#like it's was pretty humid yesterday

[scatteredcloud]

Living my walkable bikable city fantasy past few days 💪🏼🤩‼️🏳️‍🌈🚲🚍‼️🩻🫀🚶🏻‍♀️‍➡️🚶🏻‍♀️‍➡️🦵🏼

[avaloniaofficial]

also as an add on to prev post if you refuse to mask up Especially When Youre Coughing And Sniffling And Wiping Your Face… ESPECIALLY WHEN YOURE SOMEWHERE WHERE YOU KNOW YOU WILL ENCOUNTER CROWDS LINES AND SMALLER SPACES… You Are The Problem!!!

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 2: Own My Mind

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You might have finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Franco, but that doesn’t make the deep longing you feel for him any easier. And he's starting to make you question if he might feel the same longing for you, too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader is a lil freak, use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has self esteem issues

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on part one! I never expected my first chapter to get any notes let alone over 200 notes in just a few days. Seriously every single note has me kicking my feet and turning my eyes into little heart emojis lol. I’m already about 2k words into ch 3 so I am hoping I’ll finish it before I have to travel for the holidays (I will not be able to write at all while I’m gone). Also, I had a request for someone to be tagged in this chapter, so let me know if you all would like me to start a permanent tag list. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Oh it’s automatic, you know I just gotta have it

I’ll make your body a habit

You know there’s some kind of magic, uh huh

Do you wanna, do you wanna, own my mind, own my mind?

The Singapore Grand Prix was later that night. Franco did really well considering the circumstances. It was disgustingly humid, and when he was done you could tell he felt awful. You were so angry at everyone at Williams for letting him race like that. Yes, it was his job, but that was your friend out there suffering—your friend who you had just admitted to yourself yesterday that you were in love with.

You watched him from afar when he spoke to the media afterwards. His curls were plastered down to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was pale and clammy. You just wanted to hold him and tell him that you were proud of him. Instead you had to settle for keeping an eye on him in the chaos of the paddock post-race, and helping him back to the hotel with his mother.

She had to get on an early flight, so she left and you promised her you’d stay until he was okay. She was worried about him, and you were too. God, seeing him so sick broke your heart. You helped pack up his things while he took a cold shower and he emerged in just a towel wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be feeling much better thankfully, and his more playful mood reflected it.

Of course, you snuck a glance or two at his sculpted form. Just a peek at his wet curls, the water droplets running down his chest—even the scar on his collarbone that he always tries to hide. He thinks it’s ugly. You think there isn’t a single part of him that’s ugly.

You tried to ignore him and continued tidying up. “I hope you don’t expect me to tip you,” he joked.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “What else are you going to do with all your stripper money?”

“Well, if we’re stripping…” he said, slowly lowering his hand down to his hips, palming the towel. You stomped to the bathroom, out of view of whatever joke he was making. “Get dressed, you man whore,” you instructed.

You lived for the banter you all had—at times, it felt like your own language separate from the rest of the world. The audience could hear Franco’s humor, but they’d never understand it like you did.

When you left the bathroom he was thankfully (or, unfortunately) fully clothed, lying on the bed and lazily scrolling through his phone.

“I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” you said.

“Well, better than I was, but still kind of like shit,” he responded with a sigh.

“Well, you can get some rest, I’ve got you pretty much all packed up so you’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

He put his phone down and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment, as if he was readying himself to say something, and looked at the floor away from you. “YN, would you… stay? Just in case I get worse, you know.”

You could tell by the color in his face that he was feeling better, but how could you deny him this small comfort, when his eyes met yours through his long eyelashes, a sliver of light from the street lamps outside cutting through the drawn curtains and resting on his face? He was so beautiful. And he wanted you to stay.

“Of course,” you said. You were going to get up from the corner of the bed where you now sat and move to the chair until he fell asleep, but instead he motioned for you to lay down on the bed next to him. Tentatively, you did, heart racing as he laid his head on your shoulder and curled his body into you.

His playful flirting was normal, but this was… different, a closeness beyond what was usual between you two. You could feel the warmth of his skin, his breath steady against you. Yes, your heart was beating, but you felt strangely calm. Peaceful. In this moment all that mattered was you and your best friend, quietly sharing a moment in each other’s presence.

Your hand, trembling, reached down to smooth a piece of his hair. He hummed in response, to which you quickly moved your hand, mumbling, “Oh, sorry.”

He just grabbed your hand and wordlessly placed it back on his head. Slowly, you began to run your fingers through his beautiful curls. You got lost in the moment, and soon enough, you felt his breath even out as he fell into a peaceful sleep. Soon enough, the stillness of the moment and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled you to sleep too.

You woke just as the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky outside. You had an unfortunate habit of waking up in the middle of the night—a common symptom of anxiety, your therapist had told you—but for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night soundly.

You and Franco had shifted, and he know had his arm lazily wrapped around you. You remembered the previous night and felt your heartbeat increase. It wasn’t just the feeling of his arm draped across your waist, but the feeling of…. something else. A little… morning problem.

Of course, you knew Franco couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even awake, and from your years of friendship you knew how much of a heavy sleeper he was. It was just an uncontrollable biological phenomenon. Nothing more.

But you couldn’t stay, feeling him pressed against you like that. It felt wrong and you were so nervous you could hardly breathe. So you carefully wiggled your way out of his grasp and quietly left his room, returning to your own.

Returning to your hotel room, all you knew to do to calm yourself down was to write. So you opened your journal and wrote all about the scene; the dinner, the banter, waking up next to him in the morning sunlight.

You wrote until your hand started to cramp. Then you went back to read what you had written, skimming over it, your mind only picking up on little snippets.

Lily thought I was Franco’s girlfriend, and I guess I can’t blame her. He’s such a flirt, I love and hate it. I just wonder if it ever means anything to him. I mean, he treats random reporters the same way he treats his girlfriends. What does he do when he actually wants someone?

He asked me to stay. I thought he must still be sick, but he just wanted me to… cuddle? I ran my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. He looked like an angel, so soft and innocent, resting next to me. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

But when I woke up, I could feel his morning wood pressing against me. God, it was so awkward. But I can’t stop thinking about it, what he would do if he really wanted me.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You shouldn’t write that kind of stuff. Having a crush was one thing, but thinking about him like that? It was…wrong. Franco was your best friend. Your best friend who was absolutely perfect—yes, physically as well.

You threw your journal on the bed with a grunt of frustration.

You were fucked.

Your heart beat nervously as you walked into the waiting room before your next therapy session. It had been a week or so since Singapore when you had finally admitted the truth to yourself.

Yes, you had feelings for Franco. Emotional and… physical. No, you had no idea what to do with them.

Waiting for the clock to strike the hour, you reached down into your bag to run your fingertips along the spine of your leather journal. You had been writing incessantly in it since that night.

And if you thought that your fantasies were bad then, oh, it had gotten so much worse.

You told yourself you couldn’t help it. You were ovulating. You’d been single for a while. You were a girl with needs. But you felt disgusted, basically writing porn about your best friend.

I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. In my mind, he sits on the edge of the bed like always, hand carefully placed at the top of his towel. His hair is dripping and his skin is still dotted with water droplets.

He doesn’t even have to say anything. The way he looks at me—eyes looking up through his gorgeous lashes, his pouty lips looking so lonely—I know exactly what he wants. So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

Even remembering what you wrote felt filthy. You wanted him—all of him.

I had a dream last night that Franco dominated me. We are in his apartment, arguing about something stupid, and he pushed me against the wall, kissing me roughly, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He holds me waist with his strong hands as his kisses get deeper.

“I need to taste you,” he growls into my mouth, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. Before I can react he’s on top of me, one hand holding my chin and the other fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asks, and I frantically nod.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking, as he pulls off my jeans and my panties with it—

“YN? You can come in now.” You’re pulled from your daydreaming by the voice of your therapist. You close the journal, embarrassed, but not without her seeing it in your hands.

“I hope you’re doing well. I see you’ve got a journal, you’ve been writing in it, I take it?” she asked as you sat down in the familiar office.

“Yeah, I have,” you answered, clutching it tightly in your folded hands.

“Well, that’s great! Has it been helping you?”

“Um… I guess?”

“Explain more.”

You paused, unable to think. All you could do was blurt out the truth.

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

“…Okay.” Your therapist also paused. “Did your writing bring about this revelation?”

You tumbled through the rest of the session, trying to explain what happened without revealing too many intimate details.

“I just feel… horrible I guess. It’s so dumb. It’s not like he’ll ever feel the same way about me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s so… perfect. And I’m an anxious mess,” you laughed.

“Is anxiety that much of a barrier to being loved?”

You laughed, considering the gravity of her question. You couldn’t truly answer it. “It shouldn’t be. But I just know he’d never choose me and that’s okay. He doesn’t even know how I feel, and even if I had the courage to tell him, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Does it bother you, not being able to tell him about all of this?”

“….yeah, it does, actually,” you admitted. "I'll never do it but... I just wish I could, you know?"

"I understand. Why not start with expressing your feelings platonically? Telling him what he means to you as a friend?"

"I guess I could do that." You didn't quite know how you'd accomplish that, but you weren't in therapy just to refuse to try anything. You wanted to do hard things. You needed to do them.

So you made it your mission, next time you saw Franco, to tell him something meaningful. You weren't sure what it would be or how it would come out, but you'd at least try.

Unfortunately, it was a while before you'd see Franco again. There were a few weeks between Singapore and Austin, and between race prep with Williams and sponsorship deals, Franco was up to his ears in work. You still talked, of course—you texted back and forth every day—but it just wasn't the same, and you missed him horribly.

You'd felt this before, the ache in your stomach that longed for his presence when you'd gone too long without seeing him. You figured it would be different now that you had finally admitted to yourself what this feeling was. You didn't expect it to be worse.

Because now that feeling in your stomach was sharper. You didn't just yearn for the mere concept of him—you wanted everything. You missed his smile. You missed hearing his voice rise and fall in intonation as you bantered back and forth. You missed his perfect curls smoothed across his forehead. You missed the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, whether in a friendly embrace or something more intimate, like you'd had in Singapore. And in the back of your mind, you missed the feeling of Franco's hardness pressing against your back, a sign of what you fantasized was a deep wanting for you, both physical and emotional.

You tried, and failed, to rein in these fantasies. But with the more days that passed, the more Franco began to feel less and less like your best friend, and more and more like the version of him you'd created in your head, desperate for you more than anything else in the world.

You wrote all of this down, of course. If you hadn't you would have lost your mind with lust. Romantic pining was nothing new to you—you'd had a boyfriend before, although what you felt for him paled in comparison to Franco—but this intense physical desire you felt was new.

You had never been satisfied by anyone, anything, before. You smiled to yourself as you thought, well, I guess it's true what they say about the quiet, shy ones.

And Franco, unbeknownst to him, wasn't making it any easier. He called you one day, the first phone call you'd had in a while, a few days before you'd be flying out to Austin for the grand prix.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," he explained, "but the stuff we're doing is so cool."

"Am I allowed to know, or is it top secret?" You smiled through the phone.

"Well... I can't tell you everything just yet, but I can give you a sneak peek. Check your messages."

You felt your phone vibrate, receiving a notification from Franco. You tapped on the text and nearly dropped your phone. He had sent you unedited pictures from a photoshoot, and he looked fucking amazing.

His voice on the other end of the line explained, "I'm gonna be on the cover of Forbes Mexico for the race. What do you think?"

At first, you were quite literally speechless. "Franco, you look..."

"Gorgeous? Sexy? Like the most fuckable Formula 1 driver?" he teased. For a split second, you wondered if it was possible to hear a blush through the phone.

His banter inspired your own. "... not bad. I mean, you certainly give them a lot of work to do to make you look good, but they did pretty decent."

If human beings could hear a blush through a phone, you were sure the noise that Franco made would be indicative of one. "Oh, shut up and tell me I'm pretty."

A million potential responses went through your head. Make me. Beg for it. My pretty boy.

Instead you just laughed and said, "No, really, you look great. This is amazing. You know the entire internet is going to lose their minds after this drops?"

He smiled. "That's the plan."

It still hadn't been released by the time you made it to Austin, but you weren't complaining. A part of you liked having this piece of Franco all to yourself. You kept going back to the photos again and again—his glare at the camera, his arm draped over a steering wheel—you couldn't get enough.

And when he met you at the airport in Austin (even though you told him it wasn't necessary), all that want came rushing back the instant he wrapped you in a hug that lasted a little too long to be considered platonic.

You couldn’t let your thoughts go that far. You’d already crossed a line by allowing yourself to feel such… intimate emotions for him. But to even imagine that he really wanted you to? No. That was where you actually drew the line.

But unfortunately, Franco’s confusing behavior made it far too easy for you to believe that he didn’t feel the same.

You all didn’t talk about that night in Singapore, or the fact that he must have woken up alone. You’d rather throw yourself into a pit of knives than talk about it and have to bear the embarrassment, and Franco didn’t seem bothered at all, so you let it go to the back of your head, acting as if it never happened at all. Your first day in Austin was fine, mainly spent recovering from jet lag and exploring the city on your own while Franco did his media duties. You had dinner with him that night and it was like no time had passed. The banter was the same, the atmosphere was great, and you were so happy to be back in his presence again.

As he walked you to your hotel room, you remembered your promise you had made to yourself, that you’d try to practice being vulnerable. For some reason, you didn’t have it in you today. You were tired, in a good way, but all you wanted was to curl up next to Franco and wake up in his arms the next morning.

And of course, you assumed Franco would want to stay. Why else would he walk you back to your room? Maybe it was the nervousness of the implication—you and Franco, alone in your hotel room—that prevented you from saying anything, or maybe you just knew that now wasn’t the right time.

Either way, there was no moment. Franco just bid you goodnight with a wave and left to his own room.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. He just didn’t like you like that, and it was okay. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

But you also couldn't help but feel a bit...disappointed. You cursed yourself for letting your fantasies become too real. It would be weirder if he had tried something.

Still, you dealt with these complicated emotions the only way you knew how: writing. You opened the journal and began to write away, not even stopping to think, just vomiting words on the page.

We're in Austin right now. It's been...normal. Good. Which is weird, considering that last time we were at a grand prix we spent the night together. It's not like that, but I can't help but think that something is just...different. I keep thinking about what my therapist asked, about anxiety being a barrier to love. Franco has always supported me, or tried to at least. I haven't exactly made it easy for him, or anyone else, since I bottle things up so much.

But he doesn't love me, not like that, anyways. He dates models—I mean, God, he is a model now—and I'm just me. I'm not exceptionally pretty or smart or funny. I'm nobody.

I can't help but fantasize about how things could be different. I imagine us going on a fancy date. He's wearing that suit he did the Mexico photoshoot in, with the top shirt buttons undone to tease me. He picks me up from my apartment at 8 with a bouquet of pink roses (not red, red is too cliche; but I guess I can't complain, no man has ever bought me flowers). I'm wearing that dress I got the last time we visited Argentina together—the one that hugs all my curves just right, and it's his favorite color. The dinner is sweet. We savor the time together, since it's more scarce now that he's a permanent driver in F1. We've had a few glasses of wine, just enough to get us slightly giggly and blushed, our inhibitions long abandoned. In the back of the Uber he traces his hand up and down my thigh, each time teasing scandalously closer and closer to the place I need him the most. 

The ride is torturously long, but when we arrive back at his apartment, he wastes no time in getting me alone so he can have his way with me. He picks me up bridal style and kisses me through my drunken laughter, a smile on his face, too. He lovingly tosses me on the bed before taking off his jacket. I just look at him in awe. He’s so fucking perfect. And he’s all mine. He gets on top of me, kissing me gently, and no words need to be exchanged between us. I can feel the tenderness of his lips against mine, and he pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. The moment is quiet and I feel so safe and loved with him, until our lips crash together and his hand finds its place on my thigh again. It trails up and

There was a knock at your door. 

You jumped, startled. Getting up and looking through the peephole in the door, you saw it was just, of course, Franco, so you hurried to open the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You left your lipstick in my pocket,” he smirked, holding out the tube to you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, having forgotten about asking him to hold it earlier at dinner since your outfit didn’t have pockets. 

“You didn’t even notice that I stole it.” It was true. You had completely forgotten about it with all your journaling. 

“Well, the shade would look good on you,” you teased. 

He playfully rolled his eyes. “It’s no fun pranking you when you don’t even notice. Keep up, hm?” Franco loved to play little tricks on you like this, and usually you played right into them, knowing that the fun of his taunting outweighed whatever consequence the prank itself would bring. 

“You’re impossible,” you said, smiling regardless. “Now, if you’re done stealing my stuff, I’m exhausted.” You went to close the door, assuming this to be the natural end of the exchange, until Franco took a step into your room and rested his weight on the doorframe.

“Not exhausted enough to skip your… journaling?” he said, looking over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You hadn’t closed your journal. 

“Since when do you journal?” he asked, leaning forward as if he was trying to make out the words from across the room.

If you had been smarter, smoother with it, you probably could have lied and said it was for work, then proceeded to rant about your remote corporate job which would have bored Franco to tears. But smart and smooth with it are two things that you are not.

You swiftly turned around to grab the journal and slam it closed, holding it in a death grip. Your absence from the door, however, had been interpreted by Franco as an invitation to come in. And it was clear by the urgency of your actions that whatever was in that journal was something you did NOT want him knowing.

You answered him, “I haven't been doing it very long.” There was a brief moment where you considered ending the conversation there. It was too late to formulate a good lie, anyway. But on the other hand, you wanted to do hard things and be honest with yourself and others. So you did. At least your therapist would be proud.

So you continued, “It was a suggestion from my therapist. Just helps you get your thoughts out so they aren’t all stuck in your head.” Simple enough. It was the truth, after all. He didn’t need to know what those thoughts were.

“Can I read it?”

You paused in bewilderment. “Um, no? Franco, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“You don’t just… ask to read someone’s personal journal.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal, you muppet!”

“Really? Stole that one from Lando?”

“It fits." You snorted. "But seriously, why would you ask to read my journal?” 

“Because I never know what you’re thinking. You’re impossible to figure out.”

“... I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask me what I’m thinking?”

“... I know you did not just say that.”  He made a face at you. Yeah, he was right. If you were skilled enough at communicating your emotions you wouldn’t have needed to start the journal in the first place. He continued, “You were literally dying in Singapore and when I asked you what was wrong you said you were fine.”

“Hey, I made it to quali alive,” you replied. 

“Look, I just… It would be nice to understand where you’re coming from a bit more, like… actually nevermind, forget I ever said anything.” Your confusion only lingered as Franco clearly struggled to find the words. You guess that this was how he felt communicating with you sometimes—it sucked.

“Whatever, you weirdo,” you said, your joking tone an indicator to him that you were willing to act as if this horribly embarrassing exchange had never happened. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he said as he left the room, ending the conversation like that. Now it was your turn to be confused by his actions. There was something he clearly wanted to say but couldn’t, and you let yourself wonder, just for a second, if what was happening to you wasn’t so different from whatever was going on in his head.

You let your fantasies lull you into sleep.

Again, you let… whatever was happening between you and Franco go unsaid and focused on supporting him for the grand prix. 

From the Williams garage, you cheered him on as he got another point, overtaking Alonso so skillfully. When he came back to the garage, you met him as you always did, with a smile that stretched across your entire face. Your hug this time was different, as he picked you up and twirled you around. You laughed into his shoulder, holding on to him as he spun you.

He put you down and was immediately assailed by hugs all around from the Williams team. Lily, who had been in the garage by your side the whole race, elbowed you in the side. 

“So, you and Franco are just friends, huh?” she teased. You all had become friendly enough that a little bit of banter was acceptable. 

You inhaled with a soft smile, watching him celebrate in the distance. Once again, you chose vulnerable honesty. 

“Yes, we’re just friends. But it’s…complicated.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, shielding you off from the celebratory scene. In a lowered voice, she muttered, “You have feelings for him?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. But c’mon, he just spun you around like a Disney princess. He obviously has feelings too. And have you seen what the fans are saying about you all?”

“No?” You were surprised the fans even knew you existed. You had cut down on social media a long time ago, knowing how much it contributed to your anxiety and self-esteem issues. You still had accounts, but all were private and hardly used, and you didn’t interact much with fans at the races, preferring to stay in the garage or in Williams hospitality to enjoy the races without worrying about what people were thinking of you.

“They love you two. Seriously, I think there’s gotta be a million teenage girls living vicariously through you.”

You laughed at her comment, not in a mocking way, but because of the absurdity of it all. None of these people really knew you, or Franco, for that matter. It just proved your point that social media wasn’t real.

So if people on social media were shipping you and Franco, then it couldn’t be true. At least, that’s the confusing logic you held yourself to. A line had to be drawn somewhere.

