help but be confused. You’d seen him last just a few nights ago, and, as he already proved, he only came around as a last resort. But, even stranger that his mere presence was his appearance. It was nearing evening, and Bakugou was standing behind the glass in civilian clothes. Normal ones, with a scarf and a coat for once- no hero costume or gauntlets in sight. He had a shopping bag held in the other hand, crinkling the plastic with impatience as you open the door for him. 

“Back again so soon?” You comment.

“Shut up.”

“You could try a hello once in awhile, you know.” You sigh, sliding the door open wider for him. “But I guess I’ll let you in. It is pretty cold out.”

“It’s not cold, you’re just a bitch-”

“Ah!” You scold, spinning around to face his smirk. “What did I say about calling women, and me, that?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugs, mouth drawn up in that way you’d quickly come to realize irritated the hell out of you. “Wasn’t listenin’.”

Bakugou brushes past you easily, somehow leading you into your own kitchen. A part of you wants to yell at him for it, but a larger part quickly realizes how much of a lost cause that would be. After all, it would be pretty pointless to yell at a wild animal for acting like a wild animal. 

Swinging from his hand is a plastic bag, and with no ceremony whatsoever, Bakugou slams it onto your counter. The sound makes you cringe and you’re not sure what takes more damage- the contents of the bag or your own countertop. Then he turns his back, stepping away without a word. He takes a seat at your table, flipping the chair backwards, settling into it, and resting his chin on his hands- and says nothing, of course, because it’s Bakugou. 

“So- what, you’re just gonna leave your stuff there?” You ask, fighting the urge to look inside the bag. “Just, like, out on the counter?”

Bakugou must see your eagerness, because then he’s rolling his eyes. He lifts his head like the gesture pains him, and points loosely towards the bag. 

“Go. Look.” He says. “Knock yourself out, leech. ‘s for you.”

“You bought me something?”

“Yeah? And? What about it?” He bites out defensively. “’s not a big fuckin’ deal or anything.”

“Nothing- I- that’s just nice, I wasn’t expecting it. Thank you.”

He seems to fluster at your words, casting his eyes to the floor. But he waves his hand again, and you realize he’s waiting for you to open the gift, so you near the counter.

 Inside the bag are new dish rags and high-quality bandages and a mountain of cold compresses. You dig a little further, finding some tissues and gauze and even painkillers. He seems to have accounted for and replaced everything you’d ever given him- and then some. 

“I- this is really nice. Really.” You say earnestly, unpacking everything and setting it down on the counter. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Only did it so you don’t think I owe you anything.”

“I never thought you owed me anything in the first place, you know.”

He just shakes his head at that, mouth curling around a subtle smirk. “Only an idiot serves people for free.”

“I don’t- I’m helping you!”

“I know, chill the hell out.” He laughs. “I was kidding, leech.”

You look at him, and Bakugou looks a lot different that you’ve ever seen him. He’s refreshed, skin no longer pallid, his eyes bright and alert. It’s nice, you realize, to see him in something other than pain, absolute exhaustion, or a mood for once.

He almost beautiful- in very much the same way his explosions are. From an incredibly healthy distance.

You shake your head of the thought, turning around quickly before he can notice the heat in your cheeks. It’s a silly thing to be embarrassed about, and you know it, but that doesn’t stop the feeling. 

So instead of dwelling on it, you ignore it entirely- spin on your heels and start walking towards your bathroom. 

“Where’re ya going now?” He asks, and you hear the chair squeak as he stands. Then he’s trailing behind you for a few steps. “Hah?”

“Bathroom. Gotta get the kit so I can put all the new stuff in it!”

“Well don’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it.”

“I am happy!” You call over your shoulder.

Truthfully, you’re actually little unsure- almost assuming there must be some sort of catch to Bakugou’s gift. Sure it’d be a normal gesture from anyone else, but this was him. He didn’t just do nice things regardless of whatever reason he claimed.

You grab the medkit, striding back out to find him leaning against your counter. His eyes follow you, focused and intent as you start packing the new things away. It’s a little intense honestly- you almost start to wonder if Bakugou even knows how to blink.

“Wow- this is the exact brand I like and everything.” You smile at him, tucking all the bandages away neatly. “How’d you know?”

“Noticed.”

“You noticed?”

“The packaging, idiot. ‘s not hard.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe not. But I didn’t expect you’d notice it while you were injured is all- oh, and speaking of, good job! Showing up here, not bleeding out and exhausted, I mean. It’s nice to see you not on the brink of death.”

“Yeah- just means you shouldn’t piss me off. I’ll kill ya for sure this time, leech.” 

His tone is a little weird- a little too light, almost teasing. It’s not until you look up at him that you notice- he’s joking. Bakugou Katsuki is making a joke, in your kitchen, and somehow smiling with very little argument beforehand. A part of you is sure that hell must’ve frozen over.

Still, you smile right back, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “Mhm, I get it.” You say. “You’re totally scary and mean. No need to threaten me any more with it.”

Bakugou just nods, seemingly very satisfied with your comment. You wonder if he knows you were being sarcastic, but knowing his ego, you’re not sure it even mattered anyway. You chose to say the words at all, and that was your worst mistake. 

You finish putting away all the medical supplies into your kit, organizing it neatly within the compartments. Bakugou watches you intently the entire time, not really moving much aside from taking his previous seat back on your kitchen chair. It’s a silent for a while, nothing but your little shuffling sounds and his quiet breathing- until he clears his throat, sighing and slumping forward against the back of your kitchen chair.

“You going shopping again soon?” He suddenly asks, voice pinched and terse. Like even bringing the subject up at all irritates him. “Gonna be out even later or whatever?” 

“I mean- yeah, some time in the next few days? Why?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is clipped- short and harsh like every other word he’d ever spoken to you, but his expression has shifted. There’s no pretense or tough act to follow his command. No front whatsoever. 

“That’s- that’s not really something you get to decide.” You finish unsurely. Something about him is making you nervous- the intensity over something so seemingly trivial. “Why’re you even asking?”

Bakugou straightens in the chair, dropping his arms from over the back. He rolls his shoulders, puffing out his chest with authority. “It doesn’t matter why I’m fuckin’ asking. Just do what I say and stay inside.”

“How many times have I told you this, you don’t get to make orders-”

“It’s not orders.” Bakugou sneers, mimicking your voice. Then he drops the posturing, tilting his head as his voice colors condescending. “I’m saying it’s dangerous, idiot. Quit being so goddamn stubborn.”

“I’m not.” You scrunch your nose at the insult. “And dangerous? Really? I’ve literally never been attacked, not once, in the entire years I’ve lived here. If it’s concern, I appreciate it, but I’m fairly confident I’m fine.”

“It’s- you even listenin’ to me?” He sneers. “I’m warning you. Tellin’ ya not to go out and do something stupid just to prove a stupid fuckin’ point. I’m serious about it- don’t.”

His tone strikes you as odd. Bakugou wasn’t the type to ask for anything. He didn’t bow to anyone or anything, but in that moment you could’ve sworn he was pleading with you. Like he knew something you didn’t. You start to realize you were right earlier, about the way his gift had a catch.

“Bakugou. Did you see something? Like, around here or-”

“No. Not yet.”

You want to tear your hair out. Once again, it seemed Bakugou had you pulling teeth with him, even though he was the one who showed up at your apartment in the first place. 

“Not yet? What does that even-” You sigh in frustration. “Look, if you know something, and that something is dangerous, then you need to tell me.”

Bakugou’s entire face to seems to scrunch up at that, but then he’s dragging a hand down his face and smoothing his features. When he looks up at you again, you can see the way his eye twitches. The way his jaw ticks when he leans forward.

“I can’t.” He growls, running a hand through his unruly hair. “If I could just fuckin’ tell you I would, but it’s not that goddamn easy. Even knowing in the first place is how they- just, just fuckin’ listen to me about this!” 

