#rather than bring it up in a conversation

[lascvitae]

❀༉‧₊˚ telepathy ── kim minjeong!

── minjeong has been distant lately and you have no idea why. she’s also been blushing way more around you lately and you still don’t know why.

pairing. spider!minjeong x fem!reader genre. fluff, comedy, angst but not too much bc i wanted to keep it minimal 😓 (happy ending dw) warning(s). cursing, horrible attempt at comedy, i want a natty and i want a julie

word count: 4.4k

feat. natty & julie of kiss of life, yeonjun of txt & ryujin of itzy.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: a birthday gift for the og camp @jjjaliyah happy birthday pookie <333 also let me guys know if you want a part 2 bc i left so many openings for one (on purpose) BTW i tried a new layout i hope you giys like it OKAY I’M DONE YAPPING BYE

masterlist.

“if you could have any superpower in the world, what would it be?” you asked, setting down your cup of strawberry ice cream and turning to face your best friend.

minjeong brought her knees up to her chest, tilting her head as if she were contemplating an answer to the question.

“mm…” she hummed, concentration etched onto her pretty features.

it finally clicked and she averted her gaze to you, scooping up a spoonful of ice cream. “i would choose telepathy.” she decided, bringing the spoon up to her mouth. “so i could read people’s minds.”

you nodded, leaning backward on your hands. “that’s a good one.” the sun had begun to set and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

“what about yours?” she returned your curiosity, tongue darting out to swipe up the ice cream that settled on the corner of her lips, coating a bit of her piercing.

“probably telepathy too.” you agreed. “i want to know what people think of me.” that wasn’t lie, even if your mind constantly wondered what only minjeong thought of you. “it would be nice to know what the judges think of my performance.”

the blonde-haired girl laughed at your reasoning, shaking her head as she continued to devour her cup of ice cream. “that’s such a y/n thing to do.”

you raised an eyebrow, slightly offended. “and what does that mean?” her smile widened at the sound of your offense, playing with her snake bites with a humorous gaze.

“of course you’d use your power for that.” she began. “you’re so worried about this talent show. don’t you know that you’re already gonna win first place?”

“you don’t know that.” you argued. “mrs jung could select some critical judges.”

“i do.” she answered quickly. “i know you better than you know yourself.”

typically another strong remark you could come up with silence her for a bit further but you accepted defeat this time around. something you rarely did but with minjeong, you didn’t mind it.

so with a sigh, you picked up your cup of ice cream and began to work at it again. “what would you use your telepathy for then?”

a quiet giggle escaped her lips. “to know what you’re thinking.” she spoke rather bluntly. this caught you off guard and frankly confused you. this wasn’t something minjeong would normally say.

“so i can think of easier come backs. that way, you won’t ever have another win under your belt.” she concluded, making you roll your eyes in a good-natured manner.

“i should have known.” you took a spoonful of ice cream to your lips.

this was becoming a daily routine — hanging out in the trunk of minjeong’s car and watching the sunset while eating whatever the two of you had craved that day.

the summer heat left no other option but ice cream to cool the two of you down, and lucky for you, minjeong knew the best ice cream spot in town.

so these conversations weren’t uncommon for you two. it had been something that she suggested as soon as she had gotten her car in sophomore year.

and now, nearing the end of senior year, it was a staple in your friendship. not only that alone, but it was one of the main reasons why you fell for minjeong in the first place.

the small moments added up to unforgettable moments and everything in between, deepening your relationship with her. the fact that you both could go anywhere and never run out of things to talk about was something that you required in a partner.

from the time that you met her in third grade to now, there was really never a dull moment with minjeong. it was always full of smiles.

but something about her seemed off as of late.

it worried you deeply because it was something that you had experienced before with your ex-girlfriend ryujin.

ryujin would be late to dates that were arranged even weeks prior, and she was always prepared with a lame excuse underneath her belt.

minjeong looked down at her apple watch, setting her cup down soon as it was empty. “we should get going now. didn’t you say that you wanted to practice some more?” she glanced at your form. “even though you don’t need it.” she mumbled.

you were honored that she remembered, holding onto your cup as you stood up from your spot. “i did. what time is it?”

“seven.” she responded quickly, following in your steps. you waited for her to toss the cup into one of the nearby garbage cans at the park, walking towards thepassenger door as you saw her coming back.

sbe practically teleported to your side with how fast she made it there, opening the door for you. and she wasn’t even out of breath.

“you know you don’t open doors with me around.” her tone made you feel as if she were scolding you, even if it were supposed to be more of a reminder. but the smirk on her lips didn’t go unnoticed.

rolling your eyes playfully, you climbed into the seat and buckled your seatbelt. she closed the door, walking over to the other side.

with a quick button press the trunk began to close and she started the car, driving through the city because she knew how much you enjoyed the view.

that wasn’t the only reason why, though. the scenic route allowed you to spend more time with her.

her playlist began to start on shuffle, serving as the perfect background noise while you let your window down.

the lights of the city illuminated your face beautifully as minjeong traversed through the streets, breeze assisting in cooling you off with the coldness of your unfinished ice cream.

the billboards flashed with a multitude of bright, beautiful colors and different advertisements but there was one that was always consistent whenever you two took a drive. or a theme that was consistent, rather.

it was anything spiderman. man, did this town love the fact that they had gotten a superhero. you couldn’t see all of the hype surrounding him, honestly. he was a superhero, yes, but some of the attention was a bit excessive.

but you pulled out your phone, snapping a few pictures of the beautiful before you. and little did you know, minjeong was desperate to do the exact same thing.

once you clicked the frame in the tiny corner you were met with nothing but blurry pictures, disappointment etched onto your face as the car stopped at a red light.

so you took the opportunity to capture a few photos now that the car wasn’t in motion anymore, earning a quiet laugh from minjeong.

“what?” you scoffed, making her head shake from left to right. she had been staring at you the whole time, and you hadn’t even noticed.

you shivered a bit, unsure if it was because the amount of cold coursing through your veins now or because of the intensity of minjeong’s gaze.

either way, she didn’t hesitate to toss her jacket in your direction. “we come this way almost every single time and you still have pictures to take.”

you huffed, stubbornly wrapping the jacket around your body and snuggling into the dizzying scent of her perfume.

“when a view is pretty you don’t get tired of taking pictures.” you answered matter-of-factly, scrolling through your most recent ones.

minjeong hummed as the light turned green, stepping on the gas as she made it her top priority to get you home safely.

“well i guess you’re right.” she muttered, watch making a weird noise before she checked it.

“but i have to cut the tour short.” she spoke, voice with a slight roughness to it now. she made a quick left turn, taking the backroads to your home.

you sighed.

this wasn’t anything new. whenever minjeong got a certain notification on her watch, she was quick to leave you and disappear for about an hour or even sometimes more.

you were used to it, though. she had made it a habit ever since junior year and you were too afraid to bring it up.

“you’re driving kind of fast, jeongie.” even if it were true or not, you just wanted to get her attention back on you. or at least have one last conversation before she would leave for who knows how long.

“i’m doing five over. that’s legal.” she didn’t spare you a glance, eyebrows furrowed slightly. you couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or lost in thought.

you decided to leave her alone, finishing your ice cream moments before she pulled to the side of your lawn.

“same thing tomorrow?” you unbuckled your seatbelt, ready to get out of the car.

she nodded, and once you began to step out her hand gripped onto your arm to prevent you from doing it.

“wait.” she called out, face tinted a light shade of red.

you would find her cute if she hadn’t been blowing you off for the past year.

“um. can we do something different tomorrow?” she asked, reluctantly releasing her grip on you.

your eyebrow raised, clearly intrigued. “like what?”

“a date?”

you freezed up, blinking a few times at the sound of it. you almost believed that she was just joking before you saw the tug she did on her piercing that she only performed once she was nervous.

“yeah. sure.” you nodded, fighting back the smile begging to dance across your lips and squeal out loud. “as friends?”

but you lost the fight as minjeong smiled, leaning back in her seat with a shrug. so you just squealed internally.

“i don’t know. maybe more. how is five pm?” she suggested and you could only nod.

“then goodnight, y/n. get lots of rest so you won’t be tired.” you giggled quietly, shutting the door after a brief moment of silence.

she made sure that you got into the house safely, closing the door behind you and locking it with a soft click.

you sighed, tossing your ice cream into the trash before walking into your room and taking off your jacket, pitching it onto your bed.

that was when you realized.

that wasn’t your jacket.

shit, shit, shit. you thought to yourself, grabbing it and speed-walking to the front door so you could avoid confrontation from your sister and catch minjeong in time.

to your surprise she the car was still parked in the same spot, not even had moved by an inch.

so you sprinted towards it, jacket in hand. only to be met with no minjeong.

your smile instantly faded, examining every inch of the car to see if she was just in the backseat or something along the lines.

but there was no minjeong. her shoes were tossed in the backseat and so was her bag.

she had to come back, though — how else would she get home?

you wanted to leave the jacket on the top of her car or somewhere else but you feared that someone would take it so you just stepped back inside with it in your hands.

tomorrow came rather quickly and so that meant your date with minjeong did as well.

you gathered everything you needed into your bag as the final bell rung, signaling that it was time for dismissal.

usually minjeong would drive you home after school but you weren’t sure if your nerves could handle seeing her before the date, so you were pitching a ride with some of your other friends this time around.

“are you ready for tomorrow?” julie found you at your locker, sipping from her stanley as she locked arms with you. “they’re gonna love your performance. i already know it.”

you smiled, letting her lead the way to the school parking lot. “i really hope so.” your heart began to race at the thought, anxious at all of the possible outcomes of tomorrow evening.

“hey! girl, none of that!” she nudged you playfully upon noticing how you quickly your expression had changed. “we’re all gonna be there. me, natty, and minjeong. we’ll get front row seats and —“

as the two of you continued to walk, the person who you resented locked eyes with you.

shin ryujin.

but it was different this time.

she looked like she wanted to reach out for you. like there was something she was begging to say. time seemed to slow as you walked past her and yeji.

“ —but hopefully a fire doesn’t like break out and some supervillain attacks the school or something. but i would i’ll be recording so i wouldn’t mind! maybe we can even catch spiderman on camera.” julie concluded, giggling before taking a sip of her stanley again. “hey, you listening?” she asked.

you hummed, instantly snapping your head to the side to look at her again. “oh, yeah. thanks for cheering me up, juls.” you offered her a smile and she returned it generously. “you know i’m here for you.”

you opened your mouth to speak but her gasp stopped you from speaking any further, fingers combing through her hair. “act natural! yeonjun’s looking over here.”

you rolled your eyes as she sipped from the stanley again, giving the male a wave.

“he wants me sooo bad.” she sighed and pushed the exit door open, unlocking the doors to her car. “ugh why can’t he just ask me to prom already!”

“like i know he likes me! he sat beside me in —“ and she was ranting again.

you climbed into the seat while listening to her, buckling your seatbelt.

“and he’s been checking me out hella recently. he would take pictures of me when i’m not looking and stare at me and call me pretty and stuff. and girl, he asked me out on a date! like we’ve been hanging out almost everyday and —“

“wait, you have a date with him?” you asked. the situation was beginning to sound a bit familiar. “when?”

“this weekend.” she answered, starting a random playlist. ‘espresso’ by sabrina began to blast through the speakers and just like that, julie was distracted for another three minutes.

once you arrived to your house and waved julie goodbye, you were greeted by your older sister, natty.

“hey, stranger.” she quirked an eyebrow due to seeing you home so soon. “you’re a few hours early.”

“i have something to do.” you excused yourself awkwardly, desperately trying to avoid any further conversation from the older.

she let out a scoff of disbelief, chasing behind you throughout the halls as you gradually sped off. “y/n! i just have a question!”

you stopped as you reached the doorway of your bedroom, turning around to face her. “i charge five dollars per question.”

“of course you do with your cheap ass.” she crossed her arms and you gave her a fake smile before closing the door in her face, locking it swiftly after.

“i’ll just find julie’s instagram some other way.” you heard her say from on the other side of the door, face contorting into one of disgust.

“eww! leave my friends alone!” you yelled with a shudder. after not receiving a response you decided to voice your distate in her choices once more.

“she has a boyfriend!”

five pm came around quicker than you could blink and you lay face up on your bed, waiting for minjeong to inform you upon her arrival.

you mindlessly scrolled through tik tok for a few minutes, trying to distract yourself from the growing aching sensation in your chest at the thought of minjeong standing you up.

no, she wasn’t like that. you knew her. she wouldn’t do that.

but lately, you weren’t sure of what to believe. she was ending hangouts early, putting you on the back burner. and she always had an excuse for it. it reminded you of someone.

and the realization of that stung your soul, and soon so did the tears sting your eyes.

minutes quickly turned into hours and there was no sign of minjeong. your phone buzzed multiple times with news articles but none of it was who you wanted it to be.

you accidentally clicked on a news article, grumbling quietly as you sat up.

