#just the thought that perhaps there is an alternative we could try... or at least that there should be

[aroacemisha]

So. Navalny is dead.

My condolences to his wife and children. And may those influenced by his work carry on the fight for a better Russia.

Even if he wasn't perfect, he was an important voice in the Russian opposition movement and gave hope to many, and his imprisonment, as well as his treatment while in prison, was completely unjust.

Rest in peace.

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Honestly, after finding out that most of the bosses are optional except for Messmer (and of course a few others) just makes it even more sad for me. After finding out the Rellena and Gaius are both optional bosses and not Messmer just shows that those two truly don't share the same fate and Messmer was to truly die alone without ever seeing Marika as well.

yeah and you know the even more messed up part? i think when Marika shattered the Elden Ring, she probably thought that Messmer would be safer in LoS 😭😭 they were separated, but at least her firstborn wouldn't be pulled into the power struggle that would tear everything apart in the Lands Between. and it's true. when we get there... Messmer is safe in Shadow Keep.

ppl in LoS has no idea the Elden Ring was shattered, they just thought it was some serious stuff going on in LB. Messmer was dispirited and sounded tired, but he had resigned to the fate of never seeing his Mother again. if we never showed up i think he'd have no problem waiting for a miracle from her forever.

hell, he didn't even give two fucks that Miquella was going there to become a new God and take his old friend as Consort, or Godwyn knights were running around trying to find a body replacement for their Prince. but well, we have to barge into his house and trigger all his anxiety at a same time because we need his Kindling to go stop Miquella. holy hell.

and don't get me wrong, i understand that thematically, both he and Marika get what is due to them. in their quest for revenge they have done truly horrible crimes, and in the end even their love for each other got twisted into a final curse sealing their fates. but all of it is just so tragic. because, yes, the love was there. maybe it could have gone a lot easier for everyone involved if the love hadn't been there, but it was, and now everyone suffers.

and if you think back about the Dark / Abyss theme in DS1, Manus - Father of the Abyss, was once human. he was consumed by the Abyss because his humanity went wild, trying to look for something that he had lost:

"This extraordinary soul is a viscous, lukewarm lump of gentle humanity."

"The will feels envy, or perhaps love, and despite the inevitable trite and tragic ending, the will sees no alternative, and is driven madly towards its target."

it circles back so perfectly to Marika and Messmer's fates that it got me sitting there staring at a wall. jfc. how the hell did Fromsoft do this again?

[ficnation]

Chapter 10: The Big Bad Wolf

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 5,0k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, canon divergence, gore A/n: I hope you enjoy it just as much as I did. This is also a bday present for my friend. Happy birthday!!! Don't freak out <3 Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

“Every social worker enjoys certain aspects of the job more than others,” the man explains with a smile that seems almost too forced; it’s been glued to his face since the moment Alana greeted him. “There are cases that you reach and cases you don’t reach.”

You spin the pen between your fingers with a steady rhythm, your mind wandering and tuning in and out of the conversation between Clark Ingram and Alana Bloom. But something about his demeanor strikes you—the way his bright smile seems permanently plastered on his face. It’s off-putting, unnatural, as if he’s struggling to maintain the facade of a polite and helpful citizen.

“Peter’s had persistent cognitive problems. Confusion, paranoia, rage.”

“Peter’s a sheep,” you mutter to no one in particular. “He can’t hurt an animal, let alone a human being.”

“You really like sheep, don’t you?” Jack jokes, reminding you of your choice of words from not long ago.

You look at him with a raised brow before nudging him in the arm with your elbow. “And you don’t? At least sheep don’t bite.”

Jack chuckles at your retort, but his expression quickly turns serious as he turns his attention back to Clark Ingram. “So, what do you think, Agent Avant? Is Peter Bernardone capable of violence?”

You pause, considering the question carefully. “It’s hard to say,” you reply, your tone measured. “But based on what we know so far, it doesn’t seem likely. His cognitive issues suggest a lack of capacity for such brutal acts. If he was ever violent toward anyone, it’s likely he was pushed to his limits and lashed out.”

Will and Hannibal stand to your left, listening intently to the conversation between you and Jack, as well as the one taking place on the other side of the thick one-way mirror. Their expressions are unreadable, betraying little of what they might be thinking or feeling.

They’re silent until the moment when Alana reaches out to touch Ingram’s hand. The social worker does nothing to hide his discomfort as he quickly shifts his hands away and leans further into his chair.

“That’s smart,” Will explains, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. “She keeps pushing him on his feelings, not on the facts.”

Hannibal nods in agreement, his gaze focused on the interaction between Alana and Ingram. He casts a fleeting glance in your direction every now and then, his eyes catching your presence in his peripheral vision before returning to the scene before him.

“She’s trying to gauge how comfortable he is with emotion, if he has any,” Will adds, glancing at you too, curious to know your thoughts. “He couldn’t bear being touched by her.”

“It’s a telling reaction,” you remark, your voice calm and measured. “It suggests a deep-seated discomfort with emotional intimacy. Perhaps indicative of a psychopath?”

“Yes, his responses are typical of psychopaths during interviews, but could also indicate resentment,” Hannibal agrees.

“No, I don’t believe it’s resentment or hatred towards women,” you assert, your tone firm. Your eyes narrow thoughtfully.

“No, his eyes are dead,” Will concludes. “He’s a predator.”

“It’s the absence of empathy, of any real connection to the people around him. That’s what makes him dangerous.” You glance over at your husband, seeking confirmation or perhaps an alternative perspective, he acknowledges your words with a nod of his head.

The conversation between Ingram and Alana continues for a while longer, but your mind is too preoccupied to fully focus. You’re aware of their words, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t shake the feeling that Ingram is hiding something. It’s the way he recoils from her touch, the way he conceals himself behind smiles and warm words. There’s an eerie resemblance to your father that sends chills down your spine; something in his demeanor triggers warning bells, a deep and primal instinct for danger.

You attempt to refocus on the conversation, but Ingram’s subtle gestures and body language keep drawing your attention. There’s something sinister about him, a feeling that resonates deep within your bones.

Suddenly, Jack’s voice pierces through the room, pulling you away from your thoughts. “Let him go,” he commands.

The panic in Will’s eyes prompts you to react, and you turn towards your boss with an annoyed expression. “Jack, don’t do that. You know he’s the one.”

“I’ve got nothing to hold him on,” Jack responds calmly.

“We can still get something out of him,” you insist, your eyes pleading. You couldn’t care less about the killer on the other side of the glass, but it’s evident that Will is invested in this case.

“Peter Bernardone is psychologically disadvantaged. He’s been manipulated,” Will argues, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “As his social worker, this man is in a position of trust, and he has betrayed that trust.”

The realization hits you like a brick—this is personal. In a twisted, complicated way, this is no longer about catching the man responsible for killing sixteen women in cold blood. It might not even be about Peter anymore. The next sentence coming out of Will’s mouth confirms it.

“I know what it’s like to point at a killer and have no one listen.”

“You pointed in the wrong direction.” It’s all Jack says before leaving the room.

Your gaze instantly finds your husband’s face—his expression a mix of disbelief and powerlessness. You reach for his hand, and he doesn’t resist at all as you squeeze it reassuringly, nails gripping into his skin to keep his mind in the room with you and Hannibal. God, Hannibal. You almost forgot about his presence beside you with how quiet he’s become.

“We won’t let Peter Bernardone suffer for all of this, Will,” you assure him. It’s all you can offer—a useless promise that you might not be able to fulfill.

You find yourself in the BAU’s headquarters not long after, walking through the almost-empty corridors leading toward Crawford’s office. You can’t shake your husband’s heartbroken expression from your mind. It lingers hauntingly in the back of your thoughts, refusing to be forgotten.

The atmosphere is uncomfortably quiet, with only the echo of your footsteps breaking the silence as you make your way through the corridor. Your focus is consumed by the folder in your hands, flipping through its pages absentmindedly for at least half an hour. The world around you becomes a misty haze as you try to concentrate on the contrasting words printed on the white paper.

Suddenly, you’re snapped back to reality as someone grabs you by the arm and forcefully pulls you into the nearest room. The sequence of events unfolds so rapidly that it’s all just a massive blur.

“Hey, what the hell!” You react instinctively, swinging blindly at your assailant. Your hands make contact with their face, nails poised dangerously close to their eyes. It’s not the most efficient form of self-defense, but your reflexes have dulled since you’ve been out of the field.

As your vision clears, you recognize those dark, menacing eyes, though you’ve never seen them so up-close before. Their gaze is hypnotizing, compelling you to loosen your grip on their jaw. Despite the danger, you can’t bring yourself to let go entirely.

“It’s just me,” Hannibal’s voice cuts through the tension, tranquil and unaffected by the threat of your fingers near his eyes. His hands grip your elbows firmly, though not painfully, as he meets your panicked stare head-on.

“Why did you grab me like that?” you question him, a hint of vexation in your tone, though you notice how soft his skin feels under your palms.

“Do you prefer a gentler approach?” Hannibal responds calmly, his demeanor unruffled.

You blink slowly, confusion replacing your initial anger. You glance around the empty conference room behind him. “Why are we here?”

Hannibal’s grip on you loosens slightly as he looks over his shoulder before acknowledging your question. It appears he only just became aware of your location himself. “Coincidence.”

Hannibal’s eyes find yours again, and you both stare at each other in silence, unmoving. The tension between you is palpable, each moment stretched taut like a drawn bowstring. You’re not even sure if either of you is breathing, but you can still detect the faint fragrance of his cologne—notes of leather, cedarwood, and a hint of something darker and more mysterious, perhaps oud. The stillness of the air crackles with anticipation, and your shared curiosity poses the question: “who moves first?”

“Would it be rude of me to ask you to release me?” he finally breaks the tension, his tone almost reluctant, as if he secretly wished you would hold onto him a little longer.

You release him, albeit with some apprehension. “You wanted to see how I handle sudden threats, huh?” Your words are more of a statement than a question, delivered with a certainty that seeks confirmation.

“Yes,” he replies simply, catching you off guard with his honesty. It’s almost unnerving how straightforward his answer is.

You watch as a tiny smile quirks one corner of his mouth, the faintest twitch of his lips. It’s as if he was born to be intimidating yet effortlessly charming at the same time. Everything he does seems so well thought-through to the point of being eerie.

“And what conclusion did you reach?” you ask, striving to keep your voice steady. There’s an undercurrent of tension flowing between the two of you, and you can feel his eyes scrutinizing you, taking in every detail.

“More of a confirmation, really,” he replies, his gaze traveling from your face to your hands and back.

You know he noticed your hesitation before you let go of him. You know he’s still analyzing you, taking in every detail, every little movement you make. You can feel his eyes weighing you, measuring every ounce of your reaction, your breath, and your pulse.

“You reacted almost instinctively,” he concludes, not asking a question or suggesting that he expected anything less from you. “It’s a sign of strength.”

You can’t tell if he’s being serious or just saying that to be polite, and you feel compelled to challenge him on that statement, so you do: “And what would’ve been a sign of weakness then?”

“Not fighting back,” he replies simply, his eyes never leaving yours. “Not putting up a fight.”

Your mind struggles to process his answer. “So, what you’re saying is that someone showing weakness by letting themselves be attacked and possibly killed is worse than someone who reacts and fights back?” you reply, not hiding your disbelief at his words.

His response is almost immediate. “Precisely.”

You almost laugh at the straightforwardness of his reply. His words are as chilling as his demeanor. You want to challenge him, to call him out for his bluntness. But you can’t summon the energy, and your gaze falls away.

“What if someone doesn’t have it in them to fight back?” you ask, curious to see how he’ll respond. “Maybe they’re not capable of it.”

He considers the question for a moment, seeming to weigh a myriad of variables in his mind before giving you an answer. “The instinct for self-preservation is primal, ingrained in every living being. It doesn’t matter if they don’t have the physical ability to fight back; the urge to live overrides everything. Even a child will fight when pushed against the wall. Only the weak would let themselves be slaughtered without at least attempting to survive.”

You feel almost appalled by his words, their harshness sinking in. There’s a hint of sadness in your voice as you ask, “So you believe someone who doesn’t fight back is weak?”

“I don’t believe it, I know it,” he replies with a coldness you’ve never seen in his eyes before, a spark of something dark igniting in his pupils.

He’s serious, there’s no underlying joke or hidden meaning behind his words. You feel a chill run through you, the tiny hairs on your arms standing on end.

Hannibal raises his hand toward your face, dragging his knuckles over the skin of your jaw. He seems almost impressed that you don’t flinch at his touch.

“You’re as strong as they come, my dear,” he murmurs, his voice so low it almost blends with the hum of the wind outside the windows. He leans in, his soft lips pressing against your forehead, and then he leaves the room without another word.

You’re left there alone and stunned, your eyes staring ahead but not really seeing. Your body trembles, but instead of pure fear, there’s a hint of excitement running through your veins. Adrenaline rushes through you, and the feeling of his presence lingers in the air, both comforting and unsettling.

You wait in the conference room for a few minutes, trying to collect yourself, half-hoping that Hannibal will return. You feel like you’ve just been through a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts, and sensations.

But all you’re left with is the memory of his scent lingering in the room and the soft touch of his lips on your skin.

“You look like a man who has suffered an irrevocable loss,” Hannibal’s voice breaks through the quiet melody of the aria playing in the car. The psychiatrist’s choice in music doesn’t surprise Will in the slightest; he’s gotten used to his refined tastes.

“I’m trying to prevent one,” Will counters, gazing over his shoulder at your sleeping form curled up in the backseat.

“You look so peaceful—far more relaxed than he imagined you would be. Hell, just ten minutes ago the thought of you sleeping in the presence of Hannibal Lecter didn’t even cross his mind. It was different from the last time; this time you didn’t have anything to drink or soothe you—nothing. You just let your guard down so easily as if you didn’t see a threat in Hannibal anymore. Will didn’t like that at all.

“Do you think if you save Peter Bernardone, you can save yourself?” Hannibal’s voice breaks the silence, his words carrying weight in the confined space of the car.

“Save myself from what, Dr. Lecter?” Will asks, his eyes staring ahead yet again, but there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice—barely detectable.

“From who you perceive me to be,” the psychiatrist responds, his eyes briefly leaving the road to glance at you through the rearview mirror. Will swears he sees a subtle quirk of the man’s mouth at the sight of you.

“I’m afraid I need to be saved from who you perceive me to be.”

“Many troublesome behaviors strike when you are uncertain of yourself,” Hannibal observes, his focus returning to Will. Perhaps he senses he’s been caught. “Peter Bernardone lies in the same darkness that holds you.”

“No, I’m alone in that darkness,” Will replies without hesitation.

“You’re not alone, Will. You have me and her, standing right beside you through all of this.”

Will’s eyes find your figure again, and he bites the inside of his cheek, lost in thought. “I’m not sure if I want her to be. I don’t want to scare her off.”

“You won’t, Will. She’s not going anywhere, trust me.” Hannibal reaches for the other man and squeezes his arm gently—it’s strangely comforting, though it shouldn’t be.

When you reach Peter’s place, it’s eerily empty. All of the cages have been left open—no animal in sight. You can’t imagine the agony Clark Ingram must have put him through. The sight breaks your heart into a million pieces because you know Peter Bernardone has been pushed to his limit.

The three of you rush toward the stables, ready for the worst. Will is panicking inside and out, his hands trembling and breath coming out in shaky puffs of air, while you and Hannibal remain fairly composed. The contrast in your behaviors is visible from miles away.

As you find Peter, he’s kneeling on the ground beside the body of a dark-coated horse, his work nearly finished. The needle slides through the animal’s skin effortlessly, like gliding through soft butter.

Will is the first to break the silence as he steps toward the kneeling man slowly, with apprehension evident in his movements. “Peter…” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes glued to the sight of the blood-soaked animal before him.

The scene takes a while for your mind to process. The image of that defenseless horse lying lifeless on the stable floor, the smell of blood lingering in the air along with the subtle scent of death. All of you already know what has happened here—it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Hannibal catches your gloved hand in his and pulls you closer to himself. You feel his steady presence beside you, a calming force amid the turmoil. His touch is unexpected, yet it speaks volumes.

“Is your social worker in that horse?”

“Yes. I used to have a horrible fear of…” Peter speaks up, his voice trembling slightly but not out of fear. “Of hurting anything.”

You glance at Hannibal to gauge his reaction to the situation, but instead, you find him already looking at you—his eyes filled with a strange admiration. You were right after all; Peter couldn’t hurt a fly unless he was pushed to his limits.

Weirdly enough, this twisted reverence makes you feel just a little bit sick to your stomach. You shuffle forward, seeking proximity to Will and distancing yourself from Hannibal, forcing him to release his grip on your hand.

“But… He helped me get over that. Feels so abnormal.” Peter lets out a pitiful chuckle, tears rolling down his bony cheeks.

“An abnormal reaction to an abnormal situation is normal behavior,” Hannibal concludes, his eyes now cold and distant. You’re unsure whether it’s due to the situation before you or your withdrawal from his affectionate touch.

“I think he deserves to die,” the kneeling man says, his voice filled with helplessness as he looks between the three of you.

“He does,” you mumble, more to yourself than anyone else. You’re relieved when there’s no immediate reaction to your words, but the way Hannibal’s eyes bore into your back tells you he heard.

“But you didn’t deserve to kill him, Peter,” Will says, shaking his head. He crouches beside the man, offering a reassuring hand that rests gently on his back as Peter stares at the dead horse. “I want you to come with me.”

You and Will help the man stand up as his legs shake, threatening to give up beneath him. Only now do you see how much damage this situation has done to the poor guy. He didn’t deserve any of this, but the world has always been a cruel place—evil humans’ second nature.

When Will and Peter head toward the barn door, you and Hannibal linger behind. Will’s uncertain, but not worried glance your way is a testament that something has shifted between the three of you. You just have to figure out what.

“Cruelly poetic,” you say, standing a safe distance away from the man and the corpse.

“He’ll be just fine,” Hannibal murmurs in response to your statement as he watches Peter and Will slowly make their way out of the stable. His gaze is calculatingly cold, the smallest twitch of a muscle in his cheek betraying the emotions underneath—the genuine emotions he rarely lets others see.

“It was necessary,” he adds softly. “He needed to rid himself of that darkness within.”

“Necessary?” you question, your eyes still glued to the two men walking away and not the psychiatrist standing before you.

Hannibal’s eyes move from Peter and Will to you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slight smirk. You feel like he’s expecting you to say something more, but you can’t think of anything to reply.

“Necessary,” he repeats, and now his eyes find yours with that same calculating stare.

