#made of clock hands and parts of the old carousel

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 22<-

Part 23

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, COMFORT

Warnings: 18+, Smut, under 18 DNI!, pet names, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Overstimulation, Jealousy, ANGST, explicit smut, confessions, fluff

Word Count: 8.1k

Note: Mh. This Part was pure therapy for me… I really hope I could make up for the last Parts and the emotional trauma I put you through. It’s unbelievable how many people are invested in my work. Thank you so much! Every comment, reblog etc motivates me to keep going.

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

You laid in your bed with your cell phone firmly in your hand, but you avoided looking at the screen as if something might jump out of it and attack you.

Your gaze had been fixed on the ceiling for some time, and you tried to think of something other than Chan and the argument. The aching in your head was by now unbearable and you wanted to stop so bad, that you thought about getting something out of the minibar. You would violate your strict no-alcohol rule on tour. But what else had any meaning at all?

After you returned from the beach, Felix had gone straight back to his room to call his family and talk about the concert they would attend tomorrow and Han had disappeared into the hotel gym with Changbin.

When you returned to your hotel room to check your notifications, you noticed the message from Chan.

It was from last night, when you were already fast asleep.

"I'm with my family. I'll see you at the show. Get some rest and watch the boys for me. ~Chan

You instantly felt shabby. He had let you know despite your argument and you had just read over it and then blamed him because you were just caught up with your anger at him.

Just his name on your screen caused such an extreme feeling of emptiness inside you that you felt sick and you missed him with your entire soul, even though you had seen him just a few hours ago. The argument and that you couldn't just go to him, talk to him only made it worse.

As soon as you saw he was online, you almost threw your phone across the room. When he called just a second after, your body was paralyzed.

You didn't manage to answer, afraid of what he might say to you.

As soon as his name disappeared from your phone again and a missed call was displayed, you kicked the blanket off yourself like a petulant child and cried out of anger.

Anger at yourself. Anger against the world.

You hadn't picked up the phone since, and the carousel of worry ran incessantly in your head.

You were absolutely dreading the show tomorrow and the only thing you wanted right now was to look Chan in the eye, feel his heartbeat and breathe in his scent.

Looking out the window, you realized that dusk would soon be setting in and the hotel room suddenly felt awfully cramped. When your head was about to burst, you dared to look at your cell phone again, but there was no message from Chan. At least not for you.

On Bubble, on the other hand, he had written a message just a few seconds after the call.

"Today Channies Room from a special place. Anyone who needs distraction too is welcome. 6pm?"

Distraction? Did that have something to do with you or were you now completely delusional?

Glancing at the clock, you scooted over to your laptop and flipped it open. The stream had been running for a few minutes and you just wanted to watch it.

After a few clicks, his face actually appeared and your heart leapt when you saw his curly hair and tired smile. He was talking to Stay and just explained that he was in his old bedroom at home now that you were finally in Australia.

He looked stunning in just a hoodie, with those mesmerizing eyes and bare face. It was unfair how someone this kind and humble could be that beautiful.

Mutely you listened to his voice and caught yourself smiling as he sheepishly responded to cute comments or joked around with fans. You loved to listen to his little stories, telling everyone about the many medals behind him, he won at swimming competitions, about his family and how his mom cried when he surprised her today.

Still, there remained a dull underlying mood that he couldn't hide. Quickly, there were also a lot of questions all over the comments asking if everything was okay with him.

He cleared his throat and propped his head on his hands before reading aloud:

"Is everything okay?"

He thought for a few seconds about the best thing to say, but his familiar surroundings and distance from JYP made him let his walls down a bit.

"To be honest, it could be better. Actually, I shouldn't be telling this at all.... I had a fight with someone I care about a lot and because I'm too stubborn to realise it in time, I really screwed up.... I did something stupid and made it worse by being emotional and even more stupid."

Immediately there was wild speculation about who he might be talking about. The names of the boys were written in the comments, but especially your name appeared more and more often.

"No, no. Not with the menbers."

That was the answer to the question. It was obvious that he meant you, because no one else was on tour with him that was so important to him. The fans knew that, and by now everyone who read the Kpop News headlines knew that.

You sat up on the bed and stared spellbound at the screen.

Chan tilted his head a little, laughed sheepishly as he always did when he wanted to disguise his true feelings, and ran his hand through his hair.

"It's just that I really regret it, but I think it might already be too late to make up for everything.... And that would be terrible."

He made a small pause and you could hear your heart dropping to the floor.

„She's so special and I would love to tell her how important she is to me. How much I love everything about her and that she deserves so much more... I did her really wrong."

He was silent for a moment obviously drifting off and then quickly shook his head as he saw the comments escalate.

His words were already conjuring up tears again, even though you thought you had none left.

A desperate whiney: „Channie", escaped your trembling lips.

Suddenly, your field of vision became blurry and you sniffled emphatically as you frantically wanted to touch him, but your fingers only met the hard surface of your screen.

"I don't know... I just don't want to lose her. She's not only smart, beautiful and talented in everything she does. She's my best friend and I can't lose that. I don't know how I would move on. I just couldn't..."

That was enough to make you jump up from the bed and search your phone for old documents. You ran the back of your hand over your face while crying like a little kid and finally you found what you were looking for.

You grabbed your denim jacket, your bag, and closed your laptop before storming out of the hotel room and stopping a cab in front of the hotel.

At your tear-stained face, the driver frowned, but took the address without asking.

With the inside camera of your cell phone you tried to get your face back under control, but even when you got out of the car half an hour later, your eyes were still red.

Wearing only shorts and a much too large rumpled shirt from Changbin, you rang the front doorbell and with a glance at the doorbell sign, you automatically smiled.

An older woman with familiar brown eyes opened and peered suspiciously through the crack first.

"Hello?"

"Good evening. I'm really sorry for the intrusion, Mrs Bang. My name is..." but that's as far as you got, as she pulled open the door and her face lit up. You bowed apologetically several times, but she was already stepping out to you. The resemblance to Chan was now unmistakable and his radiance was reflected in her smile.

"I know who you are! Y/N! Chan has talked a lot about you. I recognize you from the picture he showed. You're just more beautiful in real life," she talked away and you smiled overwhelmed.

Chan had shown his family pictures of you and even talked about you?

"Come in quick! It's nice to finally meet you," she said and shooed you into the house.

Immediately you were enveloped by pleasant smells from the kitchen and you curiously looked around the hallway of the house.

Directly you discovered Chan's shoes and his backpack on the floor.

"Thank you very much. The pleasure is all mine."

After you kicked off your shoes, she led you into the living room where Mr. Bang was sitting on an armchair and looked up as soon as you entered. The little white-brown dog that Chan kept showing you pictures of immediately scurried around your feet and sniffed at you curiously.

"This is Y/L/N Y/N!", Mrs Bang introduced you and Mr Bang raised his eyebrows. Your mere name was enough and they knew who you were. That was strange but kind of nice. You couldn't help but kneel down to the cute puppy and pet him until she wagged her tail excitedly. "Hey Berry. Nice to finally meet you," you said, giggling when she licked your cheek.

"Chris didn't say anything about his manager coming to visit," Chan‘s Dad said, and you stood up and bowed respectfully, your cheeks flushed. Chan's father exuded the same competence that he did, only he didn't radiate that warmth that everybody immediately sensed when they were around Chan. But it was obvious that he had been just as handsome as a young man.

"That's right. He doesn't know I'm here, but I really need to talk to him. This couldn't wait. I'm really sorry if I'm interrupting, Mr Bang," you apologized, but his wife waved you off and stroked your back reassuringly.

„Oh nonsense! You're just in time. We'll be eating soon. I hope you're hungry."

Then you were not mistaken and the delicious smell came from the kitchen where Mrs. Bang was cooking.

"Thank you, that's very kind," you said, feeling a gaze on you.

Turning around, you saw a young woman with dark hair, big eyes and the unmistakable features of Chan. She was leaning against the doorjamb with her arms crossed, looking at you with a mysterious smile.

"Hannah say hello, this is Chris's manager," Mrs Bang said when she saw the young woman as well. She pushed herself off the door frame and came toward you.

"I know who she is. You really are as pretty as in the videos..." she murmured, holding out her hand to you. She was your age and you wanted to meet her since Chan told you a lot about her. Actually you seemed to be very alike and it was almost like you already knew each other.

With cheeks flushed with excitement, you took her hand and smiled.

"I'm Hannah. The idiot's sister."

You nodded, and the same warmth that Chan radiated was palpable in her. But she was confident and firm, even though she was a little younger than you.

"Can I go see him? I really need to talk to him," you asked, and she leaned against the doorframe again. Her intense gaze seemed to scan you until she said:

"He's in his room. Talking to his fans."

"Thanks."

You could hardly stand it any longer. All the tension made you tremble, and you went up the stairs to where Hannah had pointed.

Outside the door you heard his voice already muffled and without thinking further you rushed into the room and as you saw Chan in front of his computer, eyes wide and a confused look on his face a sob ripped from your throat. He jumped up and ran a few steps towards you, but you had already thrown yourself at him and wrapped your arms around him. Confused, he froze and after a few seconds he returned your embrace firmly. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your body shaken with relieved sobs as you tried to be as close to him as possible.

Completely surprised, he sucked in your scent, enjoying feeling your body against his at last, holding your slim waist and wrapping his big arms around you, even if he didn't understand how you could suddenly appear at his family's house.

"Y/N what? How...?" he stammered, overwhelmed, but you only pressed yourself tighter against his chest until you were standing on tiptoe.

"I'm so sorry... so sorry," you whispered and his strong arms held you so tightly that all your fear and sadness vanished into thin air. You were with him and that was enough.

When his arms slid down your back and you loosened a little to look him in the eyes, he gulped loudly. Your eyes were bloodshot from all the crying, your lips swollen and your heart racing so he could feel it against his chest.

You were beautiful and he cupped your face with both hands, wanting to kiss every tear of yours away and never let you go again.

But then he remembered the stream again. Panicked, he looked at the screen. The chat was going crazy and the comments were popping up so fast that you couldn't read anything.

You could only be seen from the chest down and you were barely in the picture, yet it was clear who was lying there in his arms, who he was holding so tightly and he gently detached himself from you to lean in front of the camera and said:

"Okay I have to end the stream now unfortunately. I'll see you next time. Stays and Baby Stays! Big hug!"

He did his typical goodbye and as soon as he turned off the computer, he turned back to you, still unable to comprehend that you were now actually standing in his old room where he spent half his childhood.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a soft voice, coming up to you.

"I was watching the stream. Heard what you said about me. Chan I'm so sorry."

When your voice shook and he saw how tense your fingers were closed around the hem of your shirt, he quickly pulled you close, put his hands on your hips and leaned his forehead against yours.

"No... I acted like an asshole. I'm sorry, baby. It was my fault from the beginning. I should have told you about the kiss, then I would have told you straight up that it didn't mean anything because I only want to kiss you! I want you and nothing else! I am selfish and stupid. I want you to be jealous like I am when I see you with someone other than my members. I want you to want me as much as I want you..."

The words he should have said to you in the hotel, or even earlier, finally burst forth and your breath rattled as you clasped your hands in his neck.

He looked into your eyes, stroked your cheek and the contours of your face that he had missed so much, and now as you smiled with relief his heart fluttered like a wild bird in his chest.

"I do. Chan I can't go on without you. The last few hours have been hell. Why did you do that? Why did you just leave?"

The guilty conscience he had felt all along returned violently and he pulled you onto his lap as he sat down on the edge of his bed, caressing your thighs and enjoying the way your body nestled perfectly against his.

"I thought it would be best to stay away. You didn't seem like you wanted me around."

"Now I'm here..."

He laughed incredulously and ran his hands through his hair. He looked outrageously handsome in the hoodie and sweatpants, which made you bite your lips as he leaned back a bit to get a closer look at you.

"This is incredible. You're here... You're actually here! How do you even know where my family lives?"

You smiled and played with the rings on his fingers. Holding his hand tightly in yours, you intertwined his hand with yours.

"You told me a few times to send flowers to your mother."

Chan nodded slowly and smiled so brightly that you exhaled heavily.

"True... Sometimes I forget that you're my manager."

You let go of his hand, leaning forward and nuzzling his neck before lightly touching his with your lips.

"Me too..."

You both grinned, each other's breath colliding against your lips, and that's when you finally kissed him. It was like a thousand butterflies were buzzing around in your stomach and the reason for your tears was barely tangible anymore.

He pulled you back with him until he was on his back, stroking his hands under the gray shirt and caressing your skin all over, with his fingertips, while biting your bottom lip. Sighing, you nestled your body against him until your chest was pressed tightly against his, opened your lips a little and already your tongues were meeting, playing with each other, and you were lost in a whirlpool of feelings.

His warmth, the tangy smell of his perfume mixed with his own smell let everything bubble up in you.

You absorbed everything in you. His body beneath you, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you, every movement and every breath.

Pure happiness flooded you and Chan's presence enclosed you in your own world. No one could take this moment from you and as you continued to deepen the kiss, touching each other, caressing, the heat inevitably rose.

The touches became fiercer, more demanding and you felt how much he had missed you.

You didn't know how long you just laid there, kissing and touching. Your bodies intertwined as Chan let out a deep grumble and firmly grabbed your ass with both hands.

Softly you gasped out as he pressed your hips against his in such a way that you could clearly feel his hard length against your cunt through the fabric of his sweatpants.

"I missed you so fucking much," he whispered, his eyes like jet black tar, glued to you and never going to let you go.

His hair was curly, messy, his skin soft and shiny.

You loved it when he dreamily studied your features, as if nothing else mattered.

"I'm here, and I'm not leaving," you assured him, playing with the collar of his hoodie. He was wearing way too many clothes.

You longed for the warmth of his skin on yours.

"Good... You are mine. You belong to me and my members. I want you to know that I only have eyes for you. Not for that stylist or anyone else."

You smiled softly, waving it off:

"It's all good, Chan. I believe you."

You didn't want him to worry anymore. The arrangement was dangerous enough as it was. He couldn't and shouldn't commit himself or even tell a potential admirer that he was taken.

But Chan's expression turned serious. All the things you had said in the argument played over and over in his head for the last few hours like a horror movie.

Suddenly he grabbed you by the waist, turned you until you were under him and looked you so deeply in the eyes that you swallowed loudly.

"You're not just a fuck toy to me. You are so much more! You are the sun... fuck it, the whole universe to me."

He sounded desperate, like he couldn't even begin to put into words what he was feeling. His fingers moved gently across your shoulders, up your neck until they reached your cheeks. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand, losing yourself in the moment. At a loss for words, the intensity in his eyes threatening to crush you, you smiled and murmured:

"Sounds like song lyrics."

Chan snorted in amusement and kissed your temple:

"You're right. I should write that down."

At that, you shook your head slightly, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him to you.

"Not now..."

He immediately returned the kiss stormily. You grew hungrier, all the tension transferred into pure energy and lust that carried you away on a cloud.

You slid your hands under his hoodie and he helped you take it off. Finally you could touch his abs, roaming your fingertips over them until he gasped and he too slid his hands inside your shorts, tight to your ass until they slid up and he could grab a handful, with the other hand he pushed the shirt up until he grabbed your chest and you groped each other greedily, floating higher and higher into desire and as you rolled your hips against his you felt how aroused he was.

"Fuck I'm so hard.... Thought about you so much," he panted against your ear, kissing your neck and kneading your chest until a loud gasp escaped you. Your body and his were so close that they melted into each other.

"Thought about your soft skin..." he whispered and sucked on your neck, pressing his dick right against your cunt.

"Your sweet scent... Fuck and your pussy. I need to fuck you so bad," he panted, grinded his hips against yours until you clenched your hands against his back.

"Channie..." you gasped, your head filled only with desire.

"Sorry to bother you, but dinner's ready if you're hungry."

Startled, you both froze and looked to the door, where Hannah stood with her arms crossed and a big grin on her face.

Chan was trying to cover you up as best he could, but you couldn't come up with a meaningful lie as to why he was lying on top of you half-naked, his hands everywhere he weren't supposed to touch his manager.

"Hannah out! Now!" he yelled at her, but she just giggled and examined you.

"It's okay. Relax. You are lucky it's just me. You guys better come. Otherwise mom will come upstairs."

With those words, she disappeared and you pressed both heels of your hands to your eyes, your head flushed.

Chan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about that," he muttered, and when your eyes finally met, you couldn't help but laugh heartily.

Chuckling, he buried his face against your neck and wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"Come on, we better not keep my parents waiting," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your stomach, then he looked up at you, eyes shining, and you felt weightless as you nodded.

As soon as you entered the kitchen, your stomach growled at the smell of the feast Mrs. Bang had prepared.

"There you are. Sit down and help yourselves before it gets cold!" she said, and you tried your best to ignore Hannah's intense gaze. You sat down, you across from Chan, next to Mr Bang and Hannah.

Once you were all seated, you tilted your head:

"Thank you for the food and the spontaneous hospitality."

Mr Bang started to eat and waved off:

"Don't mention it. We know how much you do for our Chris."

Chan smirked:

"I don't think so"

Directly your cheeks reddened treacherously as Chan was already grinning into his Miso soup.

"That's true. Chan always tells us about you. How hard you work and take care of the boys."

Your heart beat faster and Chan just stared at you with a big grin.

"That's my job and the boys are like my family now," you told them and the Bangs listened intently.

Then Hannah tilted her head:

"But you and Chris get along particularly well?"

You almost choked on the kimchi you had shoved in your mouth and Chan gave Hannah a warning look. But his parents also looked interested.

"Um... I get along with everyone really well. We live together, after all."

"How can you stand it? With eight young men?" sighed Mrs. Bang, shaking her head anxiously. You smirked a little then.

"It's exhausting sometimes, but they all always look out for me. And we work so much that it's actually rather nice when we see each other in the dorm."

Chan looked relieved and his shoulders slumped. His eyes kept wandering over your face, your body, and he wanted so much to tell his family how much he adored you. That you weren't just a valued friend and manager, but the person who gave him everything he needed.

"I hope so," Mr. Bang gave Chan a sharp look.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" asked then Hannah curiously, and Chan kicked her shin under the table, making her hiss.

"She can sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch in my room."

Chan's parents seemed pleased with that, only Hannah raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Really? I thought you guys..."

But she fell silent as Chan stared at her warningly. Your cheeks were glowing by now, and you tried to distract yourself with the omelet, which tasted impossibly good.

The silence grew more oppressive, as did the frowns of the siblings' parents, so you unceremoniously cleared your throat, drawing attention to yourself.

"We'll have to leave bright and early tomorrow. Rehearsals for the performance start at 9."

Quickly, the questioning looks turned to vehement nods.

"Oh yes!"

Mrs. Bang's face beamed.

"We're already so excited to be able to see Chris live tomorrow."

Chan smiled and you could see nervousness flash in his eyes for the first time in a long time.

"So how does it work tomorrow?" asked Mr. Bang with interest, to which you replied:

"You will be picked up by a shuttle and then taken backstage with Felix's family before the show. For the show, I've picked out the best seats for all the family members."

Excitedly, Mrs Bang laughed and Hannah smiled too. Mr Bang nodded and you looked at Chan who was looking at you with affection.

The meal took its course, there was chatter and Chan's family treated you warmly, making you feel right at home.

But you didn't miss Chan nervously wiggling his foot, clearing his throat several times when his mother didn't stop asking you questions about JYPE or about Chan and the boys.

He was impatient, couldn't bear to just look at you now after pining for you for the past few days.

He wanted to kiss your lips, touch your skin until you gasped and finally escape the scrutiny of his family.

Finally, as Mrs. Bang was about to start a new question, just as the conversation about choosing the right outfits was finishing, he slapped both palms on the table and stood up:

"That was very tasty, Mom. Thank you. But we really should get to sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

You looked down into your lap to hide the telltale grin.

After helping clean up, you said your goodbyes for the night, but before you were really out of the room, Chan grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder.

Gasping, you clawed at his back as he pressed his hands tightly against your lower legs.