‘spiderman saves the day again!’

you tossed your phone to the side, sitting down on the chair positioned in front of your piano. honestly, you were grateful that the town had a superhero to count on now but you couldn’t care less about him if he couldn’t fix your relationship.

the piano keys became increasingly wet as you practiced the song you planned to play for the school talent show, ‘let you break my heart again’ by laufey.

minjeong’s lack of effort recently made you question a lot of things, especially how she really viewed you.

she wasn’t the type to show anyone up and even once upon a time, you were her main focus. there wasn’t a thing in the world she would choose over you.

but recently, that just didn’t seem to be the case.

music was your refuge. it had always been. but it was just nearly impossible for you to focus on anything but minjeong.

“you okay?” natty knocked on the door lightly, voice laced with concern.

you cleared your throst before quickly wiping your tears away. “yeah, i’m fine.”

there was silence aside from the last few notes you played of the song, shoulders slumping as you finished. but you didn’t hear any retreating footsteps so you knew that she was still there.

“i got julie’s number.” she spoke in a rather annoying tone.

you laughed through the tears, shaking your head but still grateful that she could get you to show any kind of happiness in your current state.

“ew. go away.” you smiled, standing up and focusing your attention on your phone that was buzzing with a flurry of messages.

jeongie 🧍‍♀️

i’m sorry y/n

jeongie 🧍‍♀️

my mom made me help her with dinner so i couldn’t come out tonight :(

jeongie 🧍‍♀️

i’ll be at the show tomorrow, i promise

you sighed, feeling the familiar ache creeping into your chest once more. but how could you even be upset?

me

‘it’s okay, things happen ❤️’

was all you typed in response.

you swore that you heard the message sent noise from your window, eyebrows knitted together as you opened the window to investigate it.

as you saw that there was no one and nothing there, you knew that it was time for bed.

but what you didn’t know is that minjeong was there, watching you with a heavy heart.

she was just too scared to say anything.

you paced back and forth in the back of the stage, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

there were all kinda of different noises that emerged from the practice rooms and wings of the auditorium, making you even more anxious.

“y/n, you’re worrying for nothing.” natty took your hand into her own, running soothing circles onto your knuckles.

your breath was shaky, checking your phone almost every two minutes.

“minjeong still isn’t here.” you spoke with an unsteady voice, inching closer to your sister to receive more of her comfort.

natty sighed, wrapping her arms around you for a gentle hug. she caressed your back in attempt to calm your nerves more. she wasn’t one hundred percent confident of what was going on between you and your best friend but she had an idea.

“she’ll show up.” with that sentence she broke the hug, caressing the sides of your arms and fixing your hair. “you look so beautiful. mom would love to see you right now.”

you took a deep breath, eventually giving natty a courageous smile with the motivation of her words. “okay.”

“you okay now?” she double checked, and even though you nodded you didn’t feel okay yet.

“i’m gonna get some fresh air.” you infotmed her.

“be quick. they’re about to start and you’re the third act.” she warned, following you off the stage to catch the seat that julie was saving her.

on the way out you received a concerned look from her as yeonjun practically begged for her attention, only being shoved in the shoulder by her stanley. you stifled a laugh, pushing the heavy doors open and being met with the fresh air.

it was calming if you ignored the occasional sound of loud music, sirens, and car horns.

they grew progressively louder with each passing second and you couldn’t help but grow curious, taking a few steps so you could get a proper look at the scene.

you squinted to really see what was going on, walking further into the scene when you abruptly saw a car get launched into a strong man with a green suit on.

your eyes widened as it flew past you, making your first instinct to run as the ambulance had begun to be manipulated as well. all you heard was someone yelling out your name before everything else happened to quickly.

a silent scream left your lungs as you were suddenly lifted off of the ground and in the arms of spider-man himself, with the superhero and supervillain taking a newfound interest in you.

“are you insane?” the masked superhero asked you, making you furrow your eyebrows while you tried to process what just happened.

the green suit man seemed to grow jealous of how much attention you were receiving from his foe, making you his new target. “is that your girlfriend?” he spoke in a mocking tone.

the hero groaned, ignoring your protests to swing you to a nearby rooftop and out of everyone’s sight before setting you down gently.

then they shot out a web, saying one last thing before disappearing. “just stay here, okay? please. i can’t lose you.” you were extremely confused but who were you to refuse what the superhero was telling you to do?

you were y/n, of course.

“who are you?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“i’m spider—“ within milliseconds the hero was gone again, swinging through the city and leaving you with the loud fan that overpowered your thoughts.

“this stupid ass superhero. i have a talent show i can’t miss.” you grumbled, walking to the door so you could enter the building.

it ended up being locked, and with pure determination you tried to bash your way inside with no avail.

“i hate spiderman.” you crossed your arms, looking around for any other chance to get out. you had left your phone with natty so there was no possible way to phone anyone for help.

but the sake of figuring out their secret identity, you stayed put. this was someone that cared about you from what you deducted.

and in less than ten minutes the hero was back, relieved to find you in one piece where they left you.

“who are you?” you demanded again, not even giving them a chance to speak before asking your question.

they laughed, crossing their arms. “what happened to ‘thank you for saving my life spiderman?’ civilians are so ungrateful these days.”

you rolled your eyes, clearly not amused by their lame attempt at humor. “answer my question.”

they continued to stall, trying to find any excuse to beat around the bush. “you look like you’re dressed for an occasion. what is it? birthday party or funeral?”

you grumbled, pursing your lips into a thin line and crossing your arms. “no!”

“grocery run?”

“no.”

“school talent show?”

“no — wait, how did you know?”

“cause i’m spiderman.”

“ugh, i know that already!” you groaned. “take your mask off. i already know who you are anyway.” you bluffed.

“you… do?”

“um, yeah.”

“fuck.” you heard them whisper. you had to fight back the laugh pleading to escape your throat, committing to the lie.

“so you might as well take the mask off.” you spoke in a convincing tone, shrugging your shoulders in a nonchalant manner.

it was deafening silent and when you looked back up the mask was off, revealing the person you would’ve least expected to see.

“minjeong?”

her cheeks were flushed a light tint of red. “you said that you knew who i was!”

“i was lying!” you argued.

she sighed, playing with the piercing using her teeth. this was the hard part for her.

“i apologize, y/n. i wanted to tell you for a while now but i just couldn’t find the right time.” minjeong’s voice trembled slightly.

this scared her. she wasn’t sure how you would react to the news or if you would even still want anything to do with her after this conversation.

“i don’t know what i thought. i didn’t know why you kept disappearing but i would’ve never guessed this.” you replied.

“i don’t want to hide anything from you anymore. i’ve been hiding too much from you.”

“…this isn’t the only thing?”

she stayed silence for a moment, avoiding your gaze and swallowing the lump in her throat.

“my biggest fear is putting you in danger.” minjeong started. “putting you in danger and losing what we have. you’re my best friend and i’ve loved you for so long that i — i was just really scared.” her hands were trembling slightly.

the look on her face told you that she was terrified but you just smiled a bit, feeling the giddy sensation in your stomach.

“you love me?”

minjeong bit her lip. “yeah?”

you laughed shakily, a soft yet vulnerable smile dancing onto your lips. “so you did really want a date.”

“i still do.” your contagious smile triggered her own. “i mean, i’m down to reschedule if you are…”

“promise you’ll be on time and won’t stand me up this time?”

“yeah. i promise.” minjeong grinned from ear to ear.

“i guess, then. but i’m still mad at you for keeping this a secret and standing me up.”

she let out a light chuckle. “that’s fair enough this time.”

“speaking of on time, i believe you have an event to make it to.”

your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your lips. how could you have forgotten so quickly?

“it’s a shame that you don’t have a ride… or a swing.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re so impossible.”

she walked over to you, taking your hand into her own before bringing you close. “am i really impossible for trying to protect my favorite person? i just don’t want to lose you. ever.”

you brought your arms to her middle, making her blush at the close contact.

“you won’t. i’m not going anywhere without you.”

minjeong smiled, slinging out a web and examining your facial expression. “ready? i’ll be gentle this time, i have precious cargo.”

“less talking, more swinging.”

taglist — @saysirhc @aedollie @prologue-ae

[lyn31]

Do you mind if I request a pure fluffy oneshot about pregnant MC feels lonely since Zayne always busy at work where in fact, Zayne already planned a long holiday to take care of his pregnant wife?🥺🥺

Omg this is so cute! Thank you for the request/idea! I try my best for pure fluff! Hope it's what you're thinking of!

Lonely?

Summary

You thought you’d have to endure more lonely days, waiting for Zayne to come home late from work. He’s always been attentive, making sure you’re comfortable, checking in on your cravings, and doing everything he can to care for you—even from a distance. But it’s not enough. You don’t just want his care. You want him. And what you don’t realize is that he’s already made sure you won’t have to wait much longer.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader If you've been reading my stuff, you know I'm prone to getting carried away—but not too much this time! Anyway, pure fluff incoming!

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The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the kitchen. The smell of coffee lingers in the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of whatever simple breakfast you managed to put together. Across from you, Zayne sits with his usual composed demeanor, sipping his coffee as he reads something on his terminal. He looks effortlessly put together, as always, dressed in his usual crisp attire, ready for another long day at the hospital.

You try not to pout. You really do.

But the disappointment settles in your chest before you can stop it.

It’s not like Zayne has been neglecting you—far from it. Even with his busy schedule, he still makes sure you’re eating well, checks in on your cravings, and finds small ways to take care of you. But it’s not the thoughtful gestures you want right now. It’s him. His presence. His warmth—well, as warm as he can be. You just miss having him by your side.

“Another long shift?” you ask, poking at your food without much enthusiasm.

Zayne glances up, his golden eyes calm as ever. “Hm?”

You roll your eyes. “At the hospital. You’ve been working late every day. It’s fine, I’m just asking.”

There’s no accusation in your tone, but you still feel a little guilty for even bringing it up. It’s not like Zayne is staying late for fun—he’s a doctor. His work saves lives. But still, a selfish part of you wishes he could just… be here.

Zayne sets down his coffee cup with a quiet clink, studying you for a moment. Then, instead of answering directly, he asks, “Did you sleep well?”

You huff. Typical. He always redirects the conversation back to you. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Back pain?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Hm.” He reaches for a small dish beside him and slides it toward you. “I picked these up on the way home last night. You mentioned craving something sweet.”

You glance down, finding a delicate pastry, the exact kind you’d been wanting the other day. Your heart squeezes. See? He never forgets. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

You pick it up, turning it slightly between your fingers before taking a bite. The flaky crust melts in your mouth, the filling perfectly sweet without being overwhelming. Exactly the way you like it.

Your mood should lighten. And in some ways, it does—just not the way you need. Zayne always remembers these little things, even when he barely has time to breathe.

You swallow, glancing at him as he returns his attention to his terminal, seemingly unbothered. Like picking up pastries at an ungodly hour just to make you happy is the most natural thing in the world.

Your lips curve slightly. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

Zayne hums, not looking up. “Do what?”

You gesture vaguely with the half-eaten pastry. “This. Bringing me things. You’re already busy enough.”

Finally, he meets your gaze. “It’s hardly an inconvenience.”

The words are simple, stated like a fact rather than reassurance. But you know what he means. If it’s for you, it’s never a burden.

The warmth in your chest grows, just enough to quiet the selfish ache—at least for now.

You take another bite, letting yourself enjoy the moment. Even if he has to leave soon, at least for now, he’s here.

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There’s not much to do when you’re off work and pregnant. Ever since you and Zayne found out, you’ve both been buried in pregnancy books, but now that you’re in your second trimester, there’s more waiting than anything else. At least your pregnancy has been on the milder side so far.

It’s not like he’s neglecting me. You keep telling yourself that, fingers absently tracing patterns against your stomach. He still calls. He still buys me whatever I want. I’m fine. The house is quiet—too quiet—and before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to the clock. I don’t need to be so clingy. But somehow, the weight in your chest doesn’t ease.

So here you are again, texting Tara and catching up on the latest gossip.

Tara: Oh, and get this—remember that newbie from last week? The one who swore up and down that they could handle a solo mission?

You: The one who nearly got flattened by a Normal Wanderer?

Tara: Yep. That one. Well, guess who had to bail them out today?

You: No way. You?

Tara: Of course me. Because someone didn’t read the mission brief properly and walked straight into a nest.

You: LMAO, you’re kidding.

Tara: I wish. I had to listen to them apologize every five seconds while I cleared the area. If I hear one more “I’m so sorry, Senior Tara” I might actually lose my mind.

You: Pfft. Sounds like a fun day for you.

Tara: Oh, absolutely. Thrilling. The highlight of my week, really.

You: LMAO.

Tara: Anyway, why aren’t you asleep yet? You need a lot of rest—you and the baby, that is.

You: I’m waiting for Zayne to get home 🥺

Tara: Eh? He’s not home yet?

You: He’s supposed to be, but there was an emergency he had to take care of 😩

Tara: Well, that’s rough. But still, don’t you see him when he gets home anyway?

You: Barely. I keep falling asleep early 🫠 And now, for the morning I keep waking up later and later… Damn hormones, I swear to god.

Tara: LOL, what can you do? It is what it is. Just don’t stay up too late!

You sigh, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. Just this once, you want to stay awake—just to see him properly, not only in passing before he leaves for work.

“I get it. He’s busy. I shouldn’t complain.” The words come out light, almost dismissive, but your fingers catch on the hem of your sleeve, twisting the fabric between them. Even saying it out loud doesn’t make it feel any less hollow.