“The way you view life and the world itself... It’s peculiar,” you notice, sticking your hands into the pockets of your coat.

Hannibal’s gaze never leaves yours, and he doesn’t reply at first. There’s a slight smirk playing on the corners of his mouth again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s judging you or if he agrees.

“I find my way of viewing life perfectly reasonable,” he finally says quietly, the words almost whispered. You notice a small twitch of the muscles beneath his eyes, and you wonder if you said the right thing or not.

“You do?” you ask, still searching for his gaze, but you can tell that he’s no longer looking at you. He’s staring at something in the distance instead then heading toward one of the stalls that holds white sheep.

“In life, we need some form of guidance to help us navigate the unknown,” he adds quietly as he pets the woolly animals. They’re not afraid of him. “I’ve found mine. What about you?”

Before you have a chance to respond, you notice Clark Ingram’s bloody fingers, ripping the stitches on the dead horse’s stomach. He tears through them from within, letting the guts spill out of the corpse as he crawls out of it.

Hannibal strolls toward him so casually, his hands dipped into the pockets of his perfectly pressed pants as he looks at the man’s struggle. You join him by his side as an involuntary smirk crawls up your face at the sight of the social worker coughing out blood and stumbling over his own legs. It’s amusing.

The psychiatrist admires your expression, slightly astonished by your reaction. He certainly didn’t expect you to show your true colors so fast. Not a care in the world of how your satisfaction might come across to others.

When Ingram reaches for the bloody hammer, you feel Hannibal’s hands tugging you closer yet again. You let him, leaning on him like an old friend—hip to hip. The warmth of his body is comforting, stirring something insatiable deep inside you.

“Mr. Ingram. Might want to crawl back in there if you know what’s good for you,” Hannibal says casually as he steps aside, taking you with him.

You didn’t even realize that Will had entered the stables. He holds a gun steadily in his hands, pointing it straight at Ingram’s head. Your smirk disappears just as quickly as it appeared, slight shock taking its place on your face.

“Will…” you mumble breathlessly.

You try to reach for him, but Hannibal doesn’t let you step away from him as he tugs you even closer into his side. He presses his lips to your temple and whispers, “He won’t do anything. Don’t worry.”

You’re not sure you believe him. You’ve seen how personal this was to Will, how panic and pure anger took turns in taking over his body since the moment he met Peter. The emotions were controlling him in a way nothing and no one else could.

Ingram drops the sledgehammer to the ground, falling to his knees with arms open and raised like wings—like a blood angel. “Officer… I’m the victim here,” he breathes heavily, but the smile that flashes over his features tells a different story.

“I’m not an officer. I’m Peter’s friend,” Will counters, ignorant to your begging eyes.

Don’t do it, Will. Please, don’t do it.

“Peter’s confused.”

Will feigns hesitation as he lowers the gun just slightly. But the way he grips the weapon tells you easily that he’s far from done with Ingram—his hold doesn’t loosen even for a mere second.

“I’m not.” He raises it back up with an air of palpable confidence. He knows what he wants. He wants to see Clark Ingram begging for life, drowning in the pool of his own blood, choking on it.

You squeeze Hannibal’s fingers so tightly, you’re surprised when he doesn’t even flinch. He just observes Will expressionless.

“Please, Hannibal,” you beg him under your breath, barely audible. You know he hears you, even if he pretends otherwise.

“Pick up the hammer,” Will throws the command, gesturing toward the bloody object that was just thrown to the ground moments ago.

Hannibal glances at your horrified expression, then at Will’s lips pressed tightly in anger. “Will,” he finally interjects with so much stoicism in his voice. His stare alone is insistent enough to make just about anyone listen to him.

But not Will. Will is deaf to Hannibal’s words—especially right now. He doesn’t want to hear him, he doesn’t want to be heard by him. He has a chance to make it right for Peter’s sake, maybe even for his own sake.

“Pick it up,” Will keeps insisting, now, even more agitated. He pops the safety off and puts the pistol almost directly in front of Ingram’s face.

“It won’t feel the same, Will,” Hannibal tries again, stepping toward Will. “It won’t feel like killing me.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“You did the best anyone could do for Peter, but don’t do this for him. If you’re going to do this, Will, you have to do it for yourself.”

You blink slowly in shock before you push Hannibal away from your husband. You take his place and move so close to Will, you can almost feel his shaky breath on your skin.

“Will, please,” you beg softly, “don’t ruin your life. This isn’t going to fix anything.”

“How do you know, huh?” he spats out, his voice mean—meaner than he ever was toward you.

The adrenaline and the rush of the situation are threatening to derail any semblance of calm you’ve managed to keep over the past hour. You grit your teeth and murmur so quietly, in hopes only he can hear you, “Trust me, I know.”

That seems to awaken him temporarily as he looks at you for a second, confusion written all over his face. His eyes are wide open, searching your face for answers—he finds nothing.

Hannibal’s gaze never leaves you two, watching you carefully. Will is so focused on this mystery, he doesn’t even notice when you take the gun out of his hands and point it at Ingram yourself.

“What?” Will asks, his eyes snapping back to you as you push the gun towards Ingram.

“P-please… Please don’t,” the social worker begs as you step closer and press the gun harshly to his left temple.

“Oh, would you like me to be gentler?” you ask, tilting your head. There’s something deeply attractive about the way you hold the gun with unwavering determination, a fierce protectiveness radiating from you. There’s not an ounce of doubt in your expression; you really do look like a cop now.

Will, amidst the chaos of his thoughts, finds himself strangely drawn to you in this moment. His gaze is fixed on your face, and he can’t help but admire the way you look with that gun in your hand. It’s such a contrast to the innocent woman he married—it’s a side of you he never knew existed. There’s a primal allure to your fierce stance, a primal instinct that resonates with him on a level he can’t quite comprehend.

Hannibal notices the expression on Will’s face, and a smirk plays across his lips. He understands the magnetic pull that emanates from you—the allure. He shares the sentiment with Will, recognizing the primal attraction you exude as you hold the gun with a steady hand.

Your complexity intrigues and captivates them, drawing them in despite the inherent danger. They find it both thrilling and unsettling. The darkness hiding in them stirs with your presence, awakening that primitive instinct that’s been lurking in the depths of their souls. You have them completely entranced, and they can’t tear their eyes away.

Will once thought you were quite simple. He learned to read you like a book, then you disappeared and came back after almost ten years with no contact and he still felt like he knew you well enough. But lately? You’ve been unpredictable, complicated and twisted in your own particular way.

All of them hold their breath, the tension thick. The only sound heard is Will’s breathing—heavy and slow.

Ingram’s eyes are glued to yours. Something in the look he gives you makes all the anger and resentment wash away from your mind, and it takes you a moment to remember why you’re standing there with the gun.

You lean over Ingram and whisper something in his ear that no one else other than him can hear. Judging by the puddle of his own piss that pools on the floor, no one else would want to hear it. His eyes bulge with fear and shock, and he can’t make a peep in response.

Then, you pop the safety back on and hit the social worker in the temple with the butt of the gun. He tumbles over to the floor with a thud.

“Temporal region,” you conclude, straightening up. “You hit it with enough force and you can either kill someone or make them pass out.”

“Good to know,” Will mutters, looking at you again with newfound appreciation and respect.

Hannibal is also staring at you, with a newfound sense of admiration. He’s suddenly aware of your own power over others. As a psychiatrist, he’s learned what kind of tactics are used to break people down, and he knows that you used them against Ingram with devastating precision.

“What did you say to him?” he asks quietly, the rage still lurking just beneath the surface.

Hannibal watches as the two of you stare at each other intensely. He can’t help but feel a strange excitement rising inside of him as he watches the two of you square off against each other.

Will’s intensity is almost palpable—there’s a primal instinct within him that craves power, and he’s fascinated by the way you wield yours.

“Nothing that you need to know,” you reply simply, not about to divulge the details of your threat.

When Hannibal sees the intensity in both of your gazes, he can’t help but feel a strange stirring within him. He’s never seen the two of you so intense about anything before.

Will’s eyes narrow as he stares at you. He wants to know what you said, he wants to know the darkest depths of your mind. But he respects that it’s something you don’t want to share and lets it go.Hannibal can’t take his eyes off the two of you. It’s almost like he’s staring at a trainwreck he can’t look away from. He might just be right.

Taglist (I tag ppl that leave a comment or ask me for it): @strrvnge @raininhell @crowsoundsonly @gabriella-aesthetic @gayschlatt69 @russian-soft-bitch @lokittyy @hellouseemc00l @justaproudslytherpuff @it-s-tickety-booh @r4diocabeca @sanriogarbage @zoleea-exultant @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @emily-roberts @unsolvedghoulboyz @00hellohello00 @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @jadenblueberry @slashercupcake @octobermania @magdalenmillicent-blog @unsolvedghoulboyz @gabbyonjupiter @lanklr @oliviathecat06 @fatkissers

[lilac-rose-writes]

An Analysis and Comparison of Cain's Not Able's Original and Alternative Routes

1) Felix pushes Ted in himself/ Ted has Buggs push Felix in

Felix doesn't show any hint of sadness or hesitance when pushing Ted in. It's quick, it's brutal, and he takes pride in doing it himself. He doesn't care about Ted in the slightest. It's his final victory, the last way he can lord his superiority over Ted. It's a demonstration of his resentment, his distaste, all of the times he's dismissed Ted as lesser or unworthy of the company. As little as Felix wants it to appear to eb, it's personal.

And then there's the alternative route. Rather than using the stick or mop that Kid has given him, Ted stands back and orders Buggs to do his work for him. I believe that a large part of this is due to the upset he feels over Felix trying to kill him ("this was a sad day"). He is hesitant, because Felix is his brother, and until now, Ted "thought [his] brother loved [him]". Perhaps he thinks he wouldn't be able to follow through with actually doing away with Felix himself.

With Buggs doing it, there's an element of detachment. This can go one of two ways. It could be a way for Ted to try absolving himself of guilt, because if he didn't commit the murder with his own hands, he at least doesn't have the memory of them shoving his brother to his death. On the other hand, this could be a way of Ted trying to make the whole ordeal more detached from him. The only involvement he's had is giving instructions. Felix isn't even worth Ted's energy anymore, after that sort of a betrayal. Ted stands back and watches it happen, glaring coldly all the while. He's doing his utmost not to care, and for the most part, he's succeeding.

2) What each of them say just before the other is pushed in

This time, Ted's is the personal one. He's more than just correcting Felix's "Teddy"; this is his way of getting back at Felix for every time he's talked down to Ted. We see throughout the game how Felix considers his brother weak and inferior, incapable and idiotic. The nickname "Teddy" is derisive, intended as an insult. It mocks Ted, making him seem softer. "Felix" is professional. "Teddy" is babying and informal.

More than this, though, this line acts as a turning point for Ted. In that moment, he doesn't consider himself as Felix's brother. He doesn't want to be associated with his former self, the one who nodded and stayed silent and tripped over himself to please his brother. Ted is in control here. He's taking on a new identity, a new way of behaving outside of Felix's influence. This isn't about the company. It's about him.

And then there's Felix's last words to his brother, which are about the company. Because when it comes to Felix, everything is. He's been taught to value Applesoft above all else, so that's exactly what he does. He's first the company's heir, second a person. Applesoft takes priority over everything. And that's precisely why Felix is able to murder his brother without the barest indication of remorse.

The entire day, Felix treats Ted's death as nothing more than a business transaction. He wants to be the sole heir. He's dismissed Ted his entire life, but this isn't just Felix getting tired of him and deciding to dispose of him on a whim. He sees it as for the good of Applesoft. And that makes all the difference in the world.

3) How they both respond to the reveal of the plan

On one hand, you've got Ted. The only person preventing him from running away is Felix. Kid and Nugget are stood to the side, Felix is the one who pushes him in. But it's just been revealed to Ted that despite all of his hope otherwise, Felix doesn't care about or love him. He's shocked, and hurt, and betrayed. And there's something inside of him that still wants to believe this is a lie, that Felix will break into an out-of-character grin and mock him for falling for the trick.

He pleads with Felix rather than leaving, because he's so used to giving Felix all of the power that he doesn't know what else to do. Felix is in control because Ted continues to let him be.

I think it's important to note that Ted doesn't say that Felix wouldn't. Just that he "can't". It's a plea, a denial of what's right in front of him. Ted knows his brother is capable of killing him, but he doesn't want to believe it.

Also, Ted says that Felix can't kill him because he "did everything [Felix] said". In this case, that "can't" means that Felix shouldn't be allowed to do away with him. The only reason Ted can see for why Felix might want to kill him is that Ted has done something wrong. He doesn't blame Felix. Ted sees this as his own fault. He's been taught to agree with his brother, keep his mouth shut and stay in line, but even though he's been doing that the entire day, Felix still wants to kill him. Ted wants to be of use, wants to make Felix happy. But nothing he does will ever be enough, because Felix can't see him as anything more than a hindrance. Felix believes Applesoft should be run by someone strong and independent. And to him, Ted is incapable of being either.

On the other hand, there's Felix's reaction. First, he's incredulous. He processes what's going on much faster than Ted did, but rather than feeling betrayed, he throws something of a tantrum. He's so accustomed to Ted following him and doing exactly as he says that when placed in a situation where he has no power, Felix doesn't know how to handle it.

He tries to take back power with the definitive "I will not", but it doesn't work. He continues to call Ted by that same derisive nickname, but that serves as the last straw. And lastly, he does what he does best. He tries to make a deal.

Felix goes from denial to anger to bargaining in a matter of seconds. He defaults to repeating the actions he's practiced, the actions he's been taught. He tries to talk himself out of the hole he's dug, but it no longer works when he's been exposed as a liar. He's shattered the glorified image Ted had of him, and now he can only deal with the consequences.

Even if he does manage to get away and tell someone, it's highly unlikely anyone would believe him- and even if they did, they wouldn't care. The only company Felix has allowed himself to keep is Ted, and he's constantly emphasised how weak and useless his brother is. Saying that he had to run from Ted attempting to kill him sounds more than ludicrous- it would be embarrassing. It would ruin the air of superiority he's so carefully crafted, and any respect people might have had for him would be gone in an instant. All he can do is try to bargain, and insist that this isn't happening, and glare accusatorily at Ted as though he has any right to do so.

4) Both insult their help

While Nugget doesn't care about being called weird and Buggs seems to be okay with being insulted under his own terms, the fact remains that both Felix and Ted have no qualms about hurting people's feelings. They consider themselves above others thanks to the attitudes they've grown up around thus far. The main difference is that Felix sees himself as superior to everyone, and Ted sees the Huxleys as superior to everyone.

Ted apologises after calling Buggs fat because Buggs claims he "said [Ted] could make fun of [Buggs'] poverty, not [his] weight". But Ted must have either forgotten or disregarded this in the first place for that correction to be made. There's probably something more to be said here about Buggs taking pride in where he came from but not in his appearance, but that's a post for another time. I think it's interesting that Ted's picked up Felix's habit of insulting his assistance, and shows quite how big of an influence being around Felix alone has had. Nobody's taught him any differently, so while Ted doesn't have any aim to upset or hurt those working for him or who he considers beneath him, he's learned that it's expected that he does.

5) Their final words inside of the hole

Ted tries to appeal to Felix's (nonexistent) merciful side. If nothing else, he wants his brother to feel guilty about killing him. He wants his suffering to end, for Felix to get some help, to be able to move away from his biggest fear. Felix has done everything he can to make this as unpleasant as possible for Ted, and Ted still doesn't know what he did wrong.

And then there's Felix, who attacks. He does the only thing he knows how to do around Ted, and that's trying to wear his brother down. He clings to the favouritism that makes him feel worthy, makes empty promises because he doesn't want to believe he's replaceable. He calls Ted a failure because he can't come to terms with the fact that he's lost, and because- once again- nothing Ted does will ever make Felix view him as less of a failure.

There's more I could say and more to look into, so I'll possibly expand on this further at a later date. This was a lot of fun to look into and analyse, and I thank you for reading it all! :D

[otomehoneyybearr]

Ikemen Prince 4th Anniversary Eve

Gilbert & Azel: The Relationship Unbeknownst to Anyone

Somewhere on a certain day—

Gilbert: "---I've always wondered if the conqueror beast and the sacred beast were one in the same."

Gilbert: "Both being evils of the world that control people and manipulate them as they please."

Azel: "I agree with the evil part. You and I would be better off not existing."

Azel: "We are both nuisances to the world, after all."

Gilbert: "Should we die together then?"

Azel: "You mean kill each other."

Gilbert: "That’s right."

Azel: "Disgusting."

Gilbert: "Agreed."

Azel: "So?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, no need to rush. I've went through the trouble of preparing food and drinks, so why not enjoy it first?"

Azel: "I'm having alcohol, while you're having water?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so you noticed."

Azel: "I am a god, after all."

Gilbert: "More like a con-artist, right?"

Azel: "That's another way to put it."

Gilbert: "Haha, you're not denying it."

Azel: "The title isn't that important."

Gilbert: "Really? I thought you’d be particular about it."

Azel: "Not at all. At least with you, being god or con-artist doesn't matter."

Azel: "I'm just a 'nuisance’ in the end, aren't I?"

Gilbert: "So you realized that."

Azel: "Just how many times do you think I've confiscated the weapons you smuggled into my country?"

Azel: "Can't you stop that? It's increasing my overtime and it's annoying."

Gilbert: "It only takes time because you carefully disassemble the firearms and send them back each time."

Gilbert: "Is that your hobby or something?"

Azel: "Do you want to be called a carefree rich boy?"

Gilbert: "Oh, so it was actually a declaration of war."

Azel: "If you understand that much, then don't bother asking. Tanzanite is the land of the gods,”

Azel: "So you should’ve realized by now that your spies and schemes are powerless in my sacred domain."

Gilbert: "Hmm, that's troublesome."

Gilbert: "It seems I miscalculated how difficult 'cleaning up' Tanzanite would be."

Gilbert: "Or perhaps I should say I underestimated you."

Gilbert: "Tanzanite has the lowest return rate for spies among the major countries."

Gilbert: "Currently you’re the only one from your country that's noticed my plans—No, more like, you're the only one at all."

Gilbert: "I thought that I could gather some information from you by sharing a drink, but..."

Gilbert: "You're quite hard to read. Is this what a god is like?"

Azel: "Donations are always welcome."

Gilbert: "Unfortunately for you, I only believe in myself."

Azel: "I figured as much. Spending time on you could be considered a waste."

Azel: "...Though a free meal does have its value."

Gilbert: "Haha, if you get along with me, there might be even better things in store for you."