Your conversion with Lily was cut short by Franco approaching. “Celebratory dinner later?” he asked, still beaming. You agreed.

If you could have bottled the energy that Franco exuded all day after the race, you would have had yourself a very lucrative energy drink company. As he was packing up his things to leave the circuit, you all passed by barriers where fans were practically crawling their way to get to him, screaming his name and waving Argentine flags in the air. He tilted his head to them as you passed, and asked, “Can I?”

You were in no rush, and of course you could never deny him this moment to enjoy what he had built with all his hard work. He stopped to sign shirts and caps while you stood behind. Everyone had their phones out, filming Franco, but you knew you’d inevitably end up in the background. You just hoped you didn’t look too awkward. 

Franco turned his head back to you as the crowd behind the barrier just grew more and more excited. “You see this, YN? This is insane!” his smile stretched from ear to ear, and you just smiled in response. He climbed up the fence, eliciting a small giggle from you, and filmed the crowd below him chanting his name.

You had never been more proud of him. And you had to say it. 

So you did, after dinner when you all somehow ended up in his hotel room together again. The atmosphere was…calm. Familiar. Warm.

The conversation had reached a natural pause, and the night had gotten to that point where that space between you and him felt simultaneously infinite and nonexistent. 

He sat crossed legged on the bed, fiddling with something in his suitcase next to him. You sat on the chair only a few feet away.

“I’m so proud of you, Franco. I don’t tell you enough.”

He looked up and your eyes met. And he blushed. You had made Franco Colapinto blush.

“When did you get all sappy on me?” he asked. There was still a bit of a wall up. It was unusual for you all to be this vulnerable with each other.

“Since my best friend in the entire world is achieving all his dreams! I mean, we’re celebrating points now, but one day we’ll be celebrating podiums. And then race wins. And then championships. I believe it.”

The room was draped in a thick silence. Franco knew you didn’t throw these words around carelessly. And the unspoken implication, that you’d be there for all of it.

“I believe it too,” he said quietly. There was no ego in his statement. Only true hope.

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢BUBBLE GUM kang haerin x reader

↳ warnings yn is a member of new jeans, fluff, haerin being confused with her emotions, soon to be girlfriends, black cat and golden retriever

with all the windows open in the house letting the natural light shine, the air hung heavy with humidity, wrapping around every surface like a blanket, yn reclined upside down on the worn out couch, her body glistening with sweat, the sticky warmth clinging to her skin like a second layer.

she wore a delicate tank top adorned with whimsical flowers and trimmed with intricate lace, it was paired with loose cloth shorts draped comfortably over her legs, offering minimal spare from the relentless heat.

with each exhale, she blew a bubble of pink bubblegum, you’d think she’d grow tired of blowing bubble gum since the group has got here to film the music video but boredom got to her this was the only thing she could think of doing as a distraction from the fact that they had no service.

she gazed upwards, she basked in the gentle caress of the fan's oscillating breeze, making eye contact with the cat like girl who sat across from her with a fan in her hand.

haerin immediately broke eye contact and shifted uncomfortably fanning herself faster,she reluctantly acknowledged to herself that she had been fixating on yn for longer than she cared to admit. despite her best efforts to ignore it, she couldn't deny yn’s undeniable beauty,even when they’re tired from filming over these past couple of days in an unexpected heat wave.

it wasn’t that she hated yn, she just wasn’t a big fan of the girl like everyone else is, yn was a late addition, she was added to lineup for the group only a month before they had to start recording and filming, so haerin never got the chance to get close to the girl.

well, she just didn’t allow herself, all the other girls immediately made it their job to get to know yn, so they can all feel like a family, there was something about yn that always threw her off, she could never pin point what emotion she was feeling so she just declared it being dislike for the annoyingly pretty girl.

and unfortunately to haerin’s luck, the rest of the girls went to go see the water and left the two alone for the day and to be honest it was pretty awkward, yn and haerin are barely left alone and when they are most of the time both girls just stay in their rooms, so this was new.

“it’s so hot.” yn whined as she fixed her self from her upside down position and got up from couch making her way to kitchen, the same kitchen that they filmed in yesterday, she grabbed two bottles of juice and made her way back to where her and haerin were lofting.

“here” she said softly passing the cold drink to haerin who looked up at her from her seat and gently took the bottle from her hand their hands touching for a split second, “thank you.”

“no problem.” they sat in silence they drank their drinks, desperately trying to cool down, haerin was waiting for yn to say something since the girl was always to talkative

“I’m bored.” yn said out loud, haerin only gave the talkative girl a nod in agreement, taking another sip from her drink.

haerin flinches when she hears a loud gasp from yn who darted over to the nearby table, her movements quick and purposeful as she retrieved a box and settled herself on the floor. a sense of confusion filled haerin as she observed yn patting the empty space in front of her, a silent invitation that hung heavy in the air.

reluctantly, haerin rose from her seat, her footsteps hesitant as she approached yn. sitting opposite of yn on the floor, she regarded the box with curiosity, unsure of what to expect. yn’s infectious enthusiasm filled the rooms, her eyes sparkling with childlike excitement as she eagerly explained her idea.

“let’s make bracelets!” yn exclaims flashing a cute smile to haerin who gives the girl a puzzled look, her smile was radiant, a stark contrast to haerin’s lingering skepticism. "I forgot Hyein packed this," she continued, gesturing towards the box with a flick of her wrist. "since there's nothing to do, let's make some."

haerin’s initial puzzlement melted away, replaced by a flicker of reluctant amusement as she observed yn’s unwavering enthusiasm. with a sigh, she opened the box, her fingers sifting through the assortment of strings, beads and cute charms yn’s grin widened at haerin’s reluctant participation, a silent victory in her quest to break through the barriers of their strained acquaintance.

“so, filming has been fun right?” yn says as they make their bracelets, if there was one thing about the girl it’s the she could never not not start a conversation, she loved to talk, she loved to break shells of other people and ever since she met kang haerin that has been her ultimate mission to win the girls heart over.

haerin nodded as she focused on the bracelet, “yeah.” she says quietly, as time went on she listens to yn’s rambles about the filming for the music video over the past couple of days, transition to the girl raving about her favourite character in a new show that she started watching and the girl can’t help but feel at ease at yn’s presence and talkative ways.

it was sweet.

haerin laughed quietly at yn who started a rant about the character that was mean to her favourite character, “I don’t mean to be mean, but I wouldn’t be sad if they kill him off.” yn says guilty causing haerin to shake her head in amusement as she adds the finishing clip to her bracelet.

“oh my gosh.” yn gasps looking at the bracelet, “that’s so pretty.” she says reaching over to admire the bracelet that had a flower charm hanging from it.

“I like yours as well.” haerin responds her cheeks heating up slightly as she admires the bracelet yn made with a star charm hanging from it.

a sense of confidence powers over her and she grabs yn’s wrist and clips the bracelet she made on the girls wrist resulting in yn gasping and giving haerin the biggest smile known to man.

yn then grabbed haerin’s wrist and does the same clipping on the bracelet she made to the girls wrist, “now we’re matching.” she says happily.

as haerin’s hesitant fingers grazed over the vibrant array of strings and beads, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, mirroring the infectious enthusiasm radiating from yn. caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the moment, she couldn't suppress the soft giggle that bubbled up from within her, caused yn to giggle as well.

their gazes lingered, curiosity and vulnerability meeting in a silent exchange of understanding. for a moment, the walls that had stood between them crumbled, replaced by an unspoken connection of their shared laughter.

the sound of the door opening cuts off their soft moment the sounds of the other girl’s voices filling the house.

“we’re back!”

yn gets up from the floor and stretches her hand out to haerin who looks at it before softly placing her hand in yn’s, they smile at each other when yn pulls her up but watch shocks her is that yn doesn’t let go of her hand.

instead the girl interlocks their fingers and drags the girl along with her towards the door way.

“did you guys bring food?!”

“yn we’re in the middle nowhere, what food are we going to bring?”

[diejager]

could you write something for stepdad alejandro and dbf rodolfo?🩵

Cw: stepcest, praising, worshipping reader, fluff, barbecue, cheating, tell me if I missed any. Note: I stuck with the “canon” age, meaning Rudy and Alejandro are in their late 30s or early 40s.

Mexican summers were always warm - warmer than what you were used to when you were living farther up - with it’s blazing sun and vivid fauna that seemed to glow under the heat and clear blue sky. Thankfully, the air wasn’t stale, neither dry nor humid, but a equal temperament with a soft breeze that cooled the sweat that clung to your skin. You hadn’t dared wear anything other than your bikini when you stood in the busy backyard barbecue your mom and your stepdad had decorated and filled to have guests and friends alike over in the mids of a beautiful July. Unlike many of the older women who covered up in a dress or loose pants out of traditionalist convenience, their children - a cousin or a friend, young adults who were as rambunctious as you - were unabashedly prancing around in thin-strapped bikinis and low trunks, all happy to take in the warmth on their bronze skin. 

Some people you knew, others you didn’t, Alejandro often invited his ragtag group he called Los Vaqueros to every barbecue if he could, his bright and joyous smile lifting the corners of his lips while he flipped the spiced beef kebab he left marinating yesterday. You couldn’t say you knew them very well, boisterous and proud people, but you were familiar with his right-hand man, sweet Rudolf who seemed to loved pampering you as much as he adored you. A man of softness and tender praises, the rough texture of his fingers carefully holding your hips, massaging the fatty rolls and whispering compliments, affectionate confession about how pretty and perfect you were.

“Muñequita, ” Rudy mumbled, pulling you towards him by your waist in open affection, letting others see how close he was to you, arm wrapped around your back and cheek pressed to yours, a smile lighting up his face with every flustering words he let slip down his tongue, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lashes fluttering from how close his lips were to yours, his minty and warm musk filling your sense as much as it drowned out all your thoughts, “Why?”

He chuckled at your flustered and glazed expression, your lips pulled in a small and adorable pout while you clung to him, leaning your weight into his side as if you attempted to stand closer and closer to him despite being wrapped up in him arms:

“Ale and I were thinking of taking you out. That new restaurant you mentioned? We managed to reserve a table.”

“What?!” You turned to stare at him, gaping admiringly, “I- How’d you even do that? I’ve tried so many times and they always seem to be booked!”

“Well, Ale pulled some fa-”

“Honey!” Your mother called out to you from her side of the garden, surrounded with friends near the food table, “Could you go down and get more beers?”

“Of course, Ma!” You clambered out of the pool, water dripping down your thighs while you patted yourself dry, “Sorry, Rudy, I’ll be right back.”

You caught him smiling at you before you slipped through the kitchen door, carefully stepping down the basement-turned-man-cave’s stairs to get the beers out of the fridge. Finding the right pack, your bent down to rummage through the back to reach it when you felt hands grasp your hips. You jolted, eyes wide as you peered over your shoulder-

Only to see Alejandro’s shit eating rain, wild and blazing, smirking down at you with his crotch pressed to your ass. You swallowed thickly, watching the corded muscles of his arm flex and his swimming trunks hanging low, a bit of trimmed hair peaking out to tease you. 

“Thought I’d come down and help.”

Your body burned under his lidded gaze, thick and heavy, weighing you down with a churning in your core,

“Seems like more than just help.”

He laughed, a low bellow that rocked you forward, his shoulders shook and eyes gleamed so brightly, but mischievously. He was like the sun, hot and boisterous, and Rudy the ocean, all embracing and calm.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Rambling Something in Few Sentences - Fluff version]

TF141*Reader. Different Seasons with different members, Same love and FLUFF 🫡💖pls come here if you want angst version :D

Gaz - Spring

“Hey Kyle, this shop got cherry blossom theme donuts!” He gets pulled to the bakery and comes out with 10 donuts in the paper bag.

“They have a Spring discount for chocolates, let’s buy some!” another 5 bags of white chocolates are added to the bag.

“New marshmallows for picnic? we can eat this on our picnic next week!”He watches you grab 3 different flavors and head to the counter.

“Didn’t you just tell me you’re on a diet yesterday?”

“What did you just say, Garrick?”

“Nothing, honey.”

Ghost - Summer

“the weather just makes the air humid and stinky”

“Two windmills are standing on a wind farm, One asks, “What’s your favorite type of music?””

“mmhmm”

“The other says, “I’m a big metal fan.” “

“Thank you baby, the room’s fucking dry now.”

“Good.” He doesn’t move his eyes from the pages, just pats your head that’s resting on his chest and keeps reading.

Soap - Autumn

“Finally finish cleaning these shite.” Johnny wipes off the sweat on his forehead and proudly looks at the leaves you two just swept into a huge pile.

“...”

“Bonnie?”

He jumps when he sees you staring at the pile of leaves, and suddenly start dashing and jumping into it with face down.

“damn Johnny this is fun!” Your muffled voice coming when you wiggle your limbs like a starfish makes him burst into laughter.

Fuck it, it won’t kill him to do this whole thing again. He thinks as he runs and slumps into the leaves beside you and drags you into his embrace, enjoying your warm body pressed against him and the pleasant giggles from you.

Price - Winter

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 1: shoving your sock feet into your husband’s sweater.” He chuckles when you tuck your feet under his sweater and rest them on his tummy.

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 2: rob your husband’s blanket.” He scoots closer to you on the couch when you wrap his blanket tightly around you two.

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 3: hug your husband like you’re a koala and steal his warmth.” You sitting on his lap and clinging to him like he’s a trunk makes his heart melt at your cuteness.

“Best ways to warm yourself, number 4” He scoops you up and carries you back to the bedroom “Have a pretty partner and show your love to them on your bed.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 4

In which you finally come back home.

Warnings: alcohol use. angst. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word count: 1.9k plus social media posts

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate - Part 3 - Master List

LittlestSainzSis honey, i'm home. user433 isn't it weird she's working for McLaren and not Ferrari??? >>>user3928 nope! hope this helps! user2918 press officer job right out of school? must be nice being a nepo baby >>>user328 she literally worked for Carlos and Lando for two years before going to uni at NYU??? And she has a double degree in PR and business??? >>>usesr322 just say you're jealous next time, it'll be quicker. McLaren So glad to have you back in the paddock!!

LittlestSainzSis fast cars go vroom OscarPiastri so you're who Zak was yelling at to get behind the barrier over the radio??? >>>LittlestSainzSis oops!

LittlestSainzSis that feeling when you wake up and realize it's race day!! user3928: face card never declines user298: blah blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff LandoNorris: don't let that cute face fool you, she was yelling at Oscar and I ten seconds after I took this. >>>LittlestSainzSis neither of you were listening!!! God, this is 2019 all over again, isn't it? >>>user992 ariana what are you doing hereeeeee??? >>>user9383 seriously the first time Lando's in the comments in literal years. tf??? >>>user938 so we're all just going to ignore him calling her cute??? okay???

LittlestSainzSis the boys are ready for race day!!! McLaren best press officer award goes to you bby! >>>user382 admin is unhinged today, I see user0392 i just love seeing Lando back on her feed. >>>user3938 seriously. i feel like mom and dad are back together again. >>>user3844 i'm so glad i don't have to be a child of divorce anymore.

LittlestSainzSis caught someone being a grumpy gills today during the presser. LandoNorris i was probably hungry >>>LittlestSainzSis i think oscar had just told you he was getting sushi with Lily tonight and you got all pouty >>>user948 not her selling out Lando in the comments user938 Chaos Gremlins back to terrorizing paddock! war is over!

Miami May 2024

“Fifteen times Lando Norris has stood on the podium, but never on the top step, until now! It’s a landmark day for Lando! Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It’s victory in Miami for Norris and McLaren! The British drivers dream is realized and at the 110th attempt, he’s done it! He’s won it! Look what it means to Zak Brown! At long last, Lando is your winner!” 

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Alex Jacques call the end of the race in your headphones, his voice filled with glee and excitement that matches the feeling in the McLaren garage. After yesterday’s DNF for Lando, it had been pretty doom and gloom on his side of the garage. 

Your heart had ached when you caught sight of him that afternoon, sitting in the glass enclosed conference room that the team used to go over race data. He had been all alone, spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs, face drawn and shuttered. You had wanted to go to him then but hadn’t worked up the courage. 

Things were still…delicate between the two of you. After that first night in Australia, Lando had kept his promise to win your friendship back. You more often than not found your morning coffee order sitting at your desk waiting for you during the week with a silly note written hastily on a posit in his chicken scratch writing that only you seemed to be able to decipher. 

A few treats and free coffee weren’t going to be enough to bring back that casual intimacy that you and Lando had though, you both knew that. The walls you had built up so high around your heart designed specifically for the British driver were still solidly in place and you refused to go running back into his arms so easily. 

And then, Miami happens.

The hot sticky humidity clings to your skin as you watch Lando climb out of the car behind the black and white number 1 sign, the first time he’s been able to park his Formula 1 car right in the middle of parc fermi. You’re not entirely sure where the humidity of Florida ends and the tears still falling from your eyes begins, you’re such a mess. 

If you were to think too hard about it, the fact that you were a complete puddle of jumbled up emotion would surely scare you a little. Those walls, they couldn’t be crumbling now, could they? They couldn’t be slowly tumbling down, allowing for the while possibility of allowing Lando back into your life like he had been before? 

You don’t have time to get too lost in those dangerous kinds of thoughts though because soon after he hops off the car, he’s running straight over to the garage crew and leaping into their waiting arms. He’s waited for so long for this, so many poor performances, so many mistakes and problems with the car had sent him spiraling for so many years. There had been too many nights you had spent with him when he was barely more than a teenager, sat on the floor lamenting about how shit his car was, how shit his driving was, and if he was destined to be one of those midfield drivers that never won anything in their career. 

All of those doubts are erased now and your tears are falling again as the weight of what he’s done settles over the paddock. His engineers and mechanics eventually place him back down on the ground and he’s hugging Zak next, the CEO of McLaren more of a father figure to him by now. Will gets a hug too, his engineer since he joined the team five years ago. 

And then, icy blue green eyes snag yours and everything else falls away in a muted hush. He’s smiling at you, that megawatt grin making his eyes crinkle up at the corners. It’s one of those genuine Lando smiles that you haven’t been on the receiving end of for far too long. Your heart stutters to a stop when you realize you’re his next target. What is he doing? You think frantically, mortified that you’re about to be the center of attention if he does what you think he’s going to do. 

And he does. He throws his arms around your shoulders and buries his head deep into the crook of your neck, a move that has camera shutters clicking furiously all around you. You, of course, instantly find your arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him to you despite the metal barrier between you. 

“You’re here.” He sounds surprised that you’d miss this moment. 

“Of course I am. My best friend just won his first Grand Prix.” You whisper into his ear as the crowd continues to grow louder. 

Lando pulls back then, tears shining in his eyes. The weight of your words settle on his shoulders and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you the way he is now. He tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen out of your pony tail behind your ear, looking at you like you’ve hung both the moon and the stars in the sky just for him. “I’m so glad you got to be here for this, pretty girl.” 

God, that nickname. It’s the first time you’ve heard it in years and it does significant damage to those carefully constructed walls. 

You smile up at Lando, a little bashful that everyone is watching you two talk so closely together. He returns the smile before turning around to answer a question from one of the officials. He needs to take care of post race inspections, which he does but not before turning back and tossing a wink at you over his shoulder. 

LittleSainzSis It has been a pleasure and privlidge watching you grow over all these years. Life may have taken us in different directions over the last few years but when I say there is no place I would have rather been this afternoon, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Your friendship means the entire world to me, Mr. Norris. I'm so proud of you. One win down, so many more to go. LandoNorris so glad you got to be there today, pretty girl xo >>>user948 WE GOT A PRETTY GIRL COMMENT. >>>user0383 i can die happy now user0832 i'm sorry but guys, she literally just friendzoned him so hard in that caption. >>>user9383 yeah, poor lando

LittlestSainzSis You're going to smell like champagne for weeks LandoNorris worth it user948 EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THAT FACE. explain yourself lando norris. user928 did we mean to post this on main ma'am??? user9482 @/littlestsainzsis giving us what we all crave: lando thirst traps. >>>littlestsainzsis don't say i never give you guys anything ever again ;) >>>user9482 omg hi queen

LittlestSainzSis find yourself a man that looks at you like Lan looks at that trophy user0382 LANNNN??? >>>user9484 I am unwell CarlosSainz He's sleeping with it tonight, isn't he? >>>LandoNorris who told you that??? user9383 i feel like i'm interrupting something here... user0309 this picture is...a choice...

The music of the Miami night club pulses through your body as you sink deeper and deeper into the VIP booth later that night. Lando hadn’t given you any room for arguments after all the media duties were done. You were coming out with him and the rest of the team to celebrate. You had barely tried to refuse, not giving him much of a fight because you secretly wanted nothing more. 