And, of course, your body has other plans. Because when you open your eyes again, it’s morning.

You're no longer on the living room sofa but tucked into bed instead. The sheets are smoothed around you, and the weight of a blanket drapes comfortably over your body. A pillow has been carefully adjusted against your belly, positioned just right to relieve any strain.

You groan into your pillow, frustration muffled against the fabric. You missed him again—just like every other night these days.

A cool, gentle touch lands on your shoulder.

You peek up, already knowing who it is.

Zayne is squatting beside the bed, his hazel eyes level with yours. Dressed in his usual crisp attire, he looks as composed as ever.

“Are you feeling any discomfort?” His tone is clinical, but the concern beneath it is unmistakable.

You shake your head, your voice still heavy with sleep. “No, I’m good. I just keep missing you coming home.” You pout without meaning to.

Zayne leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, then another to your temple. “Sorry.”

Your heart squeezes. A tiny, selfish part of you wanted him to feel bad for leaving you behind so often. But not like this.

You shake your head, frowning. “What are you sorry for? It’s your job—just like when I get emergency calls for Wanderers, remember? I understand.” You smile, actually meaning it.

Zayne takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing your palm. “You won’t have to miss me for much longer.”

You blink. What?

But before you can question it, a thought occurs. Right. He’s probably pushing himself harder just to get home earlier.

You huff. “Just don’t overwork yourself, got it?” You reach up and pinch his cheek lightly.

Zayne merely hums, his lips twitching slightly before he leans down, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. Then, he stands. “I made breakfast. If you’re ready, I can help you get up.”

You narrow your eyes at the curve of his lips, recognizing the teasing edge in his voice.

Still, you reach for him anyway, stretching out both hands toward him. “Well, husband, help your wife up, then.”

His low chuckle is your only warning before he pulls you into his arms with practiced ease.

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

“Take care, Mrs. Li.”

You reply with a smile, “You too.”

The person—whom Zayne hired at the start of your pregnancy—gives you a polite nod before stepping out, leaving your home spotless as always.

Honestly, sometimes your husband is even more dramatic than you. It’s sweet that he refuses to let you lift a finger, but now you’re left with nothing to do. The house, now silent and empty, feels even bigger than usual.

You huff, shaking off the creeping loneliness. You could dwell on it… or you could find something to entertain yourself with.

Speaking of entertainment, Zayne should be on his break around this time.

So, of course, you text him.

You: Zaaaaayyyneeeeee.

Mine♥️: Yes? Did something happen?

You: Send me your selfie ☺️

Mine♥️: My selfie? How about you send me yours first?

Did he just? This man, you swear. You shake your head grinning while you type your reply.

You: Hey! I say it first! The baby’s asking.

You can practically see Zayne’s deadpan stare through the screen, and the thought alone makes you giggle.

Mine♥️: The baby is asking?

You: Yes. The baby wants to see their dad’s face 🥺

You stare at your screen, waiting, watching the three little dots appear… then disappear. Then appear again. Then disappear.

You know he’s hesitating.

Mine♥️: That doesn’t sound medically accurate.

You snort, already imagining his flat expression.

You: Wow. Are you denying your child’s request? How could you, Dr. Li?

Silence.

Then, finally—a new message arrives.

It’s an image.

You open it eagerly, only to burst into laughter.

It’s exactly what you expected. A slightly blurred, poorly angled selfie, as if he took it at the last second just to shut you up. His expression is his usual composed neutrality, though you can see the faintest arch of his brow, like he knows this is ridiculous but indulges you anyway. The lighting is terrible, half his face is cropped out, and yet—it's still unmistakably him.

You: LMAO, Zayne, still?? Are you sure you know what that is?

Mine♥️: A selfie.

You: This is a crime against photography.

Mine♥️: You asked. I delivered.

You can’t stop grinning. Even with his reluctant participation, it’s these little moments that make you feel closer to him, even when he’s away.

You: Fine, fine. You win. But I’m adding this to my Zayne’s selfie collection.

Zayne doesn’t reply immediately, but when he does, it’s only two words.

Mine♥️: Of course.

And maybe it’s just your hormones, but somehow, that single message makes your heart flutter a little too much. After a beat he sends you another text.

Mine♥️: Now, where’s mine?

You debate teasing him for a few seconds, but you’re feeling generous, so you take a picture of yourself, angling a bit to show you holding your baby bump, and winking at the camera. Then you send it.

Mine♥️: Perfect.

You stare at the screen, re-reading his response. Perfect.

It’s such a simple word. Just one. But somehow, it makes your chest feel warm and achy all at once.

You puff out a breath, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Why is this making you emotional? It’s not even that serious. It’s just Zayne being Zayne. Calm, composed, and effortlessly sweet in that way of his.

But then you glance back at your own selfie—the one with your baby bump in clear view—and your eyes start to sting.

He thinks you’re perfect. Just like this.

Hormones. It has to be the hormones.

You sniff, rubbing at your eyes, and quickly type back before you can get any more sappy.

You: I’ll let you have that one, Dr. Li. Just this once.

His reply comes instantly.

Mine♥️: I appreciate the honor.

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. Even if you feel lonely right now, at least moments like this remind you—Zayne is still with you, no matter the distance. And yet, no matter how sweet these moments are, the ache of missing him doesn’t go away.

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

Another morning dawns, light filtering softly through the curtains, painting everything in a muted golden hue.

You wake up feeling... off. Not upset, not really, but there’s a quiet heaviness in your chest, a weight of reluctance. Maybe it’s just that your bed is so comfortable, or it’s the cool presence beside you—one you know will be gone in just a little while.

Zayne is still half-asleep, his breathing slow and steady. The moment you shift closer, he stirs. He doesn’t say anything, but his fingers find their way to your hair, smoothing down the strands with that same absentminded gentleness he always has.

You press your face against his shoulder, sighing. Just a few more minutes. Just a little longer before the day starts and he leaves again.

But time moves too fast. Before you know it, he’s getting up, moving through the familiar motions of getting ready. You stay in bed longer than usual today, even though you’re already awake, not feeling like facing the day just yet, but eventually, you shuffle out of the room, just in time to see Zayne placing the food on the table.

He glances up when he notices you. “Come sit. You need to eat.”

You hum noncommittally but let him guide you to your chair. Breakfast is warm, comforting—just like always. You eat quietly, and while Zayne doesn’t comment on it, you know he notices. He always does.

And now, here you are, standing at the front door, watching him as he prepares to leave for yet another work day. You keep your expression neutral. Or at least, you try. But it must show anyway, because as Zayne smooths out his sleeves, then glances at you. “You won’t be waiting much longer.”

You blink. “Huh?”

He tilts his head slightly, as if this should be obvious. “Today is my last shift before my extended leave starts. I’ll be home starting tomorrow.”

Your brain stalls. You just stare at him, completely thrown. The words don’t quite register at first, like your mind refuses to take them in all at once, because—what?

You open your mouth, then close it again, struggling for words before finally managing— “You’re…staying home starting tomorrow?” The words come out small, hesitant, like you’re scared to believe them. But the look on Zayne’s face—calm, assured, like this was never even a question—makes it all too real.

Then the realization crashes into you, and before you even know it, your eyes burn—tears spilling over, completely unprompted, catching even you off guard.

Zayne’s expression shifts in an instant. His hands reach for you immediately, one settling on your back, the other tilting your chin up so he can study your face. “What’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but you can hear the thread of concern beneath it. “Are you in pain?”

You shake your head rapidly, even as another choked-out laugh bubbles up between your tears. “No, I just—” You sniffle, gripping onto his coat.

His touch is gentle as he tilts your chin up again, but before that, his thumb brushes the corner of your eye, catching a tear before it can fall. He exhales softly, barely more than a breath, and murmurs “No tears, love.” low and steady, as if grounding you with just his voice.

And that you make your tears flow even more. “I’m just really happy. And I feel ridiculous. Oh my god, I can’t stop crying—”

Zayne blinks, still looking slightly lost. But he tightens his hold on you, shifting slightly to the side so he doesn’t squeeze you or the baby, his hand stroking your back in slow, steady motions. Then, as if something clicks, he exhales softly. “Didn’t I already tell you? That you wouldn’t have to miss me for much longer?”

You let out a hiccup, still clutching his coat. “You were being vague! I thought you meant coming home earlier or something!”

His lips twitch slightly—amused, but choosing not to show it too much for your sake. “I see. My mistake.” He presses a kiss into your hair, exhaling a quiet chuckle. “You think I’d leave you lonely if I had a choice?”

You huff, burying your face against his chest. Zayne lets out a quiet breath before wrapping his arms securely around you. “And you’re not ridiculous,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “But you do need to breathe.”

You let out a watery laugh. “I am breathing.”

“Barely.” He smooths a hand down your back, his voice quieter now. “You really missed me that much?”

You nod against his chest. “Yeah. I really did.”

Zayne says nothing for a moment, just holds you there, his grip firm and steady. And then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he says, “Then I’ll make up for all of it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by just how much you love this man. “You’re not allowed to leave me for even a second, you hear me?”

A pause. Then, so casually, “That might be difficult. What if you need to use the restroom? You don't usually let me follow you there.”

You pull back just enough to glare at him. “Zayne.”

“Hm?” His expression is calm, but you can see the slightest glint of amusement in his eyes now.

“You’re ruining the moment.”

Zayne hums, entirely unbothered. “I thought I was making it memorable.”

You sniff, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

“I know.” He smooths his hands down your sides one last time before stepping back, adjusting his coat. “Now, go inside. You shouldn’t be standing out here too long.”

You cross your arms, still pouting. “Fine. But you better come home on time.”

Zayne lifts a brow. “I always do.”

“Liar.”

He exhales through his nose—just barely amused—before leaning in, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that, he turns, heading off without another word. You linger for a second longer, watching him go before finally stepping inside.

By the time evening comes, the moment Zayne steps inside, you immediately cling to him. His hands settle at your waist, steadying you, and just when you’re about to pull back, he shifts his grip—lifting you effortlessly.

“Zayne! Are you insane? Put me down! I’m the weight of two people!”

“This is why I work out,” he replies smoothly.

You gape at him before bursting into laughter. He just walks, carrying you as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, before gently setting you down on the living room sofa. Squatting in front of you, his eyes flick toward the kitchen, probably catching the scent of the food you just finished making. One brow lifts.

“You were cooking?”

“I’m pregnant, not invalid.” You challenge his stare with a pointed look.

He exhales, clearly holding back a remark, then concedes with a small nod. “Alright then. Do you want to eat first?” He asks, even though he already knows your answer.

Now that your mood feels much lighter, you flash him a sweet smile. “I’m eating with you, obviously. Speaking of, husband…”

You toy with his collar, dragging a finger slowly down his chest. Zayne watches you with a suspicious gaze.

“Do you want to eat first, take a bath, or…” You drag out the words teasingly. “Me?”

You wink, fully expecting him to scoff. And he does—but not before his eyes flick down to your breast, then back up. The way his gaze darkens for half a second makes your breath hitch.

Then, without missing a beat, he says, “You first, then.”

“What?” You laugh, eyes widening as he shifts to sit beside you, pulling you against him. His cool breath brushes against your skin, lips grazing the curve of your neck.

“You asked, darling.”

And just like that, the day ends in the most perfect way possible.

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

Notes

Hehehehehe 😳 sorry ahahahaha love how this turn out actually, gosh they're so cute 🫶🏻😩🥹 This is ended up connected ahaha either way, if we're going for chronological order here it is: (this is part 2) part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 smut one perhaps? ahahaha

[hy6erion]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬-𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦-𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫.

<𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭>

Viktor had never considered himself particularly empathetic. He was observant, certainly—quick to recognize patterns, skilled at reading people—but emotional nuances often eluded him.

And yet, even he could see that you were struggling.

You did an admirable job of hiding it. If he weren’t paying attention, he might have missed it entirely. But Viktor was paying attention. Perhaps more than he should.

You smiled when you saw him, but it never quite reached your eyes. You filled the silence with easy conversation, but he could hear the strain in your voice. Your apartment was frustrating you, your days felt empty, and—though you hadn’t outright admitted it—you missed Harvey terribly.

The evidence was clear.

A solution was required.

And, after careful consideration, Viktor arrived at the only logical conclusion.

You should move in with him.

It was the most efficient course of action.

Your apartment was uninhabitable—clearly, the remodeling process was taking far longer than expected. Meanwhile, he had more than enough space for you. The transition would be seamless. You could be with Harvey again. You could rest. You would no longer have to endure long, lonely nights in an unfamiliar apartment.

There was no downside.

It was a perfectly rational decision.

Which was why Viktor found it frustrating that, for the first time in his life, he felt deeply uneasy about a perfectly rational decision.

Because the truth of the matter was this:

It was not just about logic.

It was not just about efficiency.

Viktor wanted you to move in.

He wanted to come home to you. He wanted to share quiet evenings with you and Harvey, to wake up to your sleepy murmurs in the morning. He wanted to see the space that had once been his alone become ours.

That thought alone should have been enough to stop him.

It wasn’t.