Bakugou tilts his head, catching your eyes with his hardened stare. His eyes are solid again, like strengthened steel as he looks at you. It’s almost harder to keep his gaze than it is to even try and look away.

It’s yet another stare off, and up until now, you’d won every match. You had seen him at his worst, had forced him to relent even if it was through brute force- but this didn’t seem like those other times. Between his clenched fists and merciless stare, it didn’t seem like surrender was even part of his vocabulary. 

In that moment, Bakugou was serious. More serious than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Yeah. Okay.” You say, nodding. “I got it- but I’m not sure what you want me to do exactly? My shift’s graveyard, so if the problem is it being dark and late, then I’m not sure what to tell you.”

Bakugou nods, but he doesn’t look exceptionally thrilled. He rolls his lips together, thinking for a moment, before he speaks. “Same time every night?”

“Yeah? Most nights?”

“Then it’s fine.” He nods once more to himself, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll be there.” 

You look at him a little funny, squinting in absolute disbelief, but it doesn’t matter. Bakugou’s already made up his mind it seems. 

“What- like every night?” You ask. “You’re just gonna walk me home, every night?” 

“Got a fuckin’ problem with it or something?”

“No, but that’s- do you not have a job? I don’t- you really don’t need to go through all that trouble just to pay back whatever debt you think you owe me and-”

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, swearing under his breath. “This isn’t about a stupid debt, alright? It’s about your shitty quirk. And don’t start fuckin’ asking me to explain how, because I won’t, no matter how much you beg. Just believe me, and fuckin’ listen. For once.” 

You shrink back a little bit at that- your stomach dropping.

Your quirk? What the hell would your quirk have to do with anything? 

“Don’t give me that shit, woman. I already told you.” Bakugou gruffs suddenly. “‘m not saying anything else, so shut up about it alread-

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Didn’t have to, leech, could see it in your beady eyes.” 

“Well excuse me for having a natural reaction!” You snap, squinting at him. “You can’t just walk in here, say something cryptic, tell me I’m in danger apparently, and then expect me to just be perfectly calm about it, alright? It’s not fair.”

To his credit, Bakugou does actually seem to mull over your words for a second. He huffs another breath, something exhausted and a little annoyed before he speaks again.

“Don’t go spiraling about it, leech. Nothing’s even fuckin’ wrong. Yet.” He gruffs. “All ‘m saying is that going out alone at night is a shitty idea, even for you, and you should stop doing it.”

“Okay. Fine. I guess. Even though it feels sorta backwards, I guess stuff like this is pretty much your job, huh?” You sigh. “But what did you mean earlier, about my quirk? What would it even have to do with anything? No one but you even really understands it.”

“Mhm, and we’re keepin’ it that way.” 

“That’s unreasonable. I can’t just, like, stop using it. It’s a huge portion of my job!”

“Tough.”

“Tough? Tough? Really? That’s all you have to say?” You huff in frustration. “It’s- Look, I can admit you probably have a point about the not going out at night thing, but I’m not just gonna stop using my quirk entirely and-” 

“When the fuck did I tell you to stop using it completely? I didn’t, so stop putting your words in my mouth, leech. What I said is you need to stop just fuckin’ usin’ it on everybody you see. Any idiot with half a brain cell could see how strong it is, alright?” He says. “So you need to figure out how to keep it to yourself. Stop drawing so much goddamn attention.”

“Drawing attent- Bakugou! I’m a nurse, alright? Not a celebrity. Not like you.” You huff, irritation coating your words. “I appreciate the concern, but I really, really, don’t think me doing my job, is gonna put me in danger! I hardly have control of it as it is, and I highly, highly, doubt my unimpressive skillset is gonna attract some crazy supervillain!” 

Bakugou just stares at you blankly while you rant, hardly even blinking as he lets you calm down. When your settled at bit, taking a deep breathe, he clicks his tongue at you.

“You already did.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you already did, you moron.” 

“That’s- are you- you’re kidding? Right? Please tell me you’re kidding!” 

“What the fuck? Of course I’m not, idiot.” He scoffs, arms flexing as he wraps them around the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t even be here right now if I was. Stupid shit like that is a waste of my fuckin’ time.”

At his words, you can feel the nerves rolling in. It seems your life only got crazier and crazier the longer Bakugou invaded it, but this was something else. You had no business being involved in his world at all, you knew that, and especially not like this. At the very center and seemingly the cause of the problem. It made you feel sick. 

“Oh wipe the dumbass look off your face.” Bakugou rolls his eyes. “You really think I’m that useless? Nobody is going to get you. If anything, it’ll just make it easier for me to catch these fuckers with you sittin’ out like bait all the damn time.” 

“Bait? I’m not being bait for you!” 

“Jesus, leech. That’s not what I meant and you know it, so calm the hell down.” Bakugou reassures. “I meant, they’ll get greedy and sloppy sooner or later. Maybe even do something really stupid like go after you- but it’s fuckin’ fine because I’ll be there. No villian worth anything is dumb enough to come after you in the day, and I’ll walk you home at night. So there’s no goddamn issue.”

“No issue? This entire thing is an issue! I feel like you’re not taking this seriously!” 

Bakugou’s eye twitches at that, and you see him huff, pushing the chair away as he stands. He nears you, solid steps against your kitchen tile until he’s just a few feet away. There’s fire in his eyes, raging and relentless as he towers over you, his broad shoulders almost blocking out the overhead light. His expression is pinched something harsh, shadows gathering under a jaw he sets sharp enough to cut steel. In the dim glow of your kitchen, Bakugou looks mean. Much, much, scarier than he’s ever been around you before.

“I am taking this seriously.” He seethes. “Those evil, sadistic motherfuckers are not going to get away with this shit- but this only works, if you do as I say. ‘m gonna blow ‘em to hell either way, and I’d rather  not do it with you tagging along as their idiot fuckin’ hostage. So you’re gonna stay in and not take any stupid risks. You understand? Leech?” 

A part of you wants to shrink for a moment, cower and collapse under the heat of his gaze. Bakugou is intimidation like you’ve never experienced before, and strangely enough, you find that brings a weird sort of comfort to you; because he looked furious, but he looked incredibly determined too. Like no force on the entire planet, divine or otherwise, could possibly save those villains from his wrath. 

“Yeah. Okay. I get it.” You say. 

“Good.” 

Then he backs off, taking and few steps back and shoving his hands in his pockets. The rage seems to melt off his face, running fluid down his nose until his eyebrows relax and his grimace goes smooth. You’d always thought he’d looked angry before, but compared to his previous expression, you realized you were wrong. As it looked now, around you, Bakugou might as well have been docile. 

“It’s- is there anything you can tell me about whoever this is?” You ask shakily. “I know what you said, but I can’t just throw myself into danger like this, alright? If it involves me, I need to know.” 

“You can’t. Knowing is the entire fucking issue.”

“What does that-”

“I already told you, I’m not telling you, alright? So fucking drop it.” 

“I can’t! How am I supposed to watch out for myself if I don’t even know what we’re up against-”

“We’re? No. We’re not up against anything.” He barks out. “You’re staying inside. I’m serious. No exceptions- that is the only fuckin’ way any of this’ll work. Don’t make it any goddamn easier for them then it needs to be.” 

“H-how do you even know any of this? Where is this even coming from? I didn’t even live anywhere near here until I met you, and even that was only months ago!”

“It’s not important how I know. I just do, alright? So stop makin’ this so hard and just quit fighting already. You’ll be fine if you just let me do my fuckin’ job.” 

You run shaky hands through your hair, trying to battle the anxiety coursing hot through your veins. A part of you wants to protest, to screech at him, but you’re not sure that would be of any help. Bakugou looked dead set on his plan already, like he’d already strategized ten steps ahead, and, when you thought about it, maybe he did. Nobody could become a top-ranking pro off pure luck, and concerning Dynamite? Well the skill behind the intimidating name was obvious. Bakugou had never been beaten. Not once in his entire career had he ever let somebody get away without injury. It’s a strange, frightening, bloody kind of bright side, but concerning your situation, you figure you’d take what you could get. 