Now you sat in the leather booth situated high up in the dark Miami Beach night club that had invited Lando out the moment he had crossed the finish line earlier in the day. There were what felt like thousands of people, most of them were there to celebrate with Lando, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver. 

Alcohol burns at the back of your throat, blurring your vision nicely as you wait for Lando to return from the bar. You had insisted that he wasn’t the one who should be making drink runs tonight but he had insisted on getting you another one and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Carlos is sat next to you, nursing a drink while talking to Charles on his other side.

A small glass is set down in front of you, drawing your attention away from the DJ booth, where you had been starting. 

“Vodka sprite for my pretty girl.” Lando murmurs in your ear, the words sending a cool shiver up your spine.  

You desperately tamp down the way that being called his makes you feel. You cannot be going down that road. Not now when the friendship between the two of you is so fragile. You knew what it was like to lose him in your life and you weren’t sure if you were willing to risk losing him again. 

The same worries you had back before it all went sideways worm their way back into your consciousness. He was too important to you, too integrated into your soul that when he disappeared, it left you broken in a million pieces. You couldn’t risk that again. This had to be strictly platonic between you if it was going to work. You couldn’t afford to lose your best friend again. Those walls around your heart needed to be reinforced and brought back into working order because there was no way you could let this happen. 

“Dance with me?” The question is a husky one, whispered in your ear so no one else is privy to it. 

You know it’s dangerous. You should say no. But the vodka already in your system convinces you that it’s fine. It’s just Lando. So against your what your sober self would consider the best judgement, you feel yourself nodding, allowing Lando to tangle his fingers with yours and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

If you had been paying better attention, you would have seen the looks Carlos and Charles exchanged behind your back. They were well aware of the frosty relationship that Lando and you had over the last few years and this was a development no one had seen coming but everyone had been hoping for all the same. 

The EDM beats are strong and sensual as Lando leads you out onto the floor, hand firmly gripping yours. He finds an open spot and pulls you towards him, the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves. His hands land on your hips, fingertips gripping at your skirt a little harder than really necessary. You shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want his hands on your hips, his breath mingling with yours, his curls so dangerously close that you could easily rake your fingers through them. You shouldn’t and you can’t because he’s left you before and he could do it all over again. He’s abandoned you and didn’t come back and every sane thought in your body is screaming at you that this man is dangerous. He is dangerous to your heart and your head is thrashing around so loudly but it’s drowned out by the music. 

You simply can’t fight it when he pulls you impossibly closer, hands sliding from your hips lower, lower, lower until it’s almost indecent. The alcohol blurs the edges of your usually sharp judgement and it’s not helped by the fact that this man seems to have cast a spell over you. You can’t want this. Can’t love how the weight of his hands feel on your skin. Can’t adore how his lips tick up at the edges when he sees you walk into the garage during a race weekend. 

This is Lando after all. Your best friend. Your best friend who abandoned you once and had only barely just come back begging for forgiveness. You can’t allow him to knock down those walls so quickly, can you? 

His lips flutter over the damp skin at your temple, dusting the slightest kiss there, almost as if it’s a test. A test to see if you push him away or allow him in. 

A test that you fail. 

Because the moment his lips touch your skin, it feels like a bucked of ice water has been splashed over your head and you realize what the fuck you’re doing. Its too hot. Too close. Too much and you simply can’t have him touching you anymore. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Panic races through you as you stumble back out of his arms, logic finally winning out over your own heart’s stupidity. 

The delicate balance you had struck with him shatters in an instant because you both knew there was supposed to be more between you but you’re desperately scared and Lando is so wretchedly full of regret he can’t stand it. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all you manage to choke out before fleeing. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16

(Some of the tags aren't working? LMK if you want to be added/removed but I'm like 99% certain I have everyone!)

[kvetchlandia]

Tumblr Friends, I've been offline for the past couple of days on account of having lost power due to the catastrophic fires in Los Angeles. I'm located pretty close, maybe 3 or 4 miles, from one of the major fires, the Altadena/Eaton fire. I've received a warning to be prepared in case an evacuation order is issued but thus far, I've been in luck and none has. I lost power on Tuesday, around 6 in the evening and only just got it back. All is well with me, and many thanks to those of you who messaged me, wondering if everything was OK.

The situation for many Southern Californians is beyond horrific. Thousands of buildings, the vast majority of them homes, have been destroyed. Historical sites have been lost. Huge swaths of natural areas have been leveled. Tens of thousands of people have been evacuated and many thousands are now without homes. The air is so bad, so filled with smoke and ash, that just inhaling is like smoking an unfiltered Marlboro. Things are only going to get worse before they get better. The Santa Ana winds, which had gusts of up to 100 mph on Tuesday, have died down today, giving firefighters a chance to at least make small progress in containing the blazes, but the winds are supposed to be back tomorrow and humidity will be dropping to single digits, making the chance of more hell likely, if not a certainty. The apocalypse isn't over yet.

This photo is a shot I took with my phone through my bedroom window of yesterday's sunrise. The sun was blood red through all of the smoke. Kind of appropriate.

Thanks again for your concern

[suguwu]

the new moon is a dark eye in the sky. around it, the stars shine unfettered. you tilt your head to watch them glitter; they disappear when the porch light flickers on.

sae steps out onto the porch a moment later.

"the light was off for a reason," you say.

"you get too melancholy when you stargaze," he says flatly.

you let out a little breath. you hadn't realized he remembered that.

"so?"

he shrugs.

"is she asleep?"

"yeah."

"how many stories did it take?"

"less than yesterday."

you glance at sae. he's pretty even under the harsh florescence of the porch light; it plays over his face like a lover.

"why did you come out?" you ask.

"i'm leaving."

"oh."

he raises a brow.

"it's late," you say. your voice wavers, just a hint, a leaf trembling in the breeze. "you should stay."

"you said you didn't want me staying over."

"i know," you say. "just for tonight, though."

sae watches you for a moment. in the dim of the night, his teal eyes are darkened to the color of the winter sea, a deep, bleak blue. you shift under his gaze; it's an autopsy cut.

"no," he says. "i want more than just tonight."

"sae—"

"i want to be here," he says.

you pull your lower lip between your teeth, worrying at the flesh. sae tracks the movement, his eyes darkening even more.

"i'm not ready," you say.

he tilts his head. "yes," he says. "you are."

"i'm not."

"the school called me."

you blink, thrown by the non-sequitur. "okay?"

"they were confirming my number for her emergency contact."

your cheeks go hot. "i didn't realize they'd do that."

"you're ready," he says. "you're just scared of the fact that you're ready."

"don't say it like you know it for a fact, sae. you're not me."

he steps closer. the scent of him drifts around you, strengthened by the humid summer air. you breathe it in.

"let me in," he says, an echo of the past. he slips a hand to your jaw and makes you look at him. his eyes are blazing, st. elmo's fire.

"sae—"

he leans in; his breath puffs against your lips. you don't pull away.

he kisses you. his hand slips to the back of your neck; he uses it to cradle you closer. it's possessive. it makes a shiver slip down your spine, winter come early.

when you part, you smack him on the chest.

"ow," he says, deadpan.

"you can't kiss me compliant," you tell him.

he shrugs, unrepentant.

"tonight and tomorrow," you say, the words pulled from somewhere deep inside you. "and then we'll see."

he sighs. "fine," he says. "but i'll convince you."

you already know he will.

[me-and-your-husband]

if you lie down with me || e.w.

summary: there's one thing you and ellie don't have in common: immunity.

warnings: not beta read, swearing, blood, canon typical violence, death by suicide, ellie has concerning ideations, smut, oral, scissoring, multiple orgasms, angst!, crying during sex, arguing, probably more

word count: 6k

a/n: i know, i'm sorry for using this photo 😭 actually i'm sorry i wrote this entire thing

The end never feels like the end, does it? When you wake in the morning, the air is as fresh as the day before and the sun streams through the window at the same angle. You smile fondly at the incessant banging on your door, and at her urging tone when she tells you to get out of bed. “We have patrol,” she says, like she's said a thousand times before. What makes today any different? 

The gravel road feels the same as it crunches under your boots as she leads you to the gate. Her auburn hair shines the same in the light, the same way you've admired since you were fourteen and she had just settled in Jackson. 

You were helping out in the library, arms full of books stacked above your head. You struggled trying to keep them up with one hand and shelve them with the other. She noticed you from the corner, where she sat with a pile of beaten comics and a Walkman. “Need some help?” she asked, standing up from her spot on the ground. She took half the books from your pile and put them wherever you told her. After, when you asked her about the comics she was reading, her face lit up and she knew that you'd be a part of her life until death. Finally, someone was interested in knowing her. 

The friendly faces of the watchmen at the gate were the same as they were yesterday, a week ago, a month ago, a year. They waved at you and wished you good luck as you mounted your horse and rode alongside Ellie onto the trail. The way she shoved her pistol in her back pocket and slung her bow over her shoulders was always the same. The way your horse galloped evenly alongside Shimmer did not deviate from the norm. 

When she spoke up, her words were usual. 

“Look, babe. A hummingbird,” she said with glee, pointing to the frosty trees.

You smiled at her excitement. “Poor thing, it's so cold out.”

“Don't you remember?”

“Of course I remember, El,” you laughed. “How could I forget?”

How could you forget? It was a humid summer afternoon, shortly after Ellie had turned sixteen. You had snuck out of Jackson to explore a creek you had found the day prior on group patrol. You so badly wanted to show Ellie, to share every part of you with her. You didn't know what to call it, but you assumed it was just because you were really good friends. 

The soft rush of the water and the gentle breeze across your skin contrasted to the beating sun plastering your hair to your skin. You and Ellie sat with your backs against a wide oak, watching minnows skip through the water. 

“Do you think animals have feelings? Like us?” Ellie thought out loud. 

You hummed, “I do, but not as complicated as ours.” 

She nodded in agreement before her eyes drifted to the source of a new sound, a gentle humming. She saw the gentle bird sucking nectar from a flower, tapping your shoulder gently and pointing. 

“Look, a hummingbird,” she whispered.

“Woah!” You beamed, “I’ve only seen them in those nature books in the library. That's so cool. Did you know the sound actually comes from its wings?” 

As you watched the hummingbird, she watched you. “It’s really pretty.”

You agreed. She said your name, but looked away from you. 

“Yeah?”

“I think I like girls.”

You let the words settle in the air. 

“I think I do too.”

It was the first indication that something else could happen between you and her, something less platonic than you would've thought. After that, neither of you said anything about it, confident in the fact that something more could exist in the spaces between. 

It was the same confidence you had today as you followed her through the Wyoming woods, putting your trust in her. You took the same path almost every time you went out on patrol, knowing your way around, knowing the landmarks of the area. You knew you were getting close to the danger zone when you saw your favourite tree, the one you and Ellie would lean against by the creek, telling each other secrets into the night, crossing your heart to never tell another soul. Each of you knew that the other’s soul was the only one that mattered, anyways. 

It was just over a year ago that you’d both carved your initials into that tree, reminders of that early morning on patrol bringing a smile to your face. 

You had stopped for a moment to take a short break against the tree, letting your horses get some rest. Ellie leaned up against the tree as you pet Shimmer. The sun shone despite the snow and the brisk weather, illuminating your features gently. She admired the curve of your lips and the shape of your eyes, imagining her fingers tracing your skin under lamplight late at night. You looked up at her when your name tumbled from her lips. 

“Yeah?” You said, continuing to pet Shimmer.

“I like you.”

The air stilled and your hand faltered, breath hitching. But what if she didn’t mean it like that? 

You forced a laugh. “Well, I’d hope so. We’ve been friends for how long?”

“No, I…” she struggled for the right words. “I want to be more than friends. I like you. Like…romantically. And stuff.”

She played with her fingers, shuffling her feet back and forth in the snow, not meeting your gaze. 

“Ellie, look at me. Please,” you whispered. She raised her eyes to yours, but still kept her head low, not bringing it up until your hand cupped her jaw. She moved her hand on top of yours, trapping it there, wondering if it was just a dream. 

She closed her eyes tight when she saw you leaning in, praying that you weren't messing with her. When she finally felt your lips ghosting across hers, she leaned into you. Your touch was fire on her skin, leaving a red blush in its wake. She pressed your mouth to hers hungrily, never wanting this to end. 

“I like you too,” you mumbled against her lips. 

When you finally broke for air, chests heaving, you were both beaming. Ellie nervously reached into her pocket for her pocket knife, flicking it open. She held the blade against the bark of the tree, grabbing our hand and putting it on the hilt, sliding hers over top of it. 

She guided your hand as you carved your initials into the tree, trapping them inside of a heart. It was cliche, but it meant everything to you. 

It was the same tree that, a year later, you and Ellie passed on almost every patrol. The same tree that symbolized your everlasting love for each other. The same tree that stood since the dawn of your and Ellie’s time. 

You rode casually in comfortable silence until you got to the watchtower, negative memories plaguing both you and Ellie. The floorboards still held the echoes of your voices yelling, still soaked in your tears. 

Four months ago, when the rabbits were still brown and the path was clear of snow, you'd come through this watchtower to find two clickers. It caught you both off guard, as Jesse and Dina had just cleared it as safe the day before. 

Ellie, always being the hero, snuck up behind one, taking it out easily, and lunged at the other. The second one, however, pinned her to the ground, and she held it by the neck, its arms clawing hers. 

The sound of your pistol rang out as the body slumped on top of Ellie. She rolled it off and got up from the ground, chest heaving. 

“Well,” she said, brushing dirt from her jeans, “that was pretty close. Thanks.”

When you didn't respond, she turned to see you standing with your pistol still in both hands, brows furrowed as you watched the dead body of the clicker intently. She called your name. 

“What is it?”

You shook your head. 

“Come on, tell me-”

“Every fucking time, Ellie,” you said, shoving your pistol back in your pocket and turning away from her. “Why do you have to run head-first into danger like that every time?”

She didn't say anything, gaze on your back as she watched you turn back around. 

“What would I have done if you had gotten bit?” You said, voice a little watery. “Say something.”

She stumbled over her words, not knowing what to say. “I don't try to, you know, it’s just…” she sighed.

“You know, Ellie, sometimes I think that I value your life more than you do.”

The words hung in the air between you two, both of you knowing that you were right. Knowing that she could've been more, done so much more, saved so many people. But she was stripped of that. So what kind of meaning could she give to her life? What did she really have to live for? Before Joel, she never really had someone she knew would care if she died. Now she had you, and she didn't know how her recklessness would affect you. Now she did. 

“Okay, you're right. I’m too reckless. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll start thinking before I react,” she said, voice softening. 

You huffed, “I just worry about you, El. I don't know what I’d do without you.”

She hugged you tight, letting you nuzzle into her chest. She knew how you felt. Before you, she was hopeless. She didn't see a point in doing anything if her life couldn't be used by someone. What was it all for? Everything she'd struggled through? All she'd suffered? 

Now she knew that she was forced to experience it all so that she could end up with you. And she’d do it a million times over. 

She breathed your name. “I need to tell you something.”

You pulled away from her, “Well that's one way to start a conversation.”

She laughed nervously. “No, it's nothing bad. It's just…it might be hard to swallow.”

She gestured at an old, ratty chair. You sat and watched her intently. 

She took a deep breath, drawing it into her lungs and releasing it. “Do you remember why I got my tattoo?”

“Yeah, to cover up that chemical burn.”

“I lied,” she said. “That's not why I got the tattoo.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, silently begging her to go on. 

“When I was fourteen, I was bitten. On my arm.”

You sat back in your chair. 

“I waited and waited for my mind to go, for my body to go, for anything to happen, but it never did. So…I’m immune, or whatever,” she said, searching for a reaction. 

Seconds of silence passed. It was shattered with a laugh.

“That's a good one, Ellie. Real funny.”

“It’s true! Ask Joel. Tommy. Maria. They're the only ones who know…”

“And you expect me to believe this?”

“Just trust me. Please. It's all I ask, is for you to trust my word. Why would I lie to you about this?” She pleaded. 

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“Because Joel thinks it's dangerous for people to know. That's how we met, you know. He was hired to get me to the fireflies…they were going to make a cure,” she said, voice trailing off towards the end. 

“It didn't work, I take it?”

She shook her head. “Joel says they didn't need me.” Joel says. 

“Okay,” you said, making her look up at you. “I believe you. But that doesn't mean I’m fine with you running head-first into infected like that again. Just because you're…immune, doesn't mean you can't be torn apart. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said, crouching in front of you and putting her hands on your thighs. “God, I love you.”

You cleared out the watchtower and made your way back to the path. This part was one of your favourites, winding through the mountains. Your horses trotted casually beside each other. 

“Okay, okay, here's one: What do you say when a chef dies?” 

“Oh god, I don't know?”

“He pasta-way!” She said, giggling before she could even say the answer. 

Her laughter was contagious, sending it bubbling through your chest. “That's so bad that it's good.”

“Come on, just admit that I’m a top-notch comedian. If the world wouldn't have ended, I’d’ve been up there with Dave Chapelle.”

“Who’s Dave Chapelle?”

“I don't actually know. Some old ass comedian Joel told me about.”

You both laughed, smiles painted across your faces. However, the giggles subsided as you felt your horse start to shake slightly. 

“Woah, Shimmer, you okay girl?” Ellie said, patting her side. 

“Beau’s shaking too.”

“Maybe they’ve got…I don't know, a cold or something? Can horses even get colds?” You shrugged. “Maybe we should let them rest for a bit.”

You agreed, dismounting your horse and planting your feet on the ground. The shaking underneath you didn’t stop. You looked at Ellie, who looked at the mountain behind you. She yelled your name as you looked behind you.

A loud, grating noise sounded as you watched the earth of the mountain loosen from its side, rocks and boulders tumbling from it, falling in your direction. 

You hurriedly mounted your horses again, kicking their ribs to get them to go. You rode as fast as you could, attempting to beat the oncoming landslide. You'd never seen one before, only heard stories and read of them in books. You were about three quarters of the way through the mountain range when the land detached from the mountain and began to slide. 

“Go, go, go!” You yelled, Ellie a few feet ahead of you as her horse was younger than Beau. She glanced behind her every few seconds to make sure you were still there. 

The rocks falling created a settlement of dust around you, making it increasingly harder to breathe. You finally saw the green clearing outside of the mountain range. Almost there. 

The grating noise died, and you peered behind you to see the path completely covered in rubble. A few boulders still tumbled from the mountain, or whatever was left of it. 

“Watch out!” Ellie yelled. You looked to your right, seeing a massive boulder rolling down the mountain, coming right for you. 

You acted before you could think, much like Ellie, and propelled yourself forward off your horse as the boulder hit Beau and rolled atop of his body. You landed on the ground near Ellie, propping yourself up on your elbows to gawk at the sight. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, running to Beau. His body was mangled, bones sticking out of the skin and blood painting the grass. You felt like vomiting. 

Ellie dismounted her horse, still shaking from the adrenaline, and put her hands on your shoulders, attempting to get you standing. 

“Wait,” you said, leaning back down, planting a teary kiss on Beau's muzzle. 

You stood, holding her tight. “Let's never come through here again.”

“Don't think we can, sweetheart,” she said, looking back at the obstruction. “Come on, we've gotta find a new way back home.”

She was about to help you mount Shimmer when you both froze in your tracks. A low, husky groan rung out through the air, scaring Shimmer. She ran into the clearing out of fright. 

“Shit,” Ellie breathed. 

“We’ll find her later. Come on, we have to go. It's either a bloater or a shambler, and I don't really want to stick around to find out.” 

You turned to leave when the ground shook again. You turned around, looking back at the mountain. It wasn't the mountain shaking this time. Spewing through the hole the landslide left like spiders were hundreds—if not thousands—of infected. Clickers, runners, stalkers, bloaters, shamblers. Everything. 

There was no way you were making it out of this unless you legged it now. 

In unison, you and Ellie started sprinting to your last checkpoint— the old cabin. You ran faster than you ever had before, the sounds of hungry infected hot on your heels. You couldn't feel your legs, the burning in your flesh too intense. When the cabin finally came into view, you couldn't even allow yourself a breath of relief. You and Ellie had your guns out, shooting behind you as you ran, picking off as many infected as you could. When you were close enough to the cabin, the idea hit you. You knew that the creaky boards of the cabin wouldn't hold that many infected off. You knew what you had to do. 

“Ellie, cover me!” You yelled as you slung your backpack off your shoulder and grabbed what you'd need. You grabbed an old bottle of whiskey you and Ellie had found at the watchtower and a rag. Stuffing the rag in the bottle, you lit it with your lighter. 