⸻

He Tells You His Plan:

Viktor found you at the lab, staring blankly at your communicator.

“Waiting for something?” he asked, voice laced with amusement.

You jolted, blinking up at him. “What?”

“Your device.” He nodded toward it. “You are staring at it rather intently.”

You huffed, setting it down. “No, I was just… thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Harvey hasn’t replied to my last message.”

Viktor quirked a brow. “You expect the cat to reply?”

You gave him a flat look. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

You sighed. “Viktor.”

Viktor smirked but took pity on you. “Harvey is well.”

You perked up instantly. “Yeah?”

“Yes. He has taken a particular liking to my desk.”

Your smile softened. “He likes to be close to the people he cares about.”

Something in Viktor’s chest clenched.

“Which brings me,” he said carefully, “to the reason I am here.”

You tilted your head. “Oh?”

“You should move in with me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Your brain seemed to short-circuit. “I should what?”

“Move in with me.” Viktor said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You are unhappy in your apartment. Your remodeling continues to be delayed. You miss Harvey. This is a practical solution.”

You stared at him, completely thrown.

“Practical,” you repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

Your mouth opened and closed.

Viktor waited.

You should say no.

You should say it was unnecessary.

You should say that you didn’t want to be a burden, that Viktor had already done so much for you, that you couldn’t possibly ask for more.

But.

You thought of the cold, impersonal walls of your temporary apartment. The silence. The loneliness.

You thought of Harvey curled up on Viktor’s lap, his little face peering at you through your communicator screen.

And you thought of Viktor himself—sharp-witted, infuriating Viktor, who had already made your heart a dangerous, fragile thing.

The idea of being close to him—of seeing him every morning, of existing beside him, with him—was intoxicating.

“…Are you sure?” you asked quietly.

Viktor’s gaze softened. “I would not have offered if I were not.”

You took a breath.

And then, finally— “…Okay.”

⸻

Moving In:

Viktor had expected you to bring the essentials. Clothes, toiletries, whatever small comforts you couldn’t go without.

He had not expected you to bring half a library.

“I did not realize,” he said dryly, watching you struggle with your bags, “that you were attempting to recreate your apartment within mine.”

You huffed, shoving a stack of books onto his desk. “I had to bring the important stuff.”

“Clearly.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Viktor only smirked.

Harvey, meanwhile, had taken great delight in your arrival, immediately winding himself around your legs in a purring frenzy.

“There’s my boy,” you cooed, scooping him up and pressing kisses to the top of his head.

Viktor watched, expression unreadable.

It had been over a month since you’d been apart.

Had you always looked at Harvey like that? With such soft, unwavering affection?

Had you always had the ability to make a person—or a cat—feel like the most important thing in the world?

Viktor forced himself to look away.

This will be fine.

He could handle this.

⸻

The First Night:

The issue had been obvious from the start, but neither of you had spoken about it. Not when you packed your bags. Not when you arrived. Not when Viktor helped you settle in.

Now, standing in his bedroom, staring at the bed, you could no longer avoid it.

There was only one.

“I’ll take the couch,” you offered, shifting your weight awkwardly.

Viktor frowned. “That is absurd.”

You folded your arms. “Then you take the couch.”

He scoffed, unimpressed. “No.”

“Viktor—”

“It is my home. My bed. I will not let you exile yourself to the couch like some unwanted guest.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Then what do you suggest?”

Viktor hesitated. The answer was obvious, but acknowledging it felt like stepping onto dangerous ground.

“…We share,” he said at last.

You blinked. “We… what?”

“The bed is large enough,” he continued, keeping his voice carefully even. “It will not be an issue.”

Silence stretched between you.

You should say no. You should insist on the couch, insist that it would be weird, uncomfortable, unnecessary. But you didn’t. You only studied him, searching his face for something you couldn’t name.

“…Alright,” you said finally.

Viktor gave a short nod.

This was fine.

It was just sleeping.

Nothing would change.

(And yet, even as he turned away, he knew—everything already had.)

[pizza-hats-of-the-world-1882]

a little comparison of our storm king candidates talking to orotine at the ball

first: tarvek

so we only get a brief glimpse of their interaction, but right away Tarvek not only recognizes her, but knows exactly which muse she is. Aside from lineage, Tarvek's relationship with the muses is probably his strongest claim to the lightning crown. he seems to really genuinely love and revere them [in the next panel seffie overhears him squealing<3] which makes him suggesting orotine talk to gil later a pretty significant gesture

but even more interesting is how Orotine addresses him. As a prince, his correct styling would be "your highness", but instead she calls him "your majesty", a form of address almost exclusively reserved for *monarchs*. so that's pretty big for his claim!

next: martellus

no respect! Martellus immediately starts trying to pull rank and assert his authority, then he asks "which one are you?" which is a rather brusque way to phrase the question! also, if your whole deal is trying to ascend to the lightning crown, it would probably behoove ypu to know things about the muses given how central they are to the storm king legend. he seems to view their support as a given rather than something he has to earn.

Of course Orotine politely smacks him back down to earth, beginning by addressing him as "your highness" not "your majesty", then revealing that the race for the crown is not just between him and tarvek; there are more options [and of those options tweedle is losing]. no matter his political alliances or threats of force, he will require more than that to truly earn the title.

last but most squertainly not least: gil

Orotine styles Gil as "herr baron", nothing notable ab this one as that is his correct and publicly acknowledged title [tho i will footnote that traditionally a lord/lady would be addressed by thier highest title since historically it was common for nobles to hold multiple titles, and technically for gil this would be "your highness" as revealed by Boris but in practice his actual power comes from the empire's holdings and the the title that comes w that is baron, even though its technically a lower rank.] that was a long footnote who said that

Gil treats her with the same polite friendliness he does with the other party guests, respecting her as a person. There's even light discussion of scheming, the core of any friendly political conversation.

And here's where we can really contrast him with martellus: Gil is not actively vying for the storm king title, so its natural that he doesnt necessarily all of the muses, but when he asks, he says "and may i know which muse you are?" a way to phrase the question which is not completely rude, take notes tweedle!

Gil defers to her area of expertise and ask for advice, but in bringing up the storm king acknowledges her right to refuse, giving her a polite way out.

And what a response Orotine gives! not just stating her purpose but that she would be *happy* to advise him. Tacitly but strongly acknowledging his claim to the lightning crown and therefore her potential allegiance!

[goldfades]

i was wondering if you would be willing to write a bit about husband!luka, maybe like an hc or whatever makes you happy :) no worries if not!!

hi hon, i missed doing hc's so here they are! i hope you enjoy<3

husband!luka dončić headcanons

he never stops wearing his wedding ring | luka is the kind of guy who never takes his wedding ring off, not even during games. the refs have to remind him to remove it before tip-off, and he always makes a big show of kissing it before handing it to the trainer. off the court, he’ll twist it around his finger absentmindedly, especially when he's deep in thought. if he ever does have to take it off (like for treatment or taping), he hands it directly to you, because he trusts no one else with it.

he brags about being married constantly | luka’s the type to slip “my wife” into conversations as much as possible, especially when he’s in interviews. even if the question has nothing to do with you, he’ll find a way to bring it up—“yeah, i’ve been working on my mid-range a lot… my wife actually told me i need to shoot more, so i listened.” he does it so often that fans make compilations of all the times he’s randomly mentioned you.

he’s a homebody when he’s with you | for all the chaos on the court, luka is the biggest homebody when it comes to married life. he’d rather be at home, curled up on the couch with you, than out at some fancy event. his ideal night is ordering way too much food, watching movies, and falling asleep with his head in your lap. if there’s a night off, the guys will invite him out, and his response is always the same—“nah, i’m with my wife.”

he keeps every little thing you give him | luka is sentimental to a ridiculous degree. movie ticket stubs, handwritten notes, receipts from dinners—you name it, he keeps it. he has a whole box of little keepsakes from your relationship, and whenever he’s having a rough day, he’ll go through it to remind himself of good memories. even if it’s something small, like a doodle on a napkin, he treats it like a priceless artifact.

he loves doing domestic things with you | luka genuinely enjoys the little things about married life—grocery shopping, cooking dinner, folding laundry. he doesn’t care what the task is as long as he’s doing it with you. he’ll follow you around the house while you do chores, talking about his day and helping where he can, even if it’s just holding things for you. he insists on being involved in everything, even if he’s horrible at it (like cooking, where he mostly just stirs things and taste-tests).

he’s protective in small, subtle ways | luka isn’t the over-the-top jealous type, but he’s fiercely protective in the little ways. he always walks on the side closest to the street, instinctively places a hand on your back in crowded places, and pulls you closer if someone’s getting too close. if you’re out and someone is making you uncomfortable, he won’t start a scene, but he’ll position himself between you and them and give them a look that makes it clear to back off.

he still flirts with you like you just started dating | just because you’re married doesn’t mean luka stops flirting. if anything, he gets worse. he’ll wink at you from across the room, send you texts like, you look too good today, how am i supposed to focus on practice? and pretend to “introduce himself” to you at events just to be annoying. he loves the idea that even after all this time, he can still make you blush.

he has to say ‘i love you’ at least ten times a day | luka cannot go a day without saying ‘i love you’ a ridiculous amount of times. it’s not just a habit—it’s something he genuinely feels the need to say. before he leaves for practice, before bed, in the middle of the day just because. even if he’s in a rush, he’ll stop whatever he’s doing to make sure you hear it at least once more. if you’re apart, he’ll text it randomly, sometimes in different languages, just to keep it interesting.

he’s obsessed with taking pictures of you | luka has an entire camera roll filled with random pictures of you. some are blurry candids, some are cute selfies, and some are just downright chaotic (like you mid-bite into a burger or half-asleep on the couch). he never deletes any of them. if he sees you looking particularly good, he’ll literally stop everything to take a picture—“wait, stay right there. damn, you look so good.” and if you try to take his phone to see the pictures, he’ll hold it away from you like a kid.

he hates being away from you, even for a few days | luka travels constantly, but he never gets used to being away from you. the first night in a hotel room alone, he’ll be texting and calling non-stop, even if it’s late. sometimes, he’ll fall asleep on facetime with you, phone propped up on his pillow. if he has a stretch of road games, he always plans little surprises for when he gets back—flowers, a small gift, or just clearing his entire schedule so you can have a full day together.

he’s the biggest softie when you’re sick or hurt | if you so much as sniffle, luka is in full caretaker mode. he’ll wrap you up in blankets, make you tea (even if he burns it), and refuse to let you lift a finger. if you try to protest, he’ll just say, “nah, my wife needs to rest,” and do everything himself. when you’re feeling better, he’ll act like he single-handedly nursed you back to health—“see? you just needed luka’s special care.”

he still gets nervous sometimes because he loves you so much | despite being confident on the court, luka sometimes gets nervous just looking at you. he’ll catch himself staring and think, wow, i really married her. even after years together, he still has moments where he’s overwhelmed by how much he loves you. sometimes, he’ll randomly pull you into a hug and hold you for a long time, just soaking it in. if you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll just shake his head and smile—“nothing, i just love you.”

he plans anniversaries and special dates months in advance | luka takes anniversaries very seriously. even if he acts chill about it, he’s secretly been planning something for months. he wants every milestone to be memorable, whether it’s an extravagant trip or just a really meaningful, intimate night at home. he keeps a list of places you’ve mentioned wanting to go, things you’ve said you like, and surprises you’ve hinted at—just so he can make sure every special occasion is perfect.

he loves when people call you ‘mrs. dončić’ | nothing boosts luka’s ego more than hearing someone call you ‘mrs. dončić.’ whether it’s at an event, a restaurant, or even just joking around with friends, he grins every single time. if you ever introduce yourself with your married name, he’ll lean over and whisper, “damn, that sounds so good.” he genuinely loves the fact that you share his last name, and he’ll use any excuse to hear it out loud.

[shouts-into-the-void]

Montresor caring about Will didn't come out of nowhere, Lenore was just mad: a biased completely unbiased post

The thing we need to remember as a rule is that Montresor's default personality is rude and antagonistic even when he's not actively trying to be an aggressor, which means you have to look at what he means rather than necessarily the things he says. He's a clear victim of abuse, who reacts to feelings trapped, cornered, threatened, panicked, or humiliated by lashing out. From what I have gathered, it seems like his mother may have been the type of person who was nice one minute, then became abusive at the drop of a hat, and/or acted loving while claiming she "had to do this for his own good", and he was clearly raised in a very strict religious environment where he didnt have a lot of control/was punished for things he couldnt help. As a reaction, Montresor tries to force an aggressive response out of anyone he feels threatened by, because at least then it's predictable and he feels in control. Okay, great, Montresor analysis out of the way, moving on.

Our first real look at Will and Montresor as a unit is when the clusterfucks (side note: I've seen a lot of people calling them the acoleets now? Far less funny, absolutely not) are discussing their spectres. During this conversation, Montresor is actually hyping Will up, and even when he agrees with Ada that is sounds useless, he makes sure to assure him that it "looks really cool though."

We only really see Montresor become outright violent and dangerous once it's revealed that only one person can win a new life. We see him actively panic about it, and while we don't really get a lot more context for him yelling at Will in the moment, I think its relevant that this is the moment when he starts treating Will less nicely, because now it's a competition an everyone else is potentially out to get him. Hell, he even immediately begins joking around with Will after telling him to shut up, so it's clear that he's acting out of stress and fear immediately after the revelation.