Azel: "Not happening."

Gilbert: "Oh, that was an immediate answer. Despite us being somewhat similar."

Azel: "That's just slander."

Azel: "I don't distrust human potential as much as you do."

Azel: "Humanity doesn't need gods or beasts."

Gilbert: "...Is that so?"

Azel: "Want to bet?"

Gilbert: "Sure, sounds interesting."

Gilbert: "Your schemes are like mirages, vague and hard to grasp, but..."

Gilbert: "I'll bet on the foolishness of humans."

Azel: "Then I'll bet the opposite."

Azel: "I'll bet on the potential of humans."

Azel: "They have the ability to cleanse themselves. They can recognize and atone for their mistakes."

Azel: "Make sure to prepare your money, Disaster boy."

Gilbert: "You too."

Some little notes I had:

*: There's a possibility of Azel being older than Gilbert, seeing as he would attach things like (ーくん)-kun or (ーちゃん)-chan to the nicknames he gave Gilbert…That or Azel's was just trying to antagonize him.

**: Alternative interpretation of the nickname carefree rich boy could be 'airheaded/thoughtless young master'

***: Alternative interpretation of the nickname (厄災くん or yakusai-kun)Disaster boy could be 'Mr. Calamity'

I wasn't sure which of these interpretations would fit Azel's dialogue more, so I wanted to leave these notes so that everyone can get a general sense of the word/nickname.

Master List

▼・ᴥ・▼

[gorchards]

Love Lines - Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

word count: 4,118

a/n: Hi there! This is the first fic I've ever published so go easy on me lmao. Y/N is (very loosely) inspired by Rika because I love their dynamic and I'm a sucker for the childhood friends trope. I don't think the reader is specifically gendered but bc of this they may be fem-coded. Fic under the cut! Hope you all enjoy!

You and Yuta Okkotsu had a long, long, history. When you were in elementary school, you had proposed to him. Of course, you didn’t fully know what you were doing when you did- you were so young at the time. Then again, neither did he, when he wholeheartedly accepted. And for a long time, you two had been inseparable. During high school, the two of you had realized that perhaps there was something to that proposal you had originally made, and had begun dating. 

In some ways, it was better than what you could have ever dreamed. He was sweet, comforting, and always there for you. Just as he had always been, of course! But somehow even more than before. He was braver with you, and would come along on whatever random excursion you thought up. And he had changed you, too. His greater involvement in your life added a sparkle to it that you hadn’t experienced before. He made you feel stronger. He grounded you when you felt like you were going to fly off the  handle, and soothed you when you were spiraling. 

But… You were also more involved in his problems than ever before. The reverse was true of course. But he always had to take time to mull them over, and all that time he spent made you so anxious for him. You were so involved in his problems now, that it was starting to take a toll on your own mental health. You expressed this to him, and he tried his best to ease your fears- assuring you that things would all work out.

 That was a turbulent period of life for the both of you. So many things were changing in your individual lives. And during that change in your relationship with him, you began to realize there were a great deal of challenges that he had never let you in on before. It became overwhelming for you to see, and have him refuse your repeated attempts to help. He was so worried that you would eventually feel like he was a burden to you, but in doing so, he had unintentionally pushed you away. You couldn’t take it- and it made you feel that if he could have been hiding the fact that he was being bullied from you, what else was he hiding? Did you even know the real Yuta Okkotsu? Thoughts such as that plagued your mind toward the end... and it would eventually become too much for you.

Though it wasn’t that simple, that was ultimately the reason you had broken it off. Mounting pressures in your own life made it feel impossible to keep up with how much healing you realized he needed. Yuta had attempted to mend things- checking in with you often, trying to at least remain friends. He still cared about you, of course. He had assured you that he was still just a call away if you needed him. But even that became suffocating to you with time. In the end, you sent him a long, painful message about how you just couldn’t remain friends with him. And then, you blocked him. 

Since then, a mere four years after your breakup with Yuta, you had completely thrown yourself into your college work. Of course, along with spending any excess time you had with your family and your other friends. But it seemed to do little about the fact that he never really left your mind. At least once a day, a thought like this crossed your mind: “Oh, Yuta would love this!” Or, alternatively, “I wonder what he’s doing right now…?” You would still find yourself looking at the photos you had taken him, or of the two of you together. For a moment in time, you could pretend that nothing had changed between you and Yuta.

But then, cold hard reality would set in and crush your heart. You had not spoken in many years…and with how you left things, you might never again. Were you not used to the weight by now, perhaps you would have reached out. But apologizing now? After the state you left him in? You were sure that would make you cruel. 

Occasionally you would sit and imagine how he may have moved on from you. With how little he posted on social media, you weren’t sure exactly what he was up to, no matter how many times you refreshed his instagram. But even after all this time you still felt like you knew him inside and out. And so, you were completely certain that someone else must have been taken by his sincere smile, unkempt hair, and gentle eyes that you once admired daily. If looks weren’t enough, you couldn’t think of one person who wasn’t looking for a devoted and sweet boy like him. 

Maybe it was even that upperclassman who was in his class that you were often jealous of. They had grown very close over his senior year because being with you had made him more sociable. You could imagine Maki being the kind of girl who wouldn’t hesitate once she found out he was single. Unlike you, who had stalled for as long as possible in an effort to keep things from changing between you and him. And in the long run, you couldn’t seem to do that, either.

You yourself had tried to move on already. You had waited what you deemed a respectable amount of time before trying your luck with romance again. But in every person that you had dated, you never found Yuta. You would compare them all to him. You quickly found yourself growing dissatisfied and restless before ultimately breaking up with the string of suitors that followed him. So you had sworn it off for the time being, shifting almost all of your focus to your educational goals. You wanted to start working as soon as possible, and trying to find someone while agonizing over the Yuta-shaped hole in your heart was only going to slow you down.

One fateful day though, you strode into a local coffee shop near your campus. Nothing different than any other study sessions before. All signs pointed to it being a normal day, if a bit more productive than usual. That alone was enough to put a little spring in your step. You stood in line looking over the menu, puzzling over what you would get. A vanilla chai, perhaps? Or would a matcha latte be what you were craving… You hoped you would be able to decide before you reached the cash register.

The time to order came all too fast. “Good afternoon, what can I get for you?” The barista asked, slightly more terse than she usually was. You imagined the cause for this was due to the line of customers behind you that had slowly mounted since you had gotten in it. 

You were able to make a split-second compromise with yourself, out of courtesy for your noticeably antsy barista. “Good afternoon! Could I.. uh… Could I get a matcha latte, with a little vanilla?” You paused for a moment, feeling your stomach growl just a tad. “Oh! And one of your muffins, please!” Hopefully, this would satisfy you for a solid cramming session.

You gave the barista your name, sitting down near the counter patiently as you waited for your little snack to be called out. You began to scroll through your music, hoping to find a playlist that would get you in a focused mood. You were about to select one of your many playlists, when you heard your name being called. 

“Latte for Y/N?” You could just hear the barista’s voice over the mounting chatter. So, you jumped up from your seat and scurried over to pick up your little study session snack. You thanked the barista, and moved to return to your table when you heard your name again.

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice. And you knew it wasn’t the barista calling you back for your wallet. The whole world came to a standstill for you, as you tried to decide whether or not you should turn around. It’s like all of the many programs in your brain had suddenly crashed at the sound of Yuta Okkotsu’s voice.

“How?” was your first thought. How was it possible that you had ended up at the same restaurant, on the same day, at the same time? You hadn’t physically seen him in years. You hadn’t talked, or called, or texted since your last conversation. Just when you were getting good at forcing yourself to suppress your thoughts of him- why would the universe put him here, and why would it do so now?

Say you did turn around. What would that even do? Surely it would just bring up painful memories for the both of you. And you really didn’t want to make him cry again. You feared that if you turned around he would look exactly the same as the day you broke up with him. 

Maybe it wasn’t him. After all, your mind could be playing tricks on you. If you didn’t turn around to face this hypothetical Yuta, you would never have to truly face your feelings about him, either. And even if he was there, you could just pretend that you didn’t hear! Then he would just move on, and you still wouldn’t have to think too hard about how leaving him had affected both of your hearts.

You felt a hesitant hand tap your shoulder, resuming the activities going on around you. Ah. You had waited way too long thinking it over. And you felt it would be so mean of you to speed walk away now, after he had worked up all that courage to approach you. So, slowly, you turned yourself to face him.

There stood Yuta Okkotsu, a half-full cup of iced coffee in his off-hand. But he looked noticeably different than you last saw him. His hair was styled in an uncharacteristically stiff fashion; It was gelled down and parted slightly to his right. Starkly different from the wilder hair you remembered him having. He was a bit taller, too. His clothing leaned more toward “smart” casual, rather than the comfortable styles you recalled him wearing.  And his face looked…  mostly the same, aside from the bags beneath his eyes, which seemed smaller than you remembered.

“It’s… It’s you.” He spoke, a bit short of breath. Like he couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of him. He looked a bit tense, as he had feared the worst. 

If it wasn’t you, he would have embarrassed the hell out of himself. He would have gotten over it, but it would only prove how hopeless he was at getting over you. Imagining you in public like that might have made him hole himself up in his dorm until his friends inevitably dragged him out and convinced him he wasn’t clinically insane. 

Conversely, if it had been you, he feared that you would have a viscerally negative reaction to his presence- that over the years you had stopped caring about him, and even grown to hate him. He knew that was ridiculous- you were passionate and reactive, but you were always polite. Still, the fear gnawed at him, perhaps more at the notion that you had grown to loathe him rather than that you would rebuke him.

But there you stood. Eyes widened in shock, and surprisingly still. But he didn’t see any hate in your expression. Still, he braced his heart for disappointment when you opened your mouth.

“... Yu ... ta?” It came out as more of a question than you had intended. You felt like you were in a trance, but did your best to shake yourself out of it. “What… What are you doing here?’

He accidentally let out a chuckle in response, and then motioned his cup to his little set-up in the corner of the coffee shop. “Studying… for my, uh, finals. And getting coffee. What are you doing here?” 

You motioned over to your laptop bag that you had yet to open. “Same as you, actually! What a coincidence!” You said with a little laugh, and just a hint of awkwardness in your tone.

The both of you remained silent for a moment before he decided to break it. “... Would you like to sit with me? It’s getting crowded in here.”

Oh.

His breaking the silence had surprised you even more than you already were. He didn’t typically do that, even when you were together. He was comfortable with it with you- and besides, he much preferred to look into your eyes. Again you were stunned into silence. What would be the right thing to do here? 

You knew what you wanted to do. You wanted to sit down and have lunch with him. You wanted to talk endlessly about what you had missed in the last four years. You wanted to give him your new socials, your new number, your new address. You had dreamed for years that you would run into him again like this.

But on the other hand, you also wanted to do what was right.  What made sense. And it didn’t make any sense to let him back in your life after all this time. You weren’t sure you could handle it even if it did. There was just so much history, and so much baggage between the two of you. You didn’t want to mess anything up further- for him, or for yourself. That wouldn’t be right at all.

His voice cut through your thoughts. 

“... I’m sorry I… I can see you’re uncomfortable. I’ll… I’ll go.”

Shit. That’s not what you wanted. That little sad look in his eyes.

“What?” You replied. A reaction of pure panic. Pure desperation. 

He turned back to you, averting his gaze slightly. “... I shouldn’t have asked… I just thought…” He looked right at you. “I thought… It would be nice to have coffee.”

“... It would.” You said, trying to soften your tone. Just coffee, you told yourself. It didn’t necessarily mean anything to have coffee with an old friend.

If he weren’t listening so intently to every word, he might not have heard you over all the noise. Now, it was his turn to be stunned. “It would? You think?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours again.

“... Yeah, it would.”

~

And so you sat down at his table. Suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself. The way you were sitting in your chair, the way your hands gripped your coffee cup, the sweat pooling from every gland you had… The sheer anxiety that built in you every moment that ticked by without a word.

“So uhm… Did you end up applying to TMTC?” He asked.

Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College. Your dream school. He…remembered?

“I did but…Well, I didn’t…I’m going to TMU. But I do have a few friends there.” You said, staring into your latte. “Ah, their sister school! That’s even better!” He replied, smiling a tad awkwardly. “That makes sense. You’ve always been really smart.”

“And where do you go?” You asked. It felt weird to you that you didn’t already know.

“Ah… well… I went to a community college at first… And one of my professors also works at TMC so I…” He trailed off.

“... You’re going there?” You looked up at him, your brow raised. A clear suspicion was evident in your expression.

“...Not… Not because I thought you’d be there.” He said, swallowing nervously.

Your heart twinged a little.

He continued, being unable to make eye contact with you. “Not- Not that I didn’t think you would! And not that I- I just… I would have been a fool to give up a chance like that. And our majors were far enough apart that if… If I did run into you… And you didn’t want to see me… Then you wouldn’t have to. Not that I didn’t want to see you I just-”

You laughed a little, causing him to stop his rambling. He didn’t act any differently than the boy you remembered. And even after all this time, you knew him like the back of your hand. He was still your Yuta.

“...Something funny?” He asked, throat still painfully dry. He took a sip of his drink.

You shook your head. “No… Nothing. I see why you did it. I’m just a tad jealous is all.”

“Do you… Like it at TMU?” Swiftly, he tried to change the subject.

You looked back up at him. “I do.”

The truth was, you felt a little lonely there. You had your friends, and you adored them. You got really lucky, and hadn’t yet had a mean professor. Your dorm was always cozy. The campus was beautiful. It would have been perfect if… He was there. 

Yuta. He was once your best friend, your companion…he was your home. Not a day could go by without you thinking of him. Something about his absence made days feel more monotonous. You felt like when you sat down here with him, you had been snapped out of a trance that you hadn’t been able to get out of for four long years. 

Yuta blinked when you failed to say more, and tried to coax something more out of you. “What do you like about it?”

“I see you’ve gotten nosier than ever, Yuu.” You teased.

Yuta’s face paled. “I’m sorry! That’s not what I-”

“Relax. I’m joking.” You had to laugh again. He was always so reactive to your teasing. Always took everything so seriously. That still hadn’t changed.  “Tokyo is gorgeous. I mean- I’m sure you can tell. You’re here too after all. But especially the campus! I don’t always have time to enjoy it with all the work my professors give me but…I really like going there. When I have time to go out with my friends we always have a ton of things to pick from. Makes it pretty hard to choose just one!”

Yuta smiled softly, leaning on the table as he listened to you earnestly.

You missed that fond expression of his.

“What is it, Yuta?”

“Huh…?” He froze, before sitting up and straightening himself out. “Oh- I just…Well you sound- IT sounds so pretty over there. I haven’t had the chance to go yet. I think I have a friend who goes there…” He said, tapping his chin.

“Who? Maybe I know them!” You said, leaning forward on the table.

“Her name’s Mai. Or- I think we’re friends. She’s Maki’s sister actually, you remember her? She sometimes joins our study group when we go to their house.”

Your eyes widened. “Mai Zenin?”

“Oh, yes! Do you know her?”

Knew wouldn’t be quite the correct word. You weren’t close at all, but you had worked on a few projects together. She was rather tight lipped about her personal life, and wasn’t much for conversation. But she was smart, and always did her part.

Despite the last name, you hadn’t connected the dots.

“Oh, not really. Our majors are close, so we have a few classes together.” You said quietly, looking into your cup.

Yuta did not fail to notice your change in demeanor.

“... Was she… rude to you?” He asked.

You looked back up at him. “Oh, nothing like that! I just… I had no idea.”

To think. You were two connections away from seeing him again almost this entire time. 

You weren’t sure how that made you feel.

“I didn’t either.” He chuckled. “I know she can be a bit…well, I’m sure you know.”

You found yourself smiling again. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But we always get a good grade when we work…. together, separately. She’s just…”

“A little intense?”

“Ohhhh yeah. You could say that again.” You said with a snicker. “Runs in the family I guess.”

Talking like this again… you found yourself so happy. This joy was something that you were only able to capture when you were with him. You felt a little nostalgic for your life before- Your life with him. It almost made you want to turn back the hands of time, or at the very least, let him back in again.

But that would clearly be selfish. Even from what little you had discussed, you could tell. Something was different. He had friends- plural. Likely new ones… maybe even a girlfriend.

He was happy.

Happy without you.

Not that you weren’t happy on your own, per se. But without him, the monotony of life had become so heavy. You felt as though everything was about your classes, your degree, your future job. Every moment you had, you spent working toward some distant future plan.

Yuta had always slowed you down and kept you in the moment. He put a colorful tint on your life when he was in it. 

In high school he was shy and awkward around other people…everyone except you, that was. You couldn’t help but wonder how that might have changed in three years. Maybe he…

“Y/N?” Again, he snapped you from your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“...You’re doing that thing you do.” 

That thing you always did when you thought too much. That far-off look you got when he couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t bear to let you go there again.

He couldn’t bear to let you go at all.

You shook your head, but you knew exactly what he meant. “Just… just thinking is all, Yuta.”

“... Well, I have an ear if you need to talk it out.” He replied softly. His hand twitched slightly, out of instinct. He wanted to take your hand and squeeze it, but… He realized how awkward that could make you feel.

He still… he still cared? Really, and sincerely? After all this time?

You shook your head. It wouldn’t be right.

“That’s sweet Yuta, but… but I should be going. I really have to study.” You abruptly stood up and started gathering your things.

“What?” He stood up, eyes widened in a panic that he was trying to hide. “But we hardly-”

“My finals are soon, and I’m sure yours are too.”

“Y/N-.”

“Yuta I… I enjoyed this little chat with you but… Well I’m happy you’re doing well and I hope that you do well in your studies but I have to-”

“Y/N.” He grabbed ahold of your hand, and you froze. 

 Yuta took a deep breath. “...Sorry, I just…Y/N, I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. If you never want to see me again I’d…I’d understand. And…” 

He had to take another deep breath, and you could see tears beginning to brim in his eyes. “But you… you mean so much to me. After all this time you… I still miss you. So much. You’re..”

The love of his life?

“...My best friend. Maybe that’s… weird of me to say. But it’s true. Even though we didn’t have that much time together today I… I’m really happy to hear from you. And I want to see you again.” He looked right into your eyes.

Into your soul.

You could see how desperate he looked right now. You felt tears pricking at your eyes. You knew that if you were still together, he would have immediately taken you in his arms and kissed them away. But when you looked at him you saw how much he was holding back in order to avoid driving you away again.

It was then that you realized just how much you had been holding back yourself. Everything you had been feeling, and trying to hold deep inside with all the willpower you had left was about to burst out. You missed him so much.