"Channie! What are you doing?" you giggled as he carried you up the stairs.

"I can't stand it another second. I need you, now, under me, naked."

He opened the door and pushed it shut with his foot, then tossed you onto his bed, literally ripping the shirt off his body.

You smiled excitedly and eyed his toned stomach.

"I have some things to make up for. I acted like an idiot and I need to show you that I'm sorry."

You slowly fell onto your back as he climbed over you and the grinned meanly.

"You got that right."

He snorted and bit your neck, making you giggle.

You greedily ran your hands up his abs, over his shoulders, and his biceps hovering next to your head.

He just looked at you, his face just a hand's width away from yours, his eyes shining like a whole galaxy and his curls tempting you to touch them. You dreamily stroked your index finger down his cheeks, over his lips and to his chin. You had missed this so much and now you knew that you could never live without him again. Your heart wanted him and in the last few days you would rather die than fight with him.

"You mean the whole fucking world to me, you know that?"

His voice was raspy, honest, and your cheeks turned red.

"Stop it, Channie... You're making me blush."

You tried to hide your face in your hands, but he unceremoniously pushed them aside.

"No. I want you to know that. I never want you to doubt that I want you again! I trust you with parts of myself I'm afraid to show anyone else. And I know I'm not the only one of us there."

Your heart pounded so loudly you had to swallow. His body weight rested comfortably on yours and you returned his eye contact.

"I'm afraid of losing you. I was so afraid of hurting you so much that I lost you.... I don't deserve you after everything I've done..."

He shook his head, desperation in his eyes, and you put a hand on his chest, right over his heart, so he was looking at you.

"I'm yours. Not going anywhere."

After so long of not having togetherness, the stress and work always kept you from it, even though you lived under the same roof. That's exactly why right now, this moment was so special.

He nodded slowly, seeming to calm down. You pulled him closer until he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, buried his face against your neck, and took a deep breath. This embrace, his chest against yours, his body on top of yours was as intimate as anything you'd ever felt in your life. You stroked his soft curls, heard his soft grumble and kissed his cheek, hoping not to burst into tears with emotion.

Suddenly, Chan's cell phone rang on the nightstand. But he did not move. Didn't dare to take his arms from you. You were more important right now.

However, who would call in the middle of the night if it wasn't important?

"Chan? This must be important," you mumbled, but he just grumbled and pulled you even closer.

Sighing, you stretched and got hold of the cell phone. You recognized Changbin's name on the screen and handed it to Chan after you answered the call.

He straightened up a bit, groaned, and then put the phone to his ear.

"Yes?"

Changbin's voice sounded excited, worried.

"Y/N has disappeared. Do you know where she is? Hyunjin said she's not in her room and she's not in Felix's bed either. We searched the whole hotel, but she just left without saying anything."

Immediately you slapped your hand over your mouth. You hadn't thought of that at all when you had left in a hurry. The boys were probably worried all along.

"She's here. With me."

"Oh... Good."

Changbin sounded puzzled, yet equally relieved.

"She's with Chan," he clarified to the listeners in the background.

"All right. I'm relieved then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Chan hung up and you exhaled with a guilty conscience.

"Shit I just took off without telling them..."

Chan brushed the strands of hair from your face and kissed your lips briefly.

"It's all good. Now they know."

You smiled at the warmth in his smile and pulled him down to kiss you. Quickly the kiss grew more heated and he finally pulled your shirt over your head to look at your breasts.

"No bra huh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, cupping one of your breasts with his large hand.

"I was in a hurry," you laughed, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer. The heat between your legs was by now unbearable and there you felt that he was also struggling with his arousal the whole time. His presence and touch felt just as you remembered it, warm and hard, yet strangely soft and comforting at the same time.

He began kissing your neck, letting his lips brush lovingly over your skin, hissing as you rolled your hips against his.

"Fuck I was so hard the whole evening..."

You shuddered as he sank his teeth into the sensitive spot behind your ear.

"You just have to promise me you'll never touch Mina again, or look at her," you muttered and that's when he lifted his head and frowned with a smirk.

"Babe she's our stylist..."

Yes it was childish, but you were jealous as hell and couldn't help it. On the side you pulled down his pants, which he watched with wide eyes.

"I know... It just drives me crazy. She's into you and she's around you all the time and I can't even fire her because she's really good at her job and nice as hell."

He slipped out of his pants and grabbed your chin so you had to look at him.

"You're damn cute when you're jealous, did you know that?"

His deep voice and doting look made you melt as he lifted one corner of his mouth cheeky.

"I'm not jealous!" you quickly shot back, even though you both knew that was a lie.

"It's just... Fuck you're mine."

Chan's eyes grew big and took on an intense sparkle. The air was forced out of your lungs as his lips crashed hard against yours and he touched your body passionately, pulling you closer and licking into your mouth as if he wanted to devour you. His hand now hovered above your wet core as he worked his way to cup your heat through the thin material of your panties.

"Take your pants off, right now!" he growled against your lips and you instantly got goosebumps all over your body. Quickly, with his help, you slipped out of your shorts and he hurriedly rolled your panties off your legs until you were naked beneath him.

"God. So fucking gorgeous." His left thumb filed on autopilot and landed on your clit. He ran his thumb up and down through your soaked folds. You murmured his name shamelessly as he put his thumb flat on your clit before starting to rub gentle circles on it.

"Sorry baby girl, I can't wait a second longer, if you talk to me like that..." he whispered and slipped out of his boxers. You almost forgot how massive and powerful his hard length was in contrast to your body. You bit your lower lip as he stroked his fingers through your wet folds and wetted his dick with your juices.

He propped himself up next to your head and lined himself up with your entrance. Then he looked deep into your eyes.

"Normally I'd take better care of you, but you're driving me crazy right now.... I won't be able to hold on for long."

You smiled, because you felt the same way. You needed him to light you up. He had to infuse you with life energy again, otherwise you would surely perish.

"Now's your chance to apologize appropriately," you breathed, grinning teasingly. He snorted.

"Oh I will. What do you want baby girl? Tell me? What have you been craving all this time?" he said, his voice barely a raspy whisper. He knew the answer to your question, he could read it on your face, smell it in the air, feel it in the vein in your neck that throbbed rapidly beneath his fingers. But still, he needed to be sure he was right, hear from your lips the plea for his caresses. He needed to know that you were as desperate as he was.

"You! I want you. All of you and only for me. I want your touch, your cock pounding deep inside me.... Please."

Your stifled gasps he intercepted with a kiss as he pressed his tip into you, sliding inch by inch inside you. He stretched you, seeming to tear your walls apart as he sunk deeper and deeper. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, pulled yourself against him until there was not a breath of space between you, no place where you're not touching. You nipped at his earlobe just to watch the shiver race down his back,

But he distracted you from the burning pain with loving kisses, his tongue played with yours and you clawed your fingernails into his back as he sank all the way into you.

"Oh god... fuck... Channie... so big," you groaned out as he was balls deep inside you, making you catch your breath. You wrapped your legs tighter around his body and he pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead.

"Taking me so well... You're so good for me baby girl. Now let me make you feel good."

With that he began to move his hips. However, slowly and not violently as usual. He kept eye contact, enjoying your soft whimper as he thrusted into you again, deep and savoring every second where your warm pussy sucked him in.

He thrusted slowly but deeply and the world began to drift into the background. You felt only his warm skin, smelled only his cinnamon scent and the passion that made you press your hips against him.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, kissing your soft lips, aware of your body trembling beneath him.

Quickly you nodded, pulling him closer with your legs, pressing your heels against his butt in the process.

"Don't stop! I need you. Please."

Your pleading twisted his mind, your body made him gasp and he moved his hips again. The tip of his cock slowly started to glide into your tight walls again and this allowed him to lay his head on your shoulder and tuck his face into your warm and familiar neck.

Now he felt your soft boobs press into his skin and groaned at the warm feeling it brought him. Chan took your words as a permission to start rocking his hips with yours and it made you let out a gasp of pleasure. This time the sex with Chan was very different than before. He was not fast, heated full of passion and fire. He showed you the loving, caring side that sex had to offer. His movement velvety, deep and engaging. He enjoyed your whole existence, every detail, while he broke you apart completely. You moved in unison, he hit every sensitive spot until you moaned his name out loud, all the while he thrusted into you slowly, you two making your session thats been going on for who knows how long is getting more and more heated. His lips did an incredible job in leaving wet kisses all over your throat and collarbone. He straightened up a bit, his hands sliding down your body from your boobs to your waist, groping and feeling up your skin just so he could appreciate everything about you physically. Your arms around his neck, occasionally threading through his pretty dark curls as he liked looking at you while he fucked you senseless, with deep thrusts that completely silenced your head.

He looked deep into your eyes, rolled his hips and loved the way your thighs were squeezing around his hips. He started thinking about all the things he loved about you. Likewise he absolutely loved the look on your face as he slowly sunk his cock so deep inside of you that you rolled your eyes and treasured the tears that fell from your eyes as he pounded into you. He loved to feel your skin and see how small you looked in his arms.

"Channie I'm close..." you gasped, your fingers tightening on his back and barely fitting a sheet of paper between your bodies. Sweat stood on both of your foreheads, your bodies heated and as if perfectly fused into each other.

"God you're perfect... Come for me baby girl!" he moaned, snapping his hips harder and pulsing deep inside you.

Your fingernails dug deeper into his skin as he kissed you passionately again, you moaning into his mouth and he gripped your breast tightly with his hand. The kiss was soft and slow too, neither rushed nor hungry, and you loved it.

You had time for yourselves for the first time in ages and it was beautiful. Your fight had only brought you closer together and it was a carefree, happy moment in this stressful time.

So maybe that's why you were trying to draw this out as long as possible. To hold off on coming and live in the moment for a while longer. The bed is rocking slightly from the slow but sensual thrusting Chan was doing. Your nails began to claw at the skin of his bare back, making him hiss. He fucked you slow but hard, insistent, determined like he was trying to leave the imprint of himself inside of you long after he was gone.

Suddenly, a euphoric feeling washed over you and your orgasm crashed down on your body. Your body shook and spasmed under him and you had to bite down on his shoulder to conceal your moans. You thought for a moment about his parents, who were just a few doors away. As soon as your walls crushed him the blissful look on your face pushed him over the edge. He came harder than he ever had before, his muscles cramping and he had only bright white desire flooding his veins. He throbbed deep inside you, painted your walls white and looking you straight in the eyes as he gasped:

"Fuck I love you so much..."

You froze at his words, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. His hips slowed down and rather than thrusting, they gradually just pressed into your hips, rutting back and forth slightly, creating added pressure to your bundle of nerves and extending both of your releases.

When you both came down from your high, breathing heavily, he was still deep inside you, hard and pulsating.

It took a few seconds for Chan to realize what he had just said as well. Cautiously, almost fearfully, he raised his eyes, looking for any reaction in your face, but you just stared at him with your mouth open.

"Channie... Did you just say..."

Your soul was on fire and he squeezed his eyes shut, sighing, finally finding the words again:

"Yes... Yes I think I did. And I mean it too. Don't worry, you don't have to answer that! I just want you to know how I feel."

Your hands trembled as you put them to Chan's cheeks, looking at him and falling in love with him all over again. Because there was no other way to express your feelings for him.

"But what if I tell you that I think I've really fallen in love with you? Hopelessly and head over heels."

His face beamed and he took a rattling breath.

"Really?"

You nodded.

"Yes. And the weird thing is, I feel that way about all of you. The extreme feelings, the affection, the desire.... I can't explain it any other way than love."

This seemed to please him even more. He chuckled, his lips collided with yours and he kissed you slowly and intensely. Like the tide that surrounded you, gripping your body and dragging you out into the sea of passion.

Nor did the heat in your veins, the moisture between your legs and the tension in your body diminish. In fact, you never feared getting enough of Chan, which is why you rolled your hips against his again until he moaned loudly as your walls nuzzled him.

"Do you want to keep going?" you asked, blushing at the wet sound that came as he pushed his cum and your juices deeper into you.

He growled dangerously, grabbing your hips and it elicited a naughty moan from you as he violently snapped his hips into yours.

"With a body like that it's a miracle you haven't brought me to the brink of insanity yet. Every time I see you my cock gets hard, its impossible not to think about fucking you day and night", he murmured and stroked your lower lip with his thumb. Then he kissed your neck, sucking on your soft skin until you saw stars and red marks remained. He became more and more addicted to leaving his marks on you. You didn't care if you had to spend the next week finding creative ways to hide the evidence of your sensual encounter, you just needed to feel him. You wanted him to mark you, to declare ownership over your body. Meanwhile you knew you belonged to him, always would and that this would not change. That was exactly what he had now made clear. No matter how many women flirted with him, you had the certainty that he would always come to you and would always choose you. He managed to communicate that to you without any words at all, and as he shook your insides with each thrust, you were just flooded with pure happiness.

One of the many things you loved about Chan was his duality. Last time he fucked you dumb, it was animalistic to say the least. But right now he was softer than he has ever been. He gently handled you as if you were a fragile porcelain doll.

You clung to his back as he seemed to reach deeper with each thrust. His smell, his skin against yours and the soft gasps with your whimpers was so intoxicating that you could do this forever.

But again the knot formed in your lower abdomen, so you pressed your body tightly against his and tried to push it back. But Chan fucked you too well and he was yours. He loved you and that was better than anything that could happen to you.

He felt your body tense and he looked back into your face, his fingers stroking your bare skin like a map he wanted to explore and uncover its secrets.

"It's alright, baby girl. We've got all night," he murmured, watching you crumble beneath him once again. The stifled gasp, your open mouth and the flush of arousal in your eyes made him realize how much he needed this.

And so you kissed, touched, fucked slowly until hours later the black outside the window was already turning an intense pink and gray. You just couldn't stop. It was like being caught in a frenzy that protected you from reality. In your world, all was well.

Two naked bodies, intertwined, floating between highs and warm love, unable to stop holding each other.

After you could no longer count how many times you had come under him, your aching pussy stuffed with his cum, your head as if emptied, you fell asleep after all. He on top of you, his dick still sunk into you and his face nuzzled against your neck. Tightly embraced and comfortably you dozed off exhausted, until the alarm clock tore you from sleep.

As soon as you arrived at rehearsals together, the boys' conversations fell silent and everyone looked at you curiously.

Chan yawned and you also rubbed your eyes tiredly.

"So you guys made up?" asked Hyunjin curiously as Chan placed a hand on your lower back to curtly say goodbye before climbing on stage with the other guys.

You sat down on the edge with a bottle of water and propped your head on your hand.

"So from the looks of their faces, they've made up all night," Changbin smirked and patted Chan on the shoulder, who just shook his head and suppressed a grin.

"All night?" escaped Han quietly, as by now several people from staff had joined them for rehearsals.

"We had a lot of catching up to do," Chan muttered with a mischievous look to you, to which you bit your lip and stared at the floor. The memories of last night were varied and intense. It was only in the morning that you had noticed that you had spent hours and hours sleeping with each other, and you had even fallen asleep during it, because you couldn't stop for a second. Even now you felt his body intertwined with yours, his length deep inside you and his whole presence as close as never before. It was as if his hands had never left your skin, as if his caresses were permanently carved into your body. One of the technical team announced over a microphone the first song to be rehearsed and the guys lined up. But did not stop cackling with each other.

"Really all night? You guys didn't sleep at all?" hissed Jeongin in disbelief and Chan‘s sly smile was enough to read the answer on his face.

"And I thought I had stamina..." muttered Jisung just before the music kicked in and the kids started rehearsing.

->Part 24

——————————————————————-

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (closed):

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[spontaneousglitterbees]

Trying to upload once a week on YT and I haven't even made the trackart, but I'm excited about this one if anyone knows where to find a higher quality off vocal please let me know

EDIT: Trackart and lyrics!

Part of the Evillious Chronicles by mothy(AkunoP) Referenced pricechecktranslations' transcript and octosan's translyrics UST by by NeeMiSo Cover, Mix, Thumbnail + Trackart, Translyrics by glitterbees

Notes!

I'd be remiss not to thank octosan for their translyric of "Madam Merry-Go-Round is she" in the chorus, which proceeded to get stuck in my head for several days straight until I made this.

I gave Alice the royal We both in reference to her position, Queen of Levianta, and the OSS novels.

This is also where I had a bit of fun with host/ess as in 'hosting a party' and host as in 'a whole host of people'. Happy coincidence!

Also given the novels and Alice's identity as MotC/Irina and variations therein: calling her a Clockwork gear seemed thematically and literally appropriate, like the figurine made to dance in a music box

Rather than noting how Alice's face is familiar, I leaned into the novels again (can you tell I just read Punishment and part of this is my processing it) with the way nobody has actually seen the queen's face in Quite Some Time. Until Gammon, anyway.

Alice's hands are certainly not pure by the end of Evillious, but technically time is transient here, making it impossible to know if this is facetious or not. Seemed apt. Plus holding a smile in your hands is just a dash of unreality that fits the vibe I think, as representation for the abstraction of interpersonal warmth and comfort

I'm still not positive just which "vow" Alice is talking about here, so I tried to leave it ambiguous

Final verse, same as the firt! Only with a few words mixed around, nodding to how on some level Alice is aware of her fate to repeat over. And over. And-

Where should we go next on our tour of Evillious?

Lyrics!

Welcome, all, to your new happy place! Pardon Us as We undo these chains binding you to one time and space.

Here's a tip from your Host: See the house brimming with ghosts! Give the ferris wheel a spin, don't be shy, tonight is yours so strap in.

But hey, if you find you need a break from the flurry of fun and games, our cold cradle will hold your weary frame….

Madam Merry Go Round are We, Ruling the park as the reigning queen. Madam Merry Go Round are We, always caught in the same machine.

From the top of the carousel you see in ever shifting Utopian glee…

Madam Merry Go Round are We, spinning through all the old worlds debris. Madam Merry Go Round are We. Nonetheless, We keep the same routine.

Round and round as it whirls fro and to, don't fret about a thing that you thought you knew!

So then if you want your wish to come true, I'm afraid you'll have to wait. So sit back, relax, and join in the queue.

What's that gleaming through the shade, but the famed Shadow Parade? They've been marching their whole lives to the beat of an end they've yet to find.

And as the clock strikes the midnight hour, see, desire for this in your power! It's just the role of your Hostess to oblige….

Madam Merry Go Round are We, Beautiful face hidden by a screen. Madam Merry Go Round are We, lost as a forgotten memory.

In her hands pure as driven snow, there she holds a smile warm and amiable.

Madam Merry Go Round are We. Even if you think your love is key, Madam Merry Go Round are We. Those fleeting feelings are all a dream.

As a vow made between two on both sides never lasted for long and was left behind….

Madam Merry Go Round are We, Ruling this land as the reigning queen. Madam Merry Go Round are We, Clockwork gear trapped in the machine.

At the top of the carousel you see, in ever rhyming Utopian glee,

Madam Merry Go Round are We. Spinning on through the new world's debris, Madam Merry Go Round are We. Every cycle the same routine.

Even if you have no way home, You should have known the only fault here's your own!

[partyinthemysterymachine]

THERE WAS A HOTEL ON THE LAKE

(raw wip; so it includes the disorganized and fragmented fun that goes along with first draft writing)

===

There was a hotel that stood by the lake. It’s stood there for ages, this hotel; perhaps a century or two, if the books were right. It was a proud old thing: beautiful, historical — a masterpiece of design; a quaint taste of luxury. 

It was a famous, and beloved monument of the small town that’d built it; and visitors enjoyed it, too. 

It was the community’s very pride and joy. 

There’d been many a wedding there: gorgeous, full-fledged, no-expenses-spared affairs alike a fairytale dream. (Brides loved to pose with the spinning princesses music box the lobby.) 

sometimes booked alongside unions high in debt. There’d also been birthdays; the extremely rare and odd bar-mitzvah; retirement parties; political fundraising galas; and common junctions of many more. Families and individuals hailing from all wage brackets and states have stayed there, occupied its rooms for a night (or a dozen in a row), eaten at its restaurant and visited its cafe, mingling amongst the local. 