In the ten seconds it took you to do this, the infected crept closer and closer to you. Ellie tried picking off as many as she could, keeping them away from you. Until her magazine ran out. 

You threw the molotov in front of the hoard of infected. It exploded, creating a wall of fire between you and your death. 

Until a single clicker went at you from the side. The light of the fire flickered in your irises and cast an orange glow across your face, and you didn't even hear it creeping up amidst the roar of the flames. You didn't even hear Ellie yell your name. 

It tackled you to the ground before you could even turn your head all the way, talons scratching your arms and legs, sinking into your stomach. Its jaw was inches away from your neck, begging to gnaw on your jugular. In the struggle for your life, you couldn't even tell where you were and weren't hurt, what was bleeding and what wasn't. 

Blood gushed into your hair and eyes as you watched Ellie slice its head clean off with her pocketknife. The same one you'd carved your initials into that old oak with. 

Something inside of you rattled knowing that something could be used so innocently and yet so dangerously. 

Ellie picked you up from the ground and helped you limp into the cabin, reeds of grass tickling your wounds. When you entered, you stood in the centre of the room as she barricaded the entrances. 

“There,” she said, returning to you. You were both coming off adrenaline, suddenly feeling the ache in your bones to an indescribable extent. 

You put your hands on your knees and leaned on them, heaving a little. “Ellie. We were so close.”

She just nodded in understanding. Her eyes survey you from top to bottom. You had a scratch across your cheek, a few minor lacerations across your arms and chest, and a few on your legs. She couldn't see any bites. 

You brought your right arm up to run it shakily through your hair. That's when she saw it, brutal and bloody, painted into your skin like a brand. One that would decide your fate. Except that it had already been decided. 

The sight of the bite on your forearm turned her stomach. She blinked over and over again, hoping that she was seeing wrong. Maybe she was still coming off of adrenaline. “Your arm…” she breathed. 

“What?” You asked, confused. You looked over your left, then your right, and…oh. “Oh.”

The silence was deafening. It wasn't like you'd been badly injured, still with a sliver of possibility for recovery. No, this bite sealed your fate. 

In the next day, you were going to become something Ellie had to detest. Something she had to kill. 

You felt the bile rise in your throat just in time to grab a decayed flower pot. You choked out everything in your stomach and more.

Ellie grabbed her stomach as she felt her body start to shake, that feeling creeping up her spine again. Her breath felt like it was being siphoned out of her. She needed air, but her lungs would not take any in. She hyperventilated as she threw herself back against the wall, legs giving out. 

A sweat broke out across her body, knowing that she's losing you tonight. 

Her mind shoved memories into her vision that she swore to never bring up again. 

“There're a million ways we should've died before today. And a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But we fight…for every second we get to spend with each other. Whether it's two minutes…or two days. We don't give that up.”

She remembers the small, impossible slice of hope in Riley’s eyes, one that she knew was futile. Riley was her first love. She thought they were both going to die. She felt…horrible. You would be her last love, though she knew only you were fated to die. She knew she would die too. 

Your voice calling her name broke her out of her fit. One look at you wiping your face and shaking was enough to make her want to break something, anything. 

“Ellie,” you called. She stood and began pacing, running her hands over her face. “Ellie, stop it.”

“There's gotta be…there has to…we need…” she babbled, still pacing. An idea clicked, “give me your arm.”

You held out your shaking arm to your lover, expecting her to inspect the area. Instead, she took out her pocket knife and pressed the blade into her hand without any hesitation. 

“Ellie! What the fuck?!” You said, trying to stop her hand from bleeding. 

“Give me your arm,” she said firmly, a major contrast from before. When you hesitated, her hard gaze met yours. Her eyes softened when she saw the fear in your eyes. “Please,” she whispered. 

You gave her your arm and let her rub her blood into the bite. 

She took your arm and rubbed the blood into the bite knowing it wouldn’t work. 

It wouldn't work on you. 

She knew that. 

She tried anyway.

As she massaged the blood as deep into the wound as she could get, all she could think about was that she would've been able to save you if they made the cure. Her life would've had meaning, so much meaning. She would've been able to cure you from this. But she was helpless, cursed to watch you suffer. 

“Ellie,” you said, putting your hand atop hers to get her to stop and look at you. She could see in your eyes that you just needed to be close to her in that moment. She needed it too, needed to be impossibly closer as to grip into you forever. 

She buried her head into your neck and you did the same, holding your breath. For if you breathed, time would pass. If time passed, you'd be gone. 

You don't know how long you held each other like that, but it was long enough that your legs nearly collapsed with exhaustion. You were the first to speak. 

“I need you to promise me something,” you whispered. 

Ellie knew what you were going to say before the words left your mouth. 

“No-” she began pulling away from you, but you squeezed her tighter. 

“When it starts to happen…when I can feel it, I’m going to take my gun-”

“Stop it-”

“-and I’m going to go outside. You’ll know it's over-”

“-Stop-”

“-when you hear it. Just promise me you won't look.”

“Stop, please,” she begs, tears brimming in her eyes again. She takes a step back from you and turns around. 

“Promise me.”

The words get caught in her throat. Her lip trembles. “Okay.”

Outside, rain starts to fall softly, tapping against the rotting wood of the cabin. 

She breaks the new silence. “I should've been there. I should've taken my rifle out, anything-”

“El, it's not your fault. Look at me,” you say. She looks at you over her shoulder. You nearly crumble at her red eyes and wet cheeks. “Never blame yourself. You hear me?”

She just squeezes her eyes shut, willing for this to all go away. 

You walk to her, putting your hands on her shoulders and leaning your forehead against her back. You tried not to look at the bite. 

“Ellie.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you give me one last good night?”

The soft pattering of the rain against the wood, trickling off the roof and into the ground. 

“Please?”

She says nothing, instead turning around and gently capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bloodied hands find her wet cheeks, noting that the tears haven't stopped. 

Ellie wanted to give you everything you wanted and more, and she had sworn she would from the moment she met you. If this was the last thing you ever asked from her, she would give it to you. 

But it was so unbelievably hard knowing that this time would be your last. 

She pushed you back against the wall, nearly devouring you. The salty mix of your tears and hers slipped into the kiss, but you didn't care. She moved her hand down to cup you where you wanted her.

You bucked your hips into the friction, already needing her. You began to undo your belt, but Ellie’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” She said, voice gravelly. 

“Yes, El,” you said. “I don't know where I’ll be tomorrow, or…what I’ll be,” she let out a shaky breath, “but I know I want to be with you right now.”

She sniffled and nodded, getting on her knees to take your belt off. She threw it to the side, unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down along with your panties. You opened your legs wider for her.

She ran two fingers through your slit before sinking one into your hole, tongue giving kitten licks to your folds. 

You could tell that she wasn't going to be as vocal as usual. 

You couldn't really blame her. 

You whimpered as she added another finger, pumping them in and out of you, filling the air with obscene sounds. She lapped at your cunt, trying her hardest to give you what you want. 

“Ellie, don't stop,” you moaned, whimpering when she used her other arm to hold your hips down against the wall. “Almost there.”

You could feel the coil tightening inside if you quickly, your climax coming in record time. You thought for a moment that it was because of how sensitive you were in this moment. 

You moaned wantonly and grabbed her hair as you came, her tongue working on your clit and her fingers scissoring you open. 

You expected her to stop, but she kept going. In fact, she added a third finger. 

You heard her moan into your pussy, looking down to find her grinding into the floor, a wet spot forming on her jeans. She was so messy, your juices coating her face, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair, rutting into nothing and moaning into your cunt. 

When the fabric of her jeans caught her clit just right, she took her mouth of your pussy, replacing it with her thumb instead, and leaned her forehead against your stomach. You came with her from the sensitivity, both of your moans filling the air, pleading for more. 

When she laid you down on a thin blanket from her backpack and undressed both of you, you noted the scared look in her eyes. The way she looked at you, drinking you in, knowing this would be your last time together. Some part of you wished that neither of you knew about the bite, that you didn't have to treat this so differently. That you could enjoy it. Enjoy your last moments together.

She threw her leg over yours, kissing you messily, yet softly, as she ground into you, folds slotting against each other. You both moaned each time your clits touched. 

As she grew closer to her climax, she buried her face into your neck. You tried to ignore the feeling of her tears trickling down and pooling at your nape. 

You came together. You moaned, but she cried out, more guttural than you'd ever heard from her. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you—!” she cried into your neck as she came. 

When you slowed down, she held you like that without words. 

“I love you too, Ellie,” you whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the rain. 

You held each other as the sun set, through the night, and through the rain. 

The golden rays of the sun shone through the cracks in the walls and shudders, dancing across her bare body pressed into your side. Hours ago, her body had stopped shaking and her tears stopped spilling onto your chest, your hands running patterns across her skin lulling her into an exhausted sleep. 

Your eyes had never closed, however. You knew you wanted to be awake to feel it happening, to know when you were losing control over your body. For Ellie’s sake. 

The rain had stopped and the clouds were cleared. Birds sang outside and all the animals went about their day. You thought it strange that the world would continue on without you, that people will age and new ones will be born, that people will die and people will forget about you in time. Your impermanence had never struck you as hard as it did now. 

You felt the twitching in your feet first, unnoticeable at first, but is it crawled up your limbs, you knew it was happening. It happened over three or four hours, and once you felt your neck jerk the first time, you knew. 

Your blood didn't feel like your own anymore, like someone exsanguinated it and replaced it with jelly, slowing you down. Your vision wasn't gone, but you couldn't focus it on anything. It constantly sounded like you were underwater, drowning, gasping for air to no avail. 

Your eyes hardly left the woman in your arms, clinging to you even in sleep. You know she'd curse herself for falling asleep, but you were thankful for it. You were thankful that you could press a tearful kiss to her forehead before gently escaping her grasp, muffling your sobs behind your hand. You threw your shirt and jeans on quietly, dizzy, slipping your shoes on. Your world spun, your lungs burned, your head throbbed. 

You picked up your pistol, watching Ellie stir slightly in her sleep, creamy skin illuminated in the sun, her freckled face creased slightly with worry, even in sleep. You put the gun in your pocket. 

You tried, as silently as you could, to move the barricade from the door. You were thankful that she was a heavy sleeper. 

You were thankful that you didn't have to see the despair in her eyes when you said a forceful goodbye, thankful that you didn't have to convince her to let you go, thankful that your last memory of her was this, thankful that her last memory of you was bliss. 

Through your sobs, you squeezed through the door and shut it behind you, leaning your head against it, willing for this all to be a nightmare. It wasn't, because you started to feel something else take over your will. 

Before you could lose it completely, you forced yourself into a dense brush of greenery, somewhere you hoped she wouldn't look. 

You panted, sweating, trembling, as you took the pistol out of your pocket. It shook with your hand as you held it to your temple, bright eyes taking in all of the world that you could before it was gone. 

You squeezed them tightly, willing yourself to stop shaking. You conjured the image of your lover in your mind, her auburn hair, milky skin, pretty green eyes, and those familiar freckles. How could you ever forget her?

You took a breath in, and breathed out: “I love you.”

Ellie sat up in terror when she heard the sound of a single gunshot ring through the air, seeping in through the cracks of the window and underneath the door. It took her a moment to process what it was, reaching for her pistol next to her discarded clothes. When her fingertips brushed the gun, it settled in. She craned her head to look beside her, half expecting you to still be asleep. 

When she remembered what the sound of the gunshot meant, what you had made her promise, her lungs collapsed and she couldn't take any air in. Tears spilled from her eyes as she heaved, clawing at her chest for any relief. It didn't come. 

She knew it never would.

When Joel got word that you and Ellie still hadn't returned from patrol, he worried that you'd gotten stuck in the landslide. He pleaded with Tommy and Jesse to go out with him to search, knowing he wouldn't be at peace without knowing what happened. 

When the two agreed, they set off on horses to clear all of the checkpoints. It took an extra day to get around the mountain range that was blocked off by rubble. 

When they only had one more checkpoint to clear, Joel got increasingly worried. If you weren't here, where were you?

When the three men got to the cabin, they held their breath as they dismounted their horses. Joel tried pushing the door open, but the barricade stopped him. It took the three of them to open the door, pushing the barricade out of the way. 

The open door shed light on the figure against the back wall covered in a thin blanket, trembling. Joel let out the breath he was holding in when he saw Ellie. She was clutching your backpack to her chest, trying to keep any remaining part of you alive, hers. 

She had hardly noticed Joel pick her up and carry her to his horse, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to see the world without you in it. 

“Ellie,” Joel’s gruff voice intruded her thoughts, “where is she?”

Ellie’s words failed her. All she could do was point to her forearm, to the bite that only Joel and Tommy knew hid underneath the tattoo. 

She doesn't remember what happened after that. 

It was warmer now, the flowers blossoming and the green coming back to Jackson’s landscape. Ellie sat facing your headstone, wishing you could've seen it. Wishing she could've shown it to you. 

“It’s summer now,” she began. “We started planting these new flowers in your garden…Joel thinks you would've liked them. I think so too. They're really colourful…you know.”

She hesitated.

“Sometimes I wonder if you can hear me. Or if I’m just talking to myself like a crazy person. Joel says it's good for me. I don't know if I believe him.”

She played with her hands, tracing her tattoo. 

“I wish you were still here,” she whispered. Her eyes drifted over all the flowers left by your grave from all the people who loved you. 

Her eyes filled with tears as she watched a pretty red hummingbird land on your grave, searching for pollen in the flowers.

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[daengtokki]

part seven // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 13.6k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: seungmin's worst memory. death & murder. domestic/child abuse. medical settings, medication usage, hallucinations, & shared delusions. more murder. fluff...& sex.

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: I reached 600 followers a few days ago, so thank you guys for liking my stuff enough to deal with me ♡

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TAGLIST: @kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The rain stopped sometime during the night, but it pelted against the roof and windows, and it kept him awake for hours. Usually, the steady sound lulls him to sleep, but last night was different—there was nothing relaxing about that downpour. He does remember waking after his first time dozing off, though, and it was eerily silent with the sound of the rain suddenly gone. But he knows he heard something...it, right outside his window, walking around on the wet, muddy ground.

The first thing he does in the morning is run to his window to open the curtains and let the sun in. The second thing he does is look at the ground in front of the bushes. Deer tracks, he thinks. He’s not good with the local fauna, but he knows they aren’t human footprints. Seungmin doesn't know what lives in those woods, and he doesn’t go in anymore to find out.

Seungmin-ah!

“I’m up, I’m coming!” He quickly rifles through his drawer and pulls out a change of clothes. “I’m coming!” Just as he starts toward the door, he turns and heads back to his bed to throw the covers back up, fluff up his pillow, and grab Daengmo.

“Come get some breakfast”

The door creaks as he pulls it halfway shut, and he bolts down the long hallway toward the kitchen, slipping a little in his socks. Seungmin stops abruptly when he hears the door to his left swing open, and his stomach drops.

“Slow down”

He doesn’t want to look up at him, but he has to, so he gets it over with quickly. “I’m sorry…a—“ he stops himself. Even after so much time has passed, calling him appa is still a reflex. He’s the only father Seungmin can remember. “I’m sorry.” But stepfather doesn’t like it coming from Seungmin’s mouth anymore.

“Breakfast isn’t going anywhere, and neither is your mother.” He passes by him, but not before ripping Daengmo from under his arm, “aren’t you too old for this yet?” Daengmo stares blankly at him, and he stares back with a grimace. Seungmin heart starts to race just as the dog is dropped at his feet. “Should have left this stupid thing out there instead.”

Because he would have never found his way home.

“There you are, my sleepy puppy”

“The rain kept me up, umma”

She sets a bowl of seaweed soup in front of Seungmin, and then another bowl full of rice. “I scrambled some eggs, too, if you’re hungry enough.” Her hand runs down the side of his head to try and flatten out his bed hair.

“Yes, please,” he smiles at her when she returns with a plate.

“And some of the strawberries we picked up yesterday.”

“Did you already eat?”

“I did. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go replant some more flowers.”

*

The greenhouse is hot and humid, but he likes it. He loves the warm months when the plants and flowers come to life, and he loves fall, when the chrysanthemums bloom, and the asters and the marigolds hang on a little longer. It’s always bright and pretty in here, at least until winter creeps in and scares almost everything away.

“Come here, love…hold this for me”

Seungmin drops to his knees and holds the big mound of dirt in his hands. “What are these?”

“Japanese iris”

“And those?”

“Camellia”

A crash from outside grabs his attention, and he almost drops his iris bud before the pot is ready.

“Hey puppy, look at me…don’t worry about him”

“I’m not”

She looks at him, a smile on her face, but eyes full of worry. Seungmin worries all the time, and she knows that. He worries more than any nine year old ever should, and all she wishes for is a chance to take him somewhere far away and never look back. No more worry, and no more fear. “It’s just us, okay? Me and you.”

“Yeah, just us”

The rain starts again, first a slow drop here and there, and gradually, it turns into a downpour. Again, he hears a crash, and even over the deafening sound of rain, he hears his stepfather screaming at nothing in his shed.

“The rain will ruin his day, but not ours”

“Are we planting more of those?” He points to the bright purple flowers in the corner.

“Do you like those? They’re my favorite.”

“They smell nice”

“They do, but they don’t like this weather. Heliotrope needs lots of sun and a little less rain.”

Seungmin pouts.

“That doesn’t mean we won’t try”

The ultrasound room is freezing, and the blanket they put over you is pulled all the way up to your chin. It’s not helping, though. Seungmin slides his jacket off and sets it on top, and his warmth still trapped inside finally helps you stop shivering.

“What’s taking them so long?” He grumbles.

You shrug—this is only your second time in a Korean hospital, but you’re kind of used to waiting when you go to an emergency room, or a doctor’s appointment. The two of you decided the drive back home the next morning instead of revisiting the hospital in Daegu, mostly because Seungmin was eager to get you back to the bed you’ve gotten used to, and back to where he could access the contents of his bank account. Uljin can wait another week or two, he said. Time to resettle and clean up any messes left behind. And you know he also wanted to find a doctor close to home as soon as possible.

“It hasn’t been that long, it’s okay”

“Long enough. And it’s too cold in here. Maybe we can look for another doctor.”

“Let’s at least meet her first. It seems nice here."

*

The apartment looked fine, but it was easy to tell things were moved around. Everything was just slightly off.

“I can’t believe the missing piece of rug wasn’t suspicious.” You look hard at the spot where the kill from that night bled out. There’s no reason to think this was cut because of anything more than a bad spill.

“Yeah, and the spot where the girl fell.” Seungmin stands there and looks at the bare floor. “I’m really glad you didn’t pull that knife out.”

“I used to watch a lot of crime dramas. I still do, just Korean ones."

“That’s how you knew how to stab?”

“I also watched a lot of Dateline”

He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“True crime”

“Oh, that’s me…true crime. Well, that’s us now.”

“Us? That’s romantic.

*

There’s a soft knock on the door, and an older woman, the ultrasound tech, walks in and greets both of you.

“Mother speaks only English? I can speak English.”

“Thank you.” You slide Seungmin’s jacket off and hand it back to him.

“It should be warmer soon, we turned the heat up”

You’re nervous, but you know that Seungmin is even more nervous. From the corner of your eye, you see him hugging his jacket tight as the woman guides your legs up and open, carefully drapes another blankets across your knees, and adjusts the machine on your right.

“I thought you got the little wand on your stomach,” he says, and his eyes move back and forth between you and your wide open legs.

The woman answers first. “Not this one. This gives us a better look, because it’s still early.”

“Oh”. Seungmin watches her every move as she preps, but eventually finds your hands and squeezes it. “Are you warmer?”

You nod, but now all of your attention is on her and the wand in her hand. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you ready? Take a nice deep breath, and relax."

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

More rain, Seungmin thinks as he pushes himself deeper under his blanket. The slow pings start against his window, and he watches as it beats against the glass, harder and harder. The rain never bothered him much before, and it’s not really the rain that’s making sleep so difficult. The problem is what seems to be right outside of his window when the rain comes. Seungmin can’t see it, he doesn’t think…he feels it. Sometimes he thinks he sees the outline of something moving just beyond the bushes, and sometimes he thinks he sees the reflection of glowing eyes.

If he mentioned it to umma, and he might, she would probably tell him it’s just a deer. She would say pull the curtains closed, puppy…if it eases your mind. And that’s just what he does. After a few seconds of working up the courage, he jumps from under his cover and runs to the window, pulls the curtains closed, and then runs and jumps back into his warm bed.

“Better,” he whispers to himself, and just as he closes his eyes, the shatter of glass sends him back up. He sits and stares at his door and waits for another sound.

“You don’t listen!”