“Yuu…ta…”

You swallowed harshly, stepping back. Yuta hung his head as you began to put your things into your bag.

Then, he felt you tap his shoulder. He attempted to subtly wipe the tears from his eyes before he locked eyes with you again.

You took his hand and placed a scrap of paper in it. 

“What’s this…?” He asked.

“...My new number. I…I would like to see you again too.” You whispered.

“You…you couldn’t have told me that first?” He chuckled, drying his face with a little smile.

You felt your lips curl up. “Sorry. I know you hate surprises.” You squeezed his hand, before letting it go.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean it looked…for a moment I thought-”

“I’m one hundred percent sure.” Well, now you were. “I’ll see you soon Yuta.”

“I’ll see you soon Y/N."

✧ Start (You are here!) ✧ Next ✧

✧ Masterlist ✧

[fili-urzudel]

Should You Wish (Thranduil x OC)

I'm not back! Just clearing out my drafts.

This was inspired by a piece of art I saw somewhere quite a while ago, where Thranduil went completely blind after the dragon's attack.

Summary: A servant has been serving the royals of the Greenwood for years. When the King loses his wife and his sight in a battle against a dragon on the borderlands, the whole kingdom is changed. The servant would quite like to help Thranduil achieve a sense of normalcy again; she's just not sure what that is for him.

Warnings: Brief descriptions of injury, permanent disability. Some fluff.

A hundred years was, in fact, a mere blink in the eyes of an elf. Ithronel knew. She had been serving the royal family for nearly two.

But the day the king stumbled back to Mirkwood on the arms of his compatriots, face stabilized with field medicine but still horrifically destroyed, eyes blank and cloudy, time slowed. It slowed as the elves waited for their queen to return, and she never did. It slowed as she, along with countless others, alternated between trying to help the healers and waiting shakily, anxiously for news of their dear king's health.

It slowed as he did not show his face for days that turned into weeks, despite the healer's assurances they had made him as well as he could be. It slowed as she was required to leave his food on a table, the room empty, and she was only allowed to clean his quarters one room at a time, always with him in a different chamber. It slowed as the king's throne sat, unused, and each day she and the other servants refused to let it collect even one particle of dust.

"Tell no one," the healer warned her in a low voice. "No one who needs not know shall, but the King... he has lost his sight. We could not repair it." Ithronel grimaced, not out of malice, but pity, which she knew the king would hate to feel directed at him. Still, losing one's sight was a great tragedy. Along with losing his love, she worried that he may not survive.

But survive he did, and he seemed rather anxious to prove it. Just twelve weeks later, or at least that is how long Ithronel assumed had passed, he began to try to return to his normal life. The throne was untouched, but he let himself be in the same rooms as his servants and advisors, conducting business in his consulting chambers.

Another few days, and Ithronel was allowed to clean his office space as he took his supper there. She entered quietly, before resolving to make enough noise that he would know she was there. "Your majesty," she announced her presence. "I am just here to tidy your office."

"Come in," he says in a flatly modulated tone. Not dejected, not disgusted. Simply emotionless.

She quickly got to work, kneeling under the desk to gather a dropped quill and a few sheets of paper.

"What is your name?" He asked, unprompted, and she nearly hit her head on the underside of the large desk.

She stood to address him, wanting to respect him even if he could not appreciate the gesture. "Ithronel, my king."

She had introduced herself to him many times before, but with so many servants and subjects, he had more important names to remember.

He gave a slight nod, saying nothing more.

Another few years, and she again found herself in the lone company of the king, cleaning his slightly-more-intimate-and-comfortable study. He sat in an armchair, staring at the fire. He had no other activity to occupy him, and Ithronel supposed he was deep in thought, perhaps considering more deeply the book he held in his hand.

She started at the bookshelves and worked her way down, before noticing that the curtains, made of velvet, needed replaced. "I will be right back, Your Majesty," she warned him before he heard the distinct clicks of a door opened and closed.

She took them down and replaced them with dust-free facsimiles one by one, aware of the way King Thranduil's head tilted just slightly each time he heard her step from her small stool back onto the ground.

She had scarcely finished folding the final curtain to be taken to the laundry when he spoke.

"Ithronel?" She froze. It was the first time the King has ever used her name. It sounded so... so meek, so humble. She was astounded that he must have guessed it was her purely by the sound of her voice.

"Yes, my king?"

"Could you please read this to me?" His voice was deathly quiet, embarrassed. "I cannot see it."

She walked closer, and she could see the way he tensed as he heard her footsteps approach. Perhaps he can see my shadow move as well, she pondered silently.

She gently took the book from him, their fingers brushing briefly. "A history book?"

"I thought... sometimes I imagine what they will say of me," Thranduil faltered. "I suppose it is comforting to know how objectively those stories are told."

Ithronel frowned. "Would you mind if I read you something else?"

Thranduil turned his head slightly, to the sound of her voice over his shoulder. "What did you have in mind?"

Ithronel tried to browse the shelves quickly, not wanting to make him impatient. "Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly, making him whip his head in her direction. "Sorry, I just thought of something. What about..." she rifled through her bag that sat by the door. "The Solstician Healer?"

"What is that?" Thranduil asked, only a bit derisively.

"It's a fictional story," Ithronel said carefully. "I don't want to give away too much, but it has a very nice message. It's a nice way to end the day, I think."

"You've read it before?"

"This is my fifth time," she admitted. "I read it first when I was only ninety."

"Don't you tire of it?"

"No," she responded easily. "I've read many other books, but the feeling this one gives me never goes away, no matter how many times I read it."

"Then I suppose it is a welcome diversion."

Thranduil's eyes drifted closed of their own accord, tired from not blinking and dry from the fire. And perhaps he liked the sound of Ithronel's voice. It was animated, more active than the voice either of his parents had ever used when speaking with him, but it was also gentle, blending perfectly with the crackles of the fireplace in front of him.

He heard footsteps moving, and only then did he realize she had stopped reading. He considered asking why. He then considered that perhaps she was tired, as tired as he, and though he was king, he had no right to demand of her to give up her rest for him.

He heard her come closer, and urged himself to continue looking... well, calm, he supposed. He felt a blanket spread across his shoulders, her fingers briefly brushing across his collarbone as she covered him. "Sleep well, my king," she whispered, her voice startlingly close.

"Thank you, I will try."

The words had her nearly jumping back. "I'm sorry, your majesty," she said, flustered. "I thought you were already asleep. I'll just, um, I'll be going now--"

"Will you come back? I would quite like to hear the next chapter." He had lost the plot already, but he was willing to try to catch up.

She hesitated for a long moment. "If you should wish it of me, of course I shall."

To dream of a fire and voice that did not belong to a dragon was most pleasant indeed.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.5

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

19th October

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Taehyung watched Jimin return to their hide-out with evident disappointment settled across his face. Another indicator being the deep sigh which followed right as he closed the door behind himself.

He perked a suspicious eyebrow at Jimin, exchanging a glance with Yoongi then who was sitting across from him and sharpening his sword. "What happened?"

Jimin plopped next to him, sulking deeply. "Guess Bella won't help us out."

"I'll pretend being shocked," Yoongi snickered under his breath, only earning an annoyed glance from the younger one before he fell back into sulking.

Taehyung only rolled his eyes out of Jimin's sight and cleared his throat then. Trying to set the right tone to cover the fact he wholeheartedly agreed with Yoongi's sarcastic stance.

Why would Arabella Valentine help them out if it didn't benefit her?

That wasn't her style.

"Did she say why?"

"Yeah.." Jimin shifted in his seat, running his fingers through his light brown hair, "She prefers going after a rich heir in Cyprus." Mild jealously flickered through his features and Taehyung could tell but chose not to mention.

"Seriously, why are you so whipped for this woman?" he eventually wondered out, "She's manipulative and you can't trust her. I don't get it."

"Plus, she's screwed us over countless times.." Yoongi added with a mumble. Both now looking at him expectedly.

Pursing his plum lips, the thief in question fumbled with his fingers for the right words. "Well, first of all sh-"

"Don't you dare say 'she's hot'," Taehyung quickly countered, shooting him a serious glare to which Jimin only chuckled bashfully.

"Well, she is, but that isn't the main reason.." 

The anew sigh leaving his lips filled with awe and admiration this time, gaze wandering out the window into the sunlit capital of Argentina. A dreamy look on his eyes with possible hearts if he was a cartoon character, Taehyung was sure.

"You guys wouldn't get it.. I like that she's so sneaky and always keeps me on my toes. She's dangerous and mesmerising. She's.. she's simply one of a kind," he eventually settled.

And perhaps they really didn't get it because all they were able to see in her was a competitor, another thief who might occasionally help them out. But only for a price - which was usually betraying them with all the loot.

"It's kinda cute though. He's the literal definition of fool in love," Yoongi plainly stated then, trying keeping a straight face although they could see the ghost of a smile on his lips. His tease pulling Jimin out of his little daydream.

"Anyway," the master thief said then, dismissing his older friend's comment, "That means we need someone else to get us in there."

"We don't know any other female professionals though."

"At least, not personally."

All three fell into deep thoughts.

This wasn't good. They needed a woman to pull off this coup. Only women were invited to the embassandor's gala as it was specifically to celebrate female achievements. It was their only chance to get in the embassy.

- Well, not the only one, but surely the easiest one. Two would sneak in as staff members and the third one had to be among the guests. To keep an eye on the embassandor and the ball hall while the other two were breaking into the office room. And to be one of the guests he'd need to be the cavalier of a lady.

"The party's in a week, we need to come up with something. We're running out of time."

"Why did you only ask her now, if we knew beforehand-"

"I was sure Bella would be in.."

The oldest one shrugged, putting his katana aside. "Maybe we should just cancel it and instead go for a different coup."

At this, Jimin shot Yoongi an irritated glare before laughing out. "You're giving up too easily! I'm sure we'll fi-" Pausing himself mid-sentence, he faced Taehyung then who gulped at the mischieviously wide grin on his lips. "Say, what about your doctor fri-"

Before he could even complete, Taehyung already cut him off with a harsh glare. "No, forget it."

Jimin whined. "Why?"

Dumbfounded at the new level of idiocy his best friend had reached, the gunman exhaled with a huff. "Are you seriously asking? She's a civilist. I'm not getting her involved in this and besides, I doubt she even got time."

"How do you know, you haven't asked her?"

"She's an assistant physician in her second year, she's just working non-stop."

"Then a reason more for her to get out of the daily grid!" Jimin exclaimed, thrilled about his brilliant idea, "And didn't you say she's always curious about our work and finds it exciting? Yes, just imagine how thankful she'd be!"

Taehyung, however, was less and less inclined to the nonsense idea of getting Cassandra involved in this. He always tried his best to keep their friendship seperated from the rest of his life - or at least as seperate as possible. And he grew frustrated with Jimin's irrational enthusiasm.

"You can't be serious, this is way too dangerous for an outsider. What if something goes wrong?"

"Taehyung's right," Yoongi, who had been silently listening to their argument, eventually intervened, "She's completely unexperienced. We can't effort it."

"Guys, you're such naysayers!" Jimin groaned then, throwing his hands dramatically in the air, "This coup we'll be like walking into a candyshop, nice and easy. She won't need to do anything but look pretty and mingle with the other guests. That's it. She won't be anywhere near the action where we -" His finger wiggled between himself and Yoongi. "- would be."

"Wait, you and Yoongi are breaking in?"

He smirked. "Of course, since she's your friend you're gonna be her escort."

Taehyung became pale, all colour drained from his face. He and Cassandra in fancy attire in the middle of a ballroom? The thought making him swallow with an irrational flush colourings his cheeks.

"I mean.. putting it like this.." Yoongi mused with a small smile, earning a side-eye from Taehyung.

"You're seriously changing your mind on me now?"

The swordsman shrugged, sliding his katana back into its shealth as he had finished the sharpening, being content with his work. "I didn't think about the fact that she'd indeed not be directly involved in the heist. Her only role would be to get the third one - you - inside. That's it."

"Unbelievable," Taehyung dragged out a breath, shaking his head. 

He didn't like admitting it, but they had a point. Still a pretty dumb point, in his opinion, but nevertheless, a point. If they wanted to go through with the plan, the young physician was their only option in the moment. At least until he could come up with a better one. And he would try his best to do so.

"You guys really mean it, huh?"

"Look, Tae, I get it," Jimin said then, grabbing his shoulder with a sympathetic smile, "It's not like I'm keen about getting an outsider involved either, but she's our only option right now. And I wouldn't suggest it if I believed she could get in actual danger. You know me, I'd never endanger anyone on purpose. Especially not a pretty woman."

Of course Taehyung knew that. He knew Jimin for half of his life by now, he knew he wasn't reckless or mindless towards others. Only towards himself. And his look of appeal made Taehyung eventually sigh in defeat, nodding.

"Maybe she won't agree anyway," Yoongi argued then with raised brows. Partially in an attempt to calm Taehyung's mind. "What then?"

But Taehyung could only laugh out dryly at this. Already knowing her answer.

»»»

21st October

Barcelona, Spain

Cassandra's eyes widened while alternating between Jimin, Yoongi and Taehyung, the latter one standing in the background with crossed arms and an annoyed scowl.

"Me?" She pointed at herself, still processing and not believing their surreal proposal.

When she had left the hospital after an early shift, the only thing she'd expected to find at home was her left-over food and the rest of a tv show which had been left in the middle - wishing her hospital life would've been just half as entertaining as in the show.

She hadn't expected, however, to find Taehyung and his friends waiting for her in front of her entrance door.

Now thinking about it, considering they were thieves and could break into anything they wanted, it was quite nice of them respecting her enough not to break into her apartment and instead wait outside.

"Cassandra, Cas," Jimin sighed in pity ploy, engulfing her hands in both of his. Taehyung only rolling his eyes in the back at the sight of his friend working his usual charms. "We wouldn't ask you if we weren't desperate. I swear, we wouldn't let you get in any danger. You just need to enter from the main entrance, have a good time at the gala and then leave again from the main entrance. That's all."

She blinked again, feeling her heart-beat picking up in excitement.

Was she even allowed to get excited? Shouldn't she be panicked and call them crazy?

She should, but for some insane reason she wasn't. She was indeed considering this.

"Just for the record, I was against this idea," Taehyung barked in, "Seriously, feel free to say no."

"Don't influence her!" Jimin's head snapped back. Making Taehyung scoff and look away again.

Cassandra took a moment to think about it. Although she was certain her answer was already set, she still tried staying objective and weighing out all factors.

"If I do it.. you'll keep me safe, right?" She timidly peeked up, seeing a smile spreading on Jimin's features.

"Of course! Well, not me directly.." His head returning to Taehyung with a smirk, "But Taehyunghie will. Considering he's unrivaled with his gun and good in combat, you'll be in good hands."

She smiled, knowing all that very well.

Her brown irises wandering to her friend who was about to protest again, but instead folded his lips when meeting her warm stare.

He already knew her answer anyway. That was why he was so against it in the first place. She might've not been naive enough to mistake her films for reality, but the way Jimin set it, it sounded exciting and risk free. Besides, she was someone who always helped others and only a blind person wouldn't see how much in need they were of her right now. Jimin had practically thrown himself to her feet after all. 

So he sighed, giving her an affirming nod. "I'll protect you, Cas."

She smiled gently. "I know."

If she didn't trust Taehyung, she wouldn't have even considered it.

Content with his sincere answer, she faced Jimin again. "I'll do it."

"Great!" he cheered and jumped onto his feet, pulling her with him before engulfing her into a tight hug. Making Cassandra laugh out as she hugged him back startled.

They must've been indeed quite desperate, she concluded.

"Y-you said it's next friday though. And where?"

"In Budepast at the French embassy," Yoongi, who hadn't tried persuading nor hindering her from participating, but instead had stayed pretty neutral next to Taehyung, said.

He'd been taking a look around her apartment instead. Small eyes growing round when seeing the film posters Taehyung had mentioned to them.

"You can travel around Europe freely, right?"

She hummed in affirmation.

She had always wanted to see Budapest anyway so that wouldn't be an inconvenience. However, she recalled her schedule.

"I'll need to pull in some favours and switch shifts then.."

Taehyung instantly straightened at this. "If that'll be a problem, we're gonna look for someo-"

"No, no, I'll do it. Don't worry," she giggled, seeing him shut his mouth and going back to sulking.

In all honestly, she felt quite flattered by his concerns. But she trusted their word that it wouldn't get dangerous for her. 

And a fancy gala at an embassy? Who would say no to that? It'd be the first time she ever attended something like this. 

Her smile dropped at this realisation. Now, this was actually concerning.

"It's gonna be so fancy.. " she mumbled. Chewing on her lips.

She didn't have any fancy clothes. Of course not, why would she? She had a few good clothes for special occasions and celebrations, but in no way would they be enough for an embassador's gala. She'd need to buy something, but did she even have money for a suitable dress for such an event?

She started mildly hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey, don't worry. Just wear a nice dress. It doesn't have to be some expensive designer piece, no one will tell," Jimin ensured her, patting her shoulder with a cheerful smile, "It's not the Milan fashion show. The people at the gala won't be able to tell the difference."

"Okay," she nodded when another question popped up in her mind. "But how will I even be allowed to enter? I don't have an invitation after all.."

At this the three thieves only exchanged a glance before their lips tucked into cheeky grins.

"Please, that's a piece of cake. Don't let that trouble you." Jimin winked.

»»»

26th October

Budapest, Hungary

It was 8 o'clock on the dot when Cassandra stepped out of the elevator that evening. It'd been awhile since she'd spent a night at a hotel and it felt odd.

The only good thing was that it was a rather small vintage one, meaning no cameras inside and not many guests as she made her way out of the old but well-preserved building. The reception at the foyer was currently empty, facilitating her departure. And she remembered to turn her face away from the camera at the entrace. Just like the guys' had instructed her. It was one out of only two, the other one being at the back entrance that led to the backyard.

Even if it wasn't their main intention to save her from embarrassment when choosing that hotel for her - the practical reasons being it not having much security and its suitable location - it saved her from nosey people wondering where she was heading to in such a fancy look. She had already felt insure enough, not being used to wearing anything but scrubs or normal clothes. She didn't need employees or guests' talking while walking around in a floor-long dress, heaving the fabric with her fists not to step onto it.

Cassandra knew there was no going back now that she had already exited the building. And she wondered if Taehyung would be there as settled.

The last contact had been back in Barcelona, when they'd given her location and pick-up time, keeping the risk of leaving traces as small as possible.