The out-of-towners rarely blended in, and we’re always easy to spot. This didn’t really matter on any large scale: it was a tourist town, after all. Livelihoods depended on visitors; and so long as the temporary citizens minded the manners, the authentic ones didn’t mind them. (Residents sometimes liked to make a game of clocking the tourists too, just to pass the time.) It was a joint effort among all. Civil, mostly peaceful: a fine trade. 

(At least, it was for awhile.)

But memories had been made in that town, and many more, if not nearly equally tying the count, were made in that hotel. Friends have been made there; acquaintances too; business solidified; pictures taken, salutations said, and adieus bid. Love had been made in its rooms - and children, too. (More than a handful of ‘em, in fact.) Yet as we all unfortunately know, not all memories could be happy. For some, it was definitely a devastating place to recall; though for others, it was fondly remembered as the best time of their lives. 

But of course, these experiences were only expected out of a hotel’s bustling little ecosystem. Times good and bad weren’t its fault; it was just how the human carousel of life tended to operate. 

.. or was it?

Because mystery surrounded that hotel on the lake, and lots of it. The lake it overlooked, itself, was also full of mystery, too. (And more.) Some might say its grounds were haunted — but the locals preferred to brush that off. The place was old, and as oftentimes goes along with historical age, whispers of ghosts and outrageous stories of all kinds were bound to happen. How could it not? The town was said to be built on Native American burial grounds, after all. (A trip to the historical society could confirm that right away, too.)

Love and friendships have also been shattered in that hotel, almost in equal parts to their better occasions. 

[calistozom]

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office. 

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance. 

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning. 

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight. 

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung." 

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them. 

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N." 

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now." 

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you." 

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung." 

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-" 

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?" 

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged. 

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear. 

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of. 

"It was me." 

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?" 

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold." 

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?" 

"Just said that." 

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that." 

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same. 

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting. 

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie." 

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could." 

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling." 

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me." 

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him? 

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to. 

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?" 

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it." 

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either." 

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?" 

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me." 

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored." 

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on. 

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him. 

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer." 

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings." 

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then." 

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?" 

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me." 

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints. 

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?" 

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail." 

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?" 

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then." 

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office. 

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?" 

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up. 

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you." 

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung.  "The chief said he'll be here by eleven." 

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement. 

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?" 

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?" 

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes." 

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated. 

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue. 

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men. 

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung. 

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright." 

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?" 

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes." 

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused. 

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago." 

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get. 

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it." 

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.  

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming. 

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?" 

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun." 

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung." 

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night." 

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew. 

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them. 

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight." 

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that." 

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything. 

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked. 

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class,  the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then. 

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal. 

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that. 

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then. 

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that? 

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom. 

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore. 

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do." 

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit." 

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?" 

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you. 

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges. 

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?" 

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change. 

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-" 

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no." 

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no." 

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please." 

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man. 

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away. 

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you. 

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks. 

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget. 

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only. 

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated. 

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people. 

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you. 

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more. 

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you." 

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him. 

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing. 

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision. 

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone. 

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good. 

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go." 

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you. 

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well." 

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me." 

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well. 

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please." 

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief. 

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now." 

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way. 

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face. 

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir." 

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?" 

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years." 

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well." 

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir." 

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out." 

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside. 

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be. 

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now." 

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly. 

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief. 

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen. 

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window.  "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop. 

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep." 

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?" 

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it." 

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning. 

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough. 

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be. 

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail." 

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it." 

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free? 

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself." 

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now." 

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did." 

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears. 

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured. 

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this." 

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too." 

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn. 

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation. 

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free. 

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support. 

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please." 

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear. 

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best." 

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room. 

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?" 

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her. 

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out." 

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly. 

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?" 

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?" 

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman. 

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you." 

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours. 

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments. 

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there. 

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you. 

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder. 

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well." 

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae." 

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive. 

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day. 

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now." 

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much." 

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies. 

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?" 

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?" 

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?" 

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over." 

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine. 

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead. 

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought. 

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 22🧂

Today is the last part of the Great Rainbow Bake Off preparations! Now we only have the actual competition to go :) In this one, Dokkaebi does her best with Lesion's support. (Rating T, fluff, ~2k words)

.

“What even are cookies, anyway”, Dokkaebi muses as she tries and fails to turn the hand mixer on. Regardless of how many times she flicks the switch, nothing happens. “How does this stupid thing work?”

Lesion, already looking like he regrets ever making her acquaintance, condescends to showing her where the cable is concealed on the underside and even plugs it in for her. “Now be careful with the -”

Too late. She’s already jammed the beaters into the bowl and turned the appliance on, producing an impressive cloud of flour and flinging bits of raw egg and butter around when she jumps at the sudden flurry of action. While trying to turn it off again, she lifts the mixer and spatters both herself and her gracious host in various ingredients while yelling about how dangerous this thing is, and then Lesion is by her side once more to finally put a stop to the salmonella carousel.

Accusingly, she asks him: “Why don’t you have a stand mixer?”

He glances down at his ruined jumper and gives her a look conveying very much what he’s too polite to say. “You need to start on a lower speed”, he explains gently. “And don’t lift it before switching it off.”

“You’re lucky you don’t smoke anymore. Hey, do you think we could go out back and make a flour explosion instead?” By the time the old man opens his mouth to, no doubt, refuse, she’s already waved him off. “Nah, forget about it. I need to win this, so I better practice. How does your oven work?”

She’s awarded with a quiet sigh.

No doubt he’d been looking forward to a quiet evening alone, being misanthropic and morose on his own as he wraps himself in five blankets and drinks litres of tea and/or coffee, but fortunately for him, Dokkaebi stepped into his life to disillusion him of that option. She chose him not just because he has an oven at all, it’s also that Hibana merely laughed when she was asked whether she can bake, Mute shushed her in case Smoke caught wind of their conversation (and though involving them would no doubt have ended in hilarity, nothing constructive would’ve come out of it), Vigil silently shook his head and IQ’s expression turned into quiet horror. She didn’t bother asking Echo – he probably would’ve lied and said yes, then watched her clean his kitchen so she could use it before revealing he has no knowledge to offer her after all.

So yeah. Lesion it is. He’s got a well-stocked pantry, a functioning kitchen and the patience of a saint, making him the perfect victim.

For some reason, her cookie batter doesn’t look right but she figures it’ll be fine anyway. After plopping all of it in small portions onto the baking tray, she tosses it in the oven and glances at the prominent wall clock to gauge the time.

“No timer?”

“Don’t need it. I know when twenty minutes are over. Do you think they’ll come out great first try and I won’t have to do anything else for the contest?”

Lesion raises a brow and glances at the admittedly-malformed lumps she just produced. “Sure. It’s possible.”

.

“Second try!”, she announces good naturedly, slamming the oven door shut. By now, she’s grateful for the apron Lesion provided and has made ample use of it. She looks like she butchered a chocolate Santa. “Done. Now to analyse what went wrong with the first batch.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Lesion is perched on the only chair in the small room, doing a crossword puzzle in between critiquing her non-existent talent.

“No. But it can’t be that hard, right? Dom said so himself. And he would burn a salad.”

The old man is judging her, she can feel it in the back of her neck – it’s a skill she’s developed over years of being surrounded by guys who think they know better than her. Even if it’s warranted in this case.

“Why do they look so odd? What’s this white stuff?” She pokes the sad, melted masses of sticky dough she rescued from the oven half an hour ago with a frown. Some of them have weird holes, others are flatter than the rest, and some display streaks of a substance she can’t identify.

“Flour”, comes the exasperated reply.

“Oh. But it’s supposed to be in there, right? You can’t make cookies without flour.”

“You didn’t mix them enough. You’ve had clumps of butter that melted out of the dough in the oven, that’s this brown stuff here. And you didn’t chill them, that’s why they’re so… horizontal.”

Huh. Good to know. “I didn’t chill these ones either”, she points to the glistening balls of dough currently being baked.

Lesion gives her another look.

“You could’ve said something!”

“I’m already keeping you company, that should be enough.”

.

“Weird that it’s so little dough this time”, she wonders out loud while inspecting the cold blobs with narrowed eyes. This time, she feels like she did everything right, she made sure everything was incorporated well and even put the blasted things in the fridge for a good while. “Oh well. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Then you got some time to help me. Who’s the first programmer again? Babbage doesn’t fit.”

She regards Lesion with disdain. “Lovelace. How dare you forget that the first ever computer programmer was a woman.”

“And another, I need the name for the protocol employed by network switches to ensure -”

“Spanning Tree. Also based on the work of a woman.”

“By the way, what kind of cookies are you making again?”

“Sugar coo-” Dokkaebi slams her fist on the table, making Lesion jump. “Fuck! I forgot the sugar!”

.

She doesn’t miss Lesion’s conspicuous glance at his wristwatch. “I’ll be done soon”, she threatens while watching her handiwork, crouched in front of the oven. It’s really working overtime today, she reckons. “This is the last one. Everything’s in, I mixed it well, I chilled it, I gave them a little kiss and wished them goodnight, and now they burn in hell for their sins.”

“What crime did they commit, being sinfully delicious?”, he mutters in the direction of his phone while typing away. Dokkaebi suddenly realises she hasn’t checked her notifications in more than two hours, which is an absolute miracle – normally, her fear of missing out gets the better of her and though she’s been trying to cut down on screen time, she finds herself unable.

“I wish.” Both of them have yet to eat a single cookie and while they’ve nibbled on some, they didn’t dare eat a whole one. Just in case.

She deems the cookies done and gets them out with an oven mitt, poking at the malleable substance with curiosity. “They look good. Don’t you think? They might be fine.”

Lesion, for once, looks vaguely impressed. The cookies are a nice golden-brown colour and have held their shape well, somehow. Dokkaebi cuts one with a knife and lets it cool on the counter for a bit before offering one half to Lesion, putting the other half into her own mouth. Both of them bite down at the same time … and spit it back out at the same time.

“That”, Lesion forces out with a grimace, “tastes bad. What did you do?”

Dokkaebi struggles to come up with an answer before sweeping her gaze over the counter still littered with ingredients, nearly slapping her forehead once she notices. “Oh. I used salt instead of sugar. Oops.”

Another sigh. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to keep trying.”

.

A while later and in the midst of an involved multi-player battle, Dokkaebi hears footsteps approaching. She’s so engrossed in her current game that she doesn’t look up when Lesion opens the door, merely opting to ask: “Weren’t you going to sleep?”

“Not if you’re setting my kitchen on fire.”

It takes a second. “Oh fuck!” She nearly drops her phone as she scrambles to yank the tray out, coughing at the smoke emanating from it.

“Looks like someone’s getting coal for Christmas.” Lesion looks and sounds very much done. Just like the cookies. “Please go home now, Grace.”

.

She’s back the next day, undeterred. Lesion may do his best in trying to ignore her, though he thankfully is brave enough to try whatever she shoves under his nose from time to time.

“Not bad”, he rates her first attempt that day before audibly biting on something very crunchy. “Ah. Especially the eggshell. A brave addition.”

Right. Next try.

“This… tastes odd, and it’s kinda dark. What kind of flour did you use?”

Dokkaebi doesn’t really understand the question and shrugs, irritated. “Flour.”

“No, but -”

“It’s flour. It says on the packaging. Flour. See?”

Another look.

“Okay. What’s wrong with it?”

“This is buckwheat flour. It’s not the same as wheat flour, it tastes -”

“Flour is flour, it should do the same thing!”

“It doesn’t though, it will -”

“Flour is flour!”

.

Dokkaebi has never seen Lesion’s place this neat. While she occupies his kitchen, he apparently can’t relax enough to do nothing which results in him pacing about the flat and compulsively cleaning and tidying whatever sticks out. And there’s a lot of things that stick out. In the time she’s produced three more failed batches, he’s made sure the bathroom is sparkling, folded his laundry, put clean sheets on, took out the trash, sorted his books and tidied the living room.

In turn, she has not taken her phone out once.

“Try this”, she pants once she’s finally gotten a hold of him, meaning once she tackled him into the couch because he wouldn’t stop running from her and the cookie-shaped threat in her hand.

With an air of defeat, he bites into it and -

- and doesn’t look like he just drank paint thinner. Instead, he pulls a not bad face. “Surprisingly tasty. Different. What did you change?”

“I bought them at the shops.” For a second, he believes her, and this is even more of a victory than hearing him call them tasty. If he entertains the notion that these are store-bought, even just for a heartbeat, then she’s finally done it. “Honestly, I just did the same thing as always.”

“Everything is the same?”

“Yeah.” He gives her a blank look. “No, really! Butter, sugar, flour… all the same. Come look.” She gets off him and allows him to breathe once again, leading him to the kitchen and presenting her ingredients. “Here. I mean, your white sugar ran out, so I used the packed brown one. But sugar is sugar, it won’t make a difference.”

Lesion just sighs.

.

It’s a testament to the old man’s patience that he doesn’t close the door in her face the next afternoon.

“You were right”, is the first thing Dokkaebi says. “Flour is not flour, and sugar is not sugar. I looked it up. There’s an actual science to this, I thought it was just throwing together the same things with different results.”

“Come in. I restocked, so you can just keep on baking.”

“I actually brought everything I need.” And then some. She holds up her shopping bag and returns the rare smile she receives. “I’ll probably want to use half white, half brown sugar since they do different things, and I’ll try out baking soda instead of powder. Also, I read that browned butter can -”

“You know, I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

Dokkaebi scoffs. “Give up? This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I think I’ll keep baking even after the competition.”

“Good.” Lesion gives her a nod of approval, takes the bag and motions for her to go ahead. “So, you were talking about browned butter?”

[foxymoxynoona]

Amended Ch. 2

Read Chapter 1 here

SUMMARY: Getting into a bar fight is the least surprising part of Isabella's return home. She sure doesn't expect to run into her childhood friend turned high school enemy, now not just surprisingly a law-abiding citizen but a police officer. Things seem to be going great for him, but Isabella is struggling with more than a bar fight. A single mom with a sick grandmother, an alcoholic mother, an abusive ex, and a short fuse herself, matters are not helped that Jungkook seems to be everywhere. All the time. Especially every time Isabella messes up. Can she really believe him when he says he just wants to help?

Police officer! Jungkook x Single Mom Childhood Friend Named OC

CW: abusive parents, alcoholism, abusive exes, descriptions of childhood abuse, domestic violence, sexual abuse, illegal acts, side character death, discussions/references to underage sexual activity/alcohol use/drug use, teen pregnancy, explicit sexual content

Also hosted on AO3 under foxymoxy. Not sure if I’ll keep posting on tumblr or not, but I thought I’d try it out!

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The morning had not been going well. At all.

The kids had overslept. 

Ok, maybe Isabella had overslept too.

Grandma had not overslept but had been in a bit of a mental fog, so Isabella had plied her with bananas and water as suggested by the nurses, while running around frantically to get the kids’ things pulled together. While they dawdled, of course, as if they had nowhere in the world to be. They couldn’t find their socks. They didn’t want frozen waffles for breakfast. They didn’t want to go to their first days of school, they wanted to just watch cartoons while Isabella struggled to be a morning person like most days.

But she’d done it, she got them dressed and fed and out the door, only having to double back for forgotten bags once. And while it was a whirlwind drop off at two different schools, she made it, and made it home just as Grandma was finishing her morning coffee and ready for a lift to her bible study, and just in time to shower to get dressed for her first day of work.

Except she’d underestimated how far the bible study was, and realized as soon as Grandma was shuffled inside that she was going to be late. For her first day of work. So she booked it into high gear…

And it landed her here. Pulled over to the side of the road with the cop car lights flashing through the back windshield. She let out an angry groan and let her head rest against the steering wheel. Now she would definitely be late.

A knock on her window got her to look up, only to huff, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” She cranked her window down, actions snappish and pissy, as Jungkook waited with raised eyebrows and a narrow stare.

“Isabella.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she sighed again, in case he hadn’t heard her earlier.

“That’s my question,” he said. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going, ma’am?”

“Thirty.”

“Bullshit,” he snorted.

“Do you know how fast I was going?”

He glared and answered, “Fifty-four in a thirty.”

“Not me, officer.”

“Isabella--”

“I’d like to see your radar gun readout and a clear photo of--”

“Isabella,” he sighed and made an exasperated noise. 

“There was another car going much faster than me, probably you picked that one up.”

“Used to arguing your way out of tickets, huh?”

“I doubt the other way out of tickets would work with you.”

“Oh? And what would that be? Maybe… not speeding and earning them in the first place?” he suggested. And he just looked so fucking smug. 

She gave him an equally smug grin and prompted, “Radar read out and dashboard cam, please.”

“License and registration, please.”

“Jungkook,” she grunted. “I’m late for work. It’s my first day.”

“Work, huh? Where’s that.”

“Target. Ever been? There’s a pharmacy, they have vaseline that could help you get that stick out of your--”

He sighed and rested his hands on the window frame, “Isabella. Why are you antagonizing me? I’m a cop. You’re speeding.”

“You are a cop, but I was not speeding.”

“Goddamn you are as infuriating as you were in high school.”

“Look,” she sighed, deciding to try a different tactic. “Fine, you want to try the other way? There’s a gas station up ahead, behind the dumpster there aren’t cameras. My backseat has a kid booster but you can probably turn your car cam off, right?”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, pushing away from her car and scratching at his hair. “Can you stop trying to bribe your way out of a ticket?!”

“Oh. So you admit that sounds like an appealing bribe? I just meant it as a friendly offer but--”

“Ok, look. I’m going to let you off with a warning this one time. Do you hear me?” 

Isabella bit her tongue so as not to point out that she vaguely thought she recalled him telling her the other night it was her one warning. Instead she made her eyes very big and nodded.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Officer, sir.”

“Just because if I give you a ticket I have to stand here and deal with you for fifteen more minutes.”

“I am so grateful--”

“But look, slow down, ok? You’re going to hit someone and this tin can you’re driving isn’t going to protect you. You can’t show up here and just break the law when you feel like it.” 

She bit her tongue so hard it hurt. That was rich, real rich coming from a delinquent she’d covered for plenty of times. Probably he knew that, because he arched his eyebrow and waited, as if to see if she could resist. She lifted her chin and set her jaw and held it in. He watched her a moment longer.

“Have a nice day, ma’am. Take it easy.” He patted the roof of her car like a true and genuine police asshole, and sauntered back to his vehicle. Isabella cranked up her window.

“You fucker, you definitely didn’t actually have me on radar and how dare you preach at me about--”

The siren blipped once, cutting off her monologue. She glared at him through the rearview mirror and quickly pulled away, waiting until she’d lost him behind a turn to take off again, in an attempt to make up for lost time and not lose her job on the first fucking day.

It wasn’t until she parked she realized she’d forgotten to take her wallet out of one of the kids’ backpacks before dropping them off.

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

Isabella’s legs hurt. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. She was too tired for this. She kept glancing at the clock, but there were hours left in her shift still. Ezra and Lily would have arrived at afterschool care by now. The nurse would have picked up Grandma from bible study long ago. Everyone was fine. But she was tired and desperate for coffee and didn’t have a break coming up any time soon.

She plastered on a smile, ringing up the woman in her line, but the woman was on her phone and not paying attention anyway so she let it slide away. The woman bought razors, deodorant, several bottles of wine, a carton of Goldfish, and a box of tampons. Isabella rang everything up, turned the bags on the carousel so the woman could loop them over the hand holding her car keys, and held the receipt out. 

“Have a nice day,” she said.

“Uh huh,” the woman nodded and walked away, flicking her hand a little like Isabella was a gnat. 

She hadn’t looked at the next person in line yet, just reached for the bag of shrimp chips and then immediately froze.

“Are you fucking--” She looked up as she spoke, knowing instinctively it was Jungkook, but trailed off upon finding him holding a little girl. He raised his eyes and gave her a crooked grin.

“What was that?” he asked. The little girl stared at her with similar wide eyes.