Stepfather is screaming, and that’s nothing new. The soft voice of his mother trickles in as she tells him to please keep his voice down, please don’t wake Seungmin.

“He doesn’t listen, either. He can hear this, too. I thought I got rid of these!”

Got rid of what? Seungmin thinks.

“He picked them out at the bookstore yesterday. He’s doing so well…he’s so smart.”

“Is he? I don’t see it.”

“He’s a good boy”

“Give them to me, all of them. And whatever else you spent my money on.”

Seungmin feels tears welling in his eyes, and he tries with everything he has to hold them back. He tries with everything he has to stay put and not run out there and stop him.

“We only bought groceries, and the books…nothing else”

“Don’t lie to me”

He hears a slap, and his mother makes another quiet sound…and his tears start to fall. “Umma, we’ll leave soon…you and me.”

It’s not as bad as you anticipated, but you still grip the hand he gave you. A few seconds of nothing, and then something appears on the screen. You don’t know what you’re looking at, though, because ultrasound images always confused you. It’s nothing but static, and a big black blob that you at least know is where something is supposed to be.

“Can you see?” She asks, and looks at you, and then she looks at Seungmin. “There…on the bottom left. I would say seven weeks, almost eight.” She moves the wand again, and you squeeze his hand a little harder. “Oh…just a moment. I’m sorry, dear.”

“What is it?” Seungmin moves closer, pushes his glasses up, and squints. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, either.

The woman pushes a button on the machine, and you hear the strange, whooshing sound come through. You know what it is, just not from personal experience—a wild heartbeat. And the sound of an actual heart beating makes everything feel very real, very quickly.

She smiles at you with a little hesitancy, and then points at a new spot on the right side of the screen. “Number two is right here. And the first one is…here.”

“Two?"

“Dul?”

“Yes,” she nods, “ye…dul. You have twins, illanseong ssangdung-i.”

“Identical?” Seungmin stares, and he starts to crush your fingers until you shake him loose. “Sorry.”

“How do you know they’re identical? Are you sure there are two?”

“I’m sure, I have seen many many twins on here. We can check again at your next visit, and also let you know sex…if you want to know, in another four or five weeks.”

*

After hearing the second round of unexpected news, you get into bed and sleep for hours. It's the first time in a while you can remember having a completely dreamless sleep, but it doesn't seem the time for that. Right now, your head should be too full to stop.

The sun is mostly set when you finally make yourself get up, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen pulls you back out. You know

“Are you making dinner?”

“Hi, yes…did you sleep well?”

“I did. It smells so good in here.”

He lights up and grabs three bowls from the cupboard, “does it, really? I haven’t tried making kimchi jjigae in a very long time.” Seungmin fills two bowls with stew, and the third he piles high with rice. “I hope it tastes okay.”

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟗-𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The familiar smell of his favorite stew wafts into his bedroom, and he’s on his way down the hall before his mother even calls for him.

“Come here, give me a hug,” she holds her arms open, and Seungmin hugs her tight around the waist. “You’re getting so tall, you’re not gonna be a little puppy much longer.”

“I can be a tall one,” he looks up and sees the bruise he left on her cheek.

“You’re right, you can…go sit, I’ll bring us both a bowl.”

“Where is he?”

It’s as if Seungmin summons him with his words. A moment later, he’s coming in through the side door, pulling off his wet raincoat, and getting out of his shoes. The worst sound in the world for Seungmin is hearing his stepfather return home. But tonight he doesn’t say a word. He walks through the kitchen and looks around blankly, makes himself a bowl of dinner, and disappears into another room. It’s not unusual for him.

“Good,” she sits down next to him, “just the two of us.”

The rain finally lets up tonight, and he can fall asleep easily—no sounds outside, no footsteps or strange feelings. Silence. And Seungmin sleeps perfectly until he opens his eyes to the clock by his bed…12:10 am. He stares at it until it turns to 12:11, and then 12:12. There are footsteps outside. Loud, muddy, and heavy. But not in front of his window—these are somewhere in the distance, maybe on the far side of the house. At 12:15, he finds enough courage to get up and peek through the slit in his curtain, but all he can see from here is darkness and the reflection of his pale face; the tops of pine trees against a blue-black sky, finally clear. He thinks he sees a shadow run by in the distance, but it’s just his imagination starting to run. It’s in my head, umma said it’s in my head…there’s nothing in the woods.

“Umma?”

He thinks he hears her calling him, but as soon as it’s quiet again, he’s convinced that was also in his mind. Still, he heads for the door and pulls it open just a crack to listen. Nobody is ever up this late except for him when he can’t sleep. A mumble, barely, reaching him through the thick, humid air.

“…you made me do this…”

Seungmin recognizes that voice, even from this far away.

“…I’ll have to do it again…that brat”

It’s impossible to get back into bed now. He needs to know what’s going on. The first thing he does after tiptoeing down the hallway is open their bedroom door, but it’s too dark to see anything. A few more steps in, and he can now tell that the bed is empty, the blankets are a mess.

“Umma…where are you?”

Seungmin heads toward the kitchen and looks around, knocks on the bathroom door. He reaches for his coat…he can hear the rain starting again, and pulls on his boots. The few lights on outside help his eyes just enough, and he catches movement in the shed a few yards away. Why is he in the shed so late at night? Umma wouldn’t be out here with him, Seungmin knows that…where are you? he thinks. He thinks it so loudly, and is body trembles with his unknown fear. Why aren’t you in bed? Why are you outside so late in the rain?

The muddy grass gives way to his boots, and he sinks in as he tries to walk...he slips, and a few times, stops to gather himself before moving again. The ground is more solid as he approaches the shed, and he can tell now that the one light shining out is the oil lamp that lives on the windowsill. It’s so bright coming out through the cracks, and the view looking in is clear. Seungmin’s eye finds the perfect spot to peer in and see what his stepfather is doing…

“Are you in here?” He whispers, unsure, but his voice shakes.

His stepfather looks back, and Seungmin freezes, but his breath comes out shallow and ragged and loud. “Out of bed? Of course you are.” The door swings open, and the hand that grabs his shirt collar is wet with mud, and something else.

“Umma!”

Seungmin is thrown hard against the wall, face first, and hits the floor with so much force, he feels a tooth chip. He sees blood on him, and he tastes what pours from his nose and lip, but he doesn’t care.

“Seungmin…run away from him”

He crawls to her, and stepfathers presence looms just like the creature in the woods, ready to snatch him back at any moment.

“We have to go,” Seungmin whispers and touches her hair, “please we have to go.”

“I love you so much, Seungmin…you have to run, you have to get away from him”

“I can’t leave you here”

“Please run…my sweet boy…”

“Umma I can’t leave you here”

“He’ll kill you, too.”

“We have to go”

“Please remember how much I love you.”

Everything goes black and quiet, and the last thing he sees is her pleading eyes.

But then, the sound of dirt. A shovel, hacking and digging. Seungmin squeezes his fingers just to see if he can, and he fills his fist with dirt and rock. The back of his head throbs, and the warm, itchy sting of blood in his hair and on his neck reminds him of where he is. A gasp for air, a cough, and he almost chokes on it as he turns to his side. Everything is a blur, but he blinks it away and finds something to focus on—a bright blue bucket, and next to it is a small plank of wood, maybe the thing that knocked him out.

The irritated grumbles of his stepfather mix with the shk shk of the shovel as he digs. How could he possibly turn and look at what’s happening behind him? Seungmin can figure out whats going on, and why he’s digging a hole. He can’t come face to face with it. He looks around again, and his eyes land on the assorted tools that have ended up in here over the years: pruners, old rusty garden shears his mother tried to throw out, rolls of chicken wire and razor wire, bags of grass seed and weed killer—things he and umma have no use for in the greenhouse. The hand tiller, though, that he recognizes, and he remembers holding this very tool in his hands several times before.

Sharp and straight on one end, three pointed claws on the other—it’s as long as his arm and it’s not very heavy, but…it’s heavy enough. As quietly and slowly as possible, he crawls the six or seven feet to where it hangs on a protruding nail, and as he wraps his fingers around the wooden handle, he peeks over his shoulder. His stepfathers back is to him, thankfully, hunched over and pushing dirt with his shovel, so Seungmin grips it and rolls himself to face him. Now, if he can stand without falling—without passing out…

You smile and wait for him to open his eyes again. He has his hands clasped tight in front of him, as if he’s praying. Maybe he is praying. A smile grows as he sits there silently, and he laughs at himself when his eyes pop open.

“I’m sorry, should I have joined in?”

“Oh, I was just…talking to myself for a moment. Sending something out.”

“Were you praying?”

“Sort of…no, not exactly”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain”

“This was the last thing she made for me, the last meal we had together.“

The stew looks very different when you look at it now. Seungmin looks different, because the wave of memories washing over him paralyze him for a moment. “Is this her recipe?”

“Yes. I have a few of her recipe cards in the drawer, but I can never make anything quite right.”

“Well, it’s very good, even if it’s not perfect. What was her name?”

“Soo-ji. Suji…or Susie. Her English name was Susie.”

“English name? Oh right, she lived in the states. Did she choose that? Do you have an English name?”

“Yes, she chose Susie. I have one, but I’ve never used it. I’ve never had to.”

“What is it?”

He smiles and drops his gaze to his food. “Sky. I’m not sure why I chose that, but…Sky.”

“I do”

Seungmin looks at you again, eyes wide, “yeah?” And his eyes grow even more as he waits. “Do I look like a sky?”

“You look like a sky. And everything in it.”

“Everything?”

“The sun, and the moon…the clouds, all the stars”

“Are you trying to make me blush?”

“The butterflies…the bees”

He cups his cheeks in his hands and laughs.

“Can’t grow the flowers without you”

A hitch in his breath makes your heart thump, and his hands cover the rest of his face. You can’t tell if it was another laugh, or something else.

“Seungmin?” He doesn’t answer, but you hear a sniffle, and you stand and move to his side of the table. “Hey…what’s the matter?” You’re more confident in your actions now, so grabbing his shoulders and pulling him against you happens without a second thought. “Did I say something?”

“No, sorry…I don’t know what happened”

“Was that too much? I’m too much sometimes.”

“No, please don’t think that”

He squeezes and pushes his face into you, and you feel his tears coming through the fabric of your shirt. Something triggered them, but he’s also long overdue for a lot of good cries. You don’t mind getting some out of him.

“Umma always told me that when we worked together in the greenhouse…I can’t grow the flowers without you, puppy.”

“She was right. My moonflowers seem pretty happy in the window. And...Puppy?”

Seungmin pulls away and sniffs, but he doesn’t look at you yet. He looks at the hanging basket in the kitchen window. It’s still small, but it grew even while it was left here on its own. “She loved giving me nicknames, but I was always puppy."

“Look at me,” you pinch his chin and guide his eyes up to yours. “Yeah, I saw that photo of you when you were seven, I think. You looked like a puppy then, and you still do.”

“What photo?”

“From the boxes in your closet. I found them when I was packing our stuff. I saw some baby photos.”

“Babies…” he whispers to himself. You spoke about it on the way home, and a little before you fell asleep, mostly his concern about you now carrying two instead of one. “What exactly makes them identical?”

The tech didn’t go into detail, and you can’t meet your doctor until Monday, so Seungmin has been left hanging on the finer points of the pregnancy so far.

“Identical twins are one fertilized egg, split in two. Always the same sex, or usually. They share one placenta…that’s why they weren’t separated in there, that's how she knew.”

“So two boys…or two girls. Our fertilized egg split in half? Like yin and yang…sort of. Yin is the moon, and Yang is the sun. Still opposite, not identical, I guess.”

“Like us. You’re the sun…just like what your flowers need, and you seem to have made me the moon.”

“Yeah..." He looks at your flowers again. "Tokki.”

“Sky”

His legs hold him up, and despite his throbbing, blood soaked head, he moves slowly toward the lamp light, the whole in the ground, and the hunched over shape of his stepfather. This is his only chance, and if he misses, or doesn’t do it well enough, that’s it…but it doesn’t matter. Seungmin doesn’t care if he dies, because she’s gone, and there’s nothing left for him. He’d be better off in the ground.

The hesitation as he grips the handle evaporates when he raises the tiller high above his head. One chance. He puts everything he has, every bit of anger and sadness and despair behind the single blow that finds the nape of his stepfathers neck. The sharp straight edge is even sharper than Seungmin thought, and it sinks in deep. The spatter of blood gets everywhere—in his eyes, his mouth, and he somehow yanks it right back out. Some supernatural strength moves through him, because he has to do this. Another swing, this time to his chest as he turns and falls to the ground.

“Y-you…” he sputters and coughs more blood. “…you ba…bast…”

Seungmin wonders if it's the shock, or if he cut something in his neck that finally shut him up. He can’t seem to get his words out. “Bastard?”

The tiller goes up, and then down one more time. And he doesn’t say another word. The shed is silent now, except for the rain, and the drip drip coming through the cracks in the roof. It takes everything he has in him to shift his eyes to the right—to the half filled hole right next to him, and when he finally does, the emptiness that washes over him brings him to his knees. What could possibly describe this? He doesn’t know. Seungmin doesn’t know the words, not in Korean or English. He can’t even cry. What he can do is gently step into the shallow grave and place his hands on her again, and he’s relieved to feel her warmth still, and the softness of her pale skin and hair.

“Umma, can you still hear me?” Seungmin knows she can’t. His mother is gone, and her last words come right back to him. “He’s gone now…he’s gone. He won’t hurt us anymore.”

And she can’t be here, in this shed, in this disgusting hole he made for her. He won’t let her rest here forever—not for another minute. Fortunately he didn’t get far covering her. Seungmin pushes the dirt away as best as he can, but he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough for this. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and hugs her against his chest, pulls again, and rests her limp body against the side as he climbs back out.

Carefully, very carefully, he holds her around the waist, rests her back against him, and lifts until all but her legs are up and out of her would-be grave. No shoes on her feet, and wearing nothing but her nightgown…his stepfather dragged her outside straight from the bed they shared and did this. What filled him with so much rage tonight? Seungmin wonders if it was something he did. But he doesn’t stop to wonder long. The empty grave can only be good for one thing now, so Seungmin pushes, and pushes, and it takes so much more strength than it did to lift her out. One more push, and he falls with a thud, and the tiller goes in with him.

He dug this shallow hole, so he can put it to use.

Now he finally stops to catch his breath, but the humid air is hard to suck into his lungs. He slows down, breaths through his nose, holds it in…lets it go the way his mother taught him when he started to feel overwhelmed and anxious. It doesn’t calm a single nerve in his body tonight, but he at least feels the oxygen move through his blood and into his muscles, and more importantly, into his brain. He finishes this first; shoves the dirt on him, and it feels like hours later when he’s satisfied with the job he’s done. It's not the best, but it's far more than he deserves.

“Now what, umma? I don’t know what to do.”

✦　 ˚ 　 ˖ ✶ ˚　　　✦　　　.　

The greenhouse? he thinks to himself. Did he think it, or did he hear it?

“I can take you to the greenhouse. Would that be alright?”

Yes. Where else but the greenhouse, with the flowers the two of them spent all spring and summer planting and watering and growing? Seungmin reaches for her, and he watches as his hand starts to tremble. It moves up his arm and his shoulders; his chest tightens, and his whole body shivers; his stomach spins, and he turns and crawls away to vomit, but nothing comes out. He dry heaves until his stomach finally settles, but now his head feels like it might explode.

Her nightgown is already covered in dirt, but he refuses to drag her through the mud, so he grabs a blanket from the house to help his trip down the yard. The view almost makes him sick again—the gentle sway of her feet as he pulls. But the wet ground makes it easier, and faster than he expected.

Everything he needs to dig a grave is right here. There’s a plot of loosened dirt right by the heliotrope, because that was tomorrow’s job, and Seungmin looks at it and wonders again…wonders if this is where umma is supposed to rest right now. He starts the long process of shoveling away at the dirt, and he has a feeling this will take him the rest of the night.

“What are you thinking about, Min?”

He jumps when he hears his name, and looks around like he’s forgotten where he is. “Thinking about? Oh, nothing…I just had to shut off for a second.”

“I know something is going on in there. You don’t have to, but you can tell me.”

Seungmin’s face speaks louder than he ever can. He’s still no good at hiding it.

“Just remembering things. I wish my head would listen to me when I ask it to forget.”

“That would be nice, yeah. Maybe I can help take your mind off of it.”

A month flew by while you adjusted, both of you, to the news that two babies, not one, will be brought into this strange home. You spent a great deal of it in bed—tired, nauseated, and a mood that didn’t know whether to go up or down. Usually up and down multiple times in one day, which Seungmin had a difficult time with. He was used to the balance you brought him, and now it’s been taken away by this pregnancy.

But still, he handled it well by the end of the first week or so, and he eventually turned into what you were for him. He cooked, or he ordered the closest he could find to homemade Korean food. Seungmin made sure you took all of your vitamins, and he let you see him take his medication every day again. The four weeks on his haldol is the longest he’s managed to keep up with it, and he thinks he’s finally gotten used to it. Whether or not it’s helping is still up in the air.

“Take my mind off of it? You must be feeling better.”

“I am…but you’re not getting that. My appointments tomorrow, remember?”

“Right. We get to see them again.”

“We get to see if there are actually two in there”

“And if they’re boys or girls”

“Do you wanna know already, if they can tell?”

Seungmin assumed you wanted to know as much as he did, and as soon as possible, “you don’t?” But maybe not. “I guess I do, yeah.”

“It feels so early. So much can still go wrong.”

His eyes drop to your stomach, and he resists the urge to reach out and set his hand there. “Nothing will go wrong, everything will be okay. The first twelve weeks are the hardest, right?”

“You’ve been doing your research”

“There’s a bookstore right by the market I went to this morning. I bought one,” he grabs one of the bags from the counter and digs around inside. “I bought a couple, actually.” He hands you the first one…

“Taegyo.” You flip through it, but it’s small, and in Korean.

“I’ll read that one to you—to the three of you.”

The next one looks like a regular book on pregnancy, the kind you’ve seen a million times before on bookstore and library shelves.

“I read some of that one already.” The last one he pulls out is the biggest.

“Baby names…”

“And their meanings. Am I getting ahead of myself? I am, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. I know you’ve been holding it in, Minnie. You don’t have to keep hiding it.”

“Hiding what?”

“Your excitement. Your joy. If you’re tiptoeing around it because I told you I didn’t want to be pregnant before, I want you to stop.”

Seungmin takes the baby name book and holds it to his chest, and he seems a little lost for words. “Okay…”

“I kind of knew you wanted this from the moment you found out about the first test. And I’ve already read up a little on Taegyo, so don’t hold back…let them know, too.”

He nods, and a smile creeps across his face. The hesitation is still there as he reaches his hand out to you, but he does. Nothing is happening in there yet, but his smile grows even wider as his fingers spread out, and his palm slides up, and then back down across your belly button.

“We’ll find out tomorrow, if they can see on the ultrasound”

“I should start cleaning out the spare bedroom”

“We have a spare bedroom?”

***

Seungmin can’t hide his nerves this time. He paces back and forth in the tiny room, stopping every few laps to look at you and sigh. “Twenty minutes?”

“It’s barely been fifteen. Are you alright, did you get any sleep last night?”

He shakes his head and sits, finally. “Not much. My dreams always feel real, but last night was…scary. I couldn’t get out. I think I had, uhm, I couldn’t move...”

“Sleep paralysis?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had that in a while…at least not that bad. I was stuck, but I could open my eyes, so I saw you sleeping next to me. That helped.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Maybe you should take something tonight.”

A knock on the door interrupts, and it’s the same woman from your first ultrasound. “Good morning,” she smiles sweetly at you, and then to Seungmin, who has kept up the husband act since Daegu.

He took the little silver ring from his music box, the one you can only assume belonged to his mother, and tried it out on you while you were still half asleep. It fit nicely, and even though you told him it seemed too special for you to wear, he said it was just for today, for fun—just to play the part.

So now you spin it absently as you watch her set up her equipment. And Seungmin is nervous again as your shirt is lifted, and the blanket covering your hips is pulled down.

“Are you ready to see your twins?”

The image appears quickly, but takes a moment to look like anything recognizable to either of you. But then it starts making sense…

“There they are, very cozy together”

“Oh, I can see them, they look like…like babies.” Seungmin leans closer and squints, because he forgot his glasses this morning.

“They are giving us a good view,” you say, “it’s doesn’t look creepy like ultrasounds usually do.”

“And I can take a good guess at sex if you’re ready for that”

“Uh, yes but…” Seungmin looks at you, and you shake your head. “Just me. Can you tell just me?”

“Mom isn’t ready? No problem, I’ll write it down for you, and we’ll keep it between us for now.”