For all people knew, she was a mere tourist. Which she was, in a way. At least she'd passed the past two days by wandering around the city to all the touristy spots, making the most out of her trip there and acting unsuspicious.

Much to her relief she spotted Taehyung waiting at the end of the street. He was leaned against a black limousine with tinted windows, not having noticed her yet as he was too preoccupied with texting the others on a burner phone to see the startled expression on Cassandra's made-up eyes. 

His dark brown hair was combed back with the side parted, except for a rebellish curl that was falling on his forehead while he was hunching. The black tuxedo he wore perfectly underlining his tall and sturdy stature. Its suit jacket left unbuttoned and hanging losely over the black dress shirt he was wearing underneath it, adorned by an equally pitch-black neck tie.

Describing his appearance as 'handsome' felt like the understatement of the year. She needed a stronger word than that to express her exact thoughts in that moment. 

Of course she always thought of him as a good-looking guy with an enchanting smile, from the very first glance she'd laid on him. She wasn't blind after all. However, seeing him in such a fancy attire for the first time left her breathless. Just like that very night many years ago when their eyes had met for the first time. 

Usually she only saw him in casual fits. Loose shirts, wide trousers or big hoodies. Like a normal guy. However, she'd use anything but 'normal' for him right now.

Taehyung looked like straight out of a runway or no - a film! A spy movie!

Like a real-life James Bond.

And that realisation made a hot rush run through Cassandra's veins.

She inhaled sharply, about to move when his head perked up as if he had heard her screaming thoughts and their irises met. Both staring at each other, perplexed.

His lips parted, unintentionally allowing his eyes to wander over her dress all the way down and then up again.

Cassandra was standing there, a vision in dark vibrant green. Embroidered leaves and flowers covering her torso, flowing from her waist sporadically down the tulle fabric. Glistening faintly under the streetlamps, like an emerald. Contrasting her silky-shining coppery curls cascading over her shoulders.

First he hadn't been sure if it was really her or a mythological forest nymph, having lost her way to the magic world and instead found her way there to him.

But soon he realised that it was indeed Cassandra. And that he was holding his breath.

"Hey, cool guy," she eventually breathed out. Interrupting their little staring contest.

He swallowed, forcing his lips to move into a casual smile. "Hey, Doc."

With uncertain steps, she walked up to him and he pushed himself off the car. Holding the passenger door open for her.

"You.. you look.." He was flustered, to say the least. His mind on overdrive as he tried not to turn awkward, but he feared he was doing just that by stuttering and blushing. She looked even more stunning from up-close. Finally, he managed clearing his throat. "You might get a cold."

With a small laugh, she looked away and folded her arms in front of her décoleté. It was warm enough during the day, but now that the sun was setting, a coolish breeze was indeed picking up which the thin straps of her dress surely wouldn't shield her from. Especially not as her back was completely open, aside from the straps crossing and forming a bow on its lower half - which had taken her a solid ten minutes to tie on her own.

Taehyung catching that detail as well, looking away shyly. And Cassandra's insecurity only grew, misinterpreting his behaviour. 

She started seriously regretting all her choices in this moment. Back then she'd thought that if this was her only chance to wear a beautiful long dress, then so be it!.

- Why didn't she go for a simplier dress? Preferably in an ordinary colour like black or creme with long sleeves and maybe even a turtleneck, if dresses with turtlenecks even existed.

She feared making a fool of herself again.

"Uhm, no it's okay. I'll survive, don't worry. I didn't have anything suitable to wear on top and didn't want to show up in a random jacket.." she mumbled. About to enter the car when she felt something being slid over her shoulders, causing her to still. And she saw his suit jacket laying on them.

Her lips parted, her cheeks chrimson red by now. She held the collar together with one hand.

"Thank you," she quietly said, seeing him only offering her a quick nod before they bothed entered the parked limousine.

The French embassy was in the city centre, close to Danube's bank. An upmarket part with lots of cultural sights. Meaning the traffic would keep them from arriving there fast.

They remained silent for most of the drive, both unusually tense. Only stealing glances at the other when thinking they wouldn't notice.

"We can still turn back. I can return you to the hotel," Taehyung offered, glancing at her hopefully before redirecting his focus onto the road in front of them.

They were almost there, he could already spot the long line of expensive vehicles lining up to enter or depose guests.

"Again, don't feel obligated. You don't have to do this. I'll find another way to get in."

The young woman shook her head though, the grip she had onto his blazer to keep it from sliding off, tightening.

"No, I'm okay." And she was. Slightly nervous, yes, but also incredibly excited. "And besides, I got my lucky charm."

His brows knitted at her, seeing a toothy grin on her features and a small teddy bear dangling from her fingers next to it.

"Isn't it cute?"

He couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow he wasn't surprised she was  into superstition or at least lucky charms. And her beaming face was  adorable.

"Very cute actually."

"I know it's ridiculous," she sighed then with a coy smile as she looked down to the teddy bear in her folded hands, "And I don't really believe in superstition. But I figured, it wouldn't harm."

Shaking his head, he tugged at the golden necklace underneath his collar. "What do you think this is?"

Her eyes widened. "So it's also your lucky charm?"

He shrugged. "So far I always had luck, so it could be this. I always wear it after all." He tucked it back in as memories surged his mind. He tilted his head at her with a smirk then. "So it must bring me some luck. Don't you think?"

Cassandra smiled at him with a fond look, knowing how much it meant to him. And it was nice catching a new glimpse of his life from behind the curtains of his usual secrecy. She enjoyed collecting all those pieces of random information about him.

"By the way," she said then, stuffing the small stuffed animal back into her purse, "I got your postcard a few days ago. The one from New Delhi."

"Huh, you only got it now?" he huffed with a raised brow, "I was there a month ago."

"Well, it's quite far away, on the other side of the globe.. Was it fun there?"

"Curious as always.." He grinned, amusement in his eyes as he peeked at her. "But yeah, it was. Also far too warm though."

Cassandra giggled at his whining, remembering he didn't do well in temperatures over 25°C. Would explain why he was walking around with a thin coat in winter.

"Maybe next time don't do a heist in a hot subcontinent."

"It wasn't a heist," he plainly stated. Knowing far too well that would only intrigue her more. And indeed, she leaned over with curious eyes. Her eye make-up intenser now for the gala than her usual one, making her doe eyes appearing even bigger than usual. "No? What else did you do there?"

He simply shrugged with a cocky smirk, remaining quiet which he knew would drive her mad.

"Don't be so annonying," she groaned and puffed her cheeks in a childish manner, "You mentioned it, now you gotta tell me."

"Oh, do I?"

"Of course."

"Let's say we were on a little treasure hunt."

Her eyes grew even rounder. "Treasure hunt? Like Indiana Jones or something?"

"Or something."

And he bit back a laugh when hearing her scofd.

Taehyung entered an side-street behind the embassy then, deciding it'd be better to park there for an easier escape later.

He unbuckled his seatbelt then and got out. Walking around to help her out of the car by offering her his angled arm, which Cassandra gladly accepted by hooking hers around his elbow. Making their way towards the embassy.

Another uncommon thing for her, stilettos. She usually didn't wear anything that was higher than two centimetres and even then it was usually boots or sneakers. She just hoped her walk wasn't as wobbly as her legs felt in that moment.

It only now really downed to her that this was really happening and anxiety made a surprise appearance after all.

"Remember what I told you? About the cameras?"

She nodded at his question, recalling his and the guys' little prep talk. She'd taken notes. "One left at the gate, two left in the courtyard, one right at the entrance and one over the staircase. And another two in the ballroom, at the side of the stage."

His lips tucked into a lopsided smile. He was impressed. "Good girl."

The praise caused Cassandra's lips to press together, feeling her cheecks blushing along. She never knew words of affirmation could've such an affect on her. 

However, she also felt quite proud of herself. She'd done her best to memorise everything after all, not wanting to screw it up.

She had to turn her head away from them in case something went wrong and Jimin wasn't able to loop the security footage. It was a worst case scenario, but they had to be prepared for everything. And Taehyung surely didn't want risking her getting recognised on any footage.

Turning a corner, the embassy's aristocratic building came into full focus then. It was in a long row building which covered the whole block. Tall, rounded glass windows on the ground level, above them a terrace on the first level. The entrace was two tall rounded gates adorned with ornatements of metal. Between the two gates, a plaque that said 'Francia Köztársaság Nagykövetsége'.

- Overall, it looked indeed like a building where only the french would have their embassy in.

Taehyung pressed his in-ear monitor then to activate it. "Guys, we're about to enter."

"Cameras all set," Jimin answered from inside the building, "Have fun!" And Taehyung could hear the smirk in his friend's voice. Mumbling a quick 'thanks' before turning to Cassandra, catching her staring at the building with the line of well-dressed important people behind security guards.

Her steps slowed until she caused them both to stop, Taehyung giving her a questioning glance. "Just say the word and I'm driving you back," he whispered as he covered her hand that was wrapped around his arm. Giving her a soothing smile, only earning a wary one from her.

"I.. I just feel a little silly in this outfit, you know? I'm not used to anything but my normal clothes and.. I'm afraid I'm not fitting in. People might already be staring at me." She was looking around as paranoia briefly took over her while they passed by the iron gates. Perhaps she was only searching for excuses.

Her words made him frown as he also looked around, not noticing anyone looking funny at her. And he should, if it was the case, he was trained in observing people.

"Cas, calm down. You don't look out of place at all, you look.." His voice suddenly got caught in his throat as she her glance returned to him, looking expectantly at him. And the way the streetlights gleamed in her chestnut-coloured eyes made his mind blank out for a moment. He stuttered. "You look.. fitting."

Cassandra arched a brow at him, cocking her head. "Fitting?" She giggled, dumbfounded. It was so random, it genuinely distracted her from her worries. "Thanks, I take that." 

She took out the invitation and the fake ID Jimin had sent her way then. And Taehyung was astonished how naturally she looked while passing both to the security guard. If she was nervous - which he knew she must've been - he couldn't tell. The guards passed her the documents back and they entered. Going through the metal detectors and towards the corridor to the courtyard then.

The courtyard wasn't too big, or at least the numerous people in their gowns and tuxedos made it appear smaller. The building's facade was just as cream white there as outside from the street. A big french flag lazily waving in the night air over one of the side entrances, which was covered by a curved construction out of glass with everyone lining up in front to enter.

Cassandra put on a serious face again and closed her eyes. Taking in a deep breath. "I'm better than everyone else. I'm better than everyone else. I'm -"

"What?" His brows furrowed in confusion at her weird mantra.

"Getting mentally into my role. Can't look like a misfit among all those snobby people," she explained with a grin and Taehyung let out a genuine laugh.

This woman surely was full of surprised.

He nodded in approval before tucking her towards the entrance.

"Smart. Come, let's go inside."  

»»»

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!

next chapter: 0.6 here

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[biblio-smia]

the last thing i need — three

warnings: twd content warnings

pairings: glenn rhee x reader

[one.] [two.] [three.]

Glenn's absence weighed heavier on your shoulders than you'd anticipated. Occasionally, you'd look behind you and expect to find him there, eyes on you, only to find no one there. Every time you turned to look ended with a shake of your head and turning back to whatever was in front of you.

Perhaps the feeling was as outwardly obvious as it was strong, as Jacqui looked at you with pity in her warm brown eyes, inviting you to sit with the women.

They had taken a break from laundry to sit and chat, but you thought that picking up where they left off would keep your mind off of Glenn.

It didn't work very well.

You blamed one of Glenn's shirts that came up with stains that would never come out. Nevertheless, you tried, taking your time and being extra gentle with the piece of clothing. Even while he was away, Glenn got special treatment from you — and you hated it.

The mission the men departed on should've been calling your name. It did at first, at least for a little while, enticing you with an opportunity to escape the camp you found yourself on.

The desire to go vanished once Glenn revealed he would be going, too.

The brief conversation you had with Glenn weighed on your chest, a feeling too thick to swallow stuck in your throat.

You acted hastily then, overcome with an emotion you didn’t want to admit. Now it was just you and your thoughts, trying to come up with an alternate, much more reasonable explanation.

You told yourself you didn't try to join in on the mission because it'd be harder to separate from the group in the city filled with walkers. There was space to move here, space to slip off quietly if you were more careful than last time.

It wasn't because of the was your lips pulsed after meeting Glenn's cheek. It wasn't because of the way your heart pounded at the thought of him back in the city you barely escaped.

Solitude was familiar. Although it was never true, not with all the walkers you encountered, it was all you'd known for a while. You tried to keep up with it even now at this camp bustling with life, isolating yourself from the women just a few feet away — but the company was tempting.

And stubborn.

Andrea turned to wave you over, patting a spot near her. The rest of the women followed her lead with warm smiles that shone on the darkest parts of you, filling you with an unwilling joy.

You abandoned Glenn's shirt and accepted the invitation, although you were quiet for the most part — save for the little laughs the girls pulled out of you.

The five of you watched as the water glistened in the sunlight, exchanging stories and laughter as they confessed what they missed most about the old word.

"Speaking of things we miss... what's up with you and Glenn?" Andrea inquired with a grin and a bump to your shoulder. The rest of the women were silent but you could tell the question was on their mind, too — they just weren't as straightforward or bold to ask it.

"What?" You asked, feeling a little embarrassed at the question. There was really no reason to, but you couldn't help but feel like the tiptoeing around your own emotions was useless if suspicion of anything between you and Glenn was this high. "No, there's nothing up with us," you shook your head.

"Really? Cause I could've sworn you went into his tent the first night you got here—" Andrea spoke, earning a few gasps and small laughs from the other women.

Oh. She meant that.

Now you were really embarrassed.

You didn't have time to form an answer as a man approached — Carol's husband. His expression was humorless as he pressed for details of your conversation, pushing your group closer and closer to discomfort and defense — namely, Andrea.

You didn't blame her for it. You didn't blame her for calling out Ed's laziness and his abuse towards Carol, the news making your eyes widen and your body move in front of Carol defensively. Your hands weren't enough to stop Ed in the commotion, not as you saw how tightly he was gripping on to Carol.

No, Ed didn't stop until he was beat to a pulp by Shane.

You could hear your heart pound and feel the anxious sweat on your palms as you and the rest of the women did your best to comfort Carol, trying to focus on helping her rather than the violence you'd just witnessed.

Ed deserved it, undoubtedly, but it did not make you any less weary of Shane. Something about the man was off-putting. Something about him made you uneasy but you couldn't figure out what. No one else seemed to pick up on anything strange, so you kept quiet and kept your distance.

But one look at Ed's face told you that maybe you'd have to look out for the living more than the dead.

-

A stupid part of you waited anxiously for Glenn's return, knowing his presence would ease you even if he was unaware of your caution. It was awful, this feeling — one you'd felt before, but never quite this intense. This feeling would make you stupid if you let it — part of the reason you'd wanted to abandon ship at first hint of it.

There was no time for things like romance anymore, no matter how badly you craved it. It was about survival now.

And yet, you couldn't help but remember how you felt when Glenn's hands were on you, his lips on your neck —

You shook your head. This was no time for that.

Night was beginning to creep up and Glenn still had not returned. That feeling in your throat almost made it impossible to breathe.

The night was eerie despite the soft chatter of voices and crickets, the light of a fire illuminating faces with golden warmth. You took a plate of food and sat off by yourself, taking the opportunity to gather your thoughts. All the plans you'd previously had were in shambles. No next move you thought of felt right. Your fingers tapped on your knee nervously, teeth chewing up your lip in thought.

Maybe, if you hadn’t been alone for so long, you wouldn’t have picked up on the low groans from behind you.

You stood and pulled your knife in one swift motion, plunging the blade into the walker’s head, feeling the blood splatter on you. Another walker replaced the fallen one immediately, a small hoard in pursuit, pushing you towards the others.

The others.

“Walkers!” You called, distancing yourself from the pack just enough to turn around.

But you and your familiarity with being alone were not used to fighting with others. It had been too long since you have had to fight for anyone. Your warning was too late and there was nothing you could do but watch as a walker bit Amy.

Self-preservation is what you know, your attention snapping back to the problem ahead of you just in time. You know these movements better than anything - push them back, stab the knife into their heads, just enough to hit the brain - but the walkers don't stop coming.

All you are aware of are the screams behind you, begging for your attention as your heart lurches with the urge to help families trying to find each other in the chaos that has suddenly taken over camp.

You try to focus, try to convince yourself that helping yourself is helping them, that each walker down is one less walker able to bite and infect.

Gunshots ring out from behind you, next to you, all around you as walkers take over.

“Get to the R.V! Go!” Someone shouts over the sound of the bullets.

The crowd was at least thinning out now. Your arm was tiring from the repetitive movements, but you didn’t dare stop.

Not until there was only one walker left in front of you.

Even in the dim light of the camp, you can recognize her. Your heart feels heavy in your chest and guilt clogs your throat.

What was left of your sister dragged her body towards you, mouth ready to bite.

-

Your arm fell limp by your side. Your breath caught in your throat. A bullet hit your sister (no, not your sister) and someone screamed. Maybe it was you.

You dropped with her, stationed on your knees as you watched your sister reach for you.

Most of her was missing and the last time you saw her flashed in your mind. She’d yelled at you not to look back at her but you couldn’t help it; Now you were left with the image of her caught in the mouths of walkers, all desperate for a bite.

She’d sacrificed herself for you to continue on. To live.

And here she was now, because you couldn’t bring yourself to shoot her back then.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Your face was wet. Was it blood, sweat, or tears?

-

Glenn was sure he’d hit a walker with his bullet, but your scream made him doubt himself as he ran. Rick, T-Dog, and Daryl cleared the rest of the hoard, but Glenn’s only worry now was you.

His footsteps slowed as he spotted you, cradling a body that hadn’t been alive in a while. Though the body had stopped moving now - Glenn noticed the knife you plunged into the back of its head.

Glenn called your name softly, kneeling on the ground to join you. His hand came to your shoulder and he could see the tears drip off your face and make silent splatters on the zombie in your arms.

“We can bury her,” Glenn said quietly. “We do that for the ones we love.”

You nodded and your face found Glenn’s chest, your arms letting go of your sister, cold and dead, and clinging on to the warm body next to you. Alive.

You couldn’t be more grateful.

-

The aftermath was chaos. The bodies, littered everywhere, were unnerving. The children cried and Andrea sat over her sister’s corpse all night.

You knew exactly how she felt. You made sure she knew it, too. She didn’t speak a word as you cleaned as much blood from Amy’s body as you could. Her gaze never left her sister as you cleaned her own hands.

“There,” you said. You looked back at the rest of the group watching you, some desperate to put a bullet in Amy’s brain. “You take all the time you need. Don’t let them take that from you.”