“Uh… are you following me?” she asked, deciding to ignore his look. “I told you where I work. Are you checking up on me?!”

He gave her a teasing glare, “Are you always this paranoid?” She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t card that woman.”

“Oh my god, are you kidding me right now? She was clearly over 21.”

“I don’t know,” he tsked, looking after the woman. “White people, it’s hard to tell your ages.”

Isabella licked her lips in annoyance to keep from saying worse, and then smiled at the little girl, “Your dad is a real charmer, huh?”

The girl’s face instantly screwed up and she argued, “He’s not my dad, he’s my uncle!”

“Ah. Oh!” Before she could even ask, Jungkook’s older sister set one final thing on the belt, then did a double take.

“Isabella!” she greeted. “Hello!”

“Um, hi Youngsoon.” Isabella immediately blushed. Youngsoon was even more beautiful than she’d been as a young adult. Youngsoon had always been so beautiful and cool. Isabella had spent a lot of years lamenting she couldn’t be a beautiful Korean woman like her, certain Jungkook’s older sister belonged in the movies. Embarrassed, she quickly began scanning items.

“Jungkook didn’t mention you were back in town. How are you?”

“I’m well,” she answered reflexively, only glancing up. She did not appreciate the smug grin Jungkook still had. What did he have to be smug about? She glared at him.

“She thought Uncle Gukka was my dad,” the little girl giggled, flinging her arms around Uncle Gukka’s neck. 

“Yuck,” Jungkook teased, scrunching her face up at her. To be fair, the little girl was clearly a Jeon. But it made sense that she was a baby Youngsoon; she was beautiful, just like her mother, not goobery like Jungkook… well, like he had been when they were younger, anyway...

“Sora, this woman is an old friend of Uncle Gukka’s,” Youngsoon said with a smile. “She was Uncle Gukka’s very first friend in America.”

“Your first friend was a girl?” Sora asked with surprise.

Jungkook gave her a serious look and said, “I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Hey,” Isabella glared. But she didn’t stop scanning items, in a hurry to finish up so they could go away. She was very nervous now having Jungkook and Youngsoon both here. Jungkook she didn’t mind aggravating but seeing Youngsoon left her feeling… insignificant.

But Youngsoon, perfectly at ease chatting, continued, “Have you moved back permanently?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’re here with my grandmother right now. I just-- it was easy to transfer to the store since I already work at Target, so I’m just picking up some shifts…” God, it was mortifying. Mortifying. Not only was she standing there scanning their items in her stupid khakis and red polo shirt, but talking about picking up shifts… Youngsoon had been in medical school back then. And now Jungkook was a cop. 

“We?”

“Oh, um… me and my children.”

“Oh! How old are you children?” Youngsoon continued. “I have two --Sora here is--”

“I’m five,” Sora announced.

“Five,” Youngsoon finished with a fond smile. “And I have a two year old boy.” The last item had been rung up and placed in the bag and Isabella had succeeded in not looking at Jungkook for several minutes now; even when Sora had spoken and she’d reflexively look at the little girl, she’d managed to blur his face from view. Gukka’s very first friend in America. What a silly thing to mention. Pokemon. They’d bonded over fucking Pokemon.

But Youngsoon looked at her expectantly and Isabella had always admired her so much and found herself admitting, “I have two. Eight and four.”

“Oh, are they in school? Or will you not be here that long?”

“Yeah, I-- they started school today actually. Since I don’t know how long we’ll be here, I didn’t want them to miss out.”

“Is your younger one in kindergarten?”

“No, Pre-K still but through public school.”

“It was their first day today?” Jungkook asked, tricking her into looking at him. She gave a nod and turned to push the button on the screen as Youngsoon pulled out her wallet to pay. She tried not to sulk but thought that might be why he snorted and then sighed, “You shouldn’t have been speeding.”

“It’s my first day of work too and I was going maybe three over--”

“Twenty-four over,” he clarified. 

“Show me the radar receipt.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, “I let you off with a warning, didn’t I?”

“Yeah because I said--”

“Not because of anything you said,” he corrected instantly, giving her a wide-eyed and pointed stare. 

“--you wanted me to shut up,” she grinned cheekily, grabbing the receipt as it printed out. 

Youngsoon gave her a gentle smile though, because she’d always been kind, and assured her, “Mornings are hard. Sorry it sounds like a tough one.” She took the receipt. “I’m really glad to run into you though. We should get our kids together for a play date! Sora and your youngest are so close in age.”

“Oh. Um…” She hadn’t expected that. Why would she suggest that? She’d hurried so Youngsoon could finish being polite and leave.

“Let me give you my number,” she said instead, digging around in her wallet and then pulling out a business card. “You can text or call my cell that’s listed there.”

“Ok. Um, thanks, sure. Things are a little busy right now but--”

Jungkook snickered and made a face at his sister, “Soona, she doesn’t want to bring her kids around.”

“My kids are wonderful,” Isabella defended hotly, feeling anger charge through her body. Her cheeks flushed with it. It surprised him, he didn’t hide that from his face.

“Uh, I-- I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured her. He shifted Sora to his other arm and scratched his cheek. 

Sora seemed oblivious to the awkward exchange as she asked Isabella, “Do you have a boy or a girl?”

“I have one of each. My daughter is the one close to your age.”

“Does she like princesses or cars or both?” Sora asked. Youngsoon laughed gently and pressed her hand to Jungkook’s arm to nudge them along, but motioned to the business card in Isabella’s hand.

“Do call or text.”

“Ok. Yeah. I will.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything more, even goodbye. He’d picked up both bags though after dumping Sora to the ground; she took her mother’s hand and waved to Isabella as the three of them left the store.

Isabella’s cheeks blazed as she turned her attention to the next customer, an older woman who looked vaguely familiar but didn’t seem to recognize Isabella. That was good. She hadn’t thought about how many people she’d see at Target, she’d just been thinking about the ease of picking up shifts and making money because she needed to. 

Embarrassed, she tossed the business card in the trash under her till.

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

Isabella stretched out on the couch next to Grandma once the kids were in bed a half hour later than she had wanted. That wasn’t too bad. The house felt strangely silent without their voices and pounding footsteps rattling the walls, but it was nice to be able to let out her breath and relax and not try to look like a Responsible Adult. 

Grandma hummed happily and laced her fingers into Isabella’s hair, holding her tea mug in the other hand.

“That better be decaf,” Isabella warned.

“My, you’re a bossy little thing,” Grandma chuckled. 

“I just don’t want you having caffeine nightmares, and you’re barely sleeping as it is--”

“Yes, yes, I know. Nothing but sleepy herbs in this. Would you like some?”

“I’m so wiped, I won’t need any help falling asleep.”

“Go to bed now.”

“Nah, I’ll sit up with you a little longer,” Isabella insisted and sat up, certain the way her grandmother stroked her hair would put her to sleep otherwise. She’d gone so many years without getting to sit with her grandma like this, she wouldn’t trade it for a little extra sleep now that she could.

“Well I heard all about the first day of school from the children at dinner, but how was your first day of work?”

Isabella shrugged, “It’s just Target. It’s the same everywhere you go-- hey, you know who I keep running into?”

“Who?”

“Jungkook. Do you remember him?”

“Of course I remember him.”

“Did you know he’s a cop now?”

“Yes, I knew,” her grandmother confirmed, smiling and nodding. “Why is that so surprising? He’s a sweet boy.”

“Uh, he was sweet when we were eleven. Then he became a raging asshole…”

“Bella,” Grandma scolded, giving her a look about her language.

“Grandma, he was a troublemaker in high school. What the hell made him become a cop? He hated cops! He never showed the slightest interest in becoming a cop and now suddenly he’s lecturing me about…” She trailed off, not wanting to admit to her grandmother about what she’d been up to and realizing she almost had.

Grandma gave her a coyly arched eyebrow and pressed, “About what, my darling granddaughter?”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe the fight you had last Thursday--”

“Grandmaaa,” Isabella sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sure you don’t! But I know what a hangover is, my dear, and I don’t think you were using make up to cover bites from an amorous lover--”

“Grandma!” This time she broke off with a laugh and gave her grandmother a gentle, playful shove. “What do you know about amorous bites?”

“Oh, to be young and think you know everything--”

“I’m not young, I’m old,” Isabella sighed and let her head drop to her grandmother’s shoulder. “I stopped being young when I was fourteen. I just have a hard time believing Jungkook grew up enough to be a cop. He still seems like a smarmy asssss...” She’d tried to change the word to something else and couldn’t think of anything on the spot, just dragged the s out awkwardly long.

“Nonsense. Being a cop doesn’t mean you grew up, it just means you passed some tests and they gave you a badge and a gun.”

“Oof. Careful, Grandma! That sounds remarkably progressive. What will the old ladies in your bible study group say? How dare you flaunt authority?”

Grandma laughed and admitted, “Perhaps it is a little tough when you find yourself so much older than authority.”

“I bet he can’t even grow a beard yet.”

“He tried, briefly, a few years ago,” Grandma admitted, grinning when Isabella giggled. “You’re still very young too, sweetheart, you just grew up fast. But someday you’ll look back in disbelief of how young you still were right now, thinking like that.”

“Don’t talk cryptically, Grandma. You’ll make me panic.”

“No, no, I won’t die on you tonight,” the older woman teased, earning a glare from Isabella. “I just find your disbelief he grew up and started a career is amusing. You grew up and got a career and have two children!”

“I hardly think working at Target counts as a career. I’m not even a manager.”

“You could be!”

“No,” Isabella sighed. “I can’t be. I take too many sick days. I mean honestly I was probably about to get fired at my store in New York. It’s a blessing you wanted me to come home. Don’t think for a second I did it for you.”

Grandma grinned, “Oh yes, of course. My selfish granddaughter, only ever doing things for herself.”

Isabella sighed. She knew her grandmother was teasing her. But she did feel selfish. All the time. Every part of her life felt like jumping from one selfish decision to the next, hurting everyone within reach. That was her legacy, wasn’t it? Even her two children, who she would have moved heaven and earth for, suffered because she just couldn’t quite get her shit together. And why couldn’t she get her shit together? Because she kept making bad decisions. Even now, she really had uprooted her children to move home because selfishly she wanted whatever time she had left with her grandmother, even if it meant dividing what little energy and attention she had for her children even further. And selfishly, too, it was a break on rent, which she’d been struggling to make before.

“I didn’t mean that,” her grandmother whispered. “I’m teasing you, Isabella. You’re a good girl with a big heart. Be kind to yourself. I’m glad you’re home, I’m just sad a mini seizure is what brought you home.”

“It wasn’t mini, Grandma.”

“And don’t be too hard on Jungkook. I think he’s made a sincere effort to leave his high school behavior in high school.”

“It would be easier not to be hard on him if he would stop following me everywhere. I swear, he’s like a plague. A shadow!”

Grandma grinned, “Then it’s just like when you were twelve again.”

“God, I hope not. Twelve is the worst age when you’re a girl.”

“It’s not too kind to boys either.”

“Jungkook came out on the right side of it.”

“Oh, do you think he’s handsome now?” her grandmother asked, and Isabella felt the snicker against her scalp.

“No. I meant after puberty, the girls in high school did! He’s ugly now.”

“Isabella.”

“So ugly. Stupid face.”

“Isabella,” her grandmother laughed.

“What! He was probably thinking the same things when he saw me. Wow, she got ugly and old and fat--”

“Ok, missy, I’m cutting you off,” her grandmother said, nudging her to get her to sit up. “Go to bed.”

“What! Cutting me off from what, I’m not drinking anything.”

“From thoughts like that. You are beautiful and hard-working and you have two perfect children.”

“I know, I know.”

“You are kicking ass.”

“Grandmaaa,” Isabelle laughed. 

“I’m eighty-six, I can say ass for once.”

“That’s twice!”

“Ah, better call Officer Jeon to arrest me--”

Isabella pretended to vomit, “Never call him Officer Jeon again. He’s an idiot. He’s so… smug. He thinks he’s better than me--”

“Bella, honey.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not sixteen anymore and neither is he. Let it rest.”

Isabella didn’t quite know what her grandmother meant by that. There was plenty she could imply. But while she had no problem assuming intent on Jungkook’s part because he’d been such an absolute asshole in high school, she didn’t want to read anything in what her grandmother said now that could either defend Jungkook or embarrass herself. 

“Fine,” Isabella conceded. “Anyway, I probably won’t see him again. Unless he really is stalking me and then I’ll get a restraining order.”

“That’s my girl,” Grandma laughed and kissed her forehead. “Now to bed. We have to do this all again tomorrow.”

“Wait, the kids have to go to school again?”

It made Grandma laugh, and Isabella was glad to see that. Honestly maybe it was all a little hammed up, even talking about Jungkook, because her grandmother was in constant pain at this point, and any little smile she could get from her was a victory. 

“Ok, let me help you up to bed, Grandma. Tomorrow is another day. I’m sure it’ll be better.”

“So, guess who’s back in town?” Youngsoon brought up at dinner. Jungkook groaned and threw his napkin at her before she said anything further, earning a pinch on the arm from his mom. It wasn’t even weekly family dinner night, so Jungkook had thought it would be safe to go to his parents’ place to mooch food, but Youngsoon had also decided to come over with her kids because her husband had a night out with the guys or whatever. 

She’d waited until they were halfway through the meal, once the kids had finished and run off to play noisily in the living room, to bring it up. As if just to lure Jungkook into the false sense of getting away with it. But at his parents’ curious prompt, Youngsoon answered,

“Isabella Desmond. She’s staying with her grandmother.”

“Isabella Desmond! How is she?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Jungkook grumbled, shoving tempura in his mouth. 

“You already knew?”

Jungkook made a face and admitted, “Yeah, I already knew… she’s… struggling, it seems.”

“Struggling how?” his mother pressed. “It must be hard with her grandmother in poor health…”

“Working at Target doesn’t mean she’s struggling,” Youngsoon countered, leveling a look at Jungkook.

“No, I think she’s struggling because-- I don’t know,” he shrugged. On second thought, he didn’t want to get into it. “Just seems like she has a lot on her plate.”

“She’s got two kids,” Youngsoon informed his parents. “Eight and four, she said. I asked her to give me a call for a playdate.”

“Ah, that’s good. It would be good to see her again. She was always such a good friend to Gukka,” his father said. Jungkook sighed and rolled his eyes, earning a swift kick from his mom beneath the table even before his father teased, “Even when Gukka was not a good friend.”

“I was always a great friend. I’m still a great friend. I let her off with warnings twice.”

“Twice? One was for a speeding ticket. What was the other one?” Youngsoon immediately caught because of course she did.

Jungkook gave her a smug grin, “Sorry, can’t disclose, official police business.”

“Well if she calls you, please invite her over to supper,” his mother suggested. “Her and the children and her grandmother. It would be good to see them all again.”

Jungkook clicked his teeth and said, “She’s not going to call you, Soona. And it’s for the best, just let her be. She’s not in a good place right now.”

“Ok.” Youngsoon gave him a serious look. “Then… help her.”

“I did. I gave her warnings twice.”

“That’s not helping, that’s enabling--”

Jungkook sighed, “She’s not my responsibility.”

“It’s not good,” his mother argued. “She was such a good friend to you when we first moved here. It felt like I didn’t even have a son anymore because you were always off in that treehouse playing together. We bought that Nintendo just to lure you both into the house.”

“Ma, we were twelve and also it was a PlayStation, you can’t just call all video game systems Nintendo. And we don’t owe each other anything because we were old Pokemon buddies. She’s not doing me any favors either.”

“What favors do you want her to do?” Youngsoon asked, bright-eyed.

“Ma, Soona’s being dirty.”

“Soona, behave.”

“I’m just--”

“Yes, I know, I know.”

“She’s pretty, mom. You should have seen Gukka’s grin when we saw her in Target--”

“Bull--- hockey,” Jungkook glared. “She’s a menace. You should have heard her talking her way out of the parking ticket. Demanding to see the radar gun…”

Jungkook’s dad grinned, “Well? Did it work?”

“Wha-- it worked because I was being nice and gave her a warning.”

“You didn’t have a radar gun,” his dad nodded.

“She was clearly speeding but… no… I didn’t…”

“Ah, she was always a clever girl,” his mother laughed. “I hope she is ok. Keep an eye out for her, Gukka. You say you don’t owe her anything? We always owe kindness to the people who were kind to us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I let her off with a warning twice… I don’t know what more you want me to do…”

“Whatever your heart says you should,” his mother beamed at him. Absolutely infuriating. 

Fortunately Soona’s kids ran shrieking into the room, bickering about who broke the TV remote, and Jungkook was saved from further interrogation.

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 12)

Daryl buffs the pillows before falling back against them, for the third time since he laid down, with a sigh. He has twisted and turned for probably an hour on the sofa in the dark living room. Not because it’s uncomfortable. On the contrary. Better than most beds he’s slept in. A bit narrow, but still he can’t manage to fall asleep. His thoughts spin around in his head like a carousel. He’s tried everything to make it stop. Counting stupid sheep. He came to fifty before giving up. He has looked around the dark, quiet living room in chase for something to focus on, tried to make sense of a painting with a modern, terrible motif, which he in the end came to the conclusion, didn’t represent anything at all. Just seventy shades of beige on a canvas.   

He should be tired by now. The dinner party was anything but relaxing. A regular dinner, but still, nerve-wracking. He ended up sitting opposite Mila at the table, flanked by Abraham and Rick, who kept her entertained all evening. Abraham had the same look in his eyes as a gold digger when he’d collected a big gold nugget, when he looked at Mila. She wore the same clothes as before, but the long hair was braided over her shoulder, looking very- 

And then there was Rick, who offered her new bottles of beers when the old ones were empty and discussed the quarry mission with her. Of course, Daryl thought at the other side of the table, feeling his cheeks flush at the sight of the two of them sitting close together, to be able to hear each other talk. Of course she found Rick interesting, attractive even. The handsome, charming cop. The natural born leader. The father. 

What annoyed Daryl the most though was that Rick could talk to Mila as if she was anyone, while every time Daryl made a go for it, his mouth dried up and he lost his entire vocabulary. That he happened to bridle out loud when she mentioned being a vegetarian, didn’t make things better either. He must work on his impulse control. 

Daryl fixes his gaze on a spot in the ceiling. He heard her, Mila, sayin’ she was 25 when talking to Abraham, who smoothly asked about her age after he’d asked Juri the same question, on which the boy proudly showed him three and a half fingers. She mentioned she was in university when she got pregnant.

Daryl desperately tries to remember what he did when he was around 22. Drank himself helplessly drunk, probably. Fought at bars. Hung with Merle and his buddies, doing nothing useful. Had he had a child back then... well, poor kid. Daryl didn’t exactly have a good experience with parents. His own folks were perfect examples of how parents should not behave.  He closes his eyes, doesn’t want to think about ‘em. Fucking trash. He returns to his own head, to the memory of the dinner. 

Despite barely uttering a word to Mila throughout the entire dinner, even though he sat right in front of her, it was he, Mila, Juri, Rick, Maggie, Michonne, Glenn and Carol who remained at the table as the others said goodnight. Juri fell asleep in Mila's arms by the time Maggie and Glenn left for bed. He was completely knocked out after the big feast and two turns on the dessert, to Carol’s delight (“I’ll be sure to make pies more often then” she exclaimed happily when she cleared the table). Daryl listened while Mila talked with Rick and Carol. Strengthened by a couple of beers, he let his eyes linger a few extra seconds at her; the slender neck, the bone structure, the mouth and the nose.   

One beer later, Mila yawned and:

”I think I need to put us to bed.” Mila kissed Juri on the blonde hair. ”Dinner parties are tiring.” 

Strengthened by yet another beer, Daryl rose from his chair and made his way around the table.

”I’ll do it.” he said and gently lifted the limp boy from Milas lap (it still baffles him that he had the guts to do that). ”Ya’ can hardly walk by yourself.” he replied to Mila’s moderately surprised reaction. ”Let’s go.”