The interaction that immediately follows this is the incident with Morella and Ada, and I find it notable that Montresor goes out of his way to include Will. (when he makes sure to let you get your turn humiliating a woman to prove her loyalty to the group #romantic 🤡)

Later, during the Spectre vs. Students lesson, when Berenice bites Will and he asks for help, Montresor immediately tells her to leave him alone. While he seems mildly annoyed with Will the whole time (kind of understandably, because Will keeps screwing up the plan) he only says anything particularly horrible after Berenice slashes him across the face with her knife, which clearly pisses him off in general. We see him letting Will nap on his shoulder afterwards, which isn't super important I just think it's cute.

Montresor clearly sees them as a unit, as he still involved Will with the plan despite Will messing up the previous night with Duke and stops Will from helping Annabel with Ada despite not having a real reason to do by saying "We'll sit this one out." Like it should have gone without saying that if he's not doing it, Will isn't either. Then the next day, the fact that Montresor comes to get Will specifically so they can walk to breakfast together? Knows what his toothbrush looks like and goes out of his way to give it back? The little flick on the forehead when he calls him a church churchmouse? That he picks up on Will's distress and immediately goes to collect Ada to save him? I see you, fake-ass idgafer.

Which brings me to my next point, which is that it is Lenore on her enraged, vengeful tirade who claims that Montresor hates Will. She claims it's due to his behavior towards Will when he came to get him, but I think its pretty clear she only says it to upset Will. And Will can't think of anything nice Montresor's ever done for him because he's stressed, thinks he's about to get shot, and his self-confidence is super low. He even addresses the fact later that Montresor goes out of his way to save him all the time.

I also think now is a good time to point out that Montresor only seems to physically hurt Will in any significant way when he's been having a flashback. His expression when he comes out of his death flashback to find himself attacking Will is shocked, and while he doesn't apologize, his response does come across as apologetic. He has a similar expression when he wakes up from Ada's vision choking Will, only he looks incredibly panicked that time because he'd done actual damage. The expression on his face when Lenore points out what he's done is pained. I think this runs back to Montresor telling Will not to touch him, I'm pretty sure part of his trauma revolves around physical touch and when he's having an episode of PTSD/not fully aware of his surroundings he lashes out instinctively at the person touching him, which unfortunately means Will, who is a very physically affectionate person (man has 13 siblings and it shows.) Which is unfortunate, because I think Montresor also seems to be a very tactile person, and he actually goes out of his way to be touching Will a lot.

Another interesting thing? Montresor only ever addresses Will by name, which is very significant with context. The nicknames Montresor gives people are meant to mock them, so by only using Will's name it subtlely signals that he holds him in higher respect (or at least in more genuine regard) than the others. In Will's flashback, Sally–someone who went to school with him and was in all the same classes–doesn't remember his name, only that he's one of many Wilson siblings. So for Montresor, who can't even remember his "ace in the hole" and current fling's name, to be constantly making it a point to say he knows who Will is, is a great indicator of his actual feelings. By contrast, Will calls Montresor "Monty" exclusively, the only nickname he receives that is genuinely affectionate and something he never attempts to make him stop calling him.

Which pretty much brings us back to the events of the current episodes, which I've already talked about the significance of in another post. I know this is probably insanely biased for multiple reasons and im sure theres a bunch of little tidbits I've forgotten , but do with it what you will.

[angeliteeyes]

Platonic Astral Express Crew x Reader - How They Comfort You After a Breakup

For the anon I responded to before this 🩵 I really hope this helps

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

•°~Himeko-°•

When she hears your sobs coming from your room, she gently presses the door open and peeks inside. Seeing you in this state breaks her heart, her considering you and the other members as her own family.

"What's wrong, dear? Did something happen?"

Before long, she's creating a stockpile of every single post-breakup item she could possibly think of. Tissues, chocolates, and so on. Her warm palm rubs up and down gently across your back, hoping to provide you some solace. Although she says little, her actions speak for her just fine.

"I'll be here with you for as long as you need."

•°-Welt~°•

Welt's paternal instincts kick into high gear when he learns of your situation. He appears generally reserved and calm most of the time, but when it comes to you or another crew member being hurt, he can't help but get protective.

"Are you sure you don't need me to get involved? If you ever feel as though you're in danger in any way, we'll do everything in our power to protect you."

After ensuring you're really alright, he quickly grabs a book out of his collection that he thought you'd enjoy and reads it to you. No matter how long it takes you to fall asleep, he'll remain there by your side.

•°~Dan Heng~°•

Although he doesn't immediately realize what's happened to you, being locked in his room, he eventually notices the others going in and out to support you. He patiently waits for a moment where you're left alone and knocks.

"May I come in?"

Once he gets your permission, he cautiously enters. Regardless of how close you two may be, navigating this social situation was new for him and left him feeling a bit nervous. He doesn't actually say much of anything outside of the basics, but you wind up with a new potted plant next to your bedside.

Like this plant, you too shall grow stronger with each day that passes.

•°~March 7th~°•

"Hey, did I leave my camera in here—wait, what's wrong?"

She grows flustered as you confide in her what happened. Her concern for you overpowers any other matters that were on her mind, making her rush over towards you.

"There, there, it'll be okay. Oh, I think we got some candy earlier. Be right back!" March darts from room to room to bring over anything and everything she thinks you'd find comforting.

If you need to rant, she's all for it and actively encourages you to do so. Regularly, she'll chime in with her own opinionated comments too. Stuff like "You can do better than them anyway! They don't deserve you!" Of course, if you express that you don't want her to speak ill of them, she'll keep her mouth shut.

•°~Trailblazer~°•

They will bring you video games to play together, no questions asked. When it comes to supporting you, their primary goal is to get your mind off of the situation. If they can get a laugh out of you too, that's an added bonus.

Once they notice you focusing on the game and calming down, they smile to themself. You deserve to have some peace.

Also, expect at least a couple of jokes to be thrown into the conversation. They'll try anything to bring up your mood, even if they end up being rather cheesy and pun-filled. As long as you find them funny, it doesn't matter.

•°~Pom-Pom~°•

"Hm, what's that noise? Is that... crying?"

Pom-Pom's cleaning comes to a halt as they linger outside of your room. They've experienced their fair share of crew members needing comfort, given their long time aboard. Still, seeing you sad... somehow, they end up crying even more than you did.

"That's not fair..." They sniffle and use their ears as makeshift tissues for their tears. "You shouldn't have to go through that." In the end, you and Pom-Pom wind up cuddling each other for the rest of the night, until you both eventually nod off to sleep.

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

Author's Note: Dear anon and anybody else who's going through a rough situation, stay strong and keep pushing forward!! Just like the Astral Express crew, you can make it through hard times ^-^

[heavens-crown]

And They Were Neighbors Pt.7

Master List

Tag List: @starkgaryan @gabsgabsvaz

cw: angst, mentions of lovers quarrel, talk of broken bone

The following weeks were a delightful type of boring. Delilah and Robby settled into a quiet routine, spending their nights in her apartment. Robby claimed it was because she had better water pressure and a nicer TV. He was back on day shift and while he was glad to be off of nights he missed being able to spend most of the day with her whether it was via naps together or him stretched out on the insanely oversized bean bag she had in her office. The only hiccup had been a minor spat between the two when he had come back edgy from a rough shift and unfairly took his anger from the day out on her. While she had taken it in stride it was clear she was still hurt. 

The evidence of that hurt showing when she sent him a simple ‘have a good day’ text when he left for his first day shift. His mood was now rather foul and he would rather be anywhere other than the ER. When he arrived he set his stuff down so they could go over rounds. On their last patient for rounds Robby noticed Delilah walking into the pit. He noticed she was wearing what was frankly a criminal short dress that appeared to have shorts under it and cherries as the pattern. Frowning a bit he excused himself from the residents and began walking briskly toward her. 

“Why are you here?” he asked. His tone was not great and he knew he messed up when he saw the way her eyes narrowed and her posture stiffened. “If you’re because of what I said last night now is not-” she cut him off before he could finish. 

“First off, watch how you talk to me. Second, I’m not here for you. I got a call from one of my Uncles who is apparently here and he wanted me to bring him some food,” she held up the take out bag he had failed to notice. “I am not some dumb teenager who’s coming to your place of work to stir shit up. Trust me, I'd rather not have that conversation here with you in front of your coworkers and patients.” With that she brushed past him heading to her Uncle's room. Robby exhaled roughly and turned to see the entire nursing station was staring at him. 

“Get back to work,” he ordered. With that they scattered finding things to do that kept them away from him. Sitting at his workstation to go through necessary paperwork he noticed Dana out of the corner of his eye approach him. She stood next to him silently for a moment tapping away at a tablet in her hand. 

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, concern in her voice. Robby continued to work on the paperwork and things needed signing off. When he didn’t respond Dana continued. “She’s cute, give her some time and i’m sure whatever happened will be forgiven.” She squeezed his shoulder before walking off to help a new nurse with a charting question. 

Delilah entered her uncle's room attempting to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling. Shawn Montgomery was a stereotypical businessman. His brown hair was styled out of face and his usual style of clothing was usually three piece business suits. Today though he was dressed in a simple shirt and jeans and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest. 

“Hey Uncle Shawn,” she said in greeting. Pressing a kiss to his cheek she placed the take out bag on his lap. “I got the food you asked for. I also brought you a long charger for your phone.” Delilah pulled the charger out and handed it to his wife Melissa to plug it into the wall. Shawn smiled gratefully up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Thank you monkey toes, I don’t know what I'd do without either of you.” He grinned up at her. Delilah rolled her eyes and settled down in the extra chair next to the bed.

“How’d you break your arm?” she asked, gesturing to the arm held in a splint. Suddenly looking anywhere but at her he attempted to dodge the question. It was her Aunt Melissa who answered, amusement clear in her tone. 

“He stepped off a curb into a pothole and fell.” she said. Delilah simply stared at the two of them. Out of all of Grandma Rose’s children Shawn had the worst luck. The man had once been struck by lightning, and in the same night got bit by a bat while on his way to the hospital. 

“We need to put your ass in a bubble,” Delilah shook her head. “Thank god Jamie didn’t get any of your wack ass luck.” Jamie was Shawns only child, who was currently studying abroad in Europe. Clearly desperate to change the subject Shawn pinned her with his ‘I heard something about you’ look. 

“So I got an interesting text from mama a few weeks ago,” he began smirking as Delilah narrowed her eyes at him. “She said you came in here to check on her with an older man. Said man was apparently very attentive and a Attending here.” Delilah groaned and rested her head back staring up at the ceiling. She should’ve figured her Grandma would tell her Uncles. 

“Like I told Grandma yesterday, Robby is just a friend. He’s my neighbor and is fun to hang out with.” She refused to tell her Aunt and Uncle she was actually getting her back blown out on the daily by said neighbor. Shawn gave her a look that said ‘bullshit’ but before he could speak a resident stepped into the room with none other than Robby behind them. 

“Hey Mr.Montgomery this is my attending Dr.Robinavitch, we got your X-rays back and thankfully there’s no fractures that are going to need surgery to fix,” the intern explained while showing them the X-Ray. Delilah did her best to ignore Robby which was hard since he was staring a hole into the side of her head. 

“That’s good to hear, am I still going to need a cast?” Shawn asked. It was clear by the look on his face that he recognized Robby’s name. Robby nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“Yes sir. What we’re going to do is reset your arm and place you in a soft case. We’re also going to get you a referral to a physical therapist so they can help make sure you don’t lose any mobility in your wrist.” He said. 

“Thank you doctor, I'm sorry, what was your name again?” Shawn asked, faux innocence ringing in his voice. 

“It’s Dr. Robinavitch, but you can call me Dr.Robby.” He answered with a small smile. Delilah felt her stomach clench when he shot her one last look before leaving the room. Sighing as she saw both her Uncle and Aunt were staring at her she grabbed her purse and rose to leave. 

“Well clearly I’m not needed here so I’m going to head out-” Melissa cut her off before she could make her escape. 

“Is that the same Robby that your grandmother is convinced is shaking the sheets with you?” she asked coyly. Delilah felt her face burn as the residents' eyes shot to her as they were putting her uncle in the cast. 

“I plead the fifth.” Delilah answered looking anywhere but at them. Shawn snorted and gave her a droll look. 

“So that means yes you’re fucking the guy who looks like he could be your dad.” Shawn said dryly. Not liking his tone Delilah glared at him, feeling rather protective over the man even if he was an asshole. 

“He’s 47 Uncle Shawn, Dad would’ve been 55.” With that she gave him one last kiss on the cheek and hugged her aunt before walking out of the room. She was almost to the exit when she heard Robby calling her name. Stopping her turned on her heel to see him speed walking toward her. Even when mad at him she couldn’t help the way her body responded to seeing him, which just irritated her more. 