You expected the lack of response as you stood, unwavering as you stared Daryl down, watching as he shook his head and went off to keep dragging the bodies.

-

You didn’t speak when you heard footsteps follow you to the edge of the woods. You knew who it was, and what he was doing. You wished you could hate him for it.

“Let me help,” Glenn offered from behind you as you looked at your sister’s body. It laid exactly as you’d left it before, but the daylight revealed the horrific state she died in.

You accepted Glenn’s help wordlessly, taking her shoulders while he grabbed her feet.

“Had to fight Dixon to bury our people. I mean, he just wanted to burn them!” Glenn shook his head, eyes glancing up to yours.

He was too good. That was it. That was what you hated so much.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, no, I did. For her. For Amy, too. And everyone else back there. We still have to have some humanity, right? Or else we’re just surviving, not... not living.”

Glenn’s words rang in your mind as the two of you carried the body through the thick Georgia heat, sweat dripping down every part of you.

Living. Not just surviving.

Your sister’s last words. Her last wish. For you to live.

You looked back up at Glenn as the two of you dropped your sister in the “Bury” pile, watching as he adjusted his cap and wiped some sweat off his brow.

Live. Not just survive.

Maybe Glenn could help you figure out what that meant.

-

Soft chatter surrounded you as you sat off to the side, knees pulled up to your chest. You sat away from the group, as you always did, keeping an eye on the people and another on the woods.

There was talk of going to the CDC. You weren't sure how well that was going to work out if the CDC looked like the rest of the world.

But there was something in the group as they spoke to each other, even after everything that had happened today. There was hope, small sparks of it glowing like the embers of a fire.

Maybe you'd let yourself have some of it, too.

"Hey," a voice spoke, pulling up a chair next to you.

"Hey." You glanced up at Glenn, watching him run a hand through his hair, his cap in his hand.

The sun glistened off his skin, making his hair shine as he turned his head to look at you. There was a trace of a smile but an even bigger hint of a question on his lips.

You knew what the question would be. But you still weren't quite sure of your answer.

"What happened in Atlanta?" You ask, hoping to buy yourself time and realizing that everything that had happened after Glenn's returned had prevented you from asking about it sooner.

"Atlanta." Glenn repeats, the place seeming so foreign to him now. "Well, we got the guns." He laughs, sounding too forced, eyes wandering over the faces that remain. You're quiet, feeling the guilt you share heavy in the air.

"But we ran into some guys."

Your eyebrows raise at this - you don't know strangers nowadays to be particularly friendly. Glenn was rare.

"And you just handed over guns?" You didn't mean to sound accusing, but you were trying to paint out what had happened.

"Well... kind of? I mean, we worked out a deal."

"What deal?"

Glenn hesitates, trying to work the story without having to mention the more embarrassing details.

"They were taking care of a whole bunch of elderly people. They were just... abandoned."

You seem to relax at this, at least slightly. "They could've just shot you and taken everything." You're only half-serious but Glenn doesn't quite catch that.

"They really wanted to. Especially Daryl, he had-"

Glenn cuts himself off but he's already piqued your curiosity as you lean forward in your seat, urging Glenn to continue.

"Well, it was a little bit of a situation," Glenn starts exasperatedly. "They had taken one of us, we took one of theirs... It just- It happened really fast!"

"They kidnapped you?"

How bad of a liar is he? Glenn stutters but his lack of a coherent response is enough to fill in the blanks for you.

Your chest hurts strangely, your fingers messing nervously with the hard surface of your nails. You've begun to avoid looking at Glenn just as he glances at you, a heavy silence that a part of you is desperate to fill, nervous it will make Glenn stand and place his chair elsewhere.

You had been saved from answering questions from others about Glenn earlier but nothing was able to halt the constant thoughts you had about him. You're not sure how much longer you can keep running from it - you're not sure how much good it'll do.

"So, the CDC?" You asked, hoping Glenn's answer would help guide you towards one of your own.

"Rick thinks it's our best shot."

"And you trust him?" There was no mockery or accusation in your voice — only genuine curiosity.

Glenn looked down at his cap, nodding a little. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

"You just met him," you noted quietly, knowing very well Glenn had met both you and Rick on the same day.

"You don't need to know someone for years to know you can trust them."

You looked up to see Glenn staring at you. Clearly, he wasn't just talking about Rick.

"That type of thinking could get you killed," you say quietly.

"Or it could save my life."

Live.

Your knee bounced anxiously as you thought about it. About what going with these people would mean.

It'd mean companions, for starters. No more nights fighting to stay awake, watching your own back. It'd mean splitting supplies. It'd mean strength in numbers.

You looked at Glenn again.

It could lead to something else, too.

"I'll go with you. To the CDC," you start softly, watching from the corner of your eye as Glenn's head snapped toward you, clearly in disbelief. "It sounds promising."

You barely knew Rick. You barely knew any of these people. But Glenn trusted Rick and you trusted Glenn. That's the only thing you were sure of now.

Glenn looked at you with a boyish, handsome grin and the corners of your lips raised to mirror his.

Your hand reached for Glenn's, interlacing your fingers with his. Your hands found his over and over — throughout the night, in the morning, as you packed into Dale's R.V. and towards the CDC. As you left Jim behind. As you almost died outside of the fortified building. As you finally made it inside.

The building was large and seemed safe enough — there was no way Dr. Jenner could have made it this far if it wasn't. But it wasn't until a large table full of food and drinks was set, laughter chiming in your ears, did you finally begin to relax.

A smile spread on your own face as Carl tries wine for this first time, his face morphing into one of disgust as the rest of you laughed. This mood, light and playful, was one you haven't experienced in who knows how long. There's a thick feeling of appreciation in your throat, hot and heavy in your chest. You're almost emotional, thinking of every sacrifice it took for you to be here, today, laughing and talking over dinner again.

But Shane, always solemn, can't seem to stand the uncharacteristic liveliness that has found the group tonight.

"So, when are you going to tell us what the hell happened here, doc?" The laughter is killed instantly, an uncomfortable silence falling on the once chattering table.

'We're celebrating, Shane," Rick starts, the tension between the former best friends particularly prominent. "Don't need to do this now."

Eyes flicker between the two with an occasional flicker to the doctor in the room, but downward gazes and quiet sips of wine offered neutrality from most.

"Woah, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move... Supposed to find all the answers. Instead, we found one man. Why?"

"Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left. Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Every last one?" Shane asks dryly, suspiciously.

"No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They... opted out. There was a rash of suicides." Most shuffle uncomfortably, looking at anywhere but at Jenner. "That was a bad time."

"You didn't leave," Andrea notes, one of the only ones still invested in learning about Jenner. "Why?"

"I just kept working. Hoping... to do some good."

It's a good answer for most, no matter the somber tone. It's enough for you; you just hope that Shane's poking and prodding won't push the man that has seen too much too far. The last thing you want is to be kicked out now.

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man." Shane avoids Glenn's stare and you cross your arms, decisively done for the night.

Jenner gives you a small tour of the facility, mainly of the rooms you'll be occupying. A piece of you wonders what else there is, but the majority of you aches for a peaceful night.

Jenner has disappeared into a different room and the group has stopped in the middle of the hallway.

"Hot water?" Glenn glances to the rest of the group before his gaze lands on you, standing behind him.

"That's what the man said," T-Dog grins.

Glenn's smile is contagious, creeping up slowly despite you missing what Jenner said. But if Glenn is excited about it, it's got to be worth it.

The hot water on your skin completely is.

You try to savor each drop of water, relishing in the steam curling off the water. You can't remember the last time you had the luxury of hot water but you resign, letting everything roll off of you along with the water.

You scrub at your skin, mindlessly and too roughly, thinking about everything that has happened in the last few days. Everything about the last few months.

Your sister was dead. The guilt in your throat wasn't any easier to swallow.

Something had happened between Rick and Glenn on their trip back to Atlanta. Glenn stuck out his neck for Rick on that very first day that your paths had all crossed, so Rick risked his own for Glenn. At least there was someone else in the group that would do that for him.

Atlanta. Nothing in that overriden city could've prepared you for the overwhelming company you now found yourself traveling with. There was no ounce of you that imagined you might find someone to love again.

You shut the water off once you're sure you've scrubbed every crevice of yourself, your skin rubbed raw in a few places.

The towels you've been given are rough, thin, and terrible shields against the cold air that blasts through the facility but you don't mind. Nothing matters other than the feeling of the fresh clothes Jenner has managed to scrounge up, missing all the dirt and blood that's stained your clothes for months.

A part of you, as you settle into the first empty room you see, wonders how long it'll be until the clothes you're wearing now will be bloodstained again.

You've taken to cleaning off your knife, in the spirit of the fresh scent of soap sticking to your skin and the pristine condition of the garments on your body. You're careful not to stain anything with the shades of red and brown of your knife, barely lifting your head when you hear someone enter the room you've claimed.

"Sorry, didn't think anyone was in here..."

Glenn trails off when he spots your smile, your hand waving him over to the spot next to you. He takes it, body tense as he tries to keep his eyes off of you.

Glenn thought you were perfect before, but without the layer of grime on you, all he wants to do is stare.

Glenn thinks he's being sneaky until your eyes meet his, Glenn's already flushed face reddening even more.

He's too terrified to make a move, still wondering where it is he stands with you. You're not lovers as far as he's aware, though it's a losing battle on his side. Glenn thinks he'd do anything to get inside your head and see for himself what it was you thought about him. He wanted you to like him, desperately, his body aching for contact with yours. He wanted to kiss you until he memorized you and every one of your smiles.

But he'd take whatever it is you wanted to give him. He'd hold your hand whenever you reached for it, on your own terms, right up until you pulled away.

The sudden arrival of man-eating freaks had forced Glenn, for the most part, to mature; to learn how to fight, to look out for others in ways his shitty job as a delivery boy had not yet taught him. From one day to the next, he had outgrown the red uniform that always seemed to smell of food no matter how many times it was washed. Though no one cared to ask about the person Glenn was Before, he liked to think he was the same Glenn who had, with his own will, made it through high school and to college, on his own.

But, in some ways, Glenn still felt immature. All that time he had spent working and studying had left him with little free time for personal indulgences. He had never prioritized romance and now that it was here, in front of him, he found himself on his ass more often than on his feet.

The door opens again and Glenn’s head whips towards it like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t, his flushed face not doing him any favors. But it’s just Shane, so Glenn’s shoulders relax, eyes glancing over the man and landing on the bottle of bourbon in his hand.

Shane spares a sideways glance, eyes stuck on you as he takes a swig from the nearly empty bottle. Glenn’s eyes follow Shane’s and eventually fall on you, too; notably, the knife in your lap, practically shining from how much you’d been wiping it.

"You're a real whiz with that knife.” Shane props himself against the doorframe, probably to keep from stumbling. There’s a sudden smile on his face, too wide to put you at ease. “Good thing I stopped ya from leaving that first night, huh?"

Shane grins through his words as he takes another swig, eyes still stuck on you as Glenn stands. He’s turned towards you, eyes searching for any indication that Shane is just drunk, or out of his mind; but you’re stuck, eyebrows drawn and lips set in a straight line as you stare at Shane right back.

Glenn steps into Shane’s line of sight, effectively breaking the wordless confrontation. Shane’s eyes move to him now, trying to slip past Shane wordlessly. Shane shifts, blocking Glenn’s way. But before he can speak, Glenn has shoved his way into the hallway.

"I'm just looking out for you, man!" Shane calls behind him before his lips find the top of the bottle again.

You’re in front of Shane before you can help it, eyes trying to follow Glenn. But just as he did before, Shane has turned toward you, his large build blocking any easy ways out.

"Why didn't you just kill me that night, then? I know you wanted to."

"That's not true.” There’s a grin on Shane’s face that tells you he’s lying.

"Yeah."

The look of amusement on Shane’s face drops. He has learned from last time and fights back when you try to push past him. One of his hands keeps you pinned to the doorframe, pressing painfully on your shoulder.

“You’re just another mouth to feed,” Shane drawls, his breath reeking of alcohol. “You don’t deserve a guy like Glenn.”

There was more to it, you were sure. Glenn had told you that Shane was their leader and wasn’t fond of newcomers. Especially when one wanted his wife and kid back.

You could tell Shane felt challenged by Rick despite their history. Maybe Shane thought of you as a wildcard, neither loyal to him nor Rick. But if you would stick with Glenn, who would clearly follow Rick anywhere, weren’t you a threat?

You pushed Shane’s arm forcefully, the alcohol in his bottle swishing as he stumbles.

“You should’ve killed me,” you say, smiling suddenly. “You’re not getting another chance.”

Glenn moves down the hallway briskly, his feet taking him further and further away from you. There’s that feeling in your chest again, the same one you felt with Glenn back at the camp you had abandoned. It was fear, but it wasn’t the familiar kind that you’d spent months fighting along with the walkers. This one was thicker, heavier, putting a pressure on your chest that made it difficult to breathe. Unfortunately, you had come to care about Glenn Rhee.

And as Glenn walks away, he feels as though he has, once again, found himself on his ass.

[jinkoh]

lip gloss

younghoon x fem!reader

summary: younghoon really likes your lip gloss. what he doesn't like is the silly bet his friends made about you...

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, secret relationship (kinda), fluff, a little jealousy, alternating povs, clothes sharing (v briefly), SFW

wordcount: ~4,8k

a/n: who would have thought i'm coming back after a writer's block with a completely new group--certainly not me lol 🤡 i have accidentally developed an obsession with the lip gloss mv and spent an ungodly amount of time watching it

this is my first time writing for tbz (and i also don't know them that well yet) so pls be kind 👉🏻👈🏻

also this fic is entirely to be blamed on @blizzardfluffykpop bc we came up with the idea together. thanks for brainrotting with me, kate ❤️

Masterlist

Younghoon liked his friends, he really did. It was just that at times he had to remind himself of the fact. Like now, when they were making yet another stupid bet among themselves, fueled as so often by the never ending quarrel between the beach volleyball players and the surfers. Younghoon wasn’t a surfer but neither did he play beach volleyball, except for the rare occasions when they were missing a man, so he usually got out of these antics fine without picking a side. Still, this time the guys were being too much. Younghoon had already turned to Sangyeon in hopes of ending this nonsense, but to his utter disappointment even Sangyeon was in on this, confidently nodding along that his team would win.

It wasn’t that Younghoon didn’t understand the temptation—who wouldn’t want an excuse to talk to you? You’d caught his attention too when he’d come to the beach a few days ago. It was starting to get hot, spring slowly turning into summer, and the owner of the little beach bar had decided it was time to kick off the season. Instead of him though, someone else was manning the bar. You had an arm propped up on the counter and mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Younghoon couldn’t blame you, the bar wasn’t usually busy until later so it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. Without paying it any mind, he jogged down the beach to the volleyball net where he knew to find the others, the girl from the bar quickly forgotten over a very imbalanced game. In fact he didn’t think of you again until he walked back to the bar to get some soda for everyone. There still weren’t any customers around, but instead of doom scrolling you’d taken out some lip gloss, using your phone’s camera as a mirror as you swiftly applied it to your lower lip. He felt he shouldn’t be watching this, but he also couldn’t look away. There was something so captivating about this scene. Just when you were smacking your lips together (twice) you seemed to have noticed his gaze. You looked up with surprise in your eyes before giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. What can I get you?” The gloss made your lips look shiny. Maybe he had already been a goner then.

So, it really wasn't that he didn't understand. But betting on who’d get your number first seemed a bit much and, frankly, kind of rude too. There was no stopping them though, but perhaps he could at least give you a little warning?

He got up from where everyone was sitting on the sand, just far enough from the shore to not get wet, and jogged back to the wooden path that led further up the beach and to the bar.

“Where are you going?” Eric yelled behind him. “Not getting a head start, are you?”

Younghoon huffed a laugh. “What makes you think I’d join a silly bet like that?”

Eric grinned. “Scared of even trying, huh?”

“Mhm, sure.”

With a shake of his head he walked the last few meters to the bar, where he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. Once more, it was empty despite being late at night, but he supposed not everyone had the freedom to come out here this late on a weekday.

“So,”  you turned to him with a mischievous grin, before he could even say anything. “What kind of bet were you talking about?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “You heard that?”

“Was hard not to.”

“I’m not sure you really want to know.”

“I don’t care either way. But you guys have been stealing glances at the bar this whole time—you better not do anything that will get me in trouble with the boss.”

“They wouldn’t,” Younghoon didn’t hesitate to reply. Sure, they were silly and stupid at times, but they wouldn’t put someone’s job on the line for funsies. “But they also weren’t exactly looking at the bar.”

“They weren’t, huh?” You grinned and Younghoon couldn’t help but notice the shimmer of your lip gloss.

“It’s your number,” he said, tearing his eyes away from your lips. “They want your number.”

You nodded slowly, looking more amused than offended. There was a challenging glint in your eyes. “So, you think getting my number is silly?”

The question caught him off guard so his reply came out a little too slow to be smooth. “No, that’s far from silly. Just betting on it is.”

“Hmm, how do I know you’re not secretly in on it though?”

“Why would I butcher my chances by telling you about the bet then?”

You leaned over the counter a bit, propping up your head with your closed hand. “Maybe this is your strategy to appear upright and honest?”

He stifled a laugh. “Well, I’m honest. I don’t know about the rest.”

 “Fair enough.”

Younghoon didn’t get your number that night, but neither did anyone else and that gave him a little satisfaction. He’d offered to try and talk them out of it again, but you’d declined. “No,” you’d said with a grin. “I wanna see them try. It sounds fun.” 

He thought he possibly liked more about you than just your lip gloss.

The guys went all out. Some attempts didn’t seem too bad while others gave him a strong sense of secondhand embarrassment. But you seemed to be having fun with it, so who was he to intervene? And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you’d throw him knowing glances from time to time, sharing a secret only for the two of you to know.

Yet, he wondered if maybe one of them would manage to sway your heart—he’d seen Kevin steal you away during your break earlier, to take you to the wooden jump tower near the cliffs. He liked to boast about his diving, and from the way Younghoon could hear you laughing from afar you seemed to be having fun. He stalled for a moment, watching how you were sitting on the pier, your feet dangling in the water. When Kevin pushed himself up with his arms to get onto the pier next to you, you playfully shoved him back, making him go under with a splash. He was laughing when he came back up, and so were you. That was a good thing, right? You were having fun. You already knew the thing with the bet too, so if you liked Kevin in spite of that then who was Younghoon to interfere? Kevin was a good guy anyway, and bet or not he seemed genuinely interested. No, there shouldn’t be any problem.