He wasn’t completely wrong. Mila moved stiffly up the stairs, low-key swearing at every step, grasping the handrail, like a grumpy old man. The only thing missing was a cane.   

”Had it been possible to amputate one’s entire midsection…” she whined. ”How long should I have to walk around like this?”

”It’s been like, what, three days?” Daryl asked while opening the bedroom door.

”Three days too much.” Mila replied as she sat on the bed as Daryl put the sleeping boy down next to her. ”My patience is non-existent.”

”That’s why ya’ stapled yourself?” he asked. “Ain’t workin’ like that, Jersey.”

Mila let out a faint, tired laugh and pulled a strand of hair from her face. 

“Yeah, as I said. I’m not a doctor.” she nodded towards Juri. ”Thanks, really.”

”Sure.” Daryl stepped out of the room and laid his hand on the doorknob. ”Night’ Jersey.”

And now he’s here, on the couch in the living room and can’t fall asleep for anything in the world. Daryl’s gaze wanders from the depressing beige canvas painting to the clock on the wall. Three o’clock. Already? 

In a couple of hours they will be on their way to the quarry, to prepare to herd a thousand rotting bastards from A to B the following day. Everything is basically ready for the big project; temporary barricades, escape plans, flare guns and color-coded rendezvous. Mila was moderately dissatisfied with Rick’s decision about her not being allowed to attend tomorrow or the finale, the day after. Wise decision, Daryl thinks and adjusts on the couch. He kicks off his boots and rests his feet on the armrest. In a healthier state Mila would have been invited to come along, but not now. The short walk to the gas station from where they parked the car earlier in the day was enough to cause her to be out of breath. And no matter how grumpy she is about having to stay behind tomorrow, Daryl is happy that she is on her feet and recovers. Considering how bad it was- He closes his eyes, tries to breathe calmly. 

Not until the horizon is starting to turn from black to blue and purple, he manages to fall asleep.

[sabraeal]

Happiness Is Just Around the Corner

The Wide Florida Bay | Previous

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist for her birthday! This was...not the fic I thought I’d be writing, but this is where this subplot needed to start >:3c

There is an improbable amount of fireworks on the lawn.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure none of it’s legal,” Kiki assures him, taking a long drag of her Sam’s Summer. “Shiira took his ducklings up to New Hampshire yesterday, and they came back with two coolers worth of...something.”

Zen coughs on the dregs of his Magic Hat. “What? Should we even--?”

Kiki’s flat stare is more effective than a hand over his mouth. “You really think we’ll get in trouble.”

His gut instinct is yes, because there’s not a day in his life where his brother hasn’t caught him with his pants down just to prove a point. It would be just like him to send a cruiser around so that he could experience the heart-stopping terror of being on the other side of a two-way mirror. Sure, Haruka would be down at the station before he could even ask for a phone call, and all of this would slide off his permanent record like water off a duck’s back, but still-- trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. He takes a deep breath, thinks. It’s quiet here on campus. They’re rowdy, sure, but it’s just the frat there, not some rager with Omega Delta Nu. The campus cops are probably bored out of their skulls, but they’re not going to nail the honor’s frat for a light show.

“No,” he admits, begrudgingly. “Not unless they light something on fire.”

Her mouth twitches, following the spark in her eyes. “Well, there’s a non-zero chance of that.”

Ugh, of course Kiki would be excited by the prospect. “Well, as long as we don’t get--” Obi crosses the lawn, aviators looming over a wide smile, and hovers just at Shiira’s shoulder, perusing the goods. “UH.”

“Fuck.” Kiki hops off the porch, straight down into the landscaping. “I’ll handle this.”

Zen settles back against the porch swing and sighs, taking another swig of Magic Hat. “Yeah, please do.”

Kiki’s already halfway across the lawn by the time he’s finished talking, so quick that when Obi picks up a particularly patriotic package of pyrotechnics, she’s there to snatch it out of his hands. Even from here, Zen can see the jut of his pout, hear the faint whine of Ms Kiki on the air.

Mitsuhide’s lighting up the grill, surrounded by a crowd convinced cooking works by consensus. He takes a handkerchief out of his back pocket-- stars and stripes, stuffed there early this morning as Obi solemnly announced, you are America’s hat today, big guy-- and wipes the sweat beading on his forehead. Zen can’t tell whether it’s from the heat or from the effort needed to withstand six guys offering advice on proper grilling technique.

A cool breeze tumbles through the porch, carrying the muted voices of a dozen conversations. Zen closes his eyes, letting the smell of smoke and the heat of the day wash over him, the swing rocking gently on its chains.

It’s nice, having all this. People he can anticipate. People he can depend on. Friends. The real kind, not just kids whose parents went to the same prep school as his.

This isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

A year ago that would have sent him scrambling-- last minute tickets and crumpled up itineraries paired with the crushing guilt of never being enough. But now--

Now he knows this is where he wants to be. And there’s only one person to thank for that.

“Hey.” His eyes slit open, and there she is, brilliant smile and bright hair, peeping around the post. “Enjoying yourself?”

Zen drops his legs from the rail to make room. “I am now.”

Shirayuki’s mouth slants, playfully wry, and his heart strains against his sternum like a dog testing its leash. “It looked like you were before too.”

“Well, sure.” He wishes he had Obi’s obnoxious aviators right now, if only so she couldn’t see the eager way he watches her as she comes up, tucking herself neatly onto the opposite end of the swing. “But even more now that you’re around.”

Freckles disappear behind a bloom of pink, settling in on either cheek.  “Ah, w-well,” she stammers, staring at her bare toes. “It’s good to know you don’t regret staying here.”

“Instead of being with my family?” He laughs, incredulous, draping his arm over the back of the swing. His fingers just barely brush the freckles on her shoulder. “More like I’m thankful for the excuse.”

Her smile dims. “Oh, um, right. You and Izana...”

She hesitates. There’s a wealth of ways she could end that thought, but instead she says, “It must be nice. I mean, the place your family has, not...”

The fraught relationship you have with your brother. She doesn’t have to say it for him to know exactly what she means.

“It’s all right, I guess,” he allows, wishing she’d sit closer, that she’d give him a good reason to put his arm around her for real, and not just let him awkwardly hang here. “I mean, it’s just a house. The beach is nice though. Private, of course.”

That doesn’t stop his mother from inviting the paparazzi if she thinks it will make a good photo op. Last year he’d made the cover of the Inquirer, face scrunched and unattractive as Izana has splashed sea water in his face, with the words Final Frolic for World’s Most Eligible Bachelor? There had been a two-page spread inside, dedicated entirely to the relationship rumors Izana had accrued since Valentine’s Day.

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that this year. No paparazzo was going to stake out a college frat to take pictures of an illegal fireworks show. Now Haki could deal with having her picture slapped across the tabloids because mother thought candid shots made for better family photos.

“Ah, right...” Her laugh stutters out, awkward and endearing. “That sounds...good?”

Shirayuki’s still next to him, the heat from her skin humid against his fingertips, but she’s never felt so far. He grunts, frustrated, shifting closer.

“There’s an old carousel on the island too,” he offers, haltingly. He’s not sure why the impulse takes him to tell her; why he thinks she, specifically, might like it, save that when he looks at her it’s the same as when he saw those hand-carved horses the first time, well-loved and shining beneath antique lights.

“Oh!” She blinks. “My grandparents took me to one of those, once! Back when we visited...”

Her mouth works silently for a moment before pulling tight, the bittersweet twist making her smile more grimace than grin.

“Well, you’d love this one,” he assures her, sweat pricking at his palms. “It’s the oldest in the US. But it’s still really nice! I’ll take you next--”

His words slam to a stop, running headlong into the barrier of his teeth. She’s staring at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted, and-- and what can he say? I’ll take you next year, when my brother suddenly approves of you.

Yeah, he knows better than to hold his breath for that.

“I’m glad, anyway.” She folds her legs up on the swing, one arm hooked around her knees, and tilts her head back. “It’s nice for all of us to be here, together.”

Her eyes are closed, face serene in the evening light, like she could just sit here forever, breathing into the twilight. His heart flutters just looking at her, at the way she relaxes next to him, content with the slow rock he eases them into. No one can just be the way Shirayuki can.

“It is,” he agrees softly, because anything but a whisper might break this moment, might let the rest of the world in. “It’s going to be weird when you...”

He tries to stop himself, but her eyes fly open before he can. Of course, the one moment he’s gotten her to himself, and he’s gone and ruined it by bringing that up.

“I just mean...” He laughs, tipping his head back on scroll of wood behind his head. “It’s going to be strange when you and Obi are gone next year.”

A month from now, really. It looms over him, a ticking clock that chimes every evening, telling him he’s wasted another day if it wasn’t with her.

“Oh!” Her head snaps upright, cheeks flushed. “I-- I guess. I didn’t really think...” She bites her lip; he wants to kiss it. “Mitsuhide won’t be here either!”

He blinks. It’s true, but he’s never actually thought about that. Mitsuhide has always been in the house, it seems, never the president but a calming influence just to the side of him, and now--

Well, it’ll just be him and Kiki next year. And the rest of the frat, of course, plus all the new pledges.

Still, the future is distinctly more lonely than he’d like.

“He’ll be close, though,” he says, if only to hear the words out loud. “Harvard is a bit of a drive from here, but now that him and Kiki are, you know...”

Banging. That’s what he means to say at least, what he would say if he didn’t, last minute, remember who he was talking to. The last thing he needs is to get a scolding about taking feelings seriously and supporting their friends. Especially when he’d rather be talking about another relationship entirely.

“...Together,” he settles on, and she hums, approving.

“I’m glad that happened.” She rests her chin on her knees, surveying the lawn. Kiki’s abandoned the fireworks committee, instead shooing away the flock of fraters that have congregated around the grill. “They’re good for each other.”

“Made for each other,” he agrees, tickling her shoulder with his thumb. She squirms, a giggle bubbling out from her lips. “Just like...”

Us. He wants to say it, so bad it’s almost an ache, but-- it’s not fair. Not when they’re not really anything, when they can’t be anything, because--

I don’t know if being with me like…like that will be…good for you. I don’t think either of us are ready for that sort of…of attention.

-- Because everything about his life makes things complicated.

“I’m...happy for them,” he says, because he is, because there’s no two people in the world who deserve every bit of goodness they can wring from life more than they do. Even if that leaves him on the outside, again.

“Me too.” Shirayuki smiles, soft and fond, and it’s impossible to believe it’s barely been ten months since he met her, that she isn’t someone he’s known his whole life, not when she just slips seamlessly into every part.

Her hand reaches out, taking his, cool in the evening breeze. “I’ll miss you too.”

His breath catches in his chest, painful. Maybe she feels so familiar because he’s been waiting for her his whole life, too.

“I-I mean, all of you, of course,” she stammers, pink flooding her cheeks, and oh, he wishes he could just lean over now and kiss her, like he was some normal boy with a normal crush and normal expectations of privacy. “I’m excited to go, but...it won’t be the same without everyone.”

Good. He smothers a grin. This whole trip is a great opportunity for her, he knows that-- how could he not, when Izana keeps reminding him about the connections she’ll make-- but--

Two years seems excessive. After a year, she’ll realize that too. And then she can come back for senior year, live in the frat, graduate, spend the summer with him in the Vineyard, and--

“We should do something together,” she says, fingers knotted around his, shoulders rounded shyly.

“Yes!” he blurts out, squeezing way too hard. “Definitely”

“All of us!”

“Ah...” That wasn’t what he thought she was going for. “I mean...”

“One last big adventure.” Her lips spread giddily. “Just the five of us. For now, of course,” she adds, “we’ll be coming back.”

“Oh, ah...” He blinks, staring down at where her hands are tangled with his. She has little over a month left here, and what he really wants is to be doing this, this whole...being together thing, but--

But it’s not like this is going anywhere either. Two years is a long time, but they’ll be sitting here just like this when she gets back. Well-- with more kissing, he hopes.

He can wait. He’s not the only one who will miss her. “Yeah, that sounds...nice.”

His eyes flick up, catching her just as she sinks teeth into the soft pillow of her lip, leaving a dent that begs to be soothed. Zen swallows, hard.

Well, a friendly getaway will have its opportunities for some, ah, private time too. He just has to create them.

“I was thinking,” he starts, lifting a hand to ruffle his hair, trying to be, you know, casual. “What if we--?”

“Hey.” Kiki perches herself across from them with a deftness that says she’s been hanging out with Obi too much. “Burgers are off the grill.”

“Great,” Zen grits out with a glare. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Kiki hums, brow raising dubiously. “What are you two up to out here?”

“Nothing.” He glowers at her, wishing she would just take a hint. “Just talking.”

“Ah.” Her mouth twitches. “I see.”

“We were just talking about taking a trip!” Shirayuki blurts out excitedly, red-faced and glowing. “All of us! One last adventure before me and Obi go to Lyrias.”

Kiki blinks at that, cocking her head. “What were you thinking?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know.” A giggle burst nervously from her as she smooths the hem of her shorts over her thighs. “We hadn’t really gotten that far.”

All right, it’s time to drag this conversation back on track. Zen clears his throat. “Kiki, doesn’t your dad have that house in the Berkshires? We could go for a weekend, maybe take in the--”

“Why? We’re already in western Mass. What will a forty minute drive get us?” She wrinkles her nose. “It isn’t even peak foliage season.”

Privacy, he wants to say, but he knows how poorly that idea would fly with her. For someone who always seems to find time to be alone with her boytoy, Kiki’s awfully invested in seeing that he never has any with his girl...thing.

“Hm, I wasn’t really think a trip-trip either,” Shirayuki admits, crushing his dreams of a nice afternoon alone in a hammock, just the two of them and their bathing suits. “But something like an, ah...activity. Like an amusement park.” She perks. “Do you have something like that out here?”

“Six Flags!” he blurts out before he can even consider what he’s saying. “It’s only a half hour away, and the coasters are supposed to be some of the best. I mean, if you, ah, like that sort of thing.”

Which he doesn’t, but there’s really no need to mention that. Not when she lights up like she does, hands clapping together over her heart.

“That sounds perfect! I’ve never been to one of those.” She leans in, conspiratorial. “Opa always got vertigo on the Turkish Twist.”

He may not know what that thing is, but it sounds gut-wrenching enough to keep in head in the trash for a good ten minutes. Zen plasters a smile on his face, steadfastly ignoring the arch look Kiki gives him-- god, that’s the last thing he needs, Kiki deciding it would be funny to tell the story of when they rode the Tower of Terror in middle school-- and says, “I’ll go on any ride you want.”

Kiki makes an unearthly noise, somewhere between a cough and a choke, and he braces for it, for the you know, Zen can tell you the location of every trashcan in Hollywood Studios--

“When were you thinking?” she says instead, mouth just barely twitching at the corner. “It’s going to be busy this weekend.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki’s eyes round, matching the curve of her mouth. “I didn’t think of that. It doesn’t have to be right now. Maybe in another...week? Or so?”

Kiki whips out her phone, flicking through with one finger. “How about...the seventeenth?”

“Ah...” Shirayuki squints, eyes rolling upward like her brain is an open book she can skim for answers. “Y-yes. I think that’s all right.”

Zen stares. “Did you just...pick a random date?”

“No.” Kiki clicks her screen off, slipping it back into her pocket. “This weekend will still have traffic from the fourth. Next week we’re supposed to submit our paperwork to the student affairs office for this semester, and I know you haven’t started. I don’t want to go during a weekend rush, and Thursday is far into the week where if we have any last second problems with student affairs, we won’t have to reschedule.” She holds out a hand, ta-da. “The seventeenth.”

It’s not fair how she can just...do all that. “W-well, all right. But we still have to make sure that Obi and Mitsuhide--”

“Hey, Obi,” Kiki calls out, catching his attention as he cuts across the lawn toward them. “What are you doing on July seventeenth?”

In full sunlight, in the view of every member of the frat, Obi stumbles over absolutely nothing. “W-what?”

“July seventeenth.” she repeats archly as he slinks up beside her, arms resting on the rail. “Are you doing anything.”

When he thinks of Obi at rest, he thinks of languid limbs, of a frustratingly canted smile and glittering eyes, but--

He’s not any of that now. His troublesome mouth lays in a tense line, the corners of his eyes creased and wary. “Why?”

“We want to go somewhere, all five of us,” Shirayuki informs him giddily, mouth stretching from ear to hear. “And Zen suggested Six Flags--”

“Oh no.” He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “No way. Hard pass. I don’t do amusement parks.”

Kiki arches a brow, unimpressed. “Is that so.”

“Yeah.” He tosses his head, mouth straining towards casual derision and falling short. “Not my scene.”

“Oh really.” The mild look Kiki levels at him had leveled lesser men, but Obi only flinches. “Too cool for them, huh?”

His shoulders twitch. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Ohh,” Zen grins, enjoying the way Obi squirms like a cat with his head caught in a fence. “So you mean that’s not really the reason? You have some other secret, terrible Bugs Bunny trauma in your past, maybe?”

“Well, I have to tell you,” Obi says loftily, “I’ve never really cared for Yosemite Sam.”

Shirayuki frowns. “We really don’t have to--”

“I think we all know this is just to obscure your Lola Bunny fetish,” Kiki deadpans.

“Excuse me?” Obi presses a hand to his chest, aghast. “Space Jam is a formative experience. To say any of us don’t owe Lola Bunny--”

“Hey.” Mitsuhide hops up the steps, wiping the sweat pouring down his neck. Zen valiantly doesn’t notice how Kiki stares. “The burgers have been done for a bit. What’s keeping all of you?”

“Obi is allergic to fun,” Kiki informs him, earning a shocked gasp from Obi.

“That’s not it!” he protests. “You just want to go to Six Flags--”

“Oh, Six Flags!” Mitsuhide’s mouth break into a guileless grin. “I love amusement parks.”

Obi stares, jaw slack. “Big Guy, don’t do this to me...”

Zen grins. “I dunno, Obi. Looks like you’re outvoted.”

Shirayuki shifts beside him, wringing her hands. “Oh no, I don’t think-- if Obi doesn’t want to go, we can just pick--”

“Nah.” Obi waves her off, one hand clasping at his shoulder. “You guys can do what you want. I’ll just sit this one out.”

“Obi--”

“I better check in on Shiira,” he says, stilted. “Don’t want them blowing up the front forty by accident.”

Shirayuki half stands, but it’s too late, he’s already sauntering away, laughing at he calls out to the brothers on the lawn.

“Don’t worry, Shirayuki.” Mitsuhide assures her with a clap on her shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

“I...” Zen watches the way her mouth sets, too knowing, a grim white line cutting through the flush of her face. “I don’t know about that.”

[malereader-inserts]

Rumour Has It

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader Summary: The Avengers don’t like you, rumour has it. Word Count: 1,729 Request: “If your taking request can you do a peter parker x male reader where peter introduced male reader to the Avengers.”

The Avengers don’t like you, that’s what they agreed within their little circle.

No, they haven’t met you, yet, but, they just don’t like you.

Dating their youngest member of the team, it’s kind of a big deal. Peter, barely an adult yet, had been especially happy lately. It wasn’t too noticeable at first, the boy is a walking ray of sunshine, but then they started to notice that Peter was skipping out on Friday movie nights every other night.

Peter usually kept a disorganised schedule, often times running out the lab to meet his Aunt, but now, he checks the clock every five minutes and leaves five minutes than intended. He never comes to the tower with an empty stomach like he used to, then they found out that he had been dating someone. 

It was the laughter when he was staring at his phone, every small noise that comes from his phone to check if there was a message from you. 

“So, who’s the girl?” Sam asked, one day, it was in the middle of preparing for the movie night as Peter tap on his phone.

“Hmh?” Peter hummed, looking up to see some of the Avengers looking at him, “It’s not a girl.”

“So, it’s not that girl - what’s her name?” Tony started to click his fingers as Peter looked at his mentor with an amused look.

“MJ?” Peter offered, “No, it’s not her nor is Ned.”

“Then who’s got you all flushed up, Parker?” Natasha calls out, leaning against Clint, who was sipping on his beer with a fond teasing smile at Peter.