And, when you thought about it, maybe his plan wasn’t all that bad. It was just laying low. You could do that. You could do that. 

Maybe. If you didn’t die of a panic attack first. 

“So- you thought you could butter me up with a gift and then drop a bomb on me, huh?” You ask tiredly, dropping your elbows onto your kitchen counter. You collapse into them, head in your hands as you slump. “Nice strategy, you asshole.” 

You hear him exhale something like a laugh behind you. 

“Don’t laugh!”

“Oi- quit your bitching. I told you- I’ll gonna kill them all, so chill the hell out already.” 

You turn to look at him, replying flatly. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to kill anyone. Even villains.” 

“Not literally, you bitch.” He grumbles. You hear steps behind you as he moves closer. “Just listen to me and you’ll be fine. Don’t go running off and trying to take care of it yourself. Don’t waste my time like every other dumbass civilian.” 

When you lift your head up again, Bakugou is leaning against the other side of the counter. He’s towering over your slumped form, and when you look up at him, he actually doesn’t look that pissy. You almost find that to be the strangest occurrence of the entire night. 

“Oh god no. No self-sacrifice here. You can do all the fighting, thanks.” You shiver. “Even the thought of it nearly makes me sick. I don’t think I could hurt anybody.” 

“Good thing. You’d be flat on your ass in seconds, leech.” 

“I would no- actually, no, you’re probably right.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “God, I’m fucked, aren’t I?” 

“No. Don’t be so goddamn weak about this. You’re fuckin’ fine.” 

“What- you’re gonna protect me?”

Bakugou seems to nearly seize at your remark, his face pinching up into a snarl. If he was half an iota more juvenile you’re sure he would’ve made an audible gagging sound.

“Jesus fuck, shut your mouth.” He barks at you, cheeks flushing. “I’m gonna get ‘em, but it has nothing to do with you.” 

“Mhm. Yeah. Whatever. As long as they can’t get to me, I don’t care what reason it’s for.”

You fall into silence after that, and you try to focus on just your breaths. They feel less momentous, less anxiety-inducing, in your world that has quickly become very stressful. You can’t help the nausea settling in your stomach. You were scared.

You’d meant it when you said you couldn’t hurt anybody. Even in a life or death situation, you’re not sure you could do anything to cause harm. It just wasn’t in your nature, and the thought of being violent made you sick almost as much as the fear did. It was a strange sort of battle- one that left your fingers itching for somebody to heal. Somebody to soothe since you wouldn’t get any peace in your own mind it seemed. 

After giving yourself a few minutes of grace, just standing there in the fear didn’t seem like enough. You were overwhelmed, yes, but you weren’t alone. Even if he was bit of an asshole, you knew he’d keep his word. You wouldn’t get hurt- as long as you tried your best to be vigilant. With that thought in mind, you turned to Bakugou, trying your best to steady your voice.

“My shift ends at midnight. Or it’s supposed to. Most nights we run late, but there’s not much I can do about that.” You tell him. “I’m not sure if you already knew that or if that’s even helpful, but I figured I’d tell you anyways.” 

“So you’re listenin’?”

“Yes?” You ask confused. “It’s not like I could fight them off myself- not successfully like you could at least. What other choice do I have?” 

“That’s-” Bakugou shakes his head, disbelief rising for a second before he masks it. “Didn’t expect it, leech. Thought you’d fight like an idiot about it. You wouldn’t believe how fuckin’ stupid most civilians are. You tell ‘em they’re in danger and the morons just stand there and watch.”

“No, I know. I’m the one patching all those morons up, remember?” 

He nods, laughing something exhausted before he drags a hand down his face. It’s a strangely humanizing gesture- something devoid of anger and almost bordering genuine connection. You’d come to realize that there were cracks in his armor. Little bits of him that really did seem fond of all those people he worked so hard to save.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. And every day afterwards.” You say, rolling your shoulders back. You stretch you arms out in front of you, sighing tiredly. “Congrats on the the promotion to being my glorified guard dog.” 

Bakugou scrunches his nose up in disgust, lip curling. “I’m not your fuckin’ guard dog.” 

“Kinda seems like it.”

“It doesn’t seem like shit, leech.”

“Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious.”

“I know. God forbid I make a joke, grumpy pants.” You mutter quietly, clapping your hands with finality as you change the subject. “Alright, I think that’s enough panic for the night, thank you. Is that all? Or are there any other horrifying tidbits you wanna share with me?”

“Nope.”

“Well that’s- actually, no, I was gonna say that makes me feel better, but it actually doesn’t. Not at all.”

“Don’t be a bitc-”

“Bakugou! What did I say about that word?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Little bitch. Don’t be a little bitch.” 

It’s a strange thing to laugh at- an insult in the face of so much fear. But you do. His comment makes you laugh, slices the tension in your string wound far too tight. Bakugou seems satisfied at that, smiling slightly in return as he retrieves his jack and shrugs it back on. 

“Oh- you’re not staying? It’s late.” 

“Nah. Got patrol, leech.” Then he looks you up and down, squinting at the slippers on your feet. “Some of us actually got our lazy ass out of bed today.” 

“Hey! It’s my day off, you dick!”

Bakugou just laughs under his breath, nimble hands winding his scarf back around his neck. “You’re too fuckin’ easy.”

“Only because you’re dead set on being an asshole!” 

“Yeah? And?”

“That’s- don’t defend yourself!” You sputter, following behind him to the door. “You shouldn’t feel confident about that!”

He just shrugs, pulling open your balcony door with excessive force. He steps out, and the cold air floods in quickly, pinking his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Maybe it’s his lack of costume or his relaxed expression, but suddenly, you can’t help yourself with the words you say next. 

“Be careful, yeah?” You say. “I don’t wanna see you again until tomorrow night.” 

He looks at you a little strangely, tilting his head almost imperceptibly. Then he’s shaking it off, clenching his fist as a dangerous smirk rolls across his face.

“‘m all good. Bitches won’t even get a scratch on me.” 

You’re about to yell at him for word choice again, and he must see it in your eyes. Bakugou waves you off, laughing as he vaults on top of the balcony railing in one leap. There’s sparks popping in his palms, before he turns back once more, cheshire grin and fire in his eyes as he flips you off. Then he’s skydiving below the horizon line and out of sight. 

You curse him out, but your words are drowned out by explosions. 

When you walk back inside, rubbing the cold from your arms, you realize you left the first aid kit open. You latch it shut, but leave it on the counter just in case. You were being honest earlier- you didn’t want to see him again that night, especially not injured, but you’d help him if you had to.

At this point, it felt like no matter what you did, you just couldn’t get rid of him. 

--/--

edit: pls y’all i forgot to add the taglist when i originally posted ,,, omg this is so embarrassing whoops

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9  @the2ndl @the-shota-king-masayuki @shy-panda02 @devastyle @shoto-supremacy00 @shotoful

[teawaffles]

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 7, Part 1

T/N: For the first time, a chapter will have three parts ( ; ω ; ) This is one very long scene..!

TW for this chapter // Mention of death, blood

If there were a hole in the ground, he would dive right into it.

——Is that what one would call this state of mind?

That was what Kevin Curtis thought as he nervously wandered the forest alone.

After they’d bid farewell to Albert, for a while, he and the elderly nobleman Andy had continued walking on with no destination in mind. Then they ran into a couple of nobles from the opposing team, and somehow started shooting at one another; before he knew it, for some reason, he had found himself all alone.

When the fighting started, Kevin had panicked and knocked into Andy. He’d then dropped his revolver somewhere, and descended into an even greater panic. Kevin crawled on the ground to search for it after that, and just as he’d finally found his own gun, the next thing he knew, he was both lost and alone. For about a minute, Kevin had hugged his knees as he fell into despair, such was the height of his misery.

“But it’s a good thing this card was here.”

Kevin spoke to himself, brushing his fingers over the card that had been tied to the revolver. Without it, he wouldn’t have had the confidence to say that the gun he had picked up was his own. On the card, the number 8 was clearly written.