“Will you come talk with me? In Private?” He asked. She wanted to say no but when she saw the sadness in his brown eyes she felt her resolve melt. Sighing a bit she nodded and let him lead her toward what was apparently the staff lounge. She leaned against the counter watching him as he leaned against the door watching her. It was silent for a moment as the two of them simply watched each other. Robby rubbed the back of his neck, an anxious tick of his, before letting out a sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for last night and for what I said when I saw you in here. It was incredibly hurtful and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Delilah watched as he seemed to struggle to get the words out and her heart broke just a bit. Pushing away from the counter she walked across the room to wrap her arms around Robby’s waist burying her face in his chest. He tensed for just a moment before hugging her back resting his cheek on the top of her head. 

“Apology accepted,” She mumbled. She could feel the tension leave his body as he pressed a kiss to her head. Pulling her head back just a bit she gave him a mock glare. 

“You ever talk to me the way you did in the last 12 hours and I promise I will put a chastity device on you and throw away the key,” She said, Robby stared down at her eyes wide like he didn’t know what to make of her at that moment. Giving him a soft kiss she stepped back and poked him in the chest. “You need to get back to work, mister. Would you like to come over after your shift?” She asked, suddenly feeling shy. Robby’s smile was bigger this time as he pressed his forehead to hers, tightening his grip around her waist. 

“I would love nothing more."

[dilly-dahlia]

iv. Don't Tell Her

pairing: Gene x Reader

content: pdh, drill team!reader, opposites attract, sunshine/grumpy, angst, suggestive but not explicit, blackmail, images used are NOT an indication of the reader's appearance

summary: The more time you spend with Gene, the more people start commenting on your blossoming relationship. You don't think much of it, but there are things you don't know.

word count: 7.0k

masterlist

The Problem With Popularity masterlist

previous part

There was no better time to bring up what Gene had said to you than a class that had Katelyn in it. And that was your first period homeroom, yes, but Sasha was also in there. You trusted her, but you couldn’t glaze over the fact that she was still one of Gene’s closest friends. You had no doubt that she would tell Gene whatever you said.

And then there was your third period Pre-Calculus class, but Dante was in there as well. He had grouped up with you and Katelyn and Nicole at your table and insisted on sitting there the whole year. You weren’t sure you wanted to talk about that with not only Gene’s brother, but the third addition to the sophomore trio of popular boys. Not to mention he had a big mouth.

That left your fourth period AP Ru’aun History class. Lucinda and Nicole sat by you and Katelyn as well, and maybe you didn’t really want the biggest gossips you had ever met to know about that, but there was no avoiding it. The only other times you saw Katelyn were lunch (along with the aforementioned Garroth and Laurance, who would only harass you to tell them what you and Katelyn were whispering about when they noticed) and English (with Sasha, who you had already explained why you didn’t want to know).

But, Lucinda and Nicole would probably find out about it eventually. You’d rather they heard it from you.

“Do you think Laurance still likes me?” You had asked the question to Katelyn, but there was no doubt that Lucinda and Nicole heard you. You noticed the way the writing of their pencils stopped and how they inched the smallest bit closer to you so they could hear.

“Huh?” Katelyn was not as discreet. Her voice was slightly louder than yours, and even though the room was noisy anyway, you would’ve preferred she kept at least a little quiet.

Lucinda and Nicole seemed to take Katelyn’s louder tone as an invitation. They set their pencils down completely and crossed their arms against the table, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, raising your voice to a conversation level. “Laurance. Do you think he still likes me?”

Katelyn furrowed her brows, sparing you a glance. “I don’t know. Why?”

You rolled your eyes. You didn’t even know why you had asked Katelyn. Nine times out of ten she was dismissive about that stuff. “I was just . . . curious.”

“I thought he was into Aphmau,” Nicole said, pushing the hair that had fallen into her face back. “He did say that, right? I’m not making that up?”

“Yes, he did say that. He and Garroth both told me they like Aphmau, but . . .”

You trailed off, not knowing what else to say without repeating yourself. You opted for another heavy exhale, and rested your chin against the palm of your hand.

“Well, Laurance has always been protective of you,” Lucinda added, quirking her brows as if to indicate something. You didn’t know what, though.

“Why are you asking, Y/n? Did he ask you out or something?”

“No, it’s . . .” You trailed off again and made a vague hand motion. If you told them it was an idea Gene had planted in your head then there would be no doubt that the three of them would discourage you from continuing to talk to him. “You know.”

Katelyn deadpanned. “No, I don’t. That’s why I asked.”

You exhaled. It never took much to make you fold. “It’s just- Gene had mentioned it . . .”

“Gene?” Lucinda asked, her eyes narrowing. “As in Dante’s brother Gene? Gene Accardi?”

“No, Lucinda. Gene Wilder from Willy Wonka.”  You rolled your eyes. “Obviously I’m talking about Gene Accardi.”

Lucinda’s brows only narrows more. “Why are you talking to Gene? I know you’ve made friends with Sasha, but I didn’t think you’d entertain Gene.”

“They sit together in physics,” Katelyn bluntly said. You lightly hit her arm, because there was a reason you had been keeping that small tidbit of information from Lucinda for a month and a half.

Just like you had expected, Lucinda gasped dramatically. She stared at you, jaw dropped in dumbfoundment, for a moment before scoffing. “Why did I not know you sat next to Gene in physics? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do you not see them walk together to lunch every day?” Nicole asked. She didn’t often sit with you and Katelyn and everyone else at lunch, but she was there. You usually saw her across the cafeteria and waved at her.

“No, I don’t because I have A lunch.” Lucinda let out a sad sigh. “I hate having A lunch. I miss so much and I barely have classes with you guys.”

Katelyn shrugged. She couldn’t do anything about it. “I don’t know how to help you. But yeah, Y/n and Gene sit together in physics and he usually walks her to lunch.”

“Like, every day?” You nodded. A sly smile painted itself across Lucinda’s lips. “And you talk every day?”

“I mean, yeah,” you replied. “We’re lab partners, so we kind of have to.”

Lucinda’s smile widened. It unsettled you, to be honest. She only ever smiled like that when she was about to inquire about—

“So do you think he’s cute?”

There it was.

Nicole’s head snapped to Lucinda so fast you swear you heard her neck pop. Your face heated and Katelyn chuckled beside you, probably recalling the toothpick with his picture you had stuck into the hear me out cake Friday night.

“Oh, uhm . . .” You trailed off, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. You looked down at your paper for an escape. “Hey, do you guys know what question three is?”

“She definitely thinks he’s cute,” Katelyn said, smiling at you. You covered your face, hoping to get the burning feeling in your cheeks to subside. “Gene is her hear me out.”

Both Lucinda’s and Nicole’s jaws dropped, and they stared at you like you had just committed a capitol offense.

“Gene?” Nicole practically exclaimed. Well, she had said it at a normal volume, but the room had quieted since the four of you started talking. You frantically shushed her, not wanting any unnecessary rumors to start. Nicole quieted, and the four of you spent the remaining three minutes of class shooting each other glances instead of talking.

“I can’t believe you think Gene is hot,” Nicole said as she shoved her notebook into her backpack.

“I mean he is,” Lucinda said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “Gene is so fine and I think he knows it. If he wasn’t such a douchebag I would totally go for him.”

“That’s what Y/n said!” Katelyn exclaimed, shouldering her bag and leading the three of you out the door.

“I did not!” you said, reaching over and smacking Katelyn in the shoulder. The three of you bid Nicole goodbye, as her class was in the complete opposite direction you were going.

“Liar. You put his little stick in the cake and said, ‘If he weren’t so rude I would totally . . .’ And then made that vulgar hand gesture!” Katelyn imitated the hand gesture and shuddered, her shoulders shaking dramatically.

Lucinda laughed and you covered your face in embarrassment. You hoped the two of them would shut up soon because Gene usually joined you as soon as Katelyn left your side. You hadn’t told her he walked with you to physics, and if she found out now you would be dead.

“Aww, the Dancing Queen has a little crush on the bad boy,” Lucinda sang, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to her.

“That is so cliche,” you said, allowing Lucinda to rest your head against her shoulder. It stretched your neck awkwardly, but you didn’t mind. “And I don’t have a crush on him. He’s just . . . nice.”

Lucinda scoffed, waving to Katelyn as she entered her classroom. “Yeah. Because nice is the word I associate with Gene.” You could feel her eyes roll. “I bet he’s just trying to get into your pants.”

“Which will never happen,” you immediately said, standing straight and shooting Lucinda a glare. “Not only because I don’t have sex, but because I don’t like Gene.”

Lucinda hummed, patting your cheek affectionately. “Oh, clueless sweetheart.”

You scoffed, pushing her hand away from her face. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Lucinda shrugged. “Not really. I have lunch next and Ivan is gone today. Now, what I wanna see is your interaction with Gene.”

“It’s not anything interesting,” you replied, pushing her arm off your shoulders as well. Now you were really hoping she shut up about Gene because he usually fell into step beside you about now. You were on high alert, looking around for him.

“Please, any interaction with Gene is an interesting one.” Lucinda glanced at you, noticing the way your gaze kept flirting around the hallway. “What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing,” you immediately said. You stopped looking around, meeting her gaze again. “It’s nothing. How’s it going with Ivan?”

“Are you looking for Gene?” Lucinda clearly ignored your question. You hadn’t expected her to answer either, as she typically dodged any question about her thing with Ivan.

“No, I am not looking for Gene.”

“You’re totally looking for Gene!” Lucinda perked up, looking for him as well. “Does he normally meet you?”

There was no point in lying to her. Lucinda had an uncanny intuition and seemed to always know when she was being lied to. If it was something she was really interested in, then she would dig and dig until she found the truth.

You sighed. “Yes, he usually meets me right after Katelyn goes to class.”

“Aww, he wants to spend time alone with you.” You rolled your eyes. “I think he likes you.”

“You’ve never even seen us talk.”

“No, but Laurance did tell me that you and him danced at homecoming.” Lucinda raised her eyebrows at you suggestively. You turned your head to look at her.

“Laurance told you about that?”

Lucinda hummed as she nodded. “He sure did. Well, he was really telling Dante but I just happened to overhear.”

That was code for she interrogated him about it to no end. And of course, Laurance folded. Lucinda had a way of getting what she wanted.

You didn’t know what else to add. You only softly exhaled and turned your gaze back up ahead, where Mr. Vega’s room would come into view if you turned the corner. Gene hadn’t shown up still, and you wondered for a moment if he just didn’t want to walk with you and Lucinda. But looking around again, you still didn’t see him anywhere in the hall.

“Looks like Gene didn’t join me today,” you said, shrugging like it was some sort of tragedy. I’m all actuality, you were grateful for it. If he had decided to join you and Lucinda it would have set off a whole slew of questions. While you were a bit saddened (just the smallest bit, really, not any sort of feeling that would be memorable) that he didn’t show up, you didn’t mind.

Lucinda huffed, jutting her lower lip out in a pout. “You win today.”

You chuckled, playfully pushing her in the direction of the cafeteria. “Whatever. Go to lunch.”

“Fiiiine,” Lucinda sighed, letting her arms drop to her side and dragging herself along the hallway like a rag doll. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

You waved to your friend before stepping into your classroom. You had partly expected Gene to be seated at your lab table already, but it was empty. You grabbed a paper from the basket at the door before walking to your seat and settling in. You pulled out your physics notebook slowly, hoping with a small part of you that while you were doing that Gene would walk through the door and sit beside you.

He didn’t. The tardy bell rang and Gene still wasn’t next to you. When Mr. Vega went to shut the door a couple minutes later, Gene still didn’t saunter in like he owned the place. You glanced at the empty seat beside you again before turning your gaze to your teacher as he began talking.

Maybe Gene was just absent. He might’ve gotten sick over the weekend, or something. Or maybe he was just skipping the class. You knew he was trying to be present in class more so he didn’t upset his mom, but you imagined he still skipped his other classes. Actually, you knew he did. You had seen him wandering the halls a few times at the same time you were delivering something to another teacher.

About halfway through the period, one of the students sitting close to the door stood up to answer the knock that had sounded. Mr. Vega didn’t stop teaching until whoever was at the door approached him and handed him a slip of paper. You didn’t realize it was Gene until you looked up at the feel of his fingers brushing across your shoulders. The action made you shudder and you immediately sat straight, hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

Gene laughed. “Scared you.”

You glared at him, relaxing back into your slightly slouched position. “Why’re you late?” you whispered. You knew that if he were more than five minutes late to class then he would’ve just skipped, and him being twenty minutes late was shocking to you.

He shrugged, keeping his voice low as well. “Needed a break.”

“Why not just skip the whole period, then?”

“And leave you all alone? I’d never do that to you, bunny.” Gene’s lighthearted tone was paired with a flirtatious wink, which you rolled your eyes in response to. He huffed out a breath of amusement before answering honestly. “I got caught.”

“Gene Accardi got caught skipping,” you teased, sparing him a glance and playful smile. “I didn’t think someone like you would be somewhere obvious enough to get caught.”

“It wasn’t me, doll, it was the smell.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean the smell? Were you smoking pot? Oh, my god, are you high?”

Gene stifled a laugh, pretending it was a coughing fit when Mr. Vega paused his lecture and glanced his way. Gene offered a sly smile and small wave before the teacher continued.