“Just my boy, my man, (Y/n),” Peter commented before his attention was quick to return to the blue screen.

It didn’t clock into their minds that Peter was completely referring to you as his boyfriend, but at the time they just thought that Peter made a new friend recently, someone he was very fond of. It was until Peter left, in the refusal of Happy’s drive, in another person’s car that the team had realised that either Peter just got kidnapped or Peter had a boyfriend.

They were indifferent about you, barely heard anything from Peter. But, they were glad that things had started to return to their normal routine. But, they heard that Peter Parker was dating some kid called (Y/n) (L/n) that was the youngest son of Stark Enterprise rival company. Successful in making the latest technology.

And there were some hefty rumours about you.

“(Y/n) the next new loverboy on the scene?” Headlines would stream, social media flowed with the headline.

Peter scoffs when he reads the headline, ignoring the media and enjoying being in the arms of you. Meanwhile, the Avengers hated it. They thought this was a red flag for you, Peter should immediately consider his choices and leave. You were a flirt, a young adult with charm and money.

Tony Stark could see his younger self in you. Young, rich and charming, that made everyone swoon. Tony Stark is a player, everyone knows that, so why couldn’t you. You’ve been in public having a couple of dates, some significant others, the media had been tracking your dating life. More so compared to your siblings.

Then again, you were a pretty face. You could easily take up modelling if your family business was too tiring for you. Then that caused another rumour to spark, it was from Ned one time. He had come along with Peter to the tower, he begged Peter to come to see a movie on Saturday night but Peter politely declined.

“I’m going to a party,” Peter answers as Ned raises an eyebrow, “With him.” 

“What? (Y/n)?” Ned was baffled, “You hate parties and I heard the parties he goes to are wild, they do the crazy stuff.”

Steve was the one to overhear the conversation and replayed the message to the team. The party that Peter seemed to be attending with you could be filled with drugs, people doing vape and heavy drinking.

“I don’t like who Peter is hanging around,” Bruce mentions, cleaning his glasses, “Who is (Y/n) anyway?”

“Youngest member of (L/n) Corp.” Pepper started, “Highly intelligent, only eighteen years old. But, he comes off much like his older brothers.”

“Egotistic, party animals and a manwhore,” Tony completed, “He’s going to break Pete’s innocence.”

“As if there is much left of that,” Clint commented dryly, “Listen, why don’t we give the kid a chance? You’ve said it before Stark, media is pretty heavy with opinions and lies.”

Tony sighs, nodding, “I guess so.”

Avengers were invited to your family party, Steve was dreading the thought of it. He wasn’t ready to be faced with loud music, drunk and high people. But, Peter only laughs, shaking his head.

“It’s just a normal party? What are you talking about?” Peter asked, a soft happy smile on his face, “Like Tony host.”

“But, that’s the party you’ve been going to with your boyfriend!” Bucky exclaimed, but the confused look Peter shows meant otherwise.

“No, I haven’t, I hate those types of parties. I’ve only been to one and that was the time of homecoming.” 

The Avengers still attended with their chosen plus one. Aunt May was excited to see you, already meeting her after a few weeks of dating Peter. She was really charmed by you and taken a great like to you. The team all dressed up for the party as Peter was practically jumping up and down, scanning the crowd of people to find you.

“Peter Parker!” You greeted, a smile on your face and your eyes lit up ever so perfectly, Peter swooned.

Your hand lands and rest carefully on the lower parts of Peter’s back. You softly kissed his temple, with you being taller - though that wasn’t too hard with Peter. Peter beamed at the rest of his team and his Aunt.

“Welcome to our humble abode, Avengers,” You spoke with confidence, the team cringes inside. 

Peter look at you with such fondness as you spare him a glance, amused but in love. May was quick to engulf you into a hug, in which you happily accept. You point her to your aunt, she was quick to make friends with your family member when she and Peter came over for family reunion dinner one night.

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, (Y/n). (Y/n) this is my team,” Peter introduced, you nodded as a greeting but the friendly smile never leaving your face.

“Peter talks an awfully lot of you,” You commented, “Especially you Mr Stark, he fawns over you.”

“Shut up!” Peter whines, nudging you as you chuckled, even bursting into fits of laughter when Peter turns red.

“Oh, well I hope they’re all good things,” Steve said.

“Definitely, he’s a big fan of you, he did grow up with superheroes,” You complimented as you clapped your hands, “Please, food will be served soon, the bar is open - no worry you won’t need to pay anything, there is a restriction on you, Peter, however.”

“What!” Peter exclaimed as you raise an eyebrow at him and shook your head.

“We let you drink a bit, you’re an emotional drunk Pete. You’re lucky that I’m here to bring you home, but I’m sure May have some funny videos of that night.” 

“What?”

“Oh, yeah, you really wanted to find an Iron Man costume and parade in the night with it. Then, you showed me your hulk pyjamas, which are adorable.”

“Excuse me, Hulk PJ’s?” Bruce asked, baffled but somewhat touched by the simple gesture.

“Oh, yes, Dr Banner. I have pictures, would you like them?” You immediately fish out your phone, “Now that I recall, Peter has a lot of embarrassing pictures on here.”

You stride towards to the team, they didn’t miss how your lock screen is Peter and you in the carnival, hues of blues, red and orange were mixed as flares. It was aesthetically pleasing to view. You tap on your photos and scroll to a folder name “Spiderboi ❤” Typical teenage behaviour. 

There were pictures of Peter in a bubble bath, bubbles to his chin and his hair stuck up in a mohawk but holding up Captain America action figure in one hand and a Thor action figure in the other. The team looked at each there, wanting to burst out in laughter. 

Whilst there were many embarrassing pictures of him, there were many pictures that you adored with all your heart. Pictures such as Ferris wheel pictures together at the top, or a picture of Peter him riding a horse like prince charming on the carousel. Pictures sure as him simply looking at items on the Santa Monica Pier, when you took him to LA for a week.

“You’re really cute together,” Sam said, not realising what had been said.

“Thanks! Peter is my first real relationship, I intend to make sure he’s stuck with me.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Trust me (Y/n), it’ll be you wanting to leave not me. I love you too much to let you go.”

“You sap,” You shoved lightly with your shoulder, “Come on, mom is dying to make plans with us and May.”

The two of you walk away, with Peter grasping your hand and jokingly swinging it back and forth obnoxiously. Tony cleared his throat and straighten his jacket, grabbing a drink that was on a tray that was being carried around and offered.

“Seems nice,” Clint concluded, “I like him.”

The team murmured in agreement. Natasha takes a deep breath, ready to mingle for the night, ready to walk off with Pepper by her side

“Do you think he knows that we didn’t like him at first, do you think Peter knew?” Sam asked.

“Oh, he knew,” Peter spoke, making the team jump at his arrival, he grins at them as he grabs a drink from a waiter’s tray, “Rumour has it, so does (Y/n).”

With that Peter finally walks away, the team shifting uncomfortably in their spot. Peter wanted to tell the team to loosen up and integrate themselves with the guest as well but managed to catch the conversation and left feeling both entertained and unamused.

“We’ve messed up our first impression, haven’t we?” Steve winced, as you sharply turn your head away.

“Yup,” Bruce answered.

“Then, we better get into fixing that.”

[nancydrew428]

Hi!! So I’m conducting kind of a survey/study? Can you rank the games in order from best to worst in your eyes? A simple list will suffice. Include MID, and both SCKs please. But exclude dossiers ;)

Hi! Sorry for the late response! I’ve been doing finals and my last assignments of the semester haha. But I eventually finished this!

Also, don’t hate me (I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this except for on my bingo card, subtle plug), but I haven’t played 10 of the games, and of the ones that I have played, I still haven’t finished 3 of them🙊😂 So I might not be the most helpful, especially if you need exact rankings or answers from someone who knows everything about each game. I’m sorry! But hopefully my answer will still help you. If not, I’m hoping it’ll be interesting!

1. Curse of Blackmoor Manor

This one has definitely been my favorite game! It took me 8 years to finally finish it, but I’m so glad I did. I love the atmosphere, especially the creepy vibes (and I do like the English moor aesthetic, haha). The game used to scare me so bad, but now it’s just cute, and a little spooky. The only thing I don’t like is the moving rooms. All the other puzzles were good. But that one made me dizzy and confused, lol.

2. The Secret of Shadow Ranch

Dave Gregory. That’s it. That’s the tweet. Lmao. ...Seriously, though, I love being out on the ranch in real life and I love how that translated in the game. I love horses and cowboys. The love story with Frances and Dirk… My heart. I also loved the book. And I liked the glyphs. And the chocolate Shadow Ranch cake is to die for (it’s my go-to chocolate cake recipe!⁠—although I will never do walnuts).

3. Danger on Deception Island

This was the first game I played, so obviously it had to be high up on my list. Again, I love the atmosphere (that’s probably my biggest factor when ranking these games, and with playing games in general). It really reminds me of a place along the California coast that I visit during the summer. And I don’t think there would have been a better game to introduce 8 year old me into the world of ND video games.

4. Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake

This one used to scare me. Every night I would be afraid for the dogs to jump on the house and windows. Every time I would be in the woods looking for bugs I was terrified that something would happen. Also, Yogi! And I remember actually enjoying the puzzles and the hunt for bugs. Also, the speakeasy was so cool!

5. Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon

The Hardy Boys!! I saw someone say this is like an off-brand Murder on the Orient Express, and it was so funny to me, and I wanted to share it with you. But I love the train idea, the Hardy Boys, cooking, the potential “ghosts,” the hunt, and the dialogue.

6. Secret of the Old Clock

I loved this book. It’s the first Nancy Drew book (definitely a classic), and I love how they set the game in the ‘30s. It was completely different in that aspect than any of the other games. Although the driving wasn’t the most fun, I lovedthe pies, going through the secret passages, playing mini-golf, and the ugly yet cute cat that I don’t remember the name of.

7. Shadow at the Water’s Edge

I don’t know how accurate this is in the portrayal of Japanese culture. I hope that it’s pretty accurate and that it isn’t racist, but I’m not sure. But I remember playing this game when I was 11 and being absolutely terrified. The bento boxes were very cute, but I remember getting frustrated with it. The jumpscare is arguably the best part of the game and the scariest scene in any Nancy Drew game.

8. Sea of Darkness

This one is honestly this high up specifically for the graphics. Overall, it is a good game. I liked the puzzles, the setting, characters, dialogue, etc. But the graphics stole the show. It is the best Nancy Drew game with graphics, plus the scenery is pretty (even if it wasn’t as quality). I love the snow and the chilly atmosphere, and I definitely feel like it’s a winter game.

9. Treasure in the Royal Tower

I liked this game. I loved (you guessed it!) the atmosphere. I loved being snowed in, and I loved Hotchkiss. I don’t remember much of this game, and one might argue that that means that it should be lower on the list, but I remember really enjoying it, so I’m keeping it in this spot.

10. Legend of the Crystal Skull

I love the atmosphere, New Orleans, and Henry so much. This isn’t my favorite game, but it is so good!

11. Danger by Design

I like this one, with the Sonny Joon references. I also like Paris, and I think this is a fun game. But I always get it confused with The Phantom of Venice, which is why Phantom is listed right below this one. Which one has JJ and the cookies? I couldn’t tell you.

12. The Phantom of Venice

Like I said, I always get this one confused with Danger by Design. I couldn’t tell you what happens in each. Except this one has you dance in a catsuit and play SCOPA, but I don’t remember necessarily caring for either of these.

13. The Captive Curse

I like this one. I like Germany, the monster, the scary beginning, Renate falling asleep. But I feel like it could have been scarier. (If it was, let me know! I gotta replay it in that case.)

14. Alibi in Ashes

I love Alexei, the ice cream/milkshakes, and getting to play other characters than just Nancy. But other than that, it’s not my favorite game.

15. The White Wolf of Icicle Creek

I’ve only played the Wii version of this game, so I’m not sure how different it is from the PC version. + I never finished it. I loved the kitchen and cooking, and the wolf is super cute! But I didn’t like the ice thing. I could never get past it. Is it any easier on the PC?

16. The Haunting of Castle Malloy

I’m Irish and I think it’s cool that the game is in Ireland. I actually like the character design, but it feels a little bit….ridiculous to me? And the banshee? I don’t know. But I love the atmosphere, and from what I remember, I liked the characters.

17. The Creature of Kapu Cave

I remember liking the game, and I love anything with the ocean or lakes or swimming or diving. Like, the water is where I belong, and I think it’s so fun. But the character design is awful. Frank and Joe don’t look the way they’re supposed to, and I can’t get over it.

18. The Deadly Device

It’s a good game, but I’ve never finished it. It’s difficult in some parts and boring in others. But I love the Tesla idea, Mason’s sarcasm, and Ryan (I just love Ryan). But it’s never really pulled me in. (I think part of it might be because it’s the only game, other than SSH that I’ve tried playing without using any walkthroughs, so I’m having a tough time, lol.)

19. Warnings at Waverly Academy

I know that this is a fan favorite, but it isn’t my favorite. I like all of the Nancy Drew games that I’ve played for the most part, and it is a good game. But I’m tired of school, and I play video games to escape it. Plus, other than Mel, I don’t like any of the characters. That might be the point, but in a game where you have only a handful of characters, I don’t like only having one of them be likeable.

20. Message in a Haunted Mansion

I don’t remember much of this game. But I love anything even slightly spooky, and I remember thinking this game was cute.

21. Secret of the Scarlet Hand

I’m playing this game right now (not as I type this, but I’ve played it on and off for the past few months), and it’s pretty good. I like learning about Mayan culture, but it isn’t that special of a game. Nothing really stands out to me, and none of the characters are all that likeable imo.

22. Secrets Can Kill Remastered

Again, I don’t remember much from this game. It didn’t stick out to me much, and I enjoy games with a good atmosphere and a somewhat lasting impression. This game isn’t bad; I don’t think any of the ND games I’ve played have been bad tbh. But I don’t care about high school, and I want something else to remember. But I give Her Interactive kudos for making a game for girls about murder (especially because it was technically their first game, and this was just a remake). And that sounds sarcastic, but it actually isn’t! Lol.

23. The Haunted Carousel

This wasn’t a bad game. I just don’t really have an interest in carnivals and that sorta thing. They’re okay, but they don’t intrigue me that much. And I don’t remember much from this game. I played it around the same time that I played most of these games, and it didn’t stick out to me. However, I do love the cover and the fact that not every character is white.

24. Ransom of the Seven Ships

I know this game gets a bad rep, but I don’t think it’s a terrible game. But the black face is just too racist and makes me too uncomfortable to enjoy it as much as it could be enjoyed. If HeR toned down the racism a little bit, I could have actually enjoyed this game (except for George’s character design; they did my girl dirty, but what’s new?).

[some-kind-of-starlight]

The Carousel Kingdom, Chapter One- How The Rollercoaster Starts

Virgil Parma just wanted to have a nice day at the fair with his friend Patton- but the universe had other plans. It all begins with a little red carousel- and, like a carousel, the story spins onward.

Word Count: 1,930 (which, despite it only being chapter one, makes this the longest story I’ve ever written!) Characters: Virgil, Patton, random OC who runs a bakery with their girlfriend Warnings: brief description of heights, overthinking, mention of a cliff (please tell me if I need to add anything else!) Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety & Logicality, platonic Moxiety for this chapter

Enjoy!

Virgil Parma liked constants.

The purple lamp, always sitting on his nightstand. The clock on his wall, always five minutes behind. The mug in the kitchen, always left out for the next morning.

It was the little things, grounding him and reminding him that his world wasn't going to be flipped upside-down on a whim.

Well. As he thought.

It's not what he would have expected, at least, as he heard a familiar knock at the front door.

Rushing from his bedroom to open it, he was met with the smiling face of his friend Patton Coeur- and, not a second later, two slips of paper being shoved in his face.

"Virgil!" Patton exclaimed excitedly. "Are you ready to go to the fair? I brought the tickets," he wove the paper around," and some snacks!" he said, bouncing the bag on his shoulder to show his point. "So all you need to bring is yourself! And, uh, maybe a water bottle. We don't want you getting dehydrated!"

Virgil leaned off the doorframe and made a movement back towards his bedroom. "Yeah, Pat, just let me grab my bag." He darted to his room and grabbed the backpack off his chair, giving it a quick check to affirm everything was inside, then started back to the door.

"I, uh," Virgil started, making his way back to Patton, "actually packed some snacks and stuff too. And I thought it'd probably be a good idea to bring something to calm me down just in case, so..." he held up a plastic fidget cube. Patton nodded approvingly.

"Good idea, Virge! And the water bottles?"

"Already in here," Virgil stated, tapping his bag softly.

"Great! Then if you're ready, let's go!"

Virgil stepped out the door and pushed it softly closed, locking it and linking arms with Patton as he turned around.

The two walked and chatted amiably, Patton talking about the bakery their old friends had started- "They have the best muffins, Virge, and everyone is so nice! I was thinking about applying for a job there later in the summer, it seems like it'd be a good place to work!", as well as recounting a book he'd been reading about emotional intelligence.

Virgil nodded along, giving positive affirmations and mentioning the song he'd been working on lately- "I think it's going pretty well, there's a couple lyrics I could probably fix, but it's doing pretty good for the most part. It probably won't be much longer before you can hear it." Patton smiled proudly at him, gently bumping Virgil's shoulder and telling him he couldn't wait.

After fifteen minutes or so, the pair reached the entrance to the fair. It wasn't very big, but it looked packed with activity- and the place felt homely, in a way, with the rolling fields beneath them and the familiar rides glinting in the summer sun.

Patton stepped up to the booth at the gate and placed the two tickets on the counter, gently tapping it as he did so. The person inside quickly turned from the computer they sat at, smiling when they saw him.

"Patton! Good to see you here!", they said as they took the tickets and scanned them with the computer. "Good to see you too, Amicus!" Patton replied. "How's Token of Confection doing?"

Amicus withdrew two wristbands from a nearby drawer before turning back to Patton. "Good! Amelie figured out a new chocolate sugar cookie recipe the other day, you've got to check it out next time you stop by!" Amicus turned to Virgil. "How's it going, Virgil? Been a while since I last saw you!"

"It's going pretty alright," Virgil supposed. "Guess you're doing pretty well too? You seem happy."

"Can you hold out your wrist for a second?" Amicus interrupted, holding up a wristband. "Great! Yeah, I'm doing good! Amelie and I are happy together and we've been working on getting our baking business rolling." Amicus tucked the bracelet around Virgil's wrist and motioned for Patton to hold up his own.

"I'd love to be there now, but my mom wanted me to run the ticket booth for the first couple days. I'll be back at Token of Confection soon enough though! Can't wait to be back in the kitchen with Amelie. I promised her I'd bring her some cotton candy, she wants to try to figure out how to incorporate it into some sugar cookies." Amicus smiled fondly as they sealed the wristband around Patton's arm. "She's so creative. I'm glad we found each other."

"And we're glad you're happy!" Patton beamed at them as he withdrew his arm. "Are we all set?"

"You are! Have a good day!" Amicus gave a quick wave before turning back to the computer behind them.

"Nice to see that they're doing well," Virgil mentioned as they entered the fairgrounds. "I can see why you'd want to work at a place called Token of Confection. That name is right up your alley."

"Isn't it? I was so excited when I found out that's what they were calling it. It's such a cute name!"

"It is. So," Virgil said suddenly, "what should we do first?"

"Oh! Uh, how about we go on the ferris wheel?" Patton pointed at the ride in question. "We can get a good view of the park and then decide from there!"

"Smart idea, Pat, sounds good to me. Let's go!"

It was a short walk to the ferris wheel, and luckily the line wasn't too long. Patton and Virgil didn't have to stand around much before they found themselves seated in a car and the ferris wheel beginning to turn.

"Oh, Virgil, look!" Patton motioned to the ground below. "They've got one of those teacup rides! Ooh, and a slide! We should go on that first, it looks like it's closer to here."