“But what should I do now……?”

He kept going “But, but” over and over as he swayed, repeatedly turning his head to look around him. Even though the forest wasn’t very large, perhaps it was the strangeness of his surroundings that heightened his unease, for it had begun to seem oddly complex and bizarre.

In times like this, if he were here——

The figure of that man rose to his mind: his business partner, Helena’s father, and his best friend.

In contrast to the timid Kevin, he had an endlessly bright and cheerful personality. There were times when Kevin had thought that cheeriness bothersome, but the man was optimistic, and loved a challenge, which meshed well with his own pessimistic and cautious nature. The store they’d opened and run together had been a success, so much so it had grown into an enormous department store.

Why did he just disappear? Kevin knew it was useless to think about it now, but even so, he still couldn’t help but feel that way.

They’d known one another for ten years, yet Kevin hadn’t noticed him being particularly troubled. Their business was progressing smoothly, and it didn’t seem as though he was having problems at home. After Helena had been born, his wife had fallen ill and passed away, but Kevin was certain that he and Helena had come to terms with her passing for a long time now.

Even so, perhaps there was something else that no one knew about, which had been gnawing away at him for some time. Then, why hadn’t he noticed anything? Kevin had asked himself this question many times over as he was interviewed by the Yard.

Of course, there was the line of thought that no one was to blame, and he’d been abducted by someone. In an industry where resentment was common, perhaps there were some people who would resort to such extreme measures — and Kevin had been too careless to anticipate it. Whether he wanted to or not, that incident came to mind. That was why…….

Unconsciously, Kevin’s eyes began to search for the girl he had taken in.

That was why he would at least protect Helena — that was the duty Kevin had taken upon himself. Even after her beloved father had gone missing, Helena had never once lost her outspoken spontaneity, nor shown the slightest sign of grief, and he was staunchly determined to protect that resolute spirit of hers.

“Hm?”

Unexpectedly, his train of thought had been interrupted. Speak of the devil perhaps, or maybe his thoughts alone managed to influence reality. As Kevin stumbled through the forest, before his eyes appeared a lone girl with her back turned to him.

——Was that Helena? From her hairstyle and clothes, it did appear so. Strangely, she was sitting in the tall grass, her back hunched as she hugged her knees. She appeared to be staring intently at something before her, without showing any sign of having noticed Kevin behind her.

He pondered. Now, he and Helena were on opposing teams. Moreover, this girl, who seemed to be Helena, had exposed her back to him, leaving herself full of openings……. In this situation, what was the right thing to do?

If he were to play the part of a kind and generous father, he could call out to her, and let her shoot him on purpose. But he was quite certain that Helena, prideful as she was, would want a serious battle; if she knew he deliberately let her get away, it was inevitable that she would throw a big fuss about it no matter what good intentions he had.

In that case, should he fire on her right now? But then he was worried he might upset her, and just as all sorts of concerns whirled around Kevin’s head, someone thumped a hand on his back.

“………!”

Kevin had almost let out a yelp, but he frantically clapped a hand over his mouth as he spun around. There, he saw Andy Krueger, whom he’d lost sight of in the battle earlier.

The man placed an index finger over his mouth, signalling Kevin to stay quiet, and walked up beside him.

“That’s Helena-kun, isn’t it?”

Andy sounded fairly certain on that, and Kevin lowered his voice as he spoke.

“I just happened to come up behind her, and now I’m not sure if I should shoot.”

Andy gave him a wry smile.

“That’s quite like you. But even though it’s just for fun, you shouldn’t bring parental affection into a fight. Go on, get her before she runs away.”

“A-Alright.”

He had thought of Andy as a compassionate person, but it seemed he also had this surprisingly severe side to him. At the elderly nobleman’s rapid insistence, Kevin was on edge as he aimed his gun at the girl.

“Come on, quickly now,” Andy pressed.

There was no space for objection. Without thinking straight, Kevin pulled the trigger.

——Bang. A sound like a crack resounded through the air.

The recoil was stronger than expected, and Kevin fell on his bottom. Half stunned, he felt a little out of sync: perhaps it was because he was a complete amateur with a firearm.

However, that shot had felt subtly different from the previous times he’d fired his gun. The sense of incongruity that had arisen when he fired the shot, as well as a mysterious unease, both hit him simultaneously. Getting to his feet, Kevin looked at the girl in fear.

The girl lay curled up quietly on the ground. On her back was a huge splash of colour. But it wasn’t the hue of some artificial paint — rather, it was an ominously bright red.

“……Huh?”

That sinister red blotch gradually bloomed across the girl’s back. As he looked on, Kevin tilted his head in a comical motion.

It was the first time he had hit his target: to think, the colour would be as realistic as that. Moreover, the girl had yet to move a muscle. Maybe she was diligently pretending to be dead.

Kevin’s thoughts couldn’t catch up with the reality happening right before his eyes. As he stared ahead in a daze, beside him, the elderly nobleman spoke up in horror.

“Kevin-kun……. Was that, a live bullet?”

At that word, Kevin came back to himself. He looked at his revolver: both his hands were trembling abnormally. No way. Just now—— did he fire a real gun?

“Why? This is a toy, isn’t……”

“Give it here.”

Andy snatched the revolver from his hands. The card with the number 8 fluttered in the air. That’s right. Wasn’t it precisely that card which proved definitively that the gun was the one he’d been given? But even that little hope had been so easily crushed.

After briefly inspecting the gun, Andy gazed at him, wide-eyed.

“This is the real thing. You’ve just shot and killed her.”

His tone was emphatic, as if he were pronouncing judgement upon him. Kevin’s mind was a complete blank, but Andy shook his shoulders and immediately jerked him back to reality.

“You’ve done something terrible now, Kevin-kun! To think, you’ve killed your own child!”

“N—No…… I was just, playing a game—”

“That excuse won’t hold up! You’ve committed murder!”

As Andy shook him over and over, the word “murder” echoed in Kevin’s mind. Certainly, it was as the old man said. No matter what reasons he had, it was an unquestionable, irreversible fact that he had killed someone.

Andy went on volubly at a rapid clip.

“This is bad. If you go on like this, it’ll be your end. A murder conviction will strip you of your wealth, your name — everything. But you’re lucky that I’m the one who witnessed it. First off, let’s hide the body somewhere inconspicuous. Then we’ll make it seem as though Helena simply disappeared, and you can hide away in a foreign country. Once the furore dies down, you can come back; until then, leave the plans for your new store with me.”

“N-Now hold on just a minute!”

Even as he was overwhelmed by the force of Andy’s arguments, Kevin somehow managed to interrupt his proposal.

“We don’t know for sure whether she’s dead. If we give her first aid right away, she might still be saved. And what did you mean about leaving my plans for the store with you? What does the management of my store have to do with you?”

Kevin’s points were valid, but Andy refused to listen.

“Look at her! She hasn’t twitched at all: of course she’s dead! And it’s the same with the store! You’re a murder suspect, while I, a noble, am clearly more trustworthy, so it would be obviously more effective if I were to operate it——”

“——You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, Lord Andy.”

As if he’d been possessed by something, Andy was just making an impassioned speech when a refreshing voice cut him off.

Kevin looked up, and caught sight of a man standing behind Andy.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Rumor Has It {21}*

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler

Warning: Cursing, ANGST, Plot, Fluff, Mildly NSFW, Violence, Blood, Death, Verbal mention of Rape, Potentially Triggering Discussion

Words: 6.2k

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

NOTE: DO NOT COME FOR ME. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Uriah-

You pushed off of him to an upright position, not sure you’d heard him right. “Say what!?”

 Chris sat up as well and leaned on the headboard.

 “Yeah. Abel, the detective, found that the video was doctored. It was spliced together using so many different audio clips dating back to when Knives Out was announced. She had someone doctor it to make it seem like it was me, or recent and current me.”