“No, doll. I am not high nor was I smoking pot. You’re so quick to judge,” he teased, nudging your arm. You nudged his back, which made him smile. “I don’t actually-”

“Gene and Y/n.” Your eyes widened and the hairs on your neck stood up again at the sound of Mr. Vega’s assertive voice. You slowly turned your head to face him, finding that not only he but the entire class was looking at you and Gene. “Do the two of you have something to share?”

You shook your head, a timid, “No, sir,” slipping from your lips.

“Not at all,” Gene said. He lifted his hands in a the class is yours manner, like he was passing the baton. You suppose he was, if you really thought about it, since so many of your peers had stopped paying attention to Mr. Vega’s rambling about . . . something. You weren’t too sure.

You shared a glance with Gene once Mr. Vega continued talking and had to bite back a smile to prevent yourself from laughing. Neither of you spoke to each other for the rest of the period, but the two of you continued to playfully and lightly tap each other. It wasn’t until the bell rang that you allowed yourself to giggle.

Gene followed you out of the class, quickly falling into step beside you.. He stayed beside you for a moment, but it wasn’t long before you had to take larger steps in order to keep up with him.

“So you were twenty minutes late because you were smoking pot?” you asked, though it was more of a jest than anything. He certainly didn’t smell like marijuana, though he did have a certain smokey scent he didn’t typically have . . .

“I was not smoking pot, Y/n.” You chuckled at his use of your actual name. “I already told you I don’t get high.”

“You never said that.”

Gene rolled his eyes. “Okay, I started telling you I don’t get high before Mr. Vega interrupted us. Anyway”—Gene placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you in front of him to bypass a group of freshmen that were congregating in the middle of the hall—“I was just smoking a cigarette.”

You scrunch your nose, looking back at him. The smoky aroma about him suddenly made sense. “You smoke?”

“Why’s that a surprise?” he asked, his brows furrowed. “Did you really not know that?”

You shook your head, and Gene fell back into step behind you. The two of you were approaching the cafeteria, but oddly enough you found yourself wanting to keep the conversation with him going. “You don’t think it’s gross?”

“Why would I think smoking is gross?”

“Because it’s basically a stick of cancer!” you exclaimed. The two of you stopped at the wide entrance to the cafeteria, though you were standing closer to the wall so you weren’t in anyone’s way. “You’re gonna get lung cancer and die, Gene.”

“Do you care if I die, bunny?” Gene asked. He was leaning against the wall, his head slightly lowered to be more on level with you. He laughed in response to your scoff. “Y’know, you’re pretty cute when you’re mad.”

You swatted his arm. “I’m not mad. I’m just saying, smoking is so bad for you. All of your teeth are gonna fall out by the time you’re thirty and you’re gonna contract respiratory issues. Besides, how can you stand the smell of it?”

“Um, I ignore it obviously.” Gene rolled his eyes like what he had just said was common knowledge. Maybe it was, but you wouldn’t know since you didn’t smoke. After a moment, Gene looked out at the lunch room and spotted the table you typically sat at. He saw that Katelyn was already sitting down with everyone else. He could tell Laurance was interrogating her, probably about where you were, and Garroth cut in every now and then. “Did you think about what I said?”

“About what?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Prince Charming and the casanova,” Gene said. He raised a brow and flicked his gaze to yours, a smirk pulling at his lips. “How they still like you.”

“They don’t. They like someone else,” you said, trying to leave it as open ended as possible. You didn’t want him knowing who it was that they liked, just that they liked someone and that someone wasn’t you. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t tell me. We all agreed not to make any moves like that on each other last year.”

Gene’s brows furrowed. “Why? Surely a pretty girl like you and two hunks like that would want to be all over each other. You three were the talk of the school last year.”

You nearly chuckled at Gene’s word choice, but were able to push the urge down. “We were, but . . .” You shook your head, wanting to dismiss the topic. “The girls here aren’t very kind. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

You offered a soft smile, trying to lessen the blow and let Gene know that you weren’t completely dodging his questions or statements. Besides, if he really wanted to know he would probably do his own digging and find out himself.

Gene slightly narrowed his eyes at you. It was an action so subtle that you weren’t even positive he did it. His gaze flitted all around your expression before he hummed and pushed himself off the wall. Your eyes followed him and your body turned when he started walking around you.

“Anyways,” you began, wanting to change the topic of conversation. You shifted your weight to rest on one leg, popping your hip. The change made you shorter than you already were, and Gene smiled in amusement. “I didn’t get to tell you because you so rudely ditched me, but thank you for the dance on Saturday.”

“It was my pleasure.” Gene bowed, and you rolled your eyes in response. “I bet I was the best dance you’ve ever had, right?”

“Bye, Gene,” you said, already turning. You assumed he walked away at some point during your trek to the lunch line because when you stopped to look back he was gone. It wasn’t long until you saw Nicole’s red head of hair bounding up to you from your peripheral. When you looked at her, she was smiling cheekily.

“So, you and Gene,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you.

“Shut up.”

—

The sun was unusually hot. Phoenix Drop had weird weather. August was usually fine, though a chill always entered the air by the time school started. It wasn’t long after that September became the blazing pits of hell for a week before the temperature gradually dropped down to freezing for winter.

Normally, the Silver Starlets practiced in the school provided T-shirts and shorts. However, Coach Geter always let the team wear whatever they wanted to practice when the sun was scorching. She always made everyone smother sunscreen across their skin, though.

You could still feel the sun’s golden rays going through the sunscreen and burning your skin, but you didn’t mind. Your mom always gave you a tube of mysterious ointment that worked wonders on any sunburn you got. Despite that, maybe wearing a camisole and athletic shorts for practice wasn’t the best decision you’d made in your life, but it was just so hot.

Because of the heat, the drill team took breaks more frequently. You were sitting on the bottom level of the bleachers, water bottle resting on your lap so you could gulp down water while you fanned yourself with one hand and scrolled on your phone using the other. Your hair was tied out of your face, but it wasn’t doing much to combat the heat.

Cadenza came and plopped down beside you. The bleachers shook and squeaked from her sudden weight, and you groaned when she leaned against your shoulder.

“Get off of me. You’re sweaty,” you said, pushing her body off yours.

“But you’re sweaty, too.”

“I know that, but if we’re both sweaty and hot and we get close like that then our sweat will just gather and make it even hotter.”

Cadenza scrunched her nose in disgust. She leaned back and propped herself on the seat behind her, manspreading in the same way her brother did after his own practices. Even though they weren’t blood related, they were practically the same people.

“I hate this,” Cadenza groaned. You chuckled, looking over at her. Her eyes were closed and she faced the sky, letting the sun bake her skin.

She was one of the newer additions to the Silver Starlets. Previously, she had been captain of the cheer team but renounced her position once she found out she’d made the prestigious Phoenix Drop High drill team over the summer. Ivy was the cheer captain now, and from what you’d heard the program had only gone downhill.

“I bet you like it more than cheer, though.”

“Yes. God, the girls on the cheer team are so mean and do nothing but gossip.” Cadenza opened her eyes to roll them. You chuckled as she turned to face you. “It’s no wonder they weren’t good enough for drill.”

You laughed. “That was you last year.”

Cadenza waved her hand, dismissing your statement. “That’s irrelevant. Anyways. I came over because there’s a couple people looking for you under the bleachers.”

Your brows furrowed. Who the hell was looking for you under the bleachers?

“I don’t know their names,” Cadenza continued, “but it’s that group Laurance is always going on about. The one with silver hair and the other with blue eyes. And Zenix, actually. I do know his name.”

The lightbulb clicked in your head. It didn’t surprise you that it was them looking for you, but it was surprising that they were even looking for you to begin with. You wondered why. You also wondered why Cadenza only knew Zenix’s name. He was usually the one people forgot. And thinking about Cadenza’s track record with guys, you realized why.

“Oh, my god. Do you think he’s cute?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

Cadenza scoffed, though the action came off as dramatic and obviously forced. “What gives you that idea?”

You deadpanned, blinking at her. “You’re into skinny, lanky guys. Plus, why else would you know his name and not Sasha’s? Or Gene’s, for that matter.”

Cadenza scoffed again. She didn’t actually say anything, but she kept scoffing and sputtering like she was trying and failing to come up with a defense for herself. “Go talk to them.”

You laughed at the way she snapped at you and dismissed your thoughts. You softly shook your head before standing up and setting your things down. You checked the clock on your phone. You only had a couple minutes until Coach Geter called you back, so you were quick to run behind the bleachers.

Sasha smiled and waved once she caught sight of you. She was sitting on a box of supplies, both Gene and Zenix standing in front of her. They turned to look at you when you waved, and you watched as a smirk painted itself across Gene’s lips. He had been holding a cigarette, but at the sight of you he snuffed it out against one of the bleacher’s support beams.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet as you briskly walked over to them. Sasha had pushed herself off the box of supplies to stand beside you once you finally made it over to them. The three of them had already changed out of their school uniforms. That wasn’t surprising, considering school was over, but most people went home and changed before doing whatever they did. If they stayed at school, they typically stayed in their uniforms.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice coming out as a pant. You wanted to bend over and catch your breath, but you could imagine Katelyn snapping your back straight and telling you that your airflow was getting cut off by crouching.

“Wanna go to the park with us?” Gene asked. You deadpanned.

“First of all, you really made me run all the way over here to ask that? Why couldn’t you just text me? Second.” You motioned to the bleachers, more specifically what was on the other side of them. “Do you not see that I am actively doing something?”

“Just skip,” Zenix cut in, shrugging as if his solution were the most obvious in the world. You had spoken to him the least out of the trio that made up the Shadow Knights, but you still considered Zenix a friend. You weren’t sure if he shared the sentiment.

“I can’t just skip, I’m the captain,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And besides, it’s like a million degrees.”

“We would be sitting under shade,” Gene said. “C’mon, don’t you wanna hang out with us? Or with your best friend?” He motioned to Sasha.

You glanced at Sasha, who glanced at you and shrugged.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I didn’t know I was his trump card to get you to come with us.”

You laughed, shaking your head. You looked back at Gene, thinking. “I mean, I could join you guys later?” you suggested, shrugging. “Practice ends at six. I’d just have to go home quick to change, but I can definitely join you after. Maybe at like 6:30?”

Gene hummed in thought, but Zenix was the one that responded. You found that odd since he didn’t typically talk when you were around. “Yeah, that’s great,” he said, nudging Gene. The two shared a glance, but you weren’t sure what it could have meant.

You were about to inquire about it, but Coach Geter blew her whistle. The high note rang through the air and echoed in your ears when it was through, and you heard the bleachers shake as the drill team girls set their things down and began getting off.

“Okay, I’ll see you later, then.” You offered them a smile and one last wave as you ran off, pausing at your backpack to get one last drink of water before joining everyone else on the field.

Gene watched, and as he looked through the gaps in the bleacher seats he thought about what he was doing.

His initial plan had been to slowly chip away at your goodness. Very slowly he would break you down and rub away at your kind heart like he was a sheet of high grit sandpaper and you were a block of wood that needed to be shaped. Then, once your spirit was broken down, he would swoop in and offer a spot in the Shadow Knights like a saving grace. It would work, he’d figured, since you seemed so eager to please.

But the more he talked to you, the more he didn’t want to do that. He found that not only were you harder to break than he anticipated, but that he enjoyed the air of light that followed anywhere you went. It made him feel warm.

Despite that, he tweaked his plan. You’d need more incentive than just being broken down to even consider joining the Shadow Knights. So, he talked to a friend of yours.

—

“Aphmau!” you called, jogging up to where the group was gathered under one of the large trees. You had changed out of your sweaty athletic attire into jean shorts and a loose shirt whose collar hung off your shoulder, and your cowboy boots from earlier had been exchanged for more breathable footwear. “I didn’t know you were coming along.”

The freshman stiffened next to Gene. She nervously glanced at him before nodding and shifting her gaze to you. “Yeah, I . . . S-Sasha invited me. And I figured since she’s your f-friend that . . .” Aphmau trailed off and made a vague motion with her hand.

It was a lie, but you didn’t know that. You had seemed physically exhausted when the group of them saw you trudging along the sidewalk, trying to follow where they were based on the location Sasha sent you. It seemed that seeing Aphmau with them had brightened your mood.

And it did. Seeing her with Sasha and Gene and Zenix showed that your two major friend groups were combining despite the way Laurance spoke of them. It meant Aphmau was giving them a chance, and if she was, then the probability of everyone else doing the same was higher.

If you knew the situation of why she was there, though . . . Well, your reaction would have been very different.

You gave her a warm smile. “Well I’m glad you decided to come along.”

Aphmau gave you a curt nod. Although your smile made her visibly relax, she was still tense. Her shoulders were held high and her head was lowered and she kept fidgeting with the golden band on her finger. When the five of you found a nice space to sit down together, she stayed close to you and tended to only speak directly to you.

“Are you wanting to go to Ivy’s party this weekend?” Sasha asked, glancing up. She didn’t ask anyone in particular, just left her question in the air.

“Who’s Ivy?” Aphmau asked.

“This girl. Hot pink hair, green eyes. She comes to our table sometimes and talks to Garroth,” you said. Aphmau made an O shape with her mouth and nodded. “I didn’t even know she was having a party this weekend. I was wondering when the first one was coming up.”