Virgil gave him an affirmative thumbs-up before peering out of the car himself. As they rose off the ground, he could see the slide and teacups Patton had mentioned, excited people racing about between the rides. Out a little further, he could see the peaceful rolling fields around them, houses dotting the horizon line. They were like two opposite worlds. And in between them...

Well.

That was odd.

On the edge of the cliff that the fairgrounds sat upon was a small carousel. It was a good ways away from the fair itself, still only a few seconds' walking distance, but obviously not meant to be a part of the festivities. Its faded red tent was torn in several places- and badly enough that Virgil could tell from so far up.

It was... strange, to say the least.

"Virgil!" The sudden outburst from Patton interrupted his thoughts. "What's got you fascinated over there, spot something cool?

"There's this weird carousel over there, set away from everything else. Do you see it?" Virgil did his best to point out the little red tent to his friend. Patton squinted as he followed his finger to the carousel.

"Oh! There it is! It's so cute and tiny!"

Virgil laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is. I hadn't thought about it that way. Kinda weird that it's set apart from the fair, though, isn't it?"

"It looks kinda old, maybe it stopped working and they had to move it aside."

Virgil shrugged. "That'd make sense. Still, I think I'm gonna go check it out when we're back on the ground."

"I'll come with you! Maybe we'll find something interesting!"

"Interesting" was one way to put it, Virgil thought.

Now that the pair was standing in front of the carousel, they could see all the intricacies they had missed from the ferris wheel. Golden filigree bordered the tent, as well as the base, and the poles were the same shining color. Though the tent was faded and damaged, flecks of glitter still glinted in the fabric, and the underside of the canopy was dyed a beautiful midnight black. After a bit more scouring, Virgil even noticed a golden carousel ring sitting in a slot inside the frame of the tent.

But perhaps the most intriguing things were the intricate painting in the center pole and the frontmost carousel horse. The center pole was decorated by a beautiful painting of a castle, surrounded by beautiful skies that wrapped seamlessly around it. Fluffy clouds floated by gently in the background. Virgil was tempted to reach out and touch them.

The horse, on the other hand, was intriguing for different reasons. It was the most detailed out of the horses on the carousel- intricate roses were carved into its flowing hair, and a bright ribbon of fabric was draped from the saddle. Virgil swore you could see threads etched into the wood if you looked close enough. The poles that were supposed to carry the horse seemed loose, as if a hole was cut out of the pole and the horse haphazardly shoved between, rather than going through the wooden carving.

And, perhaps the most odd thing- while the others looked worn and dull, this one looked almost new. A fine layer of dust coated it, but Virgil had given it a quick swipe with his hand and the paint had looked crisp and bright underneath.

All of it just made Virgil more confused. He leaned against the carousel pole and hit his head against it lightly with a soft thunk.

A soft hand fell upon his shoulder and Virgil jumped before realizing it was just Patton.

"Hey, Pat."

"Hey, Virge. You doing alright? I saw you bonking your head on the pole I was getting kinda worried." Patton gently lifted his head off the pole as he spoke. Virgil only tightened his grip on it.

"It's just so strange, Patton. This random carousel is just here, with one weirdly-new looking horse," he clapped his hand gently against the pole for emphasis, "away from the fair it's assumably supposed to be at. And it doesn't." *thunk.* "make." *thunk.* "sense." *thunk.*

Patton gently guided his hands off the pole and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "I know, V. It is weird. But sometimes weird things happen, and they don't need some big, cosmic explanation- you just saw them in a weird place at a weird time. Someone was probably trying to replace the horses and realized they didn't know how, or they didn't have time to finish before the fair opened."

Virgil nodded. As much as the explanation didn't satisfy him, as much as he wished it would- he supposed he had to walk away eventually. And Patton's reason was a better reason than none.

Virgil sighed, wearily, and made to take a step back- but before he did so, he brushed the dirt gently off of the horse's forehead and rested his own upon it. A tribute to a mystery unsolved or a mystery nonexistent- he didn't know which. He supposed it didn't matter.

Virgil stepped away, linking his arm with Patton's as they turned back to the fair. But before they could take a step, a bright light shone in the corners of their eyes.

They turned around just in time to see the carousel horse glow, in a second turning into a jumble of light, tumbling off the carousel and coming to rest at their feet. And in the blink of an eye the light was gone again, fading away to reveal- not something, really- but a someone.

Their eyes snapped open and fearful gold irises met Virgil's own.

And in that moment, Virgil's world was flipped upside-down.

[pollyestergivens]

Part 3: Nancy Drew & The Vanishing Set Designer

 The Importance of Cohesive, Believable Game Worlds 

A wall of text series on how Nancy Drew games largely lost their charm--this time with pictures!

Boasting more than 30 titles released over the course of nearly 20 years, it’s obvious why the Nancy Drew series has experienced changes in graphics. Thanks to never-ending advancements in PCs and artists who continue to hone their craft, the games moved ever closer to an ultra-realistic ideal. 

Improved textures and dynamic character animations were some of the most noticeable and appreciated changes that helped to further immerse the player and create a beautiful game world. That said, a convincing game world does not require the latest and greatest graphics--it only requires cohesion. The most realistic graphics in the world are nothing without a skillful designer behind the scenes, setting the stage and making everything feel “right.” Unfortunately, that designer seemed to vanish with increasing regularity as time went on.

Empty Spaces

HER has never had a AAA budget, and that comes with certain limitations. One of the most obvious is the amount of characters that Nancy is able to interact with in each game. Since creating, animating, and voicing characters takes quite a bit of time, there are rarely more than five. This can create some challenges when it comes to creating a game world which feels lively and believable.

Some locations, like the abandoned Thornton Hall or the soon-to-be B&B in Message in a Haunted Mansion need no excuse for their limited cast, but others require a bit of explaining. 

Sometimes, a story-driven explanation is given for how sparsely populated a location is. For example, in Secret of the Scarlet Hand, the museum is currently closed to visitors, just like the park in The Haunted Carousel. But other times, a few tricks are needed to seal the deal--and not every game had some up its sleeve.

The Good:

Danger on Deception Island did a good job of making the Hot Kettle Cafe, an otherwise sparsely occupied establishment, feel as if a group of bustling customers were just out of view through the use of sound effects. 

Dishes are clinking, people are chatting and laughing, but only Holt and Jenna are ever seen. Yet, the simple addition of those sound effects and a little sign saying the other part of the cafe was occupied helped the player suspend their disbelief.

Perhaps even more impressive, Danger by Design managed to make a public park feel fairly believable through the use of cleverly obscured vendors, street and nature noises, a pesky squirrel, and a suspect visiting at one point.

This location, coupled with the choice to have Nancy immediately appear behind the parfait counter at Cafe Kiki against the sound of chatting customers, allows the game developers to avoid making Paris feel underpopulated even though there are only a handful of NPCs.  

The Bad:

Unfortunately, The Phantom of Venice did not succeed in presenting Venice as well as DAN presented Paris. Though the Ca’ itself was beautiful and the musical score was, as usual, wonderful, the vast majority of the locations felt completely and utterly dead.

No amount of heels clicking on the pavement, people occasionally shouting Italian phrases, or flocks of pigeons landing briefly was going to make these locations--which are visited many times throughout the game--feel real.

The game designers chose to set many of the clickable buildings further back, revealing large swathes of empty streets and public squares, rather than having Nancy appear at the front door like she does in many other games.

While I can see they were clearly trying to showcase the unique architecture of Venice, it simply results in a mostly “off” feeling game world since one would expect lots of people to be roaming around. 

The Silent Spy--with its basically empty train station--and Shadow at the Water’s Edge--with its barren urban environments--suffer from this problem as well, along with the game I love to hate: The Shattered Medallion.

Even though MED makes a ridiculous attempt at explaining why Sonny Joon is the only member of staff present and conveniently gets rid of the vast majority of the competitors within the first act of the game, it still utterly fails at making the player feel as if they are participating in a game show. Frankly, with the constraints put upon HER by their budget and game engine, I simply cannot imagine how they could have successfully pulled off an authentic game show experience, but the lack of competing teams was far from the only issue with MED.

The Great Outdoors

The trouble with any game world is that there almost always must be a boundary--a limit to where the player can go. Except for games that feature randomly generated locations, players can expect to--sometimes literally--hit a wall at some point. The trick is to make it seem as if there is no wall.

Outdoor locations can make pulling off such a feat difficult, because as the depth of field is increases, more and more objects are required to fill all that space. However, it is by no means impossible, and HER has marvelously pulled it off many times.

The Good:

Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake was the first game to truly offer an outdoor experience. While previous games like Treasure in the Royal Tower and Secret of the Scarlet Hand had walled gardens, DOG gave the player an expansive forest to explore during the day and night.

This game succeeds at giving the player a sense of actually being deep within a dense forest by using layers upon layers of 3D trees. No matter where you look inside the thicket, you never seem to see a “wall.” 

Not only that, but allowing the player to wander in the woods rather than having every location be accessible by a jump map--like the motor boat map--makes the game world feel very large, though some players may find backtracking to be annoying over time. 

Another contribution to that sense of realism, much like the Hot Kettle trick, is the use of environmental sounds and critters. Songbirds singing in the trees, the famous chirping worms of Pennsylvania, and other woodland noises play almost constantly in the background as Nancy’s feet crunch upon earth and fallen leaves.

The DOG designers also used a limited, cohesive color palette of muted, earthy tones not only in the forest but also throughout the cabin, speakeasy, and ranger station.

The result? A game which, though it may not rival the likes of Skyrim in detail or variety, feels thoroughly cohesive and drips with atmosphere.

Similar success--though on a smaller scale--was achieved by the forest in The Captive Curse, which was full of sounds, had misty depth of field and gave the player a true sense of being lost in a dark, potentially sinister place.

The Bad:

The Shattered Medallion, on the other hand, is one of the worst offenders of a poorly designed outdoor world. Given that this game was almost entirely set outside, HER certainly had a challenge on their hands, but they failed miserably.

Contrast this forest scene with the one from DOG or CAP. Those trees are almost definitely 2D photographs pasted in a row, allowing for almost no depth of field, and it’s the same story for the mountains.

Using 2D assets is not necessarily a no-no, but here they make the actual 3D models--the silver flower stations and the puzzle palace--look wildly out of place.

The same thing is happening in this other half-ass location from MED. A strange collage of photographs with a few oddly lit 3D models pasted on top makes for a very “wrong” feeling scene.

Indeed, almost every outdoor location in MED has this very weird feeling of being on a Hollywood set--like the backdrops could fall down at any moment and reveal the whole thing to be a farce--and it’s made only worse by the almost complete lack of background noise. Admittedly, I have never been to New Zealand--perhaps it really is deathly quiet--but this game could have greatly benefited from some consistent sounds of nature to liven-up its otherwise lifeless locations.

On top of all that, this game seems to have no color scheme of which to speak nor does it feel expansive. A jump map is used extensively for traversing the landscape, with many outdoor locations only allowing the player to take a mere handful of steps in any given direction.

The result? A game which simply feels “wrong” in nearly every conceivable way.

By no means is MED the only offender, though. Similar depth of field issues--though not as egregious--were present in Secret of the Old Clock, and as far as cohesion goes, I think we should all take a moment of silence for this travesty:

All I can say is, whoever approved that design was just...wrong.

The Jump Map

Jump maps can be great time-savers when going back and forth is a key gameplay element, and the Nancy Drew games certainly involve a lot of back and forth. Sometimes they save a player a lot of headache, but sometimes they break immersion--particularly when they attempt to stand in as a cheap substitute for an expansive, believable game world.

The Good:

Danger on Deception Island is one of many games which features a jump map for key locations.

What makes this map work is simple: each location is fairly large and immersive in its own right, and there is presumably little to be gained by forcing the player to click one million times down the actual road to each place.

That said, while the player may jump from the lighthouse to the Hot Kettle with the click of a button, copious amounts of kayaking, exploring beaches and the enormous tunnel system keep the game from seeming too constrained. The player feels as if they really have explored Deception Island, rather than feeling as if they have simply visited a few buildings.

The jump map in DOG, SSH, STFD and various other titles work for the same reasons--the forest, Beech Hill museum, and WWB studio respectively seem so large that jumping around to smaller, more limited locations doesn’t actually feel very limiting at all. Plus, the art style used for the map can often add to the immersion, like the subway and train maps. 

The Bad:

Though its map certainly looks plausibly like an amusement park flyer, The Haunted Carousel was the first game with a jump map that truly felt like a limitation.

Though there are double the “clickable” locations on CAR’s map in comparison to DDI’s, there simply isn’t much to explore in CAR’s locations. Indeed, the park feels very tiny, and I can’t say I truly felt like I “saw” Captain’s Cove. Perhaps if even one location had allowed for more open exploration, the game wouldn’t have felt so limited.

In the same way that mini-games and repetitive tasks can serve to artificially lengthen or beef up a game, jump maps can attempt to artificially expand a game world. Sadly, there are even more cheap tricks deployed in service of this goal. 

Third Person Perspective

Secret of the Old Clock was the first game to transform the jump map into a driving simulator, and this mechanic was met with mixed reception--it seemed like players either loved it or hated it for various reasons. Regardless of opinion, this game mechanic always introduces a risk: the style of the game changes.

No longer is the player immersed in a first-person, beautifully rendered 3D world--they are now dropped into third-person on a stylized, top-down map. The effect is simple: the player is very aware they are playing a video game. 

The Creature of Kapu Cave, The White Wolf of Icicle Creek, The Phantom of Venice, and The Haunting of Castle Malloy all featured variations of this third-person mechanic, and many games afterwards incorporated some form of the driving simulator to varying degrees of success, but Ransom of the Seven Ships went absolutely wild with it all.

From sailing around, to scuba diving, to rock climbing, to digging holes, to driving the golf cart around the island--the player was constantly yanked from the first-person, 3D-rendered game world and thrust into what were essentially 2D mini-games. While the color scheme was consistent, the art style varied greatly, making the game feel much less cohesive than many of its counterparts.

While RAN certainly felt like a very large game in terms of terrain--complete with copious amounts of agonizing back-tracking--it really lacked immersion. Indeed, there is no real sense of urgency like that in The Final Scene--despite it being Bess who has been kidnapped--and the focus is constantly taken off of the mystery at hand and onto figuring out how to drive correctly or sail that godforsaken boat.

A Matter of Preference

Ultimately, I think the Nancy Drew games evolved along something of a sliding scale. In the beginning, the aim was to put the player into Nancy Drew’s shoes, but this aim slowly and steadily shifted towards that of simply creating a game. And the truth is, there is nothing wrong with either aim; it’s all about what experience you’re looking to have.

When I first started playing the Nancy Drew series, I was looking for a mystery-solving simulator and I couldn’t get enough. I’ve played a lot of other detective games, but the ND games were really something special, so when they stopped delivering the same type of product, I really felt like something great had been lost.

Again, there is nothing wrong with game-y games, but there is something to be said about games that try to provide an authentic experience. It’s not every day that an ordinary person gets to solve a mystery--a mystery that seems so plausible that you feel a real sense of accomplishment when you unravel all its threads.

I missed that in so many of the later games, and I think that’s a shame. 

Read Part 1: Nancy Drew & The Curse of the Pointless Task & Part 2: Nancy Drew & The Case of the Missing Realism

[magic5ball]

12 Stories (1)

                                  The House of Lost Things:

                                             The 1st Story

    After my Father died, I became a tramp. He had been a wealthy man, Father, so that his inheritance ensured I would never have to want for anything again. So I sold my house, deciding to walk across Pennsylvania on foot. Because I could.

As it turned out, Pennsylvania was a big state. A big state covered in forests. Very bad place to, say, lose your map.

So guess what I did.

    I could have sworn I left it in my back pocket! Could squirrels have taken it? Raccoons? I would have noticed them sneaking into my tent, so that was unlikely.

From memory I knew the nearest town was somewhere to the west, although I didn’t know the specifics beyond that. I kept walking, certain if I ventured far enough, I would remember where my map was, dreaming of a hot breakfast after days of eating nothing but protein bars. It was fall at the time, and I recall staring up at the leaves as they burned orange and red before dropping to the earth.

It had to be close to evening when I found the house, because the trees cast long shadows and the wind was whistling cold on my cheeks.

From the outside, it was a smallish, two story affair; pink with white trim. Something out of a fairy tale but with more plaster. If the darkness in single second story window was any indication, nobody was home. Maybe I should have been wearier of a strange house in the middle of a forest like that, miles from the nearest town, but kitschy stuff was not unusual on Pennsylvania’s fringes. Hell, once I’d come across a steamboat in the middle of a wheat field!

I rapped the door. Nothing. Checked the handle. It turned in my grasp. And not wanting to chance the elements another night, I slipped inside,

And was greeted with stuffed animals, deflated water slides, stacks and stacks of board games…

But what stood out most was the giant carousel the center of it all, four stories high and like the house, pink with white trim. It must have been made locally, too, since the paintings on the cresting showed covered bridges, horse-and-buggies, and other such scenes from the Pennsylvania countryside. In place of horses, the thing had fancy, gnarled beasts straight out of folklore. One bumpy green, horned thing I recognized as a Hodag.

The fanciful sight made my skin crawl. As I said, it was four stories inside two, but also fully lit despite there being no heads or tails of a light source anywhere in the room. The only portal to the outside was a small window to my left, on the upper part of the wall, far too high for anybody to see out of. And more importantly, out of reach.

Whatever was going on, I found myself tiptoeing around the carousel like it was a slumbering viper. The other side revealed more board games, more stuffed animals. The place was a giant playroom. But no kids.

Lot of the stuff was things I’d wanted when I was younger, but never got, on account of Dad not wanting to spoil me.

The wall behind the carousel had a door, white with a gold knob, the sort you’d find in a resting home. I circled the carousel a few more times. For some reason, no matter how many times I went around, I couldn’t find the door I’d come in through. Just the gold knob one. So I entered.

The following room was a cramped, narrow corridor lined by glass cabinets. In these cabinets were faux-crystal plates and bowls, the sort my grandparents would keep around for guests. They glittered like diamonds in the light coming from nowhere. One in particular stood out: a jade green candy bowl resembling an upside down turtle shell. I could have sworn my parents had one just like that when I was a kid. When they’d gotten rid of it, I’d been too young to remember. I only recalled one day it had been there, and then it wasn’t. What were the odds the owner of this place would have the same kind?

Maybe I would ask them about it, whenever they showed up.

                                                         .   .   .

A kitchenette was next, again lit despite there being no lightbulb in sight. An old school cat clock, pendulum tail swinging, eyes darting right-left-right-left, had its’ hands fixed to 4:20.

Same time as my watch.

Same time I came in.

I found myself heading for the fridge, only to hesitate. Roughing it in the woods the past couple of days had left me ravenous, but I was trespassing on some stranger’s place. Then again, the owner had no shortage of goods. Surely they could spare something for a hungry little tramp.

The fridge was antique- smooth white with a silver handle- and the contents had a similar air of old things polished to a shine. Problem was, most of the offerings- pies custard strudel- were dessert fare, not the kind of stuff I needed. I wound up settling for plain Jell-O with cubes of spam and zucchini lodged in it. There was also a pitcher of water in the fridge, which I used to refill my thermos before venturing onward.

                                                        .   .   .

It must have been around the 12th room when I started feeling it. I remember because it was another narrow one, filled with pillows ranging from doll size to big as myself, patterned with little white dots on black. While gazing into the cotton abyss, a little ‘hook’ tugged in my head. From then on, when I spent an extended amount of time in a room, I’d start getting anxious until I went to the next in that impossibly long house.

Such is how I spent Lord knows how long in that place, going room to room, past walls of mounted insects, snow globes, plastic dinosaurs. Always there would be some trinket bringing up memories of something I could have sworn I saw as a kid. 

Whenever I got hungry, a kitchenette would conveniently pop up, and whenever I needed to pee, there would be a bathroom waiting just one door down. The bathrooms would always have too many toilets or sinks or rubber ducks, scattered around like tumors growing from the tiled walls. Judging by the number of times I passed these rooms, I must have been in the house for about three days. And during this time I only slept once, in a big mahogany study that had a school of singing bass heads over the fireplace. I’d hoped to find some clue about the occupants in that room, but in place of family photos I only found mounted guns and stuffed animals.