 You were ready to claw her eyes out. “That bitch!”

 Chris sighed. “That’s not it,” he began. He reached for your hand and brought you closer. You swung your leg over his lap and sat on his thighs, giving him your undivided attention.

 “Remember the picture of her in the sweater?”

 Clenching your jaw, you nodded. “The one from your room?”

 He nodded. “You’re right—it was from my room.”

 You gaped at him, ready to lunge at him, but you stopped yourself.

 “She snuck in, stripped down, and posted it. Abel was able to get security footage from the hotel. She bribed one of the housekeeping staff. They let her in, and it was at the same time I was on call for press. The timestamp shows it. I’m thinking she knew it would set you off and create problems between us.”

 You couldn’t believe what he was saying. This was insane. Why would someone go to these lengths?

 “Wow.” You rubbed your forehead, trying to wrap your head around everything. Not only were you still grappling with everything that happened since the accident, including things with Christiano, but the babies and Chris’s downward spiral, but now this. “Oh my god.”

 “The investigator uncovered a video from the hotel—and so much more.” Chris released a heavy breath then took your hand. “It all points to her, Riah.”

 His fingers traced imaginary patterns on my hand and along the length of my fingers.

 “And the text messages?” You couldn’t help yourself. Chris looked up from your hand and to your waiting eyes. The look on his face was an inquisitive one. “The ones between you and her about us,” you finished.

 There was no look of shock; he just looked resolved, as if he somehow knew that you knew.

 “How do you know about that?”

 “I did something crazy,” you began before pausing to find the right way to explain.

 It only took a few moments to forego any strategic plan and lay it out. So that is what you did. You explained your mission impossible operation with Kizzy and Zora a few weeks ago at Chris’s press junket. You explained being in the elevator to witness Ana’s blatant flirting. You explained, taking her purse and going through her phone to find out how devious she was. By the time you finished, the silence in the room was deafening. Chris hadn’t moved or spoken since you began. The look on his face was so masked and neutral that you couldn’t tell if he was on the brink of an angry outburst or a disappointed one.

 Suddenly Chris snorted loudly then laughed obnoxiously, clapping his free hand across his chest. The laugh went on so long to the same caliber that you couldn’t help but join in. So the two of you sat there laughing together for several long minutes. Once both of you were laughed out, you just stared at each other.

 “I can’t say that I’m surprised,” Chris started first, continuing to rub your hand. “I knew who I married.”

 He sighed and shook his head. That was when you saw the remorse in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about it all, but I didn’t want to hurt you or have you doubt me.”

 Chris clenched his jaw then crinkled his brow. “In hindsight, I know it looked really suspicious. There are so many things I see now that I didn’t then. I shouldn’t have even had those text exchanges. It’s not her place to know anything small or not about our marriage. Jesus.” Chris took his hand away then raked it through his hair before locking his hands behind his neck—one of his frustrated ticks. His eyes were dropped to your thighs, and that’s where they remained.

 “I’m sorry, Riah.”

 His voice sounded clouded, and that was the only indication you needed to know his emotions were getting the better of him.

 “I’ve been so stupid. So stupid,” he choked out.

 “Baby.” You slid closer to him, grabbing his elbows to pull them down to rest on top of your thighs. “Look at me.”

 You raised his chin so he was looking into your eyes. His tears stained his cheeks and welled his eyes. You’d wanted him to see the error of his ways so many times. You’d wished he could see it your way and understand, and now that he did, you should have felt vindicated, but you didn’t. There really were no winners when the family feuds.

 Dropping your face into the crook of his neck, you inhaled his scent.

 “I’m sorry, dragonfly,” Chris whispered, wrapping his arms around you holding you close. “So sorry.”

 “Baby—look at me.”

 He pulled back enough for you to peer into his eyes. As you caressed his cheek, you spoke.

 “It’s okay. I—you--,” you sighed, then traced your thumb across his bottom lip. “I understand. There has been so much—pain, so much sorries and--.” Again you stopped for a few seconds.

 “No more,” you finished.

 Chris slowly nodded his head, grasping your meaning. He then kissed your thumb and nuzzled his bearded jaw into your palm. Though you wanted to move on, there was one more burning question, one more thing you had to know. Nibbling your bottom lip, you found your courage.

 “Were—were you tempted?”

 You couldn't look at him, so you kept your head down.

 “What? Tempted? To do what?”

 Meeting his eyes, you swallowed, then continued.

 “Cheat,” you whispered.

 Chris sat up straight, and he cupped your face within his large hands. His eyebrows were crooked with the intense, take me serious look he always got when he was about to say something important.

 “Look at me. Never.”

 You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you.

 “Listen and hear me, Uriah, never, ever. I would never. I told you I married you for a reason. I had a plan. Forever and a day, Uriah. You promised me forever and a day, and I won’t stand for anything less. I’m collecting all of it. Forever and a day.”

Fighting the tears, you scoffed. “You were a jackass. When I tell you a woman wants you, don’t doubt me.”

 Chris smiled and nodded. “I was. Never again. We don’t be here again. I’m going to be Pence from now on. You must be present at all times, or I’m not alone with any women.”

 You busted out laughing, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the heaviness of the last few weeks. It felt almost normal, like the two of you were on your way. Chris kissed you once, then twice before resting his forehead to yours.

 “We have to nail her ass to the wall,” you declared, staring into his eyes.

 “Oh, definitely. What did you have in mind, Mrs. Evans?”

 “You didn’t file the papers?”

 Chris scoffed, then rolled his eyes.

 “I don’t know who you think I am, but you’re gonna have to try harder than divorce papers to get rid of me, Dragonfly.”

 Again you smiled. “So whatever I want, you won’t be the voice of sympathy?”

 “Whatever you want, kitten,” Chris replied, kissing the tip of your nose, making your belly flutter in the process.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m so happy that you’re okay, sweetheart,” your mother said as she pulled you into a group hug with your father.

 “I’ll be okay, mom.”

 Your father cupped your cheek, taking the time to inspect your face. You knew he wasn’t looking for physical harm. He was realizing how close he’d come to losing you, how he’d failed you. You could tell. When Chris had called them to update them, they instantly wanted to hear your voice. When they did, they broke, and that breaking turned to shattered when everything came out.

 You’d spent two hours on the phone with them, listening to them apologize and blame themselves for putting so much trust in Christiano. They felt horrible for never suspecting that he would stoop so low. They begged you not to hate them, begged you to forgive them. It was easy to promise them you weren't angry because you understood. You didn’t blame them or hold a grudge for them not doing more. They had no idea who Christiano really was—you didn’t either. The only one who ever saw him for who he was, was Chris.

 “I’m so sorry, Uriah. As your father, I should have done more to keep you away from him.”

 “Daddy, don’t. There is nothing you could have done. You did the best with what the information you had—you all did,” you assured, looking around at the faces of everyone you loved, both your family and Chris’s.

 Lisa approached and pulled you into another hug. You could feel her tears.

 “I’m okay, I promise.”

 “I am so happy that you are.” Her hand dropped to your bump, and she smiled. “That you all are.”

 Just like that, the waterworks started again, and everyone huddled around you, everyone but Chris, who was standing back most likely watching with a cheesy smile on his face. When they released you, your guess was correct. Chris smiled, then winked at you.

 “So how are we getting those sons of bitches?”

 All eyes snapped to Zora, who looked as if she was ready to rip out a heart and eat it.

 “Down girl—Chris has already laid the groundwork,” you said.

 “And it was easy, just play into that colossal ego of his,” Chris finished, kissing my temple.

   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

MSG Love Of My Life: Remember, don’t let him goad you. He’s going to try.

 He scoffed; it was an understatement.

 MSG: I’m good. He can’t get me to because I have what he doesn’t, and I know something he doesn’t.

MSG Love Of My Life: You do have me. Forever and a day, my love. <Kiss emoji, heart emoji>

MSG: You should have let me go with you. I don’t like you’re alone.