And yet, Younghoon felt bitter about it, a greedy part of him wishing he could have that laugh all to himself.

“So, can I have your number? In case I need a buddy to go diving with again sometime?” Kevin grinned up at you from the water, brushing back his wet hair. It reminded you of Younghoon, the way he’d run his hand through his hair every few minutes, pushing it out of his forehead just for it to fall right back into place. Maybe you should buy him some bobby pins—probably not. After all, you liked when he did that.

“Is that smile a yes?” Kevin pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Ah, sorry, left my phone at the bar,” you both knew it was just an excuse, but Kevin didn’t seem particularly offended. He swam over to the pier, resting his arms on the wooden board and propping up his chin.

“What has you so happy then?”

“Nothing much. Just a friend.”

“I can be a friend too,” he replied playfully. 

“Sure, friend,” you easily agreed, ignoring the flirty undertone that defeated the meaning of his words. Friends you could do.

To be honest, your expectations for this summer had been low. You didn't know anyone in this small town aside from your uncle and even though you had a good relationship with him, you could picture better ways to spend the hot season than helping out at his bar. To your surprise though, you were slowly starting to enjoy your time here. When you’d first heard of the bet it hadn’t left the best impression, but seeing them try so hard to impress you was a little cute and despite everything they seemed like sweet, genuine guys. And the fact that you knew about the bet made it pretty fun to watch the spectacle, even more so since you had someone to share mischievous smiles about it with. It felt like you were partners in crime, a secret friendship blooming between the two of you that had no real reason to be secret aside from the thrill of it all. 

You weren’t the fondest of riding the bicycle. In fact, back at home you didn’t even own one. You lived in the next bigger town and you got around just fine using public transport. That seemed unthinkable here though, with two buses running a day—one in the morning and one at night. So, if you didn’t want to walk everywhere, you had to make do with your cousin’s old bicycle that he’d used before he’d moved out for college. It was a little rattly but it was holding up pretty well—or at least that had been the case until today. You weren’t sure what exactly happened, but suddenly the counter pressure when pedaling had disappeared, and you’d almost fallen forward over the bicycle’s handlebars. Now you were standing at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, not even half way back to your uncle’s place with no reception and a chain that was just loosely hanging off the gears. It being night didn’t really help you to feel better about it all. While you knew it was probably safer here than in some street downtown that was bustling with drunk people, it still felt scarier, the tall trees along the road looming over you. Begrudgingly you pushed the bicycle forward, the lamp flickering weakly and barely doing anything to lighten up the path ahead.

In the distance, you heard the sound of an engine approaching, and the thought of coming across someone on this deserted street made your stomach churn with dread. A brief glance behind you told you it was a motorcycle, the headlight almost a little blinding in the darkness. Just before it went past you, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would go by fast. You wanted to let out a relieved breath once it did, but then you heard the motor stopping only a few meters ahead. Your eyes snapped open, panic rushing through your veins as you watched the driver get off. Your grip around the handle bars tightened, making your knuckles turn white. You made a point of not looking at the guy, even when he came closer, but then you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/n? You good?”

You raised your gaze in time to see him take off his helmet. He shook out his black hair before pushing it out of his forehead the way he always did.

“Younghoon.” Relief washed over you.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So, what happened?” He took an examining look at your bicycle. “Chain came off?”

You shrugged helplessly. “Whatever you say.”

He nodded slowly, running his hand through his hair once more. “I can fix that for you.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty simple. But maybe something for daylight. Let me give you a ride home and we’ll come back for it tomorrow?”

You glanced over to the motorcycle that was waiting a little ahead and then back to Younghoon. Your expression must have been weary because he grinned. “Don’t worry I have a spare helmet. And I’m a safe driver too.”

“I wasn’t doubting you.”

“It’s fine if you were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Mhm, sure,” he stepped a little closer, putting the helmet on for you and closing the fastener under your chin. Your breath caught when his fingers brushed against your skin, the feeling lingering despite the fleetingness of the touch. “Ready to go?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, trying to get a grip of yourself. “Just a—let me just—,” instead of finishing your sentence you just gestured towards your bicycle instead. He huffed a laugh and watched as you pushed it further to the side and leaned it against a tree in safe distance to the road. Once you’d locked it, you turned back around to Younghoon who was still looking at you. 

“Ready,” you croaked.

He smiled, and despite the darkness of the night you could see the small crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. “Good.” 

You walked the few meters to his bike in silence and you thought there was an odd tension there. Or maybe you were just nervous about the ride, you reasoned with yourself. He got out his spare helmet, pushing his hair out of his forehead once more before putting it on. With ease he swung his leg over the machine before patting the leather of the seat behind him. You got on too, certainly looking a lot less dignified than he did and shuffled back as far as you could to bring some distance between the two of you. Before starting the motor, he looked back at you once more. “Hold on tight.” Unsure what exactly to hold onto, you clung to the edges of the seat, your nails digging into the leather.

He didn’t drive too fast, surely out of consideration for you, but you still couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. When he hit a small bump in the road, you let out a shriek, your arms instinctively letting go of the seat to wrap around his waist instead. You held on tight, the distance you’d made sure of before completely forgotten. Once you’d recovered from the brief shock though, you wondered if this was okay or if you’d overstepped. But Younghoon didn’t say anything about it and you didn’t want to let go again, not when you felt so safe with your arms wrapped around him.

The ride was over way too quickly, and you almost wished you’d given him wrong directions when he stopped in front of your uncle’s house. Chances of him catching on would have probably been high though, considering he was from here while you were just here for the summer.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Younghoon said, after he’d taken off his helmet, looking at the house questioningly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just didn’t know you were related to the owner.”

“He’s my uncle,” you explained matter of factly. “But how do you know he lives here?”

Younghoon chuckled. “This is a pretty small town, you know?”

“Right,” you nodded. You took your helmet off too, awkwardly holding it out for him to take. “So, uh, thanks for the ride.”

He tore his gaze away from the house to meet yours. “Was my pleasure.” There was that sweet smile again, making your heart melt. You smacked your lips together, the way you did when applying lipstick—a nervous habit of yours. His gaze flickered to the movement before wandering back up to your eyes. There was something there. He took a small step towards you, just a few inches but it felt like he was suddenly way up in your personal space. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't move. Instead he just kept looking at you with an unreadable expression.

Unable to hold eye contact, you lowered your head, staring at your feet instead. “I should go inside then.”

“Mhm, you should. I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Is around noon good?”

“Pick me up?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Your bicycle, remember?”

“Oh, of course. Noon is good. Should I give you my number? Maybe you can text me fifteen minutes or so before you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Not worried that this is all just part of my scheme to win the bet?” His voice was quiet and yet there was a cockiness to it that made your heart race.

"Shut up." It was a weak comeback, but it put a grin on Younghoon's face. His gaze dropped to your lips once more before coming back up.

"Make me."

Your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the bold implication of his words. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your whole body was thrumming with nerves. Your gaze flickered to his lips. You inched closer. That's what he'd meant right? You wouldn't be overstepping if you kissed him now, right? You looked up into his eyes, just to be sure that you weren't misunderstanding things. But right when you did, he cupped your jaw with his hand, pulling you in until his lips crashed into yours. 

Kissing him felt so natural, it was as if all your secret smiles and shared grins had naturally led up to this moment. You kissed him until you felt breathless and even then you were reluctant to pull away. When you finally did, he didn't let you go too far, his thumb drawing patterns on your cheek and his eyes taking in every inch of your face.

"I think I should really go now," you eventually broke the silence when you couldn't endure it anymore.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay," you repeated. "I'll see you around noon."

Younghoon couldn’t stop himself from smiling on the whole ride home. You'd forgotten to give him your number, but he felt that it didn't really matter anymore. He could just ask you again tomorrow. After all, he'd gotten something way better tonight. He recalled the way your arms had held onto him tightly on the ride and your tousled hair after you’d taken off the helmet. Mostly, he recalled how warm your lips had felt against his. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

The chain was back on in a matter of seconds. Younghoon looked as if he’d done it a zillion times before.

“And you couldn’t have done that last night?” You asked from where you were standing next to him, watching as he wiped his fingers on a cloth. Nothing had happened since he'd picked you up and you'd driven back to your bicycle together. You almost wondered if it was all an odd fever dream and he didn’t actually kiss you.

“I did say it was easy," He admitted simply, "But it’s always better to check everything with proper lighting rather than letting you ride home on a potentially broken bicycle. Can’t risk you getting hurt, can we?" 

It was just common decency but somehow the way he said it, looking up at you with a cheeky grin, made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush. You avoided his gaze, your focus falling onto his jaw instead. “You have a little—” you motioned to your own face, trying to mirror where he’d stained his skin with grease just below the jaw line. He tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand, his grin traded for something more innocent. “There?”

The scene captivated you a little too much, thoughts of touching that jaw, of pulling him into a kiss circling your mind. In your daze, it took you a second to snap out of it. “Yeah,” you mumbled, not really paying attention. "There."

Younghoon thoroughly made sure the bicycle was safe to ride and only then started to pack up his tools. You watched as he diligently put them away. 

“How come you know how to do this?” you eventually broke the silence.

“What, putting a chain back on?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” he shrugged. “I like fixing things. And it comes in handy too, doesn’t it?” He said the last bit with a smile that you couldn’t help but return.

“Yeah, it does. Thanks again.” 

He got up and dusted off his pants. “It’s nothing. Call me if something happens again.”

“I will.” Your gaze followed him as he walked back to his bike, getting his helmet from where it hung off the handle bars. He didn't put it on just yet, taking a quick glance at the wing mirror first.

“You lied!” He complained in mocked offense, before turning back around to you. He wore a pout, his finger pointing at the grease stain that was still right there below his jaw line.

You giggled. “What can I say, I’m neither upright nor honest.”

Younghoon grinned and walked back over to you, his helmet still in his hand. "Is that so?" He asked as he stepped back into your personal space. You took a tiny step towards him too, closely watching his reaction. That grin was still there. With a racing heart you tugged the cloth out from where he had messily shoved it into his pocket. Then you reached up to his jaw, slowly wiping at the grease stain until it was gone. The whole time, Younghoon was watching you intently, your eyes, your nose your lips—

You lowered your hand when you were done, but he caught your wrist to stop you from going too far.

"Thanks." His voice was barely a whisper. Your eyes flickered to his mouth.

"You're welcome," you replied just as quietly, inching just the tiniest bit closer. You felt his breath on your skin and then his lips on yours, again and again and again.

Things between the two of you felt exciting and new and good—but there was also this looming uncertainty. Younghoon knew what it meant to him. But what about you? What was all this to you? Even though he didn't want to delude himself, he couldn't help hoping that this, that he was special to you. The secret smiles you exchanged started to feel a little different, like there was a little more. And there was: the two of you were texting a lot now that you'd exchanged numbers and you often came down to the beach earlier to hang out with him on the old lighthouse before your shift. You weren’t doing that for the other guys. Your gaze also didn't linger on them the way it did on him, no matter how much they pestered you. And of course you weren't kissing them either. That was, as far as he knew, reserved for him alone. That made it easy to endure when you were laughing and joking around with the guys. Except at times, you'd glance over to him with a cocky grin. Almost as if you wanted to make sure he was watching, as if you wanted to purposely rile him up. It made him want to walk over and kiss you right there in front of them, but you hadn't talked about these things yet and you seemed to enjoy the thrill of hide and seek. So, kissing was only allowed for when you were alone with no one to see.

Consequently he was keeping a low profile, sitting in the sand with some of the others and pretending not to watch from afar how Changmin and Juyeon were leaning on the counter, competing for your attention. Eventually he tore his gaze away to focus on the conversation in front of him instead, which only got interrupted when Jacob remarked that Changmin and Juyeon must have been unsuccessful, as they were coming back down to the beach. You on the other hand were not behind the bar anymore, a small sign indicating that it was closed for now. A feeling of worry started to spread in his guts. Did something happen? Did they make you feel uncomfortable? He knew his friends were good guys and wouldn’t ever intentionally do that, but just because it wasn't their intention didn't mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe it was nothing, but he just needed to make sure you were okay.

Without thinking further he got up from the sand, jogging past Changmin and Juyeon who looked at him in confusion, and up to the bar. You weren't anywhere to be found though, the little door locked and the space behind the counter empty. The other only place he could come up with was the lighthouse, so he made his way there, hurrying up the spiral staircase until he got to you, sitting in the middle of the steps and munching on a sandwich. You looked up at him in surprise as he stood before you, breathing a little heavy, but a smile spreading on his lips. He chuckled. He should have known he was worrying for nothing.

"You're on break?"

"Mhm," you nodded and scooted over a bit, making space for you to sit with him. "What's the hurry for?" 

There was a little sauce on your upper lip. He reached out to wipe it away and you simply let him.

"I don't know, I was wondering if you're fine."

"Why wouldn't I be?'

He shrugged. He didn't know either, after all you'd never been uncomfortable with the boys' advances. Maybe he was the only one who felt that way. 

You leaned in a little closer, bumping your shoulder against his with a cheeky grin. "Or were you maybe jealous?"

With a huffed laugh he met your gaze. "What if I was?"

He thought he saw your cheeks flush when you focused back on your sandwich. "Maybe I'd like that."

It was late, around midnight, and you listened to the sound of the waves as you sat side by side in the sand. The bar was still open, but your uncle had taken on the night shift, giving you the freedom to spend your time out here, away from people. You hear the music and laughter from afar and if you turned around you'd see the colorful string lights too, but you much preferred the view of the ocean in front of you. At least for now.

Younghoon was sitting close to you, his hand just barely touching yours. You wondered if he was cold in his white tee while you were all wrapped up in his cozy hoodie. You inched closer, intertwining your fingers and pulling his hand into your lap. Maybe you could at least keep his arm warm. He turned to look at you with a smile, before running his free hand through his hair.

"The boys would hate this," he said with a chuckle. 

"Would they really?" Your voice sounded more serious than intended. You knew it was just an offhand comment, but it made you wonder if that could be a dealbreaker for him. You knew he treasured his friends.

He considered for a moment. "Only if I'm not serious. They care about you, you know." 

"So, are you? Serious?"

"Yeah." He didn't shy away from your gaze. "I'm serious."

You squeezed his hand in yours and he squeezed right back and even though it was such a small gesture it gave you butterflies. He was serious about you, about this. With flushed cheeks and a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned your head against his shoulder. You sat like that for a while, back to listening to the waves.

"Maybe we should end their bet," you eventually mumbled. "Since they already lost." You could imagine the surprise on their face if you were to tell them.

"Mhm, we should," he rested his head against yours, "but not now. Let's stay here a little longer."

 "Yeah, let's."

"That actually makes so much sense," Eric exclaimed dramatically, after you'd told them a few days later. "How else would you have resisted my charm?" 

Changmin huffed a laugh. "Right, because you're so irresistible."

"Hey–"

"Anyway," Sangyeon interrupted, "that means the bet is off."

Sunwoo looked at him with a raised eyebrow, casually resting his arm on Younghoon's shoulder. "You're only saying that because you've lost. Younghoon is clearly on team beach volleyball. He just joined in on a game the other day."

Eric shook his head and formed an X with his arms. "Nope, no, he clearly said he wasn't joining."

Younghoon rolled his eyes at their antics, wondering if he should say something to make them shut up. But then he met your amused gaze and decided to leave it be. 

"What was the wager anyway?" You asked him quietly. 

Younghoon shrugged as he intertwined his fingers with yours. "I have no idea." 

You giggled. He liked the sound of it and the happy glint in your eyes. He also liked the shimmer of your lip gloss.

no tbz masterlist (edit: nvmnd here it is) but feel free to check out my other works if you liked this or leave a follow to keep up with future works~

[mimicha-arts]

Link Click s2e9/e10

Date of the post: 09-01-2023 Okay, I watched this episode a couple of times, another post-episode post where I’m trying to gather my thoughts. SPOILERS FOR S2E9 AND E10 1. Probably missing scene I am 99% sure that we are not done with the “from the hospital to the pier” scene, I will believe until the last moment that this is a hoax. Chen Xiaoshi will run into the red light, and in fact, I think there is one missing scene at this point.

Some time ago, a small draft was published, where one of the characters ran across the road and barely dodged a moving car. Soo, I think it was here. If this remains in the final version, of course, we'll definitely come back to it (source). Just my speculation.

Yes, Xiaoshi was just impossibly lucky (lmao) to escape from the hospital, but we are still left with three unclear details:

upside down phone

the kettle in chronology 1

damn boat! This part of the plot is still the most confusing thing for me. What was the point of giving Lu Guang away the first time? What was the point of creating a time loop? Why he still ended up with Lu Guang (as it seems) in the scene of Romeo and Juliet? I'm pretty patient with this, just curious.

2. Abilities. I think we got a hint about how the twins' powers work. Previously, I assumed that the limitation of Li Tianchen's control abilities was like this: that he could only act in the evening, night and early morning (somewhere in between), since all the kills and uses of his abilities did not occur during the day. Now perhaps we have our answer? Based on the history of the foxes, it is likely that the time of using his abilities is tied to his sister's "sleeping time". Because when she was sleeping, her brother went for "hunting". Moreover, such a focus is on his “paws” and pats.

3. Change of events - Qian Jin and twins The way twins met Qian Jin is SO different. I actually kinda think, that that one of the variants of events is the already fucked up past through the present. s2e9:

s2e8:

It seems to me that the difference in these events is obvious. Both the moment itself and the details. Li Tianchen's backpack on his back, blood on Li Tianxi's dress. Everything went differently.

Alternate realities went brrrrr? The scene from the episode is an attempt to change events, where instead of Qian Jin it is actually Cheng Xiaoshi? I have no idea. 4. Hi, hatman! Friendly reminder: it's just my guessing. At the moment it seems to me that if there is no trolling here, the boy from the flashbacks and the hunter from the fairy tale are the same character. Clearly. We know that his last name is Liu, and Liu Min himself has a younger brother, Liu Xiao, so yeah- Сan't wait for him to return from overseas and be part of a real scene.

In fact, I really love that Li Tianchen hoped throughout his expression that Liu Min is Liu Xiao (whether he realizes that these are different people is still unclear)

Considering the announcement of Neo Aurora, it seems that we will see Liu Xiao's real appearance and design in the near future, I'm shaking. I have so many stupid jokes about him! 6. Liu Min I guess the woman they were discussing at the beginning was someone else? Since Liu Min can still able to move his legs and even can stand up.