She pulls a notepad out and scribbles onto it, rips it out, folds it, and hands it to him. You wait to see if he’ll look now, or later, but he truly can’t wait. He unfolds it, still careful not to let you see her messy hangul, and his face lights up as he stares at it. Seungmin hasn’t mentioned preferring a son or a daughter—sons or daughters—but you imagine his face looking the same regardless of what’s written on that paper. This is something he needed for it to feel real.

The sun hasn’t started rising yet, but somehow, he did what he needed to do. He finished.

The ground here is soft, and it’s fertile—this dirt has overheard some of the most important talks he had with umma, and it’s heard them both sing. This greenhouse, and the flowers inside have known only love and warmth and happiness.

Seungmin stares into her grave, and then to her.

The second blanket he brought with him is set neatly inside, and with what little strength remains in him, he moves her closer. Gently...a little clumsily, he lays her on top of it.

“Sorry umma, I’m so tired,” he sighs, and feels tears running down his dirt covered cheeks.

Now Seungmin takes his time picking a little bit of everything in bloom. An iris that finally opened. Japanese Kerria, goldenbell, mugunghwa, zinnia. The last flower he places with her is two loose bundles of heliotrope. The blanket corners are pulled across her, tucking the flowers in and keeping them safe as he kneels at the edge and thinks.

“The sun will start rising soon, and I don’t know what I’ll do,” he says to her. “What can I do?”

Seungmin waits for an answer, but nothing comes.

“I think I made things worse. Did I?”

no

“huh...is that you?”

you had to save yourself

“I should have been able to save you”

you couldn’t…you weren’t supposed to…but you’re alive so I am too

“I can’t finish”

this will be the hardest thing you have to do, I promise…just one step at a time

Seungmin stands on shaky legs and grabs the shovel again. One step at a time, he thinks. “Hana…” he starts, and grabs a pile of soft dirt and drops it carefully. “Dul…set…”

aheunnes…aheundaseos

He drops to his knees and pushes the rest with his hands, pats it down, smoothes it out. But he leaves a few spots loose, and the freshly potted heliotrope is pulled out and placed there.

“Please don’t leave me”

I won’t puppy…I’ll always be next to you

The quarter moon still shines on him over the treetops as he makes his way further down the yard. He keeps going—beyond the makeshift trail and into the pine trees, and he walks until his legs can’t carry him any longer. The clearing he comes to looks familiar, but it’s not the same one he was left in—that would take him until sunrise to reach. This one should be fine, though. He finds a spot in the center and sits, and he waits.

“I’ve lived here for almost four months…why didn’t I know you had a second bedroom?”

“I guess you weren’t looking for it.” Seungmin grabs either side of the emptied bookshelf and lifts. “And I closed it up after I moved in to keep myself out.”

“You banned yourself from your spare bedroom?”

He’s quiet as he turns and sets it against the wall, and again, he pulls out a key. Seungmin has at least a dozen different keys for even more locks, but he doesn’t seem to have them organized or marked—he just knows what goes where. This one is the only skeleton key, though. He slides it in, and opens the door with some caution…and it’s not at all what you expect. The room is filled with light coming in through the sheer curtains, and it’s not a mess of unwanted things. It’s a neatly organized room of maybe unwanted things.

“Yes. More memories. Things I took from the old house and couldn’t get rid of. Things that were left to me, things that were already here when I moved in.”

“So you locked them away…”

“I finally have a reason to clean it out, I just don’t know how easy it’ll be”

Boxes and boxes lined up against one wall. A small bed, a desk with a few things scattered on top. There are more books in here, too, and records and cassettes and cds. You think back to the drive home when you opened the center console of the Supra, and it was lined end to end with cassettes. All of these must have belonged to his dad, too.

“Both of them are in here?”

“Mostly dad’s stuff…but yeah, they’re both in here”

“Maybe we can go through it, and you can decide what you want to hold onto. Unless you’d rather do it alone…”

“No, we can do it together”

The first box you go for, the very top one closest to the window, gives off a subtly sweet aroma when you lift the lid. This is very obviously more of his mother’s belongings, and even though he wants you to do this with him, it still feels like an intrusion. But Seungmin probably knows where everything is in here, and when you stop to look at him, he just smiles.

“I can smell it...there’s perfume in there, half of a bottle,” he says.

“It smells nice.” There’s also a wooden comb and a brush, a hand mirror, and a few silk-looking scarves. All very personal, and all create a very close connection to her…but none of it compares to her scent, and you don’t think that’s something he should part with. “You should keep this. The perfume, at least.”

“I should, but I don’t know where I would keep it”

“I can clean up the living room closet, there’s so much space in there. We can make a spot for what you decide to keep.”

“I’ll have to put the suitcases and the plastic somewhere…the other disposal stuff”

“Uhm, we seem to have a lot of things and not many places to put them even though the apartment is big…oh, you have empty apartments!” At least you think he does. He mentioned how many were occupied before, but not how many were actually in the building.

“I do. I have thirteen empty apartments.”

It’s now occurring to you how rarely you see the comings and goings of his tenants, but you don’t leave often, and since coming back home, you’ve gone out even less. You’ve been sleeping any chance you can get. “Any on this floor?”

“Yeah, we’re alone up here. And directly below us is vacant, too.”

You have more space than you could ever need. “That explains why you’re so loud sometimes.”

He gives you his usual nervous laugh and opens another box. Seungmin still gets shy, and you’re starting to think he’ll be that way forever, but he has opened up a little more for the twins. The Taegyo book he gave you came in handy for him, and he’s been doing his best to stay on track with his medication, and to keep his mind somewhere safe. Every night in bed, he lies awake with you and talks to them. He doesn’t say much, because you don’t think he knows what to say.

But you don’t expect him to be perfect, and you don’t want him to be. You never had any intention of changing him, but if he does it on his own, you won’t stop him.

“Not lately,” he laughs again.

“It’s nice knowing we’re alone up here, though.” You walk over to the box he’s digging in, and this one is full of baseball cards, a glove, and a handful of ticket stubs.

“It is. Maybe I should lower the rent and fill those other apartments up. Dad probably never had vacancies.”

“Were you born here? I mean, did you live in this apartment when you were a baby?”

“Yeah, but we were on the third floor until her and I moved away with…him”

It seems like a complicated series of events, but you still don’t want to pry too much. You don’t want to ask why she remarried and moved away, and why they didn’t stay here. But Seungmin tells you anyway.

“She got the property, but he came along, and I assume he charmed and manipulated her, and they got married. She wanted to remarry, I know that much…I guess for my sake. It just happened to be to the worst person imaginable.”

“He moved you away?”

“Yeah, and hoarded all of the money she made from the building. When she died, it became mine, but I was too young. I got everything when I turned eighteen—the hoarded money, the property, and all of my dad’s things that got locked away in that third floor apartment.”

“And you’ve been here ever since”

Seungmin closes his eyes and nods, and when he opens them again, you can feel more trying to claw its way out; more secrets, more burdens, more things he hasn’t had a chance to say out loud. “Yeah, just going through the motions. Trying to get through the days and put them behind me.”

“I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t run into you that morning”

“Somewhere safe and happy, I hope”

“Or if you hadn’t come back to find me, because I had no intention of testing you again even though I really wanted to see you.”

He searches your face as he moves closer to your spot on the floor. “Testing me?”

You’ve made yourself comfortable under the window, knees tucked up and arms pulled into your sweater. This room is much cooler, and the air is probably coming in right above you. “Trying to get you back…and being pushed away again."

“You scared me”

“Me? I scared you?”

“Yes. Everything about you…from the moment you looked up at me and said yes, thank you.”

“Why?”

He sits, rests his head on your shoulder and thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. I knew I had a job to follow through with…” It’s been a while since either of you have reflected on your first meeting, and his intention to kill you. “And I kept thinking about that the whole time you let me keep you company.”

“When you left, I was a little upset because I thought you were gonna try something…but you were good. And then, naturally, I got nervous and ran from our date. Guess it’s a good thing nothing happened either time."

“I’m not sure I ever had any desire to kill you. I kept telling myself I did, but I didn’t do a single thing I typically would to get myself there.“ His hold on you tightens, and you start to feel warm again. “I pushed you away because I was afraid of feeling the way I do now.”

“Are you still afraid?”

“Sometimes. I don’t get to keep things I love for very long.”

“Okay…no foreshadowing, I promise. We’re not going anywhere. You’re going to have three people to love, and to love you back. And you’ll have enough for all of us.”

Seungmin waits, and waits. The moon starts to disappear from the cracks in the trees, and the little bit of light it seemed to scatter through the clouds disappears. It’s truly dark now, because there’s no sunrise coming for Seungmin yet. He hopes it never comes. If the sun stays asleep and the moon remains, he’ll never have to face a single day without her—he’ll never have the face the consequences of his actions. But he suspects he’s not that lucky, so he waits, and he lets out a long, monotone whistle.

A deep breath in, and another long whistle, and then he’s quiet again. A few moments pass, but eventually, he starts to hear the sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor that managed to stay dry under the trees. Slow, heavy footsteps. Deep, shaking breaths. He can’t look, but he knows it’s there…Seungmin has felt it before, and he’s smelled it from his open bedroom window.

A snort makes him jump, and he mistakenly raises his head to look. All that’s visible is shadow, but it moves easily through trees.

“I’m here,” Seungmin says loudly, but his voice trembles. “You remember me.” A glimpse of eyes, just an amber colored streak moving and ducking behind a tree. “I’m ready to go…please.”

It answers with another snort, another crunch of slow footsteps, but it doesn’t show itself.

“Please!”

Something else is here—behind him, beside him. It’s steps lightly and quickly, and he sees it, a black cloud bouncing and moving like air. And then he sees another…a white whisp of a cloud, and this one is more visible as it darts past the trees. The white one gets closer as it circles him, and the black one follows far behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper. His head swims, and his stomach turns, and before he hits the ground, Seungmin sees a set of blue eyes staring him down.

* * *

The bed shakes, and you’re out of your sleep immediately. The sour feeling in your stomach hits fast, but you hold it down when you see Seungmin’s face—his forehead drips with sweat, his jaw and fists are clenched tight enough to break.

“Minnie?” You touch his forehead, and he’s cold. “Minnie, can you hear me?”

He groans, his face relaxes, and he starts to cry.

“Seungmin, please…wake up”

Please take me…I’m alone…I’m all alone now

“You’re not alone”

I have nothing left here

“Minnie, I know you’ll hear me soon. You’ll hear me over whatever is going on in there.”

I’m too scared to do it myself

You don’t remember him ever speaking so clearly in his sleep before, and you don’t like what he seems to be saying. “Seungmin, wake up.”

Finally, he’s out of it, but now he looks like he’s heading straight into a panic attack. He bolts up and struggles to catch his breath, looks around frantically in the dark room. Before you say another word, you’re up and around the bed, clicking the light on, digging in his drawer for his bottle of Xanax.

“Minnie, hey it’s okay…take this.” You hand him his glass of water and hold the pill in front of him. “Look at me.”

He listens. You see his eyes move up and connect with yours, but he’s frozen and shivering as he parts his lips for you.

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe”

Seungmin is silent as he sips his water and slowly catches his breath, and he doesn’t move when you climb across him and crawl back under the covers. He pulls his sweat-damp shirt over his head and throws it to the floor. “Can I sleep over there?” He asks as he works his way over. “God, I sweat through everything.”

“Come here. You’re so cold, get back under the covers.”

“Those dogs”

“Dogs?”

“They weren’t there, in the woods. I’ve never seen them before.”

“In your dreams?”

Seungmin has had many dreams since you’ve been here next to him, and they’ve been bad. Most have been manageable, some have been terrifying, but none have made him wake up like this before. “It felt so real. I’m afraid I’ll go back if I fall asleep again.” He sits up and rubs his face. The medicine will relax him soon, and hopefully help him fall into a dreamless sleep for a few more hours.

“Does that usually happen?”

Everything about his dream, except for the very end, was a memory—the thing he’s afraid to tell you. Now doesn’t seem the time or the place, but as he lies here and thinks, he wonders if a time and a place for that story will ever exist. “No, but I don’t usually dream about that part…and it wasn’t off, like the dreams usually are. Everything seemed accurate, right down to the things we said to each other.”

“You and…your mom?”

“Yeah. And the dogs, I don’t know where they came from, or if they were helping or coming after me.”

“Was there a big white one?”

“A white one, and a black one. I’ve seen the black one before, just not in my dream.”

“Recently?”

“No, it was the day I found out about your negative test. It lead me to where the box was…ah, how did I forget about that?” He looks at you, expecting the same moment of clarity that he’s having, but you just stare back, a little lost. “I saw the dog in living room, and I followed it to the cabinet where the trash was.”

“You think your hallucination lead you to the test?”

“You don’t?”

“It’s possible, I guess. It’s not much weirder than us sharing dreams.”

“What are they, though?” He says it out loud, but he seems to be asking only himself. “Where did they come from?”

“Dreams can be so strange.” You can feel yourself dozing off, but you don’t want to sleep until he’s comfortable and his eyes are closed.

“Our dreams are very strange”

*

The body that was tucked up against you is gone. No more arms wrapped tight around your waist, no more warm breath against your chest. You woke up twice to Seungmin sleeping soundly with you, but now, the third time, he’s gone. He hasn’t returned to his side of the bed, and the curtain is still pulled halfway closed, just like it was last night. It’s quiet…no sounds of him in the shower, or in the kitchen, and there’s no smell of coffee brewing.

This isn’t a great way to wake up.

“Seungmin?” You call out as loudly as your morning voice will allow you, but your head pounds when you do, and the pain makes you nauseous. Still, you manage to get on two feet and head for the door. “Seungmin?”

The kitchen is empty, but the bathroom door is cracked. You decide to give it another minute before calling out for him again, because he’s in there. His keys are on the table, jacket is hanging by the door, and his two regular pairs of shoes are right next to yours.

You start making him coffee, but by the time it’s mostly finished brewing, you start to hate the quiet.

“Minnie, are you in there?” Your fingertips set against the door, but your push is hesitant. The strong herbal smell of his bath salts hit you from here. “I’m gonna come in.”

A soft okay reaches your ears as you push the door open, and you sigh when you see him there, submersed in the tub. The water is all the way up to his chin, and his eyes stay closed as you approach him.

“You’ve been in here for a while,” you kneel down and rest your arms on the bathtub. “You okay?”

“I think so”

You take his word for it, but his blank stare tells you he’s probably not completely okay. The nightmare might still be in his mind, or maybe the nightmare pushed even more to the surface—something his medication can’t keep down. “We’ll have some breakfast, and if you wanna talk about anything…” maybe it’s something else entirely.

“I’m not very hungry”

“Okay,” you start to reach out for him, but stop yourself. If he reaches back, the pain in your chest might let up…you don’t want to go back to his silence right now, but you might have to. You’ll wait for him to push through it. “Coffee? I’ll get you towel.”

“I was okay, I’m sorry”

“And you’ll be okay again, we just have to get through it”

“It stayed away for a while. We really kept our minds occupied…that was nice,” he forces a smile.

“But it can’t stay away forever.” Seungmin looks at you, almost questioningly, as you finally reach out and run a hand across his forehead. “And I want you to feel better. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

*

Seungmin holds his pill in the palm of his hand and stares at it. He’s been so good—so consistent. Every single morning since finding out the twins were still there and still okay, he’s been even more adamant about doing what he can to be okay for them. Up until today, it’s worked. Last nights dream might be partially to blame, but he knows he’s overdue, and he feels like he’s doing something wrong.

He watches you head toward the bedroom, wrapped up and shivering in two towels. “Do you think I can be fixed?”

“Fixed?” You poke your head back out and study him. “Do you feel like you need fixed?”

“I’m not sure. But I wonder sometimes if they’re doomed to be like me, no matter what.”

The fear you had swirling inside of you before, the feeling that still comes back sometimes, seems to have crept into his thoughts. You were never afraid of having a child that ended up with an illness like him, though, that never once crossed your mind…but now that his need to kill has returned, he’s stuck in that part of his head. And though he hasn’t actually said anything about their sex, you're beginning to have a feeling in your gut.

“Seungmin, are we…?” You start, but you still don't think you want to know for sure.

“What?” His eyes soften as he searches yours.

“Nothing, never mind.” It’s been two weeks since that doctor’s visit, and he hasn’t said a word about it. He hasn’t dropped any sort of hint, or let anything slip. During a few talkative nights, you wondered if he would mumble something in his sleep. But he hasn’t yet. “They’re gonna be as sweet, and as caring, and as thoughtful as you are to me.”

Seungmin slowly shakes his head. “I hope so. Right now, I really…really need to—” his eyes drop to your stomach, “I need to clear my head again.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, I want you to stay. If you want.”

“Are you coming back with them, if you find someone?” You think about how messy it was the first time you were here, and how out of control everything was. But you do want to stay, because your mind is also on the last time…his knife in your hand, the way he looked at you and touched you after the girl hit the floor. “I’d rather stay, but I can’t listen—“

Seungmin takes your face in his hands, and his smile is uncertain. “No, I don’t want you to hear that. I want you to help me, if you want…uhm…”

“Help?”

“But I understand if you don’t want to”

Your heart pounds. The look he’s giving you is a strange mix of shy, and a little bit of that Seungmin who made you a drink and carried you into his bedroom. “Help you kill?”

“Or just watch. I don't need the sex.”

“Minnie”

“It’s too much, I know…I don’t know why I’m asking. You shouldn’t be seeing that…after what I just…after just telling you I’m worried about how they’ll end up. Fuck, no…I’ll go.”

“Minnie, wait”

“You can stay if you’re comfortable. Maybe in the bathroom, or the nursery.” The nursery that’s still just a gutted room with a twin bed. Going through things and cleaning took much longer than anticipated. “Taegyo seems a little pointless now, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not, they still need to hear you talk to them every night. They need you to feel better.”

There’s still a look of reluctance and confusion on him, and instead of heading for the door, he paces back and forth and thinks. But he stops suddenly and stares off toward the open door of the nursery.

“What’s wrong?”

He takes a few slow steps in the direction he’s looking, and then shuts his eyes tight. “It’s there…it came out of the room. The black one.” He starts walking toward whatever he’s seeing and ends up back in the bedroom, and you follow. “It went under the bed.”

You watch him drop to his knees and look, but if there’s something black under there, he won’t see much of it. Your curiosity gets the better of you, so you do the same on your side of the bed—drop to your hands and knees and look. “I don’t…”

“What?”

Something glimmers despite the lack of light…something silvery blue. You push yourself under and reach toward it, but it moves. “What the hell?” It disappears, and then reappears, and you hear it. That growl. The same deep growl from your nightmare. It lunges forward and all you see is a streak of white fur and teeth as you pull yourself back and crawl away. You hold back a cry, but as soon as Seungmin sees your face, he’s on his knees in front of you.

“What happened?” His voice shakes. “You saw it?”

“I dunno,” you pant and try not to catch sight of anymore shining eyes, so you look at him instead. “Seungmin, I think I’m seeing things.”

Seeing things, hearing them, feeling their strange presence.

Whatever was under there is gone when Seungmin shines a flashlight into the darkness. It’s empty. No lost clothes or forgotten boxes, nothing that could have picked up and reflected the little bit of light in the room.

“Are you gonna tell me what you saw under there.” Seungmin stands in front of two cups and watches the almond blossoms bloom in the hot water.

“It was a dog, a white one, and it growled and snapped at me”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Only in a dream, but in the dream I thought the dog was you…trying to kill me”

That dream, he thinks to himself—the one you couldn’t explain to him that morning, and it’s been forgotten ever since. “The white dog was me?” The white dog that tried to kill you, that stood over him in his dream last night. The one that tried to bite. But where did the black one disappear to?

“Yes, in the woods. And then in the shed, but I woke up in the middle of it attacking me. You woke me up.”

“It’s a big dog, right? Obviously we’re seeing the same one, and I saw them both together, but maybe it’s just one.”

“Big, but skinny and tall…like a greyhound, but not.” You get up and head back to the bedroom, and carefully walk by the bed, making sure to give the edge of it a wide berth. Nothing makes a sound or shows itself, and you return to him, phone in hand. “Long-haired greyhound? I dunno what I’m searching for, I’m sure Google can figure it out.” You scroll and click a few times, and then show him the image pulled up on your phone. “Is this your black dog?”

Seungmin’s eyes grow as he looks at it, “yes that’s exactly what he looks like…and they both look exactly the same.”

“They look so sweet in these photos, but my white one isn’t sweet at all.” My? The white one does seem to be yours, because you haven’t seen his black dog. At least not yet. “But dwelling on it isn’t gonna help.”