“She probably kept it from you,” Gene said, meeting your gaze. “Y’know, considering her obsession with Prince Charming.”

You rolled your eyes. Ivy had always been salty about how close you and Garroth were. It only worsened when word got around that he liked you last year. “Don’t remind me. I swear, she went crazy last year.”

“What happened?” Aphmau asked, leaning forward slightly. She didn’t seem as anxious after talking for a bit. She was probably relieved that the Shadow Knights (plus you) didn’t actually do bad things. For the most part, at least.

You sighed, leaning back in the grass as you recalled the memories. “As you know, last year Laurance and I dated. I had a bunch of classes with him so we got really close.”

“Aren’t you a junior?” Zenix asked. You noticed he liked to pretend he wasn’t paying attention to anything, but the chances of him listening were higher than the chances of him not.

“I transferred from Scaleswind. The way their credit system is set up is different from here. Basically I already had a bunch of sophomore credits, I just needed freshman credits,” you explained, waving your hand to dismiss it. “Anyways. I had a bunch of classes with Laurance but Garroth was also in most of those classes. Guess who he ended up liking.”

Aphmau raised her eyebrows at you and you nodded, pressing your lips into a line. “I didn’t know until after Laurance and I started dating, though. I don’t think I would’ve found out either, but I did because Ivy kept leaving notes in my locker telling me to ‘stay away from her man because I have my own.’ She also recruited a bunch of other people to leave, uhm . . . colorful notes as well.”

There was a new one every day. Every day you would open your locker and a neon sticky note would be stuck to the door or slowly flutter to the ground. You’d kept them in a box while you were getting them, and you still had that box somewhere in your room buried deep beneath your bed. You didn’t know why you kept it.

“Wasn’t there also a rumor that you cheated on Laurance and got pregnant?” Gene asked. Aphmau’s eyes widened and she turned to Gene.

You inhaled sharply, having forgotten that detail. “Oh, my god. I forgot about that.” You stared off into space for a moment, blinking as you tried to remember anything else that happened because of that. “There were a lot of people saying I cheated on Laurance. Most of them were the girls obsessed with him trying to show that they were better options.”

“That’s terrible,” Aphmau said. You could tell she wanted to offer more words of comfort, but she didn’t know what else to say

You shrugged. “It’s why we broke up. We talked about it and agreed that being together only caused drama, so we ended it mutually.”

“I’m surprised he was so mature about that situation,” Sasha cut in. She was laying on her stomach, kicking her feet and rubbing her thumb over a long blade of grass she had pulled from the ground. Her shiny nails caught the last rays of sun as it set and sparkled. “I remember he hated conflict and confrontation when he was in the Shadow Knights.”

You nodded. “He still does. I think in that situation he just recognized how much it was hurting me, so we cut it off.” You nodded again. Silence enveloped the park, and you were left awkwardly flirting your gaze from person to person. “Enough about me, though! Someone else talk.”

Another second of silence passed. You drummed the tips of your fingers against your arm, waiting for someone to break it.

“Gene’s got his eyes on a girl,” Zenix blurted, jerking his head back to avoid the pebble Gene threw at him. Sasha laughed, readjusting so she seemed more at attention.

“Yeah, she’s all he talks about lately,” she teased.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Gene said, acting as if he hadn’t just thrown a rock at Zenix.

“You know. You spend a lot of time with her,” Zenix said, vaguely motioning. The interaction made you chuckle, and you and Aphmau simply watched.

Gene furrowed his brows, pointing to Sasha. “You’re not talk about Sasha, are you?”

Zenix hit Gene in the shoulder as Sasha scoffed. “It better not be me,” she said, though there was a knowing tone to her voice.

“Gene, don’t be an idiot.”

Gene held his hands up in defense. “She’s the only girl I hang around a lot.”

“Someone you’ve been hanging around a lot lately, stupid,” Zenix rolled his eyes.

“I still don’t know who you’re talking about,” Gene said. His tone indicated that he did know, however, and his reluctance to talk about or acknowledge it made you laugh.

You phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to look at the notification. It was your mom, who was calling you home because she needed a third opinion about a debate she was having with your dad and sister. You texted her back and pushed yourself to your feet.

“Alright. I’ve gotta go,” you said, lifting your arms above your head and stretching. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, kay?”

You were met with nonverbal responses. Aphmau nodded and Sasha waved up at you before going back to scrolling on her phone. Gene saluted, and his gaze followed you until you got into your car and drove away. He turned to Aphmau, his expression colder and more taunting.

“See?” Gene smiled at her, a mocking lilt to his tone. “We aren’t all that bad.”

“Around Y/n you’re not,” Aphmau said, though her voice was soft and timid. Now that you were gone her shoulders tensed again and that heavy pit in her stomach returned. “If I didn’t know better then I’d think you’re normal people.”

Gene hummed, amused. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a cigarette box. He reached into the other and pulled out a black and silver lighter. “We are perfectly normal, Y/n is just a little too sweet to be involved in everything we do.” Gene pulled one of the white sticks from the box and placed it between his lips. He cupped his hand around it, protecting the flame as he lit the cigarette.

“She doesn’t need to know everything anyway,” Zenix added, rolling his eyes as if it were common knowledge.

“Well she’s your friend, isn’t she?” Aphmau asked, her brows furrowed. She had bent her knees and had started holding them against her chest. “Don’t you think it’s . . . bad to not be yourself around her?”

Gene removed the cigarette from his lips and breathed the smoke out, waving Aphmau off. He balanced the stick of cancer (as you had so graciously called it) between his pointer and middle fingers. “She’s fine. She’s a tough girl with thick skin. Didn’t you hear her talking just now about Ivy and her little cohorts?”

“If she’s so tough then surely it’d be okay to tell her,” Aphmau mumbled. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Gene hearing her even try to fight him in any way was the last thing she wanted, but when Gene pinned her with a glare that could kill, goosebumps rose on Aphmau’s skin.

“Remember our deal,” Gene reminded, tauntingly tapping his finger against the phone that sat beside him in the grass. “You tell Y/n and I make sure everyone sees that picture.”

Aphmau swallowed. She nodded. She held Gene’s gaze for a moment, too scared to glance away but feeling smaller every second he kept looking at her. She thanked her lucky stars when she heard her mom calling for her.

“APHMAU! ¡VAMOS! ¡La cena estará fría cuando lleguemos a casa!”

Aphmau’s head turned so fast in the direction of her mom’s voice she heard it crack. She nodded. “Okay, mom! I’m coming!”

“You know Spanish?” Zenix asked as Aphmau scrambled to her feet. The girl quickly nodded and, not wanting to be pulled into any other conversation, bolted to where Sylvanna’s car was parked.

Aphmau nearly slammed the car door shut once she had settled into the passenger seat. It was something Sylvanna would’ve gotten onto her for if she hadn’t already been going on a tangent.

“I know you said you wanted me to give you privacy when you’re hanging out with friends, and I really tried, Aphmau, I really did. But I just had this feeling and I couldn’t stand the thought of my baby being hurt, so I went all around the park to find you. And then I saw you with that group and was relieved for a moment because you’re okay, but then you looked so uncomfortable and- Aphmau, those three aren’t troublemakers, are they?”

Aphmau instantly shook her head, reciting some of the script she had written for herself if her mom asked questions. “No, not at all. It was a . . . Just a long day! Yeah, I’m just, so exhausted, you know?” Aphmau laughed nervously, fanning herself with her hand and looking out the window.

“Okay . . . Anyways, your grandma decided to come over with empanadas, so for dinner we’re having that with the green salsa you like and- Is he smoking?” Sylvanna squinted, leaning over the center console in an attempt to get a better look at Gene, who was in fact smoking.

Panic coursed through Aphmau’s veins. She had never been good at lying, especially on the spot. “No! He just . . . Uh . . . He has asthma! That’s an inhaler.”

Aphmau laughed nervously again, leaning forward to pretend to scratch something on her leg in order to try and block her mother’s view. It was lucky that Gene had lowered the cigarette from his lips and turned so the puff of smoke wasn’t visible.

Sylvanna nodded, though she gave her daughter a suspicious glance before she started driving along. She had started talking again, but Aphmau wasn’t listening. She only caught a few stray words and figured it was something about her grandma asking about her father or asking how Aphmau was doing in the private school she was paying for.

And just when she had gotten out of the shower and was drying her hair, her phone buzzed. She flipped it so the screen was up, sighing when she saw the message.

She was in deep now.

first fic with the new color schemeeee idk do we like it

anyways chapters are gonna be slower to come out now but i hope you all are supplied with this because now we are getting INTO IT. with the way next chapter goes the stuff in this one might be irrelevant but trust it will be important later. little reminder that gene is an ass in pdh but y/n’s an “i can fix him” girl so she’ll fix him 🙂‍↕️

TAGGING: @garrothswiferealnotfake @wasting-away-on-the-internet @mellozhi @pushingdaisies1 @orinlin @luckygirldotgov @snowblossomsx @lucciluvr @oliemolliever @endo-bunny @purpledsun @angelhyperfixates

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[aro-of-argentum]

Red Dahlia- Chapter 8

WC: 5,045

Notes: Marcy is a good friend, Dick is losing his patience, Jason's been doing some light stalking bc hurt or not there is still feelings, Superman jumpscare, Jason gets into some ROUGH shape for this one, gore, confessions on death's door, reader handles some rather devastating injuries, Jason it high on pain meds for a minute, technically the miscomm isn’t solved, but they are in one another's presence once again. Things gotta get worse before they can get better. Friendly reminder that I am not a medical professional but I did my best.

Beta'd by: @teaspacebar

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Chapter 8:

The New Year came and went, and you still hadn’t heard from him. You’d stopped using the bracelet at this point, because he never answered anymore, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. You still couldn’t fathom what had happened that night, unsure as to how he could go from confessing his feelings for you to not speaking at all. There was one night you thought you’d seen him on your walk home from work, but it had been so fast you weren’t sure. You didn’t have “phone calls” on your way home from work anymore, and there were no more gifts appearing in your locker. A dark cloud hung over you for weeks that, to most of the world, you excused as simply being tired, but Marcy knew better.

“What happened?”

You shook your head, not in the place to have this conversation again, especially not as you were clocking out from a particularly rough shift. “Nothing, Marcy. I’m tired, I-”

“No. I’m calling bullshit. One day you’re the happiest little fish in the sea, you get a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers from secret boyfriend and avoiding even speaking to other men because you’re so happy. And then suddenly you’re depressed and you won’t talk to me about him anymore, so it has to be him. What. Happened.” The last two words of her rant she emphasized so it was clear you weren’t getting out of the conversation.

You sighed heavily and decided the best way to do this was going to be to simply rip the band-aid off. “We got into a fight, and I haven’t seen him in over a month.”

The first expression to cross Marcy’s face was shock, but it was quickly replaced by rage. “Excuse me?!” She shouted. At your shushing, her volume decreased when she repeated the question, “Excuse me? What do you mean it’s been over a month? Have you been giving the cold shoulder, or has he? What kind of argument even constitutes a month of radio silence? Does that just mean you’re broken up now? What the fuck?” The questions flowed from her faster than you were able to even process what she was saying.

“Look, I can explain everything, but I’m not going to do it here.” You wanted nothing more than to be home and in comfortable clothes. Maybe if you could get things off your chest and have a cry that you weren’t alone for, you might actually have a chance at feeling better. “Do you want to come over?”

“Sure, babes. I’ll drive.”

It took no time before the two of you were seated on your couch, facing each other, and Marcy pressed a cup of coffee into your hands. It was the black one with the Red Hood symbol on it that you’d found on your windowsill months ago, and you took it gratefully, though your heart ached at the sight of it.

“Tell me everything.” Marcy gave an encouraging nod as she spoke.

You sighed and took a moment to consider the best way to explain to your best friend the gist of what happened, without telling her that you’d never actually seen the man’s face before. “We got into a fight about whether we should be more public about us. He’s the one that brought it up, and I told him he didn’t have to do that because I know how much his life would change, but now I’m pretty sure he thinks that I want to keep hiding it like I’m ashamed of him or something. And I’m not! I just didn’t want him to think he had to just because of a stupid fucking comment I made, and-”

“What did you say to him?” Marcy interrupted with a cocked head; features all twisted with concern.

“I said-” You paused as you realized you couldn’t tell her the whole truth for this either. “I mentioned wanting to go out together, and I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I didn’t think he was going to change everything over some off-handed comment I made when I wasn’t thinking. I know this probably sounds incredibly stupid.”

Marcy listened intently as you explained, nodding along as you spoke. After you’d finished, she sat with her thoughts for a moment. “Did you ever think maybe he offered because he wanted to go public?”

Red Hood revealing his secret identity to you was never even on the table in your mind, so the idea that he might have pulled the mask off because he wanted you to know who he was seemed impossible. But he said he cared for you, so maybe it was never about you or the comment you made. Maybe he was being vulnerable with someone he trusted, and you’d squashed it by making him think you didn’t want to know.

Marcy could see you buffering. “You good?”

“I’m a fucking idiot, aren’t I?” By the end of your sentence, your head was hung in defeat and there were tears welling in