I can conclude that Emma was not the first victim of this “alliance.” So it's hard to say how many people were actually killed, definitely not 8, much more. At least that's what it seems to me. Idk, I'm just having fun, as always. Feel free to discuss. Thanks for reading ~

[mothgodofchaos]

Stupid

Wrote this on a whim, had an idea and had to get it out.

Darkiplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 1130

You were stranded out in the rain by your date with no way of getting home, and against your better judgment, you called Dark. Shame burned inside you, not wanting to admit that you were relying on an ex-partner after failing to get a new one. But you had no other way of getting home, and the streets were far too dark and slick for you to even consider walking. You texted him the address after he hung up, going back into the restaurant as the winds continued to storm, threatening to soak you to the bone with chill rain. The poor host boy ran to get you a warm drink as you waited in their lobby, seeing you shiver. It was incredibly sweet, and you passed him what little cash you had on you for the gesture. 

Dark pulls up in front of the restaurant, and you sprint out to his car, clutching the to-go cup close to you under your coat as you clamber into the passenger seat. At the sight of you, he turns up the heat and puts on the seat warmer, incredibly concerned.

“What on earth happened?”

“He walked out on me… said he was going to the bathroom. Was I, stupid for believing him? We had only just ordered, but I knew he wasn’t coming back when they only brought out my food. And I stupidly agreed to let him drive me here.”

“No, I would not say that was “stupid” of you. Sounds like the issue was him, not you. The drive over here and ordering food is not nearly enough time for someone to make that drastic of a decision. At least he should have had the decency to tell you to find an alternative way home…”

Dark grips the steering wheel a bit tighter as he speaks, trying to both calm you down and keep his eyes on the road. The street lights reflect off large puddles on the asphalt, splashing onto the sidewalk as your tires cut through them.

“I’m sorry I called you, I’m sure you were busy.”

“Not at all, you know how I enjoy spending my evenings. Simply a few chapters into a book and about halfway through a cup of tea when you called. Something I can very easily pick back up. And I am sure you know, if I had found out you had to walk home in this weather, your inconsiderate date would have perhaps lost a few fingers, or limbs…”

It makes you laugh a little bit, the shaking from the cold finally settling. You pick up your drink, making careful two-handed sips as you don’t quite trust your grip strength after the cold made your finger joints a tad useless. The heat is turned down, making it easier to hear the rain outside and the tires against the road. Watching water droplets race down the window like when you were little. Dark glances over at you when you go quiet, his gaze softening when he sees you smile again.

“What happened to us?”

Your question cuts the silence, startling Dark a little. He waits, working through his thoughts to form a coherent response.

“We were younger, we wanted different things. No one was at fault, and I think that made it hurt more…”

“I don’t think we want different things anymore, Dames.”

His breath hitches, having not heard you call him that since your amicable break up.

“Are you done having your adventures out there? Are you really sure I am exciting enough for you?”

“You were always exciting enough for me. I was hoping you’d come with me.”

“...I am truly sorry I could not.”

The silence surrounds the two of you again, Dark adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road again. You take the hint and go back to watching out the windows, the conversation not going quite as you had hoped. Maybe it was your broken heart trying to fill the void of tonight’s wound, maybe you were saying the things you wanted to for a long time. He pulls into your driveway, parking the car and taking out the keys.

“I will walk you to the door, I refuse to have you standing out in the rain, locked out.”

“Thank you, Dark.”

His larger frame blocks your back from the rain, despite the fact he’s not wearing a coat. The simple white button-down soaks in the water easily, plastering the wet fabric against his body. His tie is loosened, but clearly he never quite got undressed from his day out before heading to get you. It takes a bit of working, but your key unlocks your door and you push inside. You enter, shrugging off your coat as you turn back to Dark, him smiling softly at you.

“Would you like to come in?”

“No, I should not. But thank you, darling.”

He turns to walk back to his car, but you grab his hand. Dark turns back to you, confused.

“Something wrong?”

“Can we try again? Even if it’s just one time?”

His jaw clenches, and you can see the conflicting emotions behind his eyes. Water drips down his hair and down his face, closing his eyes as he lets out a long sigh.

“I should not. But I want to. You have always been my greatest temptation.”

“Why don’t we then?”

Dark looks away, a lone tear mixing with the raindrops on his cheeks.

“I am afraid you will leave me behind again… that I cannot be the man you want me to be. I am older now, I use a cane, my habits are those of an old man. I know this. And I do not want you to realize this a bit too late, and break my heart again…”

“I was stupid to leave you behind before. And I’m not just saying that. Leaving you here has been my biggest regret. I promise you that.”

Dark looks between your eyes, searching your mind and seeing you’re telling the truth. You know he doesn’t like to intrude, but you don’t blame his disbelief.

“Please, let me know if you get bored of me…”

“I will never get bored of you.”

You grab his tie, tugging him down into a kiss. He’s surprised for a moment at your bold move, but matches your energy as he cups your face. The two of you stand out in the rain on your front porch, soaked to the bone but you could not be happier with each other. When you part, you tug him inside, promising another book and more tea as your clothes dry together. And you’d never have gotten him back if that asshole had never left you at that restaurant. 

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

⬇ What I've Been Reading Recently! [In No Particular Order]⬇

Rivers and Roads (Rivers Till I Reach You) Series by peterparkersbff @pbpsbff

[Series Description and Notes] Zombie Apocalypse, No Powers AU centered on Peter, Tony, and Rhodey (But if we're being honest, it's pretty Peter-centric)

Updates will likely be posted out of order, but will be reordered so they are in preferred reading order. I'd recommend reading in series order.

Peter Benjamin Stark Series by MoonBoo

[Part 1, Stars Align Summary] Pepper is concerned about Stark Industry's image and organizes a tour for a group of orphans. It's during this tour that Tony meets a five-year-old Peter Parker, who is mute due to the trauma of witnessing Ben and May dying in a robbery, and realizes they're soulmates.

Time Brings All Things to Pass by MsWinifredQuale

Tony feels like he's in a good place right now. He's got a great fiancee, a makeshift but settled little family, and he's even in a fairly ok place with the former Rogues.

So naturally the universe decides to throw him some curve balls, when he gets a call one morning from the police claiming they've just picked up Howard and Maria Stark from the side of the road.

And that's not the only time-related event about to unfold.

Tony really hates time travel.

[Also includes de-aged Peter Parker]

Please obey the signs by Bergen

“This young man claims to have been invited by you personally.” Tony has learned to read Happy’s expressions. That one is disapproval, and it’s highly familiar. “Peter is helping me out in the workshop today.” “Why?” “Uh.” Tony has enough presence of mind not to carelessly throw Peter’s alternative identity around. “He won a competition.” Happy’s expression flickers, grows tense. “I did not approve any competition that included a trip to Avengers Tower.” “Okay. Well. If we had theoretically organized a competition, he would definitely have won it.” - Tony’s life lately has been a perfect storm of incompetence. But perhaps he can get some solid spiritual advice from a mischievous teenager with a secret identity he meets by the side of the road one evening, like a lucky little leprechaun. If only Happy would stop being so paranoid about Tony inviting a random kid into Avengers Tower, sheesh.

The Chill Factor by Tashie

5 Times Peter's thermoregulation caused issues +1 Time Others tried to do something about it.

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything) by blackwatchandromeda (avenris)

"Peter, who am I?"

He hesitates. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know."

Peter Parker has been missing for thirty-six days. When Tony Stark finally finds him, he's wandering around New York with no memories, unaware of where and who he is. The missing month is a mystery, and nobody knows what happened to him - least of all the kid himself.

Peter, meanwhile, is trying to piece together who he was. What doesn't help is the big secret he's sure Tony is keeping from him, or the way the man is avoiding him.

Nobody notices how the missing month is catching up to them until everything goes wrong.

(Not Infinity War compliant, but takes place after Civil War.)

When spiders tour their houses, chaos ensues by pirateninja9

"I am very pleased to announce that we’ve been invited for an overnight tour at Stark Industries.”

Join Peter and his Academic decathlon team on a chaotic field trip to the Stark Industries. Featuring a bullying teacher and student, a confused tour guide and many Avengers shenanigans. With luck like his, Peter should have known this would be as far from a normal tour as possible.

Mugs Are A Problem (I Do What I Want) by JAWorley

It’s not usually a problem. Tony doesn’t usually have to work so hard to hide it because Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey know. He can be himself around them. Right after the compound had been built, Tony had been worried about moving in with the Avengers full time… worried they’d notice his tics and figure out his secret. Then Germany had happened and the team had split up before they could fully move into the compound. Tony had had two years where he hadn’t needed to worry about it. Now that the Rogues are back and are living in the tower full time, it’s on his mind again and stressing him out. The problem? Coffee mugs. Well��� coffee mugs, and other things and the fact that when he’s stressed out, the tics get worse. But mainly coffee mugs. Coffee mugs are the bane of his existence. OR Tony has Tourette Syndrome and he doesn’t want the Avengers (or Peter) to find out about it. The newly returned Avengers think Tony is just being a jerk when he knocks things off of tables and counters, because they think he’s doing it on purpose. Despite the angsty summary, this is all about the team coming back together and Tony learning that the people in his life can’t accept him as he is until given the chance to know him as he is.

[milkiedimitrescu]

Here's an idea if you're interested, do it similarly to the way you did Alcina in the backrooms! Only with a twist, make the Dimitrescu's extra horrifying for sure! Only add a liiiiittle something in the background every once in awhile, maybe Alcina starts feeling strangely nervous when walking down the hall to her room alone at night, maybe one of her daughters heard footsteps rounding a corner but didn't see anyone, maybe Alcina finds out one of the maids who she assumed her daughters killed wasn't killed by any of them, she tries to brush this off when she considers going to Mother Miranda for help, telling herself it's probably just her paranoia or something, telling herself what could SHE possibly have to fear? She's the most feared thing in the village!! Nothing can hurt her or her daughters, she's perfectly safe! Although that still doesn't explain the sudden fight or flight feeling she suddenly gets when she's alone at night when she's never had it before, nor does it explain her daughters coming to her with the same feeling, definitely add the horror stuff regarding what Alcina and her daughters do, although maybe add some hints that they're not the only predators in the castle anymore, honestly I don't think I've currently seen an analog like this where the killers have the tables turned on them, it would definitely at least make it stand out!

This is all just a suggestion though so if it's not something you'd be interested in, I won't get offended if you don't do it, just thought I'd try to help. 😊

DAMN I LIKE THIS A LOT also would like to add on cause now I have a bunch of ideas

Long post ahead btw

Alright alright... WHAT IFFF the thing that mysteriously killed one of the maids could be an alternate? Y'know... alternates from the mandela catalog tape on youtube?? (y'all should check out the series it's so good)

A brief summary of what an alternate is is basically a doppelganger. or... a thing pretending to be your doppelganger. Its an entity species that can shape shift into humans and even animals. It can even mimic voices that you know. It has bad intentions of killing the person it is impersonating, and trying to replace them to kill their loved ones. at least... that's how I put it.

I wonder the reason why Alcina feels paranoid walking down the castle halls at night is because an alternate is watching her every move, analyzing how she speaks, walks, and everything and tries to mimic it so it can one day get rid of Alcina and trick the daughters into thinking it's their mother when it's really not. And it might not even be just Alcina who has an alternate after her, but perhaps the whole village and outside the village. But even in the daytime she even feels slightly off. The shift of energy in the castle is still apparent, but not as apparent in the night.

But what if they found out about the alternates from early on? Like they hear the warning podcast about them on the radio player. One of the maids find that a dvd player in a box was found on the steps of the entrance doors of the castle after they hear a mysterious knock on the door. They go and give it to the ladies and let them know about it. They play it on the radio player and they now can't help but feel the energy shift. Nothing feels right anymore. Something is wrong.

For some reason... a shiver runs down Alcina's spine when she hears "if you see a person that looks identical to you, run away and hide." and the podcast cuts off because the reason she has been feeling this way at night and felt unsafe was because of the fact something or someone was in the castle. And they are not friendly or aren't how mutants are in the village but something far more sinister. They aren't visible but they are waiting... and looking for the first prey they should fool.

Alcina would of course contact Mother Miranda and maybe her "siblings" to see if they know about the so called "alternates" as well, and they all say yes and they all need to be careful because we cannot trust voices we hear or people we see that looks and sounds off, because they could be an alternate trying to trick you into thinking they are someone you know. Hell, even Mother Miranda is taken aback at these new "entity's" roaming the village in silence and found out that it's not only the village that has alternate's but outside of it as well. They don't know what they want or how to get rid of them, but they need to find a way to survive and figure out a way to avoid them or perhaps kill them.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

She really didn’t want to kill. As much as she knew how horrible demons were, she didn’t know if she could bear to kill. It would be horrible, wouldn’t it? They had been humans once, after all. Maybe they could still feel. Maybe they would be in pain as they died. And they didn’t deserve any of this! None of them had asked to become the monsters they had! It was all so terrible. But she had to do this—she wanted to join. It wasn’t really just about getting a boyfriend (albeit it would be a nice bonus), not anymore. Not after she had seen a Demon Slayer in action—the terror in her own body as she cowered from the demon. She had been alone at the time so nobody had gotten hurt. But the determination in the Slayer’s eyes and their kindness when they helped her to her feet made her want to do this, she wanted to join. But now, despite finally making it to the final test, she was having second thoughts. Could she really do it?

She was antsy with nerves, bouncing from one foot to the other in a nervous habit, fidgeting with her katana handle. For once, at least, she wasn’t worrying about what people might be thinking of her strange hair, so that was a plus! Maybe.

She glanced around, feeling slightly reassured to see the same nervousness rippling throughout her companions. She approached one person—another girl with hip-length black hair and dark eyes that flicked anxiously around. Offering her a quick smile, Mitsuri tried making small talk, wanting to both sooth the girl and herself. The girl seemed hesitant to speak at first but eventually melted into the conversation, mostly keeping her part up with nods and gentle hums of assent—which was fine, Mitsuri was talking a lot now, calming now that she didn’t feel completely alone.

A couple minutes later, two young girls appeared at the gate that entered the wisteria cage of Final Selection. They spoke in unison, words not relatively loud yet echoing in the small space where only muted conversation was all anyone could muster. They explained the rules of the test, how it lasted a week and the ones that came out alive by the end were the ones that passed. This encouraged titters of concern through the crowd but they continued, unfazed. After finishing their short speech, they parted, leaving way for everyone to enter. Mitsuri let the surge of the others lead her inside before she found herself in the dark, blinking quickly to adjust. She looked around, wondering what she would do. Then, deciding that team work was always great, she searched for the girl she had spoken to earlier. The girl, as it turns out, was right beside her, the light from outside the dense wisteria providing Mitsuri enough source to see her lingering uncertainly.

“Can we… go in together?” Mitsuri asked quietly, afraid that if she spoke, she would break some sort of spell in the eerie quietness of the forest. Despite the amount of people milling about, finding their way, it seemed terribly silent. Perhaps the demons were hiding, waiting for their best catch. She shuddered, turning her thoughts back to the girl as she waited for a response.

“Okay,” the girl said eventually, apparently deciding that this would be the best option.

“Okay!” Mitsuri echoed, relieved. She smiled then they made their way through the trees, maneuvering around the other people.

For the first night, nothing happened. During the day they got some sleep, taking turns to go out and find some berries or whatever they could possible eat here. The second night, they encountered one demon. It was a reckless demon, however, driven by its hunger and that only. There was a slight struggle before Mitsuri and the girl beheaded it, watching its disintegrated form with mild interest. Mitsuri wasn’t quite sure what to feel, a mixture of uncertainty still lingering from her doubts from earlier. Maybe she could’ve reasoned with the demon! Shown it that it could try to survive off of blood banks or some sort. There had to be an alternative, right? Killing it was so dreadfully sad, even if it did seem more angry than upset. But then the third night rolled along and changed everything.

Up till now, Mitsuri had never seen death before. She wasn’t stupid, of course, she knew that everyone died eventually and there was really nothing much to do about it—unless it was something like this, working to save people from creatures that would kill the deliberately. But she had never seen someone die in front of her, neither peacefully or mercilessly. Unfortunately, her first taste of the crude sight turned out even worse than she could’ve imagined.

She and the girl, who were both quite tired after being up all day because of the clouds that blotted out the sun, had been trekking through the forest, katanas clutched tightly in their hands. They were beginning to become a little more accustomed to the dark and each other, more comfortable. It seemed that days full of fear brought people closer together. As they walked, there was the sound of rustling leaves. Instantly, they both froze, waiting to see if the source was a human, a demon, or an animal. When nothing happened, they settled on the wind. Of course, their nerves bristled nevertheless and they were on edge, jumpy at the slightest sounds. And then it happened.

It was so quick, so abrupt that Mitsuri couldn’t have done anything anyway. But one moment, the girl was beside her, sharing her anxiety. Then the next, she was dangled in the air by her ankle, a scream tearing at her vocal chords. When Mitsuri turned, eyes wide, panic spiking every sense, she found her friend’s blood dripping onto her face. She froze, unable to do anything. A demon, its form a blur, cackled gleefully, shoving limbs and fingers clumsily into its mouth. The previous scream that had indicated to Mitsuri that something had been wrong had been cut off now, leaving a ringing silence around them. When Mitsuri looked up, whole body shaking, she met the eyes of the girl who’s final breaths would be drawn. For a moment, the dark eyes plead for help, agony written in the depths of her gaze. Then she trembled, eyes rolling back and never seeing again.

That was when Mitsuri broke, a croaky cry leaving her throat. The demon, still devouring her friend, glanced down at her dismissively, too indulged in its own hunger to say anything. But Mitsuri was already at its throat, pure adrenaline and hatred for this creature—this monster—that had stolen her friend from her without mercy driving her forward, driving her katana into the demon’s throat and watching the blade sink into its flesh. She delivered the same cruel dismissiveness to its death as it had for her friend’s, unable to feel any pity for it anymore. Because how could she? Not when she still had the blood of the girl, not yet dried, staining her skin. Not when the image of a contorted body, bones twisted unnaturally, pieces of flesh missing, all burned into Mitsuri’s memory. She did not… she could not understand how it could do such a thing. How it could be so cruel and spare her not even a glance.

She decided, then, that it would not be hard to kill. Not if it was the demons she was killing. Not if she would be saving so, so many lives by ridding of its existence. Yes, she hadn’t known the girl for long. But it didn’t matter. She had cared enough to be stilled, frozen to the bone at the sound of her scream, the sight of her mangled body. She could never forgive the demons. Risk her life or not, she would not allow this to happen again. Never.

the girl that died- appearance-wise is a vague description of me (gave into the temptation)