“No, and I’m sure I’ll see them again”

“We should get back to our earlier conversation”

He forgot about his request. Seungmin isn’t sure why he thinks you’d want to have anything to do with this, but you did intentionally put yourself front and center for his last kill. “Can we forget about it? I didn’t know I was gonna ask you that until it came out of my mouth.”

“No, we don’t have to forget. At least let me answer.”

He’s expecting an explanation for your no, because you’re good at putting your thoughts into words for him. At least he knows you’ll be gentle. Seungmin has found out, thanks to you, how terrible he is at accepting criticism and being told what he doesn’t want to hear. You’ve been honest with him when it was necessary, and it’s been difficult, but he’s getting better…he thinks.

“I would love to watch you”

*

Seungmin heads out, and you stay home. He said he would keep you updated on his timeline if he could, but you decide to just expect him at any moment. And the plan is pretty scarce, but probably enough for him, and this time you’ll just have to trust he’s truly back on his game.

“Phone…I won’t forget the phone this time. Or the cameras. I’ll text you when I’m turning them back on so you know I’m in the building.”

But you’re terrified. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he left. He could be an hour, or he could be five hours, so how do you wait and pass the time? How do you prep? You’ve been avoiding going into the bedroom while you’re alone here, but you have to at least go in there and clean up. The sheets are still a mess, and there’s a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. There’s a pile of clean laundry in another corner—neither of you ever let it get this messy, but you’ve been focused on making space for two babies, and now, standing here thinking of that…maybe it’s too soon. You’re fourteenweeks in. Almost four months. Okay, maybe it’s not too soon. You were expecting this to drag, but since finding out, time has passed by far more quickly than it ever has.

Okay…just fix the damn sheets, there’s nothing under there. You walk quietly and start to pull at the spots where it’s the messiest…listen carefully as you tuck, fluff the pillows, set Daengmo right on top. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see a flash of white, but there’s nothing there when you scan the room.

Daengmo gives you a look, or he seems to, so you change your mind and take him back to the kitchen with you.

This place is too quiet without him, you think, but Seungmin himself is quiet. It isn’t just the sound…it feels quiet without him, because his presence alone can be overwhelming. He’s still so intense and serious sometimes, but he turns it off when he needs to—when he keeps you awake a little longer talking to you and the twins, or when he wakes you up with the sounds of his guitar. He finally sang for you a few mornings ago.

*

When you open your eyes to see him, he's turned away, and he avoids looking at you until he finishes his song.

“What song was that? Was it yours?

Seungmin spins in his chair and carefully returns the guitar to its stand. “Not mine, no. It’s called ‘through the night’.

“Through the night,” you say under your breath, making sure to remember the title. “Thank you.”

“For singing?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that voice from me all this time”

He starts toward you and smiles, and you can still see some diffidence behind it as he slides back under the covers. “Sorry,” he gets close, and he closes his eyes as if he plans on going right back to bed. So you do, too.

*

Until this moment, you forgot about the name of the song. “Through the night,” you say out loud and head for your laptop. But he never said the original artist—it doesn’t matter, you’ll know it when you hear it. Before you get a chance to type it in the search bar, your phone buzzes. “Minnie…that was fast.” At first you assume it’s something else, not him, because it’s barely been two hours, but it is him…

in the elevator

Your heart jumps to your throat, and you wonder if you can really do this. The want is there, and the need, there’s no question about that. And this will be easier than last time, you think. Right? Just watching him.

“Just watching,” you reaffirm yourself and shut the laptop, hide anything that looks like someone else lives here, and shut yourself in the nursery. The door on this room is much older, and very lucky for you, there’s a keyhole to peek out of. You kneel down and focus right as the lock clicks, and in walks Seungmin. “Who did you find?” you whisper against the door as she finally walks in behind him. “Oh.”

He speaks, she speaks—your Korean comprehension is still bad, despite the classes, and despite Seungmin patiently helping every way he can. He only speaks directly to the twins in Korean, but he translates everything for you, so they always get both. Seungmin speaks again, and you can’t help but notice him looking around the room. If your presence makes him nervous, he could slip up somehow. But this was your idea, Minnie…you’ll be fine.

She touches him, and your stomach starts to turn sour. A hand runs up his side and pulls at his shirt, and that peak of his skin already has you seeing red, but you breath deep and remember that you’re his other half in this. Seungmin belongs to you, and this is the last thing this girl will ever do.

But what happens next? He told you there would be no sex, but he still has to set things up the way he’s accustomed to, or at least close to it. How far will he have to go to get her where he wants her?

Her hand cups his dick, and her face falls. When she speaks again, you know what she says without understanding a word—not hard for me? No. No cock growing in his jeans for her. Seungmin is still soft, and he’ll probably stay that way. And he plays it off well, feigning shyness, smiling and hiding his face. It still makes you jealous, act or no act, because he's so good at this. She takes Seungmin by the hand and looks around, but she starts toward your door first, and you move your eye from the keyhole until you hear her being redirected. As soon as you look again, you catch his gaze lingering right where you are.

The bedroom door opens, and then shuts, but you hear the doorknob turn lightly and the latch click free. Now you can easily slide in without making a sound, lock the door, and watch.

The girl is too distracted by Seungmin's shirt being pulled over his head; slipping into the bedroom and carefully closing the door goes completely unheard, and the slide of the key does, too. Had she been facing you, things might be hectic right now, but you trusted him to keep her where you both needed her. The room is perfectly dark, lit up only by the string lights you put around the bookcase. It's just enough, and when your eyes start to adjust, you can see much more of him outlined by it, and you see his eyes move to you and smile sweetly. Somehow, she doesn't notice him looking at something other than her.

Her hands go for the button of his jeans, but he stops her. You can see the gears turning in his head as he wonders what his next move is going to be. She speaks, and you can see that he's annoyed.

"Turn around..." Seungmin grabs her wrists and holds them tight as she spins to face you.

"Huh...quit messing arou—"

The air catches in your throat when she sees you, but you do everything in your power to keep your composure. Looking nervous will do nothing to help him right now.

"What's going on, what is this? I didn't come here for a threesome."

"Shut up." Seungmin switches to English, and to your surprise, she does, too.

"Let go of me, I'm over this...get your hands off of me you psycho"

You assumed you'd be out of her view the entire time or at least most of it, but that's not the case. And then his hands start to loosen, she pulls away from him and heads for the door...now you wonder what exactly he has planned. Just as you open your mouth to get his attention, she pulls on the doorknob and screams...

"Open this fucking door!"

Seungmin walks toward her, and she runs to the far side of the room, away from him and away from you, and when she backs herself against the bookcase, everything starts moving in slow motion—her hands grope along the shelf for something...anything. The first thing she grabs is the glass vase of withered heliotrope, and she smashes it hard against the floor. The sound is unbelievably loud, but there's still a piece of glass large enough for her to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Let me out of this room," she holds it nervously, and her free hand goes back to the shelf. "Unlock the door."

Despite the drama, your mind goes back to you. Your night here with him, and how you ran to the door and fell to your knees in defeat, but you come back quickly when her hand finds the music box.

"Stop," Seungmin throws his hands up, "enough."

This is not going well, but he can still turn things around. Not soon enough, though. She drops the shard of glass, takes the music box in both hands, and uses all of her strength to smash it against the wet floor. You can't see anything from where you stand, but you hear it—the painful splinter of wood, and the sweet, lonely melody of it's insides filling the room.

Seungmin lunges for her so quickly and so quietly. He's terrifying. His hands close around her throat and drag her back toward the bed with little effort, and when he throws her on it, she stays there.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, please"

He straddles her hips, and she's frozen in terror as his hands close around her throat again, and then he looks at you. A few steps toward the bed bring a smile to his face, so you take a few more, and the desire to touch him makes your whole body tremble. The muscles of his back move as he breathes, and veins start to pop in his arms as his grip tightens. You hardly notice her, even as she gasps for air and scratches at his arms, because Seungmin is all you ever see.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you can see sadness behind his smile. Maybe a lament for his music box.

"Only if you are." You walk behind him and give in to your urges. One hands runs across the small of his back and up his spine, and you hear him groan as he squeezes tighter.

"I am"

From here you have the perfect view of both of them, so you watch quietly and keep your hands off as he continues...as he squeezes, and you hear her last desperate gasps...as he finishes. There's no more movement from her, and you can see it in her eyes, just like the one you took the life from—emptiness. His hands loosen, fingers flex, and he straightens his back as he starts to rise. You're silent as he watches the body for a few more moments, and then he turns to you.

Seungmin is looking through you again, inside of you and outside of you; reading your mind, and looking for an answer to the same question he asked before.

“I’m good”

The state of the room—the broken glass, the splintered music box, the dead body—it’s all pushed away with his soft touch and the scent of his adrenaline filled sweat. His arms slide around your shoulders and pull you tight against his bare chest.

“I’m sorry, that was a mess”

“No,” you push back and look at him. “Some things didn’t go how we wanted them to," you look to the body, and then toward the mess on the floor, "but…no, baby.” Seungmin lets you pull him to the door, and he doesn’t say a word as you unlock it and put the dead girl out of sight.

“I was never this clumsy before, I really wasn’t. I fucked up sometimes, but this…”

The sun is just starting to set outside, and the light hits just right on the couch where you’re leading him. Even as you set him down and look at him, he looks up at you with so much defeat in his eyes. Seungmin is supposed to feel better after a kill, and maybe he will soon, but right now he’s nowhere near okay.

“This was also your first time with someone watching you. Please, be a little easier on yourself.”

He sighs and falls back against the couch. “No, I don’t—" he looks to his right and sees Daengmo slumped against the pillow, “I can’t.“

This might take him a little longer to get through. You kneel in front of him and place a kiss on his knee. “You’ll get there, but in the meantime, I’ll do it for you.”

Even as your hand moves up his thigh, Seungmin’s face remains the same, but he lets you touch him. He lets you unbutton and pull gently until you can see his bare thighs, and now when you look at him, a smile is trying its best to break through. It doesn’t quite make it, but as you climb up and straddle him, he doesn’t hesitate to lift your dress and pull your panties down and out of his way.

“You did so well”

He shakes his head as you take his slowly growing cock in your hand.

“Don’t shake your head. Look at me, right now.”

There’s a bit of surprise in his hm?, but still no smile. He does, however, look at you.

“It was fast, and clean…not a drop of blood”

“Just flowers, and glass, and—”

You shush and kiss him, and the soft stroke of your fingertips get him there quickly . “We’ll clean it, we’ll fix everything.”

Something relaxes in him. Seungmin’s head falls back, and the movement in his neck is hypnotizing. “How can we fix it?” His mouth falls open as you slide down and fill yourself with him, and his hands jump to your hips. A stuttery how gets caught in his chest, but you can’t tell what he’s feeling because he’s no longer looking at you. His face is hidden, and his breathing starts to become shallow.

“Minnie?” His shoulders tense up until you hold him tight against you, and your thighs shake as you lower yourself completely on his lap. “Look at me so I can tell you properly.”

It takes a few more seconds and a few more sniffles before he peeks up at you.

“What are these tears for? Just upset about how everything went, or is it the music box?”

“I can’t do anything right. And it’s a miracle I haven’t been caught yet.” Seungmin’s hands squeeze as if he’s trying to get you to move on him, but you’re still as you rub his shoulders.

“Well, I disagree. I was the one watching, and I hope this isn't the last time we do that.” Another squeeze of his fingers makes your thigh jump, but you don’t move. “You did a very good job.”

“I’ll be better for you”

“I love you just like this”

He shakes his head as you kiss him again, but stops when your hands move up. The look on his face changes—he relaxes again as you comb your fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

The shake turns to a nod, and he squeezes again as you start to move slowly, up and down, and the sound of his moans match your pace.

[painted-bees]

We arrived home safely yesterday, and so did Domino!!

We set up her enclosure with a quick, temporary little set-up including a bunch of pothos clippings for cover and 4 different hides scattered around

Glare so bad u can't see most of what's in there, but that's ok cuz it's not very pretty atm lmao. It's a 40 g. We'll be rearranging and adding to it as we go, but in the meantime, she has found the biggest hide and made that her preferred sleeping place. Before she settled in there, I watched her explore the enclosure, and she actually tried each hide before settling into the big one lmao I was very happy to see that she was interested in exploring the furnishings without any desire glass surf.

I was suprised she didn't choose the snug little dig pit hide. For some reason, I assumed she'd be like my ball python and seek out a snug, enclosed space.

I'm sticking with paper towel as a liner for the enclosure rather than a loose substrate or bioactive just because Phuket is extremely hot and extremely humid, and mold can happen really, really fast. I could gaslight myself into believing that I'll always be on top of cleaning and maitenance so that mold will never be a problem...but I know myself better than that and paper towel allows me to see the cleanliness + presents a much lower barrier of entry to clean/replace. A dig pit that I can remove and dump the substrate out of is an easy compromise, I think. But seeing that she seems to prefer a larger hide, I definitely want a bigger pit.

I also want to get some properly potted pothos growing in here, and I want some more climbing surfaces like some driftwood and rocks. All things that are easy to remove for cleaning.

No heating or humidity devices in here because we are on an equatorial tropical island and already have too much heat and humidity as is. However, there's a type of clay hide that you can pour water into the top of, and it creates a cooler hide space. We bought one but it's too big to fit nicely into this enclosure...so we might diy a smaller one for her.

Once the enclosure looks more presentable and Domino is settled and feeling more secure in her new environment, I will take some more and better pictures.

I assumed that once she found a place to hunker down in, she would stay there for a few days without venturing out until she felt safe. But this morning, while I found her sleeping in the same big hide this morning, fresh droppings betrayed her late night wandering. So...I am glad!!

[sashiavi]

•······🍑·······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•·······🍑······•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#8•𝚂𝚎𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗•#8

𝙰𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙺𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚑 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ².⁷ᵏ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᴹᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ⱽᶦᵉʷᵉᵈ ᴬˢ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ ⁻ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

This was supposed to be a simple endeavor. Scout out a new location for Kaveh's client and be done with it. But no, of course not, of course something had to go wrong. Kaveh alone was already a liability to his own health. Add [Name] into the mix? You've got yourself twin tornadoes, barrelling tail first into trouble and chaos. Now they weren't lost, insists Kaveh, just taking the scenic route. Yeah, the scenic route joins [Name]. Alhaitham's eye twitches, he wasn't born yesterday unlike these two bone heads. He can see the slight confused head tilt Kaveh gives towards the map in his hands and the anxious glances their other travel companion gives the forest around them.

Alhaitham couldn't remember how they even managed to convince him to tag along, he wasn't a part of their respective Darshans, nor did he have the freetime. The forest was humid, typical for Sumeru's tropical landscape, his body felt clammy and gross. At least they weren't in the desert he supposed, there'd be a lot more whining and a vast lack of shade. Plus, he'd rather have his boots caked in sticky mud and leaves than have sand in his shoes.

"If you keep scowling like that you'll age worse than you already are." The prissy voice of Kaveh snaps him out of his train of thought.

Alhaitham's eye twitches again, Archons, sometimes he wanted to strangle him. Squeeze his neck while his pretty vermilion eyes roll back into his skull, forcing pretty glittery tears to roll down his cheeks. What..? Nothing. If there were someone reading his mind he'd tell them it was a joke. Blink if you're a mind reader. He ignores the passing glance [Name] gives him, blinking in concern, preparing herself for an explosive argument. Alhaitham signs and wipes his palm over his face, perhaps he ought to relax, it was a rare opportunity to be partnered up with the rowdy pair.

"Gah! What in the name of the Sevens- What is that!?" Never Mind. Relaxation ruined. Kaveh's screeches were back in his ears. Alhaitham's irritance is quick to fade when his eyes reach towards the sound. Kaveh sputters and coughs, frantically swatting a thick pink dust away from his face. [Name] was not faring any better, equally as coated in the mystery cloud as Kaveh. Alhaitham is quick to find the source, an otherworldly flower, stained pink and red with ornate petals. The plant had sprayed some sort of spore or pollen over the pair, perhaps a defense mechanism of some sort - Alhaitham was no Amurta student, this was definitely out of his realm of knowledge. He sucks in a breath, staunching over and brushing the pollen from the two, ignoring the sneeze you blow into his face. The pollen tickles at his nose, nearly forcing his throat shut, his body was definitely aberrant to inhale whatever the substance was.

The group manage to control the spore cloud, swiftly trekking down the path to avoid the majority of the affected area. A thought strikes Alhaitham; Was the plant toxic? He hadn't particularly worried about it in the moment, and the group seemed to be fine. Visibly, Kaveh and [Name] were stained a little pink, a thin sheen of dust covering their hair and clothes. Otherwise, they seemed completely normal, even though he wasn't feeling any concerning side effects - Apart from an itchy throat and a runny nose.

"How are you feeling?" He directs to no one in particular. The pair hum and shrug in response, they seemed to be fine. The group continue on their search for the elusive location for Kaveh's next big project.

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

They were not fine

At least an hour had passed since the pollen incident, everything had felt fairly normal. If you discount the warm, tingling feeling the group felt in their tummies. Until now, symptoms were at an all time low.

Kaveh was not faring well. His stomach felt cramped, tight and nauseating, sending cold shivers down his arms. His legs wobbled as he walked, he had half the mind to catch any imposing stumbles. His skin was warm, unnaturally so, clammy, sweaty and cold, unusual for the Sumeru weather. Was he sick? He felt feverish, the unbearable kiss of a migraine threatened to break in his head.

One glance at [Name] and even he could tell she was in a similar state, face flushed and breaths shaky. Small Kitten-like cries whimper from her throat with every few steps she makes. She hugs her arms to her body, eyes glazed and bleary, barely focused on the road ahead.

Alhaitham notices the state of his travel companions, swaying from one side of the path to the other, boots catching on pebbles and nearly toppling them over. It's Kaveh that's knocked down first, landing right on his knees, scuffing them into the mud below. [Name] spins around blearily, mumbling a short 'huh?' Barely managing to keep herself upright. Alhaitham is quick to his side, knees bent, hands hovering over his form.

"Kaveh, are you alright? Can I touch you?" He asks. Kaveh groans and nods dopily in response, a large frown sits itself on his face. Alhaitham presses his palm to the blonde's forehead, he was definitely warm, unnaturally so. He keens into his hand, eyebrows scrunched inwards, his discomfort well shown on his face. Alhaitham's head swims for what to do next, give him water? Some food? Let him rest? He wasn't well versed in the human body - Humans in general for that matter.

Alhaitham slides his palm to Kaveh's cheek, just as warm, as he suspected. The blonde hiccups a small cry, squirming in his spot in the mud. Alhaitham brings two fingers to Kaveh's neck, pressing into the hot pulse point under his chin. Kaveh keens, moaning breathily at the hard press of his fingers at his throat. He must really be feeling sick if he was moaning in pain like that - Alhaitham muses.

Kaveh whines as he pulls away from him, crouching and sifting through his pack, ready to get to the bottom of the situation. Alhaitham is quickly stunned however, when he feels a soft press on his front, down there. He looks down, finding a flushed Kaveh nuzzling his nose into the crotch of his pants. His hands hook into his trousers, snatching him down, closer into him. Alhaitham lands on his behind, ass in the wet mud of the forest floor. He leaves wet kisses against Alhaitham's clothed cock, staining his dark pants with his spit. The pit of Alhaitham's stomach warms, head spinning momentarily, what had gotten into Kaveh? And why wasn't he stopping it? Alhaitham wracks his frazzled brain - The Pollen. Gods he could feel it now, his body burning hot, cock aching in his trousers. He sucks in a breath as Kaveh mouths at his clothed head, kissing open mouthed, breath hot through the now tight fabric.

"K-Kaveh- This isn't funny-" His words are cut short buy a hard lick on his trousers.

Alhaitham feels a breath against his neck, he nearly jumps back. A soft, low moan erupts from [Name's] throat, right into his ear. Her arms wrap around Alhaitham's front, pressing him into her chest. She kisses at Alhaitham's skin, warm, glossy lips stick to his neck, leaving sweet wet marks over the surface. Alhaitham breathes a moan, bumping his hips into Kaveh's lips. His tongue laps at his cockhead, tasting the cheeky dribbles of pre that seep through his trousers. Archons Alhaitham should stop them, restrain them, anything. They wouldn't do this on their own accord, it was the pollen! But Alhaitham couldn't bring himself to do it, the wet lick of Kaveh's tongue, sweet kisses pressed into his neck from [Name's] soft lips. It was too good to not indulge.