MSG Love Of My Life: I’m not alone. I have my parents, Kizzy, Zora, your sisters, your mom, our lawyers. I am far from alone.

MSG: You know what I mean.

MSG Love Of My Life: I don’t think I could relive it all with you next to me anyway. It’s better this way. I’ll see you soon. Remember what I said. <Kiss>

 He sighed and tried to push aside the guilt he felt. He wanted to be with you, holding your hand. You’d gone through too much alone, and all he wanted to do now was protect you.

 MSG Scott: Need me to come up?

MSG: Nah, I can handle this.

MSG Scott: Okay.

 He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stared out over the canyons and LA down below. It was a beautiful sight, one he liked a lot but not better than the changing leaves of Autumn in Massachusetts. He would never choose LA over them. It was, however, a good change of pace, but it staled quickly. Standing here, it was easy to forget the chaos of the last few months. Easy to forget that merely days ago, he’d thought his life was over, and it would never be the same.

 “I can’t believe you suggested this. What, you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s cool; I don’t mind helping you with that.”

 The sound of his voice was enough to make him want to turn around swinging, then drag him to the edge and kick him off Sparta style. He didn’t deserve to live, not after what he’d done to you. He clenched his jaw and tightened his fist, and slowly released a breath. Once he was sure he had some sort of control over his reflexes, he turned. Christiano looked as smug as ever. He’d never wanted to take a life, but right now, right here, he thought of at least ten ways in under one minute. They all involved pain.

 “So, what air is there to clear?”

 He clenched his jaw before he spoke.

 “She’s still my wife.”

 “Ah, ah, ah, according to those divorce papers she sent over, even that is limited time. Face it man; you’ve lost. I’ve won. I always win. I always get what I want, no matter what. It’s hilarious to me that you thought swooping into her life like that and marrying her on a whim would have changed things. Uriah has always been mine. She was always meant to be mine.”

 His hatred for the man in front of him was already at toxic levels. He had no idea how it was possible for it to increase. Staring at him and hearing the venom he just spewed did the trick.

 “So, this is just a game to you? This is her life—this is our life. All of this is for what?”

 “To win what’s rightfully mine. I’m Christiano White. I get what I want when I want it, and that includes women. No one takes what’s mine. No one, and she’s mine!”

 The smugness on his face was the most upsetting thing. He didn’t care hearing him profess fake ownership. He didn’t even care that Christiano thought he had so much privilege that he would get away with his insane plane. Even the thought that him being Christiano White meant jack shit. What really got to him was the fact he’d done this to prove some stupid, sick point. He’d played with his life, your life, and the life of his children for the sake of winning. He stepped to Christiano, ready to push his ass off the cliff, but before he touched him, the thought of you and those innocent babies flashed into his mind. There was no way he’d do this to you guys, he thought.

 Gathering some calm, he stepped back. Christiano chuckled.

 “Thay’s right. Recognize when you’ve lost, and oh, have you lost. Let me tell you how bad you’ve lost. She was in my bed, letting me touch her, kiss her, please her. She shouted my name, over and over. Not yours.”

 He scoffed. “You sure? My name’s Chris. Did she say, Christiano?”

 The smirk on Christiano’s face slipped, and rage replaced it. It was a small piece of satisfaction, but it was worth it, especially since he knew for a fact you’d called his name—Chris and not the latter. Though your brain didn’t remember him, your subconscious did, your heart did, your soul did. There was no room for anyone else. He nearly laughed in Christiano’s face because it had taken him this long to grasp that fully. There had only ever been you and him.

 “You only have yourself to blame. Who would dare cheat on Uriah? Who would think to replace a diamond with a pebble? You’re an idiot,” Christiano jabbed before he laughed out. “Don’t worry, once we’re married, things will be better for her.”

 “How do you plan on getting married if we’re still legally married?”

 For the second time, the smile Christiano wore slipped. He looked around as if he expected someone to come out.

 “For now,” Christiano scoffed, rolling his eyes.

 He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you walking up behind Christiano. Catching on, he spun around.

 “Babe, what’re—what’re you doing here? I thought we were meeting tonight.”

 Christiano approached you with his arms out, but you walked past him to his waiting arms instead. Once he wrapped his arm around your waist, you kissed his lips, then turned to Christiano, who looked confused, angry, and a few other emotions he most likely hadn’t put together yet.

 “For always,” you said.

 “What the fuck!”

 “Surprise,” he said, slipping his hand down to your hip. Christiano’s eyes dropped to his hand before he clenched his jaw. The annoyance from minutes ago was worth it.

 “What was the plan, Christiano? It’s bigamy to be married to two people at once. Our marriage would have been null in void. What was the goal!?”

 Christiano took a step to you, making him grip your hip tighter, ready to get in between you.

 “I’m better than him. I’m richer, I look better, and I’m better in bed. Admit it, Riah. I don’t lose to men like him. I wasn’t done with you,” Christiano confessed with bitterness in his voice.

 You pulled from him, taking a step to Christiano. “So you decided to turn me into a pawn! You decided to lie to me, manipulate me and—rape me?!”

 “Shut up, I didn’t--,” he began before you cut him off.

 “Yes, you did! I was not of sound mind. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t even know who I was. You knew. You fucking knew, and you used that and stole from me. Admit it!”

 Sensing things were about to go south, he stepped between the two of you, pulling back to a safe distance.

 “That’s right, fuck it! Yes, I did all of that. I’ll admit it. Yes, I manipulated you to get what I wanted. I couldn’t lose to this dick. I couldn’t let you go. I wouldn’t. I did what was necessary. I took what was mine, and I don’t regret it. I’d do it again.”

 That was all he could stomach before he turned and decked him with all the force he possessed. Christiano dropped to the dirt and writhed for a few moments before he slowly stood laughing like a lunatic with the blood dripping from his nose.

 “You’re insane. You tried to kill my children because I ended things and found better?”

 “There is no better than me!”

 He spread his arms out, not caring where the blood that spewed from him went. “Uriah, you know you love me. You loved the feel of a real man between your legs. Just tell him.”

 Glancing at you, he realized you were crying now.

 “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. I can’t believe you’d hurt me this way.”

 He wrapped his arms around you, hoping to comfort you in some way. Looking back at Christiano, he was in time to see him charging toward him. He quickly moved you out of the way and threw a punch that connected with Christiano’s jaw. Instead of going down, Christiano lunged at him, gripping him around his waist, trying to bring him down to the ground. He almost laughed. Sending his knee into his gut, he spun and put Christiano in a chokehold keeping him there.

 It was then a group of police officers came running toward them.

 “Look at that. You lost, not just once, but twice and now—a third.”

 He wanted to snap his neck, and thinking of everything he’d put them through, he almost did. Two officers ran up to him, both of them taking Christiano by his arms.

 “We’ve got it from here.”

 Reluctantly he let Christiano go and allowed the law to take the wheel. Going to you, he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears.

 “I’m here.”

 You hugged him, and he just held you. There was no need for words.

  -That Night-

“I love you.”

 Those words were like music to his ears. There was a time he didn’t think he’d ever hear them again. Gently pulling your head back, he peered into your eyes while caressing your cheek. He loved seeing you like this with your hair free, hovered over him, with the moon as your backdrop.

 “I love you more,” he whispered.

 “Forever and a day?”

 He smiled, remembering your promises, and pressed his forehead to yours. “Forever and a day, dragonfly.”

 You kissed him softly, taking the time to tease his lips, nibbling his bottom one before burying your face in the crook of his neck as you rocked against him, sending him higher and higher until he felt as if his soul left his body.

 “Uriah!”

 It felt like he was no longer in his body but instead hovering overhead like a fly watching your bodies entangled together. There was no other sight he loved as much. You rolled off of him and found your place beside him, resting your head on his chest, right over his heart. You both sighed.

 “After this is done, let’s go back to Massachusetts full time,” you quietly said after a few minutes.

 “What?” he turned to look at you, needing to see if you meant it.

 “Do you mean that?”