But it had to end, sooner or later.

That was when I came to a room with no door on the other end.

After the several strange places I’d been to, I wasn’t sure what to expect, certainly not a small cube of a room, half occupied by a desk and chair, the other half by me. Over the desk was a corkboard, brochures pinned to it: some laminated in plastic, others fading around the edges, like so many paper butterflies. And among these brochures, I saw, at long last, my map. With steady fingers, I pulled off the tack holding it down.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I jerked left to see a stairwell. One that had definitely not been there a few seconds ago. The upper part was obstructed by a wall. And something was descending.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart raced. I don’t know why, but something about those footsteps chilled me to the core. And I certainly, beyond a shadow of a doubt, did not want to meet their owner.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I snagged my map and ran back the way I came, fast as I could in my heavy pack.

Thump.Thump.Thump.

Whatever it was, it was gaining.

Thump.Thump.Thump.

I didn’t look back.

Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.Thump.

I noticed the rooms were in different orders, but this didn’t surprise me.

Thump.Thump.Thum-

Before I knew what had happened I ran right into a room that was not a room at all, but a sickly, dark void. I was falling, falling…

                                               .   .   .

I woke up, a pile of leaves in my mouth, back where I started, in the woods of rural Pennsylvania. Where the house should have been was nothing more than an empty clearing. Checked my pack: not a thing missing.

Had I Imagined it? That was likely, but my body felt… lighter, for lack of a better word. As if someone had taken a shackle off my soul. But the important thing was, I had my map.

And with it in hand, I marched toward civilization.

Fin

[fictional-guns]

Edmund pevensie Imagine

Follow into her Wonderland (Part 1)

AU

Sorry for any mistakes English is not my first language

I sat there just day dreaming and looked hypnotized out of the window. "Everything is alright?" I heard the asking voice of the dark haird boy. "Yeah just thinking." I answered like it was nothing special. "About what? The other worlds?" Edmund suspected. "Just one world. The last time I was there you didn't believe me so please don't ask about that, it's uncomfortable." I meant maybe a bit too harsh. "The last time I didn't believe that other worlds could exist. And now I know they exist. But you know it too that I and my siblings was in Narnia." he explained and subliminal he was sorry for the last time, that is now 2 years ago. "I know but it always ran through my head how you laughed about me and yeah..no good memory." I founded. "What would you say when I ask you to show me the Wonderland?" he asked a bit insecure. The whole time we was talking I didn't look at him, just out of the window. The sun was high above us, at least I think so the grey clouds covered the sun and the sky. "I don't know, I would like to show you but I don't know if this is right." I meant. I couldn't imagine what could happen when you brought a person with you. In the Wonderland I wasn't (Y/N) they always called me Alice, and I didn't know the reason why. "Why it should be not right?" Edmund asked me out. This time with serious interest. "The rules are not like in our world, every little move you make could be a chaos or could be good, no one can say what will happen. Wonderland is a strange place." I explained. "At least we could try? Listen, I am sorry for that what happened the years ago. I really want to make everything ok between us, like the time when we were children. We was friends and now we are not really, at least at feel so. And I know to make everything ok is not just a sorry for you." he finally spoke out what his issue was. Then my face turned the first time to him. He was so serious and honest so I stand up. "Then we should go." I meant and took his hand in mine. I walked in front of him and his steps followed me and he hold my hand close. Like we were children or friends we walked to the tree that stand in the garden. It was now years ago since I was there, I never knew if I want to go back or not. It was beautiful and I had friends there but it also was disturbing in some way. The smell of the fresh air and the green gras found the way into my nose and this was the beginning of the adventure that was coming. I still hold his hand when we stand before the rabbit hole that was by this tree. The tree was more white and had no leaves, it was like a mystery. "This is the way to it?" Edmund suggested. I just nodded. I knelt down and let go of his hand. I wanted to see if the Wonderland is "open". So both of my hands grabbed the sides of the rabbit hole and I got something like a vision or a sign that we can walk trough. I saw the teapots, a big hat, to rabbit ears and a carousel. And than my ghost came back to my body, it felt like it left it. "What, what was you doing? Your eyes truned into clocks it was, not what I expected." "I wanted to see if the Wonderland can be visit." I just meant. So then without a single word I put my head in it and crawled deep in it. "Just follow me, Ed." I yelled to him because he wasn't coming with me. With a deep breath he followed my lead and suddenly the ground under us was gone. The typical way to came to it. At first we falled fast and I nearly screamed like Edmund. But he noticed that we were falling and falling so he forgot to scream, he just wondered. "Just relax, nothing to fear about." I said to calm him. And float to him. My hair that fluttered in the air and I grabbed his face to turn it to me. "We will not die while we fall. It's a long fall but a fall with so many secrets, do you see?" I asked and pointed to the things that are among us. Clocks, chairs, books other things that are very old and had a own story how they came to this place. "A fall in the unkonwn." he said the right thing. "Exactly." I smiled and float a bit away fom him. After the silence the fall ended with a hard ground but I didn't hurt much and Edmund fell beside me. "Magical?" I asked him. "More than I expected." he laughed still amazed about the fall. My knees was a bit weak but I stand up like Edmund. "We just have to went through this door and we are there." I began to speak more it was a kind of happiness I felt right now. "You'd tell Lucy that you had to drink something before you could walk through?" he wondered that it was different this time. "The last time was the last time. One rule: Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. Everything is nonsense." I told him knowing what the Wonderland is. "Really everything?" he asked. "Nearly all things you see. Every little bit is different or completly different than you know them." I added so he understand. We stand in the room with normal height and I wanted to open the door but nothing moved, even the wood was like a stone wall. Nothing shook when you tried to open it. "Wait a second." Edmund meant and gently he pushed me to the side and he tried his best to open it with all the strength he had. I looked around the room, nothing... just nothing that we could use. "They want that we solve the riddle." I meant and tapped trhough the room that seemed empty. "It is a bit difficult but every little detail or things you can't see you have to try to notice." was the next thing. "A thing that you can't see to find." he sighed but understand. "The rules of this world are very complicated." he said but chuckled while he walked through the room to finde any clue. "Complicated a very nice word for it." I just laughed. And I searched in the corner. And I really find something. It was small really, really small. "Edmund?" my voice asked him. He saw that I found something so with quick steps he wanted to reach me but I could hear him stumble. I looked over my shoulder. "I think we've found the thing we can't see." he just said and tried to find it with his hands. "and I found a very, very small tablet with ingredients." I reported him. I picked it up very carful not to let something fall. "It, it feels like a bowl and a whisk." he said not really believing that he had a bowl and a whisk in his hands. "We have to bake...At least something that could help us." I suggested and he hold the bowl whil I did everything we had in it. The liquid that seem to be very less was so much we feard it could be to much. I put the rest in it and stir it with the whisk. It was just something that was close to a cake dough. "I think it is ready..." I meant not sure what we should do next. I mean for a cake we couldn't bake it somewhere. "Maybe we should just eat it?" Edmund meant and took a bit from the dough on his finger tip. "You don't know what could happen." I warned so he wouldn't put in his mouth. "That is the thing right? You do things and don't know what could happen? I think just to try things is the only way we can take, right?" he was just thinking logical. "But together." I sighed and put a bit on my finger tip. "At 3...1...2...3." I counted and we both put it in our mouthes and swallowed it. Suddelny a very bright light exploded and you thought it was the sun, but know just a thing that brought us in the Wonderland. I couldn't see anything it was like I was blinde, at least for a short moment but I  heard birds. "Edmund." I asked with the hope to find him. "(Y/N)?" he asked back. After a short time I could see again like him and yeah we was in Wonderland. And the birds were no birds they was cups with beaks on it. I truned to my friend and saw he was dressed in complete other things.

And I was in the clothes from the last time a blue dress with a white apron. "And this is Wonderland." I introduced him this world..."This is so different than, our world or Narnia." he whispered when he saw it in his whole glory. "I have to show you my friends, I hope we finde them. I sighed happy to be here, and forgot the danger that could lurk. "Wich friends? Tell me." he demanded and eyeing his new clothes. "The hatter, the mock turtle, cheshire cat and the knave of hearts." I counted them. "But now we should began to search them." I smiled. Edmund smiled too at me. "It is an honor to be in your Wonderland, (Y/N)." he said and bowed slightly with a chuckle. "Now come on." I just yelled a bit and grabbed his hand to walk with him into the woods. Into the deep woods that could be terrifying by night and when you don't where  to step also by daylight, but this was a thing I blend out at least for a while.... Just me and Edmund in Wonderland. He will love it, the interesting animals or things. The hidden secrets, the mad hatter and of course he would like the tea he made. The both could understand well. And suddelny I just laugh, laughed about the joy and the good memory I had. "What is so funny?" Ed asked also amused that he saw me laughing. " I don't know, it's so long ago but it is so great to be here, to show you. Please let us take all the time we need to find everyone of them." I truned my face to him and made puppy eyes. "It is your world, so you know what the best is. When the taks is to find your friends we will take us the time." he said to me and made me sure we wouldn't leave earlier. But before we continued I stopped. "Just thank you that you are comming with me. The last time the first thing I wished that you could be here too." I told him. In the past we was so good friends, always shared a secret, laughed about so many things. But one day I crawled into the rabbit hole because I had seen a interestin rabbit that was bigger than all the rest, with a hat on it and a suit. When I came back he thought he was just laughing at me and meant that I wouldn't talk the truth. Although I showed him the hole he never took it serious. So that was the point when our friendship began to brake until it was nothing really left. Over the years he changed at he apologized so much I couldn't count but it was still hurting me. And Edmund understood that it would take a long time that I would forgive him. But now just the question that he wanted to see it too, made my heart flutter, made me more relax in my head and heart....

[ohmypreciousgirl]

Otayuri Rec List

CANON

Come Alive by Ren [1,006]

"Can I sleep with you?" Yuri asks, and Otabek's heart skips a beat.

Something More Intimate by Val_Creative [1,294]

Dating usually brings up personal stuff Yuri dreads to let anyone know. It's probably why he avoided it all together. Without trying, Otabek sees Yuri for who he is. He accepts what Yuri tells him without question or taunting.

Hamster in Kazakh is Still Hamster by mousapelli [1,498] {Part 1 of This is Otabek's Hamster}

Otabek has a hamster. Yuri regrets teaching him how to use instagram.

A Roe By Any Other Name by mousapelli [1,848]

The only thing keeping Yuri on his feet is pure spite and the promise of the 4AM Tsukiji Market trip that the first morning in Tokyo definitely necessitates.

on the verge of running into your arms by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)   [1,876]    

“Yurio is a good boy -- uh, when he wants to be,” Yuuri said with a smile. “But in all I think he’s not very used to friends and not very...affectionate.”

“Not cute at all!” Viktor agreed, though he was grinning through the insult.

“Just be patient with him and don’t be surprised when he shows his spikes,” Yuuri said, attempting to smooth Viktor’s words over. “Either way, we’re glad you both can get along with each other and be friends.”

Otabek wasn’t quite sure what the two of them meant -- Yuri had yet to reject Otabek in any way. In fact, with everything Otabek asked, Yuri always accepted him inside his heart without question.

Unexpected by henriqua [1,902]

“Your hair,” is his simple response that definitely doesn't give any answers to the questions in Yuri's mind.

Feet first (Don't Fall) by gunboots [2,361]

Otabek wishes that he could unstick the words from his throat, that he could just explain to Yuri why he matters. The proximity of someone he's been looking at for so long, this close—makes it almost impossible.

The hotel pool by womanroaring [2,525]

“Mila was flirting with you,” Yuri burst out, flicking his eyes up to a spot on Otabek’s shoulder.

“Was she?” Otabek asked, and Yuri lifted his eyes up to his face again. Otabek’s face had relaxed a little but his eyes were even more intense than usual, like he wanted to read Yuri’s mind through his facial expression. Yuri scowled again and looked down at his shoes.

“She’s not really my type,” Otabek added lightly after a second or two.

come over here & overwhelm me by xintong [3,348]

In the summer Yuri turns 16, he grows 6 inches, drowns Viktor in his own tears, and falls in love.

Hands On Education by BewareTheIdes15 [3,945]

Sometimes Yuri forgets that Otabek is older than him. And not just in the "has four years of seniors on him" way or the "his old-ass body is going to crap out of competition before Yuri’s does" way or the "doesn’t have to go to fucking tutoring everyday because he graduated, the lucky bastard" way. Because, like, yeah, all of that’s true, but on any given day it doesn’t particularly matter. They mostly do all of the same stuff, and know all of the same people, and have the same job, so, like, what’s the big deal, right?

Tongues.

Tongues are the big deal.

💖 every time I try, every time I win bythissupposedcrime [4,715]

At least no one’s brought up couples costumes. Yuri isn’t sure how Otabek would react to a live recording of him leaping over a table to fight a reporter, a symbolic stand in for the death of Yuri’s sanity and Victor’s cutesy legacy. He guesses not well, and that is enough to hold his tongue.

Or, Otabek is naturally romantic, Yuri is naturally clueless, and somehow they work it out.

Back and Forth by kiyala [4,840]

Yuri convinces Otabek to get snapchat, just to send selfies of himself making faces at Victor and Yuuri. He gets more than he expected.

 💖 Two Make a Pair by mousapelli [5,009]

It started out as a joke, socked feet on hardwood flooring, but somehow the pair skate became something much more for Yuri and Otabek in the end.

Sequel: Come When Invited by mousapelli [4,458] Companion piece:  Good as Gold by Beltenebra [1,719]

Have not. Will not. by mongoose_bite [5,583]

Yuri knew perfectly well that Victor hadn't always been a moron; he'd looked up to him for years. As far as he was concerned all of Victor's problems stemmed from a single source.

Determined to learn from Victor's mistakes as well as his successes, Yuri took the simple vow not to follow in his footsteps.

No matter what happened, he wouldn't fall in love.

One for the Road by Lumieres [6,129]

“Please, take me away —“ Yuri’s text had been so abrupt that Otabek had to glance at his phone once more to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

(Or: Yuri is so focused on his career, he doesn’t notice Otabek slowly falling in love with him.)

I Won't Put This One on Instagram by teslatempest [6,132]

“Oh. Shit.”

Otabek sat up, a little concerned by the tone of Yuri’s voice. “Is everything alright?”

“Remember how we agreed we weren’t going to tell anyone we were dating until after this season?”

“...yes?”

Darts Made of Hummingbirds by LiviKate [6,881]

Yuri is struggling with his body as it changes. Otabek is struggling with his feelings about it.

Otabek is struggling with the fact that he even has feelings about it.

down for the count, and I’m drownin’ in ‘em byunhookingstarswithoutpermission [7,180]

“Why didn't you reply to my texts?” Yuri feels himself ask, and he immediately cringes. He almost expects Otabek to laugh at him, but what he gets is a dead-serious boy who replies, “I've forgotten my charger in Kazakhstan”, and he feels like he's going to burst either into tears or into hysterical laughter. 

“You- you are so stupid.” Yuri's voice breaks on the last syllable. “I told you, it didn't matter if you couldn't make it to my birthday.” 

Otabek lies against the door frame and raises an eyebrow at him. “You don't want me here, then?”

Sonata in A Major by Lumieres [8,035]

Yuri is like a meteorite, caught in his atmosphere. If he doesn’t take care of him, he’ll completely burn up, and there won’t be anything left for him to salvage.

(Or: Three times, Yuri and Otabek kiss, only to never speak about it again.)

5 firsts + 1 time it all made sense by aphhun [8,726]

Yuri pressed his forehead against Otabek’s and closed his eyes, nuzzling in contently. The words were unspoken, but by the way, Otabek’s arms around him tightened and drew him into the embrace further? They both knew what hung in the air between them. It didn’t need to be said; maybe it was better if it wasn’t. The easy realization they shared was more than enough.

💖 who can sing both high & low by infiniteandsmall [8,848] {Part 2 of a shore, a tide (no clock, no end, transmit: transcend!)}

Yuri likes how people guess his age right after he shaves his head. He likes how it feels when Otabek rubs his hands over the stubble on the back of Yuri’s neck.

He’d liked the feeling of Katsuki’s hands, firm but gentle, wrapped around his skull as he’d passed the clippers over Yuri’s head in smooth, practiced strokes.

It’s not until a few months after he shaves his head, when he shoots up to one-hundred-eighty-five centimeters, that he realizes he misses the quiet thrill he hadn’t even noticed he’d felt when waitresses in restaurants had called him “ma’am.”

💖 Endurance and Peach Tea by chapstickaddict [11,447]

It takes three years for Yuri to figure himself out and get his head on right. He drags everyone along for the ride. Otabek is the only one to go willingly.

💖 My soul is an empty carousel at sunset. by dawnstruck [13,857] {Part 1 of Demi!Yuri}

Yuri grows up and grows older and grows into himself. Otabek helps. It just takes a while to get there.

💖  i walk my days on a wire by idrilka [14,526] {Part 1 of in medias res}

Asia sucked without you,” Yuri admits eventually after a moment, as he falls backwards onto the bed, his t-shirt riding up. It must be still hot in Saint Petersburg, if the forecast is to be believed, but Yuri has the hood up, obscuring his face at this angle. “But we all went back to the hot spring run by Katsuki’s family after the Fukuoka show, so I guess it wasn’t that bad.”

Somebody to Love by aphhun [16,654]

They've been best friends for four years, since Barcelona. Yuri Plisetsky is positive that he's thrown it all away in one miscalculated half-drunk instant.

CANON DIVERGENCE

But I’m Not There Yet by sarahyyy [4,535] {Part 1 of songs about love}

“Are you not going to read the article?” she asks, flopping onto his bed. “Look who ranked second, just after Phichit Chulanont.”

Otabek reluctantly scrolls down, and oh.

#2 - Yuri Plisetsky

In the embedded Instagram photo just under that subheading, a very grumpy Yuri is cuddling a very grumpy-looking cat. The caption reads: I found the cat version of me at the shelter today. #iknowisaidnomorecats #canyoublameme

AU

this speed's too much to stop by sarahyyy [1,496]

“Do you…” the man trails off, frowning. “Do you dislike Prince Otabek?” he asks quietly.

Yuri arches his eyebrows. “I’ve never met Prince Otabek,” he says truthfully. “But if he has to go to all this trouble to find someone to marry him, then logically, there must be something wrong with him.”

2843 miles by henriqua [2,124]

Yuri bites his lip and glances out of the window, feeling like even the very gloomy Saint Petersburg is laughing at him and his miserable crush on Otabek, even though Yuri grimaces when he thinks of the word crush.

admiration in falling asleep by viscrael [4,000]

Rooming with Otabek is fine. It really is—they’re best friends, Otabek is the perfect roommate, and there’s nothing about each other that they don’t already know to make it weird.

💖 science of the social by aphhun [8,862]

Otabek, young CEO and darkhorse of the wildly famous Altin family, isn't exactly on top of his social media and engagement with fans and business opportunities alike. Enter Yuri Plisetsky, social media expert and his new personal advisor. Beware the comments section of Instagram.

💖 infinitesimal being by sarahyyy [9,816]

Yuri snorts, and pushes his glass of ice tea away. “Alright, it’s been fun listening to your story, but I actually do have other more important things to do than to listen to you telling me that I’m destined to be your bride.”

He stands, and Otabek follows suit. “If it’s the terminology you have an issue with-”

“It’s not,” Yuri assures him. “It’s more of the fact that everything you’ve told me so far sounds like a goddamn fairytale that only children believe in.”

💖 hood & glove by Fahye [12,473]

"I don't mess with the fae," Otabek says.

"I'm not asking you to mess with them," JJ flat-out lies.

💖 Gravity by Fahye [15,902] {Part 2 of Yuri!!! in Space}

His Grace the Archduke Yuri Plisetsky wins the Ballistic Grand Tournament in his debut year, at the age of fifteen.

Things go downhill from there.