Alhaitham's moral compass is completely shattered by a sweet little moan. He couldn't even remember who made the noise, but he couldn't withhold. He hastily works at the button of his trousers, pulling them down just enough to reveal his swollen, achey cock. He taps his sticky head against Kaveh's lulled out tongue, groaning as he eagerly laps at him. The lips on his neck turn to teeth, sinking softly into his decadent, milky skin. His chest heaves, his breaths shaky and uneven. [Name's] snug grip on him tightens, one hand pets over Alhaitham's ribs, caressing him tenderly. He swallows and licks at his lips, plump and parted from the heavy petting he had been recipient of. He suddenly hiccups, eyes widening and looking down, seeing Kaveh wrap his pretty, pink lips over his fat tip.

Alhaitham let's out a strangled groan, his throat buzzes under [Name's] lips. She giggles a deranged little noise into his skin, breathy and keening before nipping hard at his neck. He swears a short profanity, tilting his head back and nosing into [Name's] cheek. Kaveh's warm mouth engulfs his thick cock, bobbing up and down, licking and kissing at his weeping cock. Alhaitham thrusts his hips forward, gently nudging his cock further down Kaveh's throat. Kaveh whines on his length, greedily wrapping his arms around Alhaitham's hips, hugging at his body as he takes him down his throat.

Gods they were going to kill him. His body was on fire, achey length twitching hard as Kaveh swallows around him. The soft breath in his ear sends hot shivers down his spine, [Name] sinks her teeth into his earlobe and he keens. Not a sound he would usually make. His hands find their way into Kaveh's shiny hair, threading his fingers through the pretty strands. He wasn't going to last, the hot mouth sucking his cock, dribbling drool and pre down Kaveh's chin as he swallowed him down. The sweet caress of his body, the soft pinch at his nipples through his top. His cock aches and his heavy balls tighten, he couldn't take anymore. Alhaitham cums with a startled groan, shooting thick, milky ropes into Kaveh's mouth, who keens and laps at his thick pulsing head. [Name] hugs him tight, hushing his noises with a soft giggled 'shh' in his ear.

Kaveh moans sweetly around Alhaitham's thick cock, licking and suckling at his sensitive tip. He pops off of his cock and climbs over Alhaitham's frame, grabbing at [Name's] chin and pulling her into a searing kiss. They lock lips next to Alhaitham's ear, tounging into eachothers mouths, swapping hot spit and Alhaitham's milky, salty cum. Alhaitham's noses into Kaveh's warm neck, catching his breath as the pair ravish each others lips.

What happens next is a blur in Alhaitham's vision, all happening far too quickly for his gluggy brain to keep up. [Name] straddles Alhaitham's lap, hands planted firmly to his chest, pinning him onto the sticky mud below. She kisses him, tonging through his lips, forcing him to taste his own mess on her tongue. Alhaitham openly moans into her mouth, lapping eagerly at her wet tongue. She giggles airily into his mouth, grinding her hips into his half hand groin. A half rakes through his thick, grey hair, petting him sweetly. Alahitham's eyes crane upwards, finding Kaveh's pretty vermilion eyes staring down at him. How did his head end up in Kaveh's lap? He couldn't recall and frankly neither did he care.

A small hand wraps around his hardening cock, tugging him sweetly, edging his length into a stiff, achey mess. She grips his base tightly, threading his fat tip through her wet creamy folds. Her slick coats over his head, creating the most delicious ache in his length. Gods everything was a blur, he couldn't remember anyone removing their clothes, and yet it somehow happened. His skin finally felt cool in the misty forest air, no longer confined by the thick heavy clothing he wore. His eyes wander back to [Name], her cute, plump thighs straddle his hips, squeezing teasingly.

Her hips lift, catching the thick tip of his cock on her gushy cunny hole, circling his length like a minx. She sinks down, so, so slowly, relishing in the thick stretch of Alhaitham's cock in her cunt. Alhaotham flings his head back, eyes rolling, vaguely seeing Kaveh's face above him. Kaveh tuts, caressing his thumb over Alhaithams lips. He slips his thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, forcing him to look down at his thick cock, stretching out [Name's] sweet pussy. He moans wantonly, pitched high and throaty on Kaveh's thumb. He bottoms out into her, her cunt kisses at his groin, dribbling sweet, sweet slick into his lap.

[Name's] hips bounce up and down on his lap, humping and riding on his thick cock. Her arm reaches, palm wrapping nicely over Kaveh's freed cock by his cheek. She strokes him eagerly as she fucks herself in Alhaitham's lap, grinding her puffy clit into his groin with every hump of her hips. She laughs again, breathy and cunning, she leans down, sinking her cunt right on Alhaitham's cock, forcing his fat tip to kiss at her cervix. She takes Kaveh's pretty pink tip into her mouth, sweetly suckling and kissing him. She humps into Alhaitham's lap as she sucks Kaveh off, kissing and licking at his length while she fucks herself. Kaveh moans deep, pulling Alhaitham by his mouth to his cock. Alhaitham laps and kisses at his milky base, licking heavy lines over the pretty vein that ran under his length.

[Name] pops off of Kaveh's cock, straightening up and slamming her hips into Alhaitham's lap. She grabs his hair, angling his mouth just right for Kaveh to press through his lips. Alhaitham suckles at Kaveh's flushed tip, moaning stupidly as he takes him down his throat, painfully angling his neck to achieve such a feat. Alhaitham felt pathetic but he couldn't care, his mind swam with only them, their lips, their bodies, their sweet and pretty cock and pussy. He ought to take a sample of that dreadful pollen himself, if this was how they were going to behave around him. Alhaitham wraps his palms around [Name's] waist, driving his hips upwards into her cunt.

[Name] squeals as Alhaitham thrusts into her, breaking her pace for something far quicker. Alhaitham whines on Kaveh's cock, fucking up into her juicy pussy feverously. He licks and laps at Kaveh's pink tip, dipping his tongue into his wet slit, drinking up any milky pre that dribbled out. The three cry and moan, thrusting and grinding and fucking into each other with haste. Minds fogged, eyes bleary, cock throbbing and aching, sweet cunny spewing creamy slick everywhere. Gods Alhaitham could feel it, the way Kavehs pretty cock twitches on his tongue, the hard clench of [Name's] cunt on his cock.

[Name] falls first, sweet pussy squirting hard all over Alhaitham's lap, pretty spurts of slick messing everywhere as he fucks her at a brutal pace. She squeals loud, her little cunt clenches on his cock, milking at his fat length with her hot orgasm. Alhaitham fucks thick and hard into her pussy, buying her quivering hole with his slower pace. He groans over Kaveh's cock as he cums again, spouting creamy ropes into her messy pussy. He humps into her, using her pussy to milk up all he had to offer. [Name] giggles dumbly, kissing at Alhaitham's lips, wrapped around Kaveh's length. He pops off of his cock, lapping and licking his aching head, catching his tongue against [Name's] own as they kiss at his slit. [Name] humps her pussy into Alhaitham's lap, whining into Kaveh's cock as she fucks Alhaitham's half hard length.

Kaveh threads his fingers through both of their hair, tugging at the strands, whining as they bring him to fruition. Kaveh cums hot spurts on their lips and tongues, relishing in the two as they lap up his mess between each other's lips. They kiss and suck at Kaveh's leaking head, swapping spit and sharing Kaveh's cum.

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Everything had calmed down, clothes were back on, albeit caked in mud and leaves, heads were clear and some were feeling guilty. [Name] and Kaveh nearly grovel at Alhaitham's feet, sniffing up snot and tears as they apologize to him profusely

"We're s-sorry we're so sorry!" Cries [Name].

"Is there anything we can do to make it better? I'll- I'll clean the whole house for a full year! I'll deliver you lunch! I'll… I'll kiss your boot! I'll-" Kaveh babbles on and on.

Alhaitham huffs, and shakes his head, a ghost of a grin washes over his lips. His eyes fall behind them, on a dainty, pink and red flower. Kaveh paces back and forth, still spouting nonsense before his eyes light up.

"I know! I'll-" He's cut short, in his usual Kaveh manner he poses dramatically as he speaks, subsequently slapping his hand right into the plant. With a sigh Alhaitham holds his breath, watching as the pastel pink pollen fills the air around Kaveh once again.

I usually post 10-11am my time and it's 5pm heheeuhabm oop

In my defense.. I have no defense heheh

Anyway I just think Alhaitham also deserves to be wrecked - initially I was going to have Kaveh but it was his turn ♡

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Ily ♡

♡KinkTober Taglist♡

@heath-sama @yejiswifex @hunnibunnix @bleh09 @madsw9 @py-schi @wizzardcatwithastick @shiningpaint-marbleheart @cherrytomato2 @i-am-silver @your-tears-taste-sweeter @kqzutcra @themusingsofmany @kaijubxnny @omletteattack

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Updating the list later that sugarbaby!reader is now Logan or Bruce, good luck to everyone. (This is also one Logan freebie for you, just Logan cause I think he’s near.)

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. Coating the city in a slick, wet mess that told Logan winter was closer than he wanted. The only upside was that it meant cooler days and less humidity.

Still.

Being out of the apartment helped. Even if he couldn't stop thinking about you. And all the pieces that he couldn't make fit. You were a good kid. A hell of a cook. Wrote books. Had friends and a well-trained dog- but. Didn't date?

Wade was protective of you and that made sense. But you weren't much alike- but. The age difference maybe? He'd seen kids have two different upbringings in the same house but it was usually the other way around. An older sibling being the grown up and the younger being the fuck up.

Sickly kid? That would make sense. Wade, Vanessa, even a couple of your friends that had been around hovered. And you hadn't flinched at cutting your hand. No one else had even disputed that you'd bleed out cutting your knee open- even if it was a joke.

It was a puzzle. And he was too old for puzzles.

But, that didn't mean that when he saw you up the road buying a couple hot dogs at a stand with your dog he was going to walk away. Mostly because Wade pissed him off.

"Hey," he called, "call your fucking brother!"

"I went hiking and I just got back yesterday," you answer, dropping your change in the tip jar.

Logan smiled a little. "And yet you're alive."

"Surprisingly," you hum, giving Trigger his first hot dog and stroking his head. "But this monster is pretty good about not letting me walk off a cliff or anything."

"Where'd you go?" Logan asked, falling in step with you. Not missing that your dog was forcing him to keep his distance. And he didn't push. The dog didn't trust him and Logan didn't blame him.

"Upstate with a few friends; we rent a cabin, do some hiking and drink until we run out of alcohol or firewood- whatever happens first."

Logan looked at you sideways and smiled a little. "Wade-"

"Wade disappeared for like five years once. He'll survive if I spend a couple days drinking in the woods."

It's said without venom. Or irritation. But Logan can feel a wall being hit. Something you aren't going to talk about. And he nodded, Holding his hands up in surrender, "I'm just sayin' you should call him before he calls the cops or somethin', bub."

"One, Wade would never. He'd just break in to check on me. Two, if I call you you're really fucking special. I hate talking on the phone. I don't even call our mother."

"She's still alive?" Logan asked blinking.

"If you can call it that, sure."

[onboardsorasora]

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT MAX THINKS WHEN HE SEES THE HICKIES ON DANIEL🙏🙏

i literally snuck this between meetings bestie <3

Max looked up from his phone when he heard Daniel’s laugh just outside the plane. He smiled wryly to himself, knowing that the kid had slept through all of his alarms. His frantic texts had said as much and Max had laughing told him it was fine– that they were all running late.

He’d been out with Charles and Carlos last night. Charles had demanded a party night to celebrate the three of them on the podium. It was fun and needed. He hadn’t thought to invite Daniel, hadn’t wanted him to be clinging the whole night and he was glad when Daniel hadn’t reached out either. Clearly he’d had his own night in.

Max didn’t know what time he’d gotten back but the moment he woke up, his first call had been to his assistant to push back their flight time. It wasn’t as if the plane would leave without him anyway.

Raymond stole his attention just as Daniel boarded, he grinned to the steward before tucking his bag away. He looked cozy in his hoodie, hood up and covering his floof of hair. He was ready for the nap Max knew he would take. He always slept on the plane. Daniel smiled shyly at him and Max nodded, refocusing on Raymond.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Daniel got himself comfortable in the seat diagonal to Max, across the aisle. Daniel let out a muffled curse when his phone fell and Max bit his lip as he dove for it clumsily. His hood slumped backwards when he flopped back into his set triumphantly, then he winced a little and then blushed. Daniel’s eyes darted quickly over to Max as he normally did and Max raised a brow at him in question. 

The race yesterday had been particularly brutal, with all the bumps on the track and the humidity. He wouldn’t be surprised if Daniel was still sore. He was, and he’d made sure to get massaged this morning before heading out. Max didn’t think Daniel would have considered that.

Daniel nodded and gave a thumbs up just as Raymond touched Max’s shoulder to regain his attention. Max listened attentively, giving his opinion. His eyes strayed to Daniel once more, at what looked like a mark on his neck.

It was too high up to be the seatbelt straps. It was almost in his hairline if anything and Max stared. He knew what he’d think it was if it were on anyone else, knowing exactly how much pressure and pain could create a mark like that. But this was Daniel, so it couldn’t be that.

He ignored how sour that thought made his stomach. Feeling the last vestiges of all the gin he drank churning with his breakfast.

It was Daniel. Daniel wouldn’t because he was Max’s. He probably hurt himself somehow, the kid was pretty clumsy.

Daniel shifted gingerly in his seat again, and shook his head with a smile when the steward asked him a question. Max watched as he paused before reaching to touch the side of his neck. Then it was as if he caught himself and dropped his hand back to his lap. Max narrowed his eyes.

Then Daniel peeked over at him and seemingly froze when he caught Max’s eyes already looking over at him. He looked frightened. Guilty. 

Max seethed.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Thirty - Yesterday

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Racism

A/N: Yeahhhh, so I ended up splitting the chapter anyway lol It was gonna be like 70+ pages, I freaking had to. So sorry for that wait just for a normal chapter!

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Ugh, his head was killing him.

His neck too, although that wasn’t anything new. Nothing he shouldn’t have expected considering how badly he’d torn into it this time. 

Shigaraki really couldn’t remember what about today had been so horrible and overwhelming (or maybe it was yesterday now, considering he had no idea how long he’d been out of it for). At any rate, it wasn’t just one thing, he supposed. 

It was the anniversary of the day Sensei got rid of Mon-chan, that day each year was always a rough one. His dreams always seemed to be a lot worse, so he usually made a concerted effort to not sleep the night before, so he was tired. Not to mention the summer weather was sweltering, and it had rained the day before, that hot humidity causing his worn skin to sting in a strangely familiar and disturbing way.

And then he’d gotten to school. God, fucking school. 

There were alternating stretches in his life among his school peers, where either they’d be scared of and avoid him, or be superior and bully him. He supposed actually that the former actions — the social isolation they consciously put him through — was technically a form of bullying too, but whatever. There was a difference. There were times where the general collective got a lot more hands on with asserting his pariah status to him. 

This week fell during the “hands-on” period of the cycle, as evidenced by the words “die, pervert, die” scribbled across his shoe locker in sharpie. Not to mention the way he was continuously and subtly tripped by the other boys during their gym class. At one point he’d also accidentally bumped into that cute girl that sat next to him — Fuwa he was pretty sure her name was — and she had physically recoiled, whispering and giggling loudly with her friends after about how creepy and nasty he was. Practically making sure that he could hear every word of it.

But honestly, he couldn’t even say that that was the issue that really started to make his skin crawl. He didn’t really notice it much. His homeroom teacher sure had though. She asked him to speak with her in the faculty office during lunch. Expressed concern there over his antisocial behavior and lack of cohesiveness with his peers. Not to mention some of the unsavory rumors she’d overheard about him recently. At the end of the lecture she mentioned that if things didn’t turn around soon, she’d want to speak with his Guardian.

He supposed that’s what he’d ultimately been thinking about when calculus came around that afternoon, his fingers clawing deeper and deeper into the side of his neck as he tried to figure out what to do. Because, what the actual fuck was he supposed to do? How could he turn this around when he wasn’t the one to even put his life in this direction in the first place? He didn’t fucking do anything wrong, didn’t do anything to anybody. He had no control. He was helpless. 

Even as he tried to stay in his seat when called up to solve an equation on the board, he could do nothing about it. There would be consequences if he didn’t get up right now. He was completely at the teacher’s mercy. At the other students’ mercy. At his Sensei’s mercy.

At everyone else’s mercy, just like he’d always been.

His life wasn’t his own, it never had been. And he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He didn’t want to die, but he wanted everyone else to. He wanted everything around him to just crumble away and leave him alone and finally give him some goddamn fucking peace — whatever that was. 

Because he couldn’t imagine peace, truly. He’d never had it. All he had was hatred, the desire to destroy everything around him. He hated this school, these fucking people, this life.

Himself. 

Jesus, that’s probably what he hated most of all.

And then he didn’t have many more thoughts after that. It was all a blur of screams and people grabbing him and blood loss. Overwhelming pressure and a searing itch that seeped all the way down into his bones.

Yeah it had been bad, even he could admit that. It was pretty hard to deny when the scratching episode had ended with him in a forced stretcher and ambulanceride to the, several stitches, and an express ticket to the stark white intake room of Jaku Hospital’s Psychiatric Ward where little Miss Nurse Ratched was currently watching him like a hawk as he unbuckled his belt. 

Seriously, if he wanted a woman to look at him this unimpressed while he undressed, he would’ve accepted a night with one of Sensei’s hookers.

Whatever, it’s not like any of that really bothered him that much now. It was done, he was here. The bitch could glare and gripe at him all she wanted, but what was really irritating him the most about this situation was the pounding in his head. For fuck’s sake, they were in a hospital after all. Was it too much for him to get some goddamn ibuprofen before he took his pants off? The hell kind of operation was Garaki running here?

Free from the loops of his slacks, Shigaraki dropped his belt onto the ground, pointedly next to, but not in, the personal items bin that the Nurse had set out for him.

She didn’t so much as blink at the disrespect, only informed him:

“Dress shirt too.”

Shigaraki shot her a look, “Seriously?”

“You could swallow the buttons,” she explained simply in that obnoxious deadpan.

He scoffed at the explanation, but did start to undo his uniform shirt. Whatever, he figured, as the bloodied collar slackened around his shoulders and into his view. It’s not like he could wear this one again anyway. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be an asshole about it though.

“Sure you don’t need my pants too? I might make a noose out of them,” he spat as he tore the shirt from his forearms, “Ooh, or how about my underwear? If I’m determined enough, I bet you I could choke on those too.”

The Nurse just stared at him with that completely unimpressed expression.

“Just the shirt will suffice.”

Well, then. He was sure that she was just a blast at parties.

Stripped down just to his black undershirt and school slacks, the Nurse gave him a final onceover. She lingered for a moment on his uwabaki — having been rushed out straight from his math class, he hadn’t had the chance to switch out of them.

“No laces on those?”

“Does it fucking look like it?”

She circled around him, checking the shoes at every angle, before making another mark on her clipboard.

“You can keep those.”

“Well thank God for that.”

She looked up over her clipboard blankly, “You know, we have scrubs we can give you. Then we can skip this whole ordeal.”

Clearly she wished that he’d gone with that option. She wanted this over with just as much as he did. But the reality was that she was wasting her time even more than she realized. The doctor had told him that they were putting him on a 72-hour psychiatric hold sure, but they were fucking idiots if they thought that was actually going to happen.

He shivered a bit as a gust from the AC rushed over him, bringing up his bare arms to wrap around himself.

“I’d prefer you guys give me a jacket or something to put on in here,” he growled, “It’s cold as shit.”

“You can ask your guardian to bring any necessary items like that when you see him,” she explained, not looking at him, “Just make sure he reads all the guidelines first.”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes, because of course they weren’t going to offer him anything actually useful, “Whatever. Is he here yet? Are we done?”

Finally she seemed to be finished with her clipboard, bringing it down to rest at her hip and looking him in the eye.

“He just arrived, actually. Do you want to see him?”

Shigaraki gave her a confused look.

“Wha- yeah? Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just asking,” she explained, “I don’t know what your home-life situation is. And our goal here is to keep you safe and mentally stable. If he’s someone that might upset or trigger you, we want to respect that.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. God, this bitch was really pissing him off.

“Well I’m fine, so just get me the hell out of here already.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at him with that blank expression that Shigaraki was quickly realizing was a poker face. She was analyzing him, looking for cracks? Waiting for him to snap or break down or all of it? Whatever her aim was, it had him itching to grab the plastic bin next to him and cuck it right at her.

“This way then,” she finally relented, turning to lead him out of the intake room, “We’ll need you and your guardian to fill out a couple of forms before we can fully admit you.”

“Yeah well, good luck with that,” he said, happy to keep as much of that  biting attitude in his voice as possible.

She paused for a moment after typing in her door code, remembering seemingly.

“Oh. One more thing before we go though.”

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