 “Yeah. I never wanted to raise kids in LA, and you know I love Massachusetts. Let’s have these babies in the house you built for us,” you added.

 He couldn’t believe his ears. It wasn’t that you’d ever expressed not wanting to live in Massachusetts full time; it was that he knew how much of your career was still in LA. With him, he was spending less and less time here, but you, it seemed it was more and more.

 “How is that going to work with your career?”

 You rolled slightly onto your side, then trailed your hand across his chest down his stomach to rest nonchalantly atop his manhood. Groaning, he wrapped one of his arms under his head.

 “I’m taking a few years off.”

 The shock had his junk jumping in your hand, making a wide smile spread across your face. “Wow, talk about talent,” you teased.

 He rolled you onto your back and climbed on top of you, nestling himself between your spread thighs.

 “Don’t play with me, Mrs. Evans.”

 You smiled widely as you fondled him with one hand. Not being strong enough to have this conversation while you did that, he grabbed your hand and pressed it over your head, gripping you at your wrist.

 “No fair,” you pouted.

 “Say that again.”

 You smiled, clearly loving that fact he was hanging by a flimsy piece of thread.

 “I said I’m taking a few years off.”

 He couldn’t stop his grin. “Really?”

 “Yeah. What do you think? Would you want that?”

 “You’re kidding. Of course, yes! It would be just the two of us day in, day out. No movie sets, no studio time, no photoshoots.”

 “Eh-em, excuse you. You mean just the five of us,” you corrected.

 It didn’t take him long to get it. You, him, babies, and Dodger.

 “I love you, Mrs. Evans.”

 “I love you, Mr. Evans.”

 You kissed him once, then twice before your hands roamed down his back to grip his ass, making him moan and chuckle at the same time. He’d missed this and you.

 “Hang on, baby; I gotta--,” he began.

 “Ah, that after nut pee calls, huh. Fine. Go ahead. I'll just be here, pregnant and horny.”

 He snorted and rolled off of you before hurrying to the bathroom.

 “Oh, I’m coming back, cause—that sounds like a very pressing situation that needs my undivided attention.”

 You giggled as he dipped into the bathroom. He hurried to the toilet and tried his best to aim properly but an erection and peeing straight made for a tricky situation. Once he’d gotten the hang of it and the common sense to curve his body a little, he was good and groaned long and loud as he relieved himself. The silence in the bathroom gave him the time to fully react to the prospect of moving back to Massachusetts full time for the next few years. He couldn’t wait. Life was about to change for the better.

 Once finished, he flushed and washed his hands before stepping back into the room. He expected you to be lying on the bed, waiting for him, but the bed was empty. Thinking you might have found your way to the kitchen for a snack, he pulled his pajama pants off the floor and pulled them on before he walked out of the bedroom. He’d recently discovered that after sex, you craved something from the fridge. He walked down the hall leading to the staircase, but before he got there, a chill ran down his spine. It was this chill and almost like a psychic feeling that had him stop.

 When he turned, there you stood in your pale pink kimono robe with Christiano behind you. His hand was around your neck, clasping it.

“What the--.” He made a move toward them, but Christiano pulled out a gun and pointed it to your stomach.

 “I wouldn’t,” he began before he cocked the weapon. “Or I will pull this trigger, and there goes Evan Jr.”

 Terror as he’d never felt before gripped his heart. “You wouldn’t risk her life.”

 Christiano shoved the barrel of the gun more forcefully into your stomach, making you whimper loudly.

 “Wouldn’t I? what’s the point of keeping her safe now? For her to end up with you? I think the fuck not!” Again he shoved the gun into you.

 “Okay, hey, hey, stop. Don’t do this. Please.”

 “Please?” Christiano snorted and pulled you more firmly against him. “Are you begging me finally? You’ve always been underneath me. I couldn’t understand why she would choose you over me. I’m better in every category.”

 He nodded, with his hands raised.

 “You’re right. You’re the better man, the better choice,” he agreed, deciding to play along and say whatever he wanted if it meant Uriah had a chance of getting away from him. He quickly tried to formulate a plan while he used his words to buy himself as much time as possible.

 “I know! So why him, Uriah!?”

 You remained quiet, tears streaming down your cheeks.

 “Answer me! You better answer me with the truth, or I swear I’ll pull this trigger.”

 “Answer hi, Dragonfly. It’s okay. Forever and a day.”

 You scrunched your face and watched fresh heartbreak wash over you. “I—I fell in love with him, Tino. My soul recognized his as my home. It could only ever be him,” you replied. He signaled to you using his eyes and slight movements of his head, and he hoped you understood them.

 He watched Christiano squeeze your neck tighter and press the gun more persistently into you, and he said a silent prayer.

 “Fine,” Christiano began. He saw the moment when it all changed for him, and his threats no longer were empty words. “If I can’t have you. No one can.”

 “Now, Riah!”

 You threw your head back, colliding yours with his in a vicious headbutt that sent Christiano staggering backward a few steps and you stumbling before falling to the floor. In the chaos, Christiano dropped the gun allowing him to leap forward for the gun. In seconds Christiano was on him, fighting him for it. He tried to pull it from his clutches while turning it away from him or Uriah, but there was no fury like a man who’d lost everything.

 Christiano managed to wrangle the gun from his grasp and pointed it to Uriah. In the blink of an eye, he knew what had to be done—the only thing he could do. Locking eyes with you, he said the only thing that mattered.

 “I love you.”

 He then dove for Christiano tracking him into the banister railing with enough force that broke it, sending both of them over the edge and down two and a half stories to the hard marble floor beneath. He could hear your piercing scream right before they collided with the floor, but once they made impact, the gun went off, and again Uriah screamed.

 “Chris!”

~~~~~~~~~

-Uriah-

It all had happened in such a way that it was in slow motion but sped up. You couldn’t register anything until it was all said and done. You scurried to the banister and looked down. Neither of them moved, and your heart stopped. Gasping, you tried to remind your brain to send the signal for you to breathe. After a few seconds, you coughed while trying to hurry down the stairs. The tears in your eyes made it difficult to see what was in front of you, so you stumbled down the stairs. If it weren’t for your gripping the railing as you descended, you were sure you would have tumbled.

 Once down to them, you dropped to your knees beside them and pulled at Chris’s body. He wasn’t moving.

 “Oh god, Chris!”

 He didn’t respond, and his body felt like dead weight. Your tears flowed more freely as you managed to roll him off. Once you had, you were able to see that it was Christiano who was shot and not Chris. Relief filled you, and you shook him more forcefully.

 “Chris! Wake up, please. Please don’t leave me. Chris!”

 Suddenly he erupted into a fit of choughs before they died down.

 “Why are you always shouting at me, woman!?”

 You gasped again. “Oh my god! You scared the shit out of me.”

 “I’m okay. I think,” he informed while trying to sit up. He then began examining you.

 “Are you okay?”

 “Yes.”

 He then gripped his head as he groaned out, but it wasn’t long before he was moving toward you to pull you into his arms, not caring that he was covered in blood.

 “Is he—is he dead?”

 Chris leaned back to check Christiano’s pulse, then lowered his head. “Very dead.”

 You clasped your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god. He—he tried--.”

 Chris pulled you into him and hugged you tightly. “Come here. It’s okay.”

 Somehow he managed to slide both of you from the body on the floor toward the wall. He held you tightly, then spoke.

 “I don’t think I’ll call you crazy again after this.”

 It was probably inappropriate, but you snorted then laughed, a laugh he joined in on. As suddenly as the laughter began, it ended.  

 “They’re crazy.”

 “Bat shit,” Chris replied.

 Any humor to be found in the situation was gone, and it turned into you crying in his shoulder, going through all the emotions from the entire night. There had been so much pain, so much destruction. You’d come close to losing everything more than once, and the culprit was lying dead on the floor before you. It was overwhelming, but somehow, you felt steeled to the fact that you’d just watched someone die.

 You glanced over to Chris at the same moment he looked at you. He wiped the tears from your cheeks then spoke.

 “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He then lowered his lips to your forehead and held you close.

 Ten minutes later, the sirens of the police, ambulance, and fire trucks could be heard as they surrounded your property. The officers instantly took yours and Chris’s statements and any evidence lying around to prove what the two of you were professing, including the security footage. The EMS workers quickly covered Christiano’s body with a sheet as they rolled him into a body bag then pushed the gurney out of the house. You barely registered anything. Chris did most of the talking, not leaving one thing out. When they asked you about the events of the night, you stuttered and quickly became frazzled as everything finally caught up to you. That was when the detective Chris hired suggested meeting at the police station to continue, which would allow him to reveal his findings in his investigation.

After a quick change, you were sitting in the passenger side of Chris’s car as he drove you to the precinct. Your mind raced a mile a minute, but your lips remained zipped. The feel of Chris’s hand on your thigh was your tangible evidence that this was reality and not some soap opera plot. When you arrived at the precinct, the detective in charge of the case questioned you from the very beginning to the night's events. You did your best to remain calm and emotionless and were surprised that you didn’t feel the shame you’d felt about the entire situation prior to this night.

When the detective revealed new information divulged to him, from the detective Chris hired, about Christiano and what he’d truly been up to and how deep his plans really went, you could hardly stomach it. He’d secured another property in Russia and planned to bring you there. The way the information was revealed, it seemed like he planned on keeping you captive there. Hearing that, you almost passed out. Chris, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to kill Christiano again.

 The questioning took a full hour, and at the end of it, you were exhausted and ready to put this entire thing behind you after dealing with Ana. With Chris’s arm around your waist, you walked out of the detective’s office onto the precinct's open floor. A loud scream brought your attention to several officers pulling Ana through with her hands cuffed behind her back.

 “I demand you let me go. Do you know who I am!? I swear to god, I will have your badge, and you’ll never be a fucking cop again!”

 “Wow, the mouth on her,” one of the officers teased.

 “To think we found her hot in that Bond movie,” another piped up.

 “Fuck you!”

 You and Chris approached, curious as to what was going on. You hadn’t expected to see her until tomorrow when you and Chris executed the second part of your plan of confronting her while recording it to release it to the world, showing everyone who and what she really was. It would have been a one-two hit that she wouldn’t recover from. Her career would have been over.

 “It’s been a big night,” the detective who’d just interviewed you said, standing beside you.

 “I don’t understand. What’s going on? Why’s she here?”

 “Your detective gave us plenty of information. By the way, impressive man, you should think about keeping him on your payroll. Anyway, we followed his leads, and it led right to her and her assistant, specifically her assistant’s car. This one took her assistant’s car and was the one behind the wheel when she ran into you. The traffic cams show it was an intentional hit.”

 You saw red.

 “What!”

 “She tried to kill you,” Abel, the private detective, added, coming up beside Chris.

 “What’s more, there were messages between her and Christiano White.”

 Both yours and Chris’s heads spun to him to the police detective this time to find him nodding with a look on his face that said even he hadn’t encountered anything this bizarre before.

 “They concocted this whole scheme together, beginning with the pictures of her in that eat shit sweater. This was set up with them. there is even evidence Christiano was poisoning you, Mrs. Evans.”

 “Jesus,” Chris hissed.

 You remained utterly silent and still letting Abel’s words fully process. It was a lot of information, but it was also vindication that you were in no shape or form crazy.

 “Wh—what does all this mean?”

 “It means she’s going to face a judge on a slew of charges that are quite serious. I can assure you both; there is no easy way of her getting out of any of this. No amount of money or connections will fix it. Her career is over,” the detective finished.

 You both were speechless, and looking at Chris, he was too. You and Chris were led to somewhere you could sit for a few minutes to receive the paperwork for the night’s incident and the new information. While sitting, you used the time to catch your breath and wrap your head around everything. Neither of you could believe all you’d gone through. The more you thought about it, the more your confusion increased. One burning questioned remained. Why?

 About ten minutes later, you and Chris were led toward the exit, but you caught sight of Ana to your right. You would have walked on, but the way she glared at you had you changing your mind in seconds. You let go of Chris’s hand and walked over to her.

 “I have to know. Why? What was the point!?”

 Ana bolted to her feet as if she planned to do something, but the officer behind her grabbed her arm, holding her to ensure she didn’t try anything. You weren’t worried.

“You don’t deserve anything you have. The fame, the popularity, and opportunities you don’t deserve any of it, especially Chris. He was supposed to be mine. That baby was supposed to be mine!”

 You could hear the poison in her voice and see the sheer hatred for you shining brightly in her eyes. She truly meant this though she didn’t know one thing about you.

 “You’re crazy as fuck. I hope it was worth it.” You reached back for Chris’s hand, knowing he was behind you. Lacing your fingers with his, you showed her all that her efforts had produced, then turned and began walking away.

 “You low-grade black bitch!

In your head, you heard blaring sirens. The sound became so loud in a matter of seconds it had somewhat of a mind-altering effect. Chris released your hand as if he knew what was going to happen. You turned back to her and saw red.

 “Oh I’ll show you how low grade this black bitch is!”

 You ran to her, then tackled her to the floor. Once on top of her, you swung punch after punch, each slamming into her face. You didn’t care where they landed, didn’t care how hard you were hitting her either. There was a lesson she needed to learn, and the only way to learn it was getting her ass beat the right way—the black way. You felt hands trying to pull you off of her, but you were not having it. You held on to her hair, so when they tried to move you, they really helped you bald the bitch.

 “See, I never learned to share when I was young! I’m—an—only—child!” With each enunciated word, you emphasized it with a punch. Ana’s screams were loud, but they weren’t louder than those alarms still sounding off in your head. Though she tried to fight back, it was futile, though.

 “Learn this bitch! Don’t,” you dropped a punch to her nose. “Touch,” you slapped her with your open hand. “What,” you slapped her again, this time with the back of your hand. “is mine!”

 From then, no one else tried to pull you off of her. You suspected it was Chris warning them. You managed to get off a few more punches when you were finally pulled off.

 “Let me go!”

 “Okay, calm down, Adonis Creed, that’s enough,” Chris shouted, trying to break through to you. You still struggled trying to get back to her, but Chris refused to let you go until you calmed down. You looked at Ana on the floor. She was barely moving, and her face was a bloody mess with several patches of her dark hair sprinkled around her. Satisfaction filled you. Raising your hand, you assured Chris you were good. Slowly he let you go, and you stooped down to her.

 “Look at me.”

 You waited for her writhing to stop and for her bloody, swollen eyes to land on you.

 “Remember my name for the rest of your pathetic life. Remember that I’m that bitch!”

 You grabbed her hair and held her head. “Try this shit again; you gonna lose your life.”

 With that, you punched her one more time, knocking her clear out. Everyone around the precinct shouted out a collective “ooh.” You stood and walked away as they all cleared your path, most likely thinking you were crazy. Chris came beside you, took your hand, and walked back to the car with you. Once inside, you both sat there, silently processing everything. Five minutes passed in silence until you spoke.

 “She did all this over dick, Chris. Dick,” you said in disbelief as you shook your head.

 “I mean—my dick is A1.”

 Your head spun to him. “Christopher!”

 He laughed out loud while holding his hands up in defeat.

 “Hey, don’t beat my ass too, I don’t want none,” Chris joked, making you laugh a little.

 “Wow, remind me not to piss you off again. I don’t want any of what she got.”

 You fake lunged at him with your still bloodied fists. “Don’t start none, won’t be none.”

 Both of you erupted with laughter before you embraced, relishing in the feeling of togetherness and your love. It was finally over; you thought as Chris pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

 “Let’s get the fuck out of this town,” Chris suggested. You snorted and nodded.

 “Let’s go home.”

 Knowing where you meant, Chris smiled and kissed you once, then twice.

 “Let’s,” he whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. Please check that you are taggable. I’m sorry.***

[pinkoptics]

Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

*

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

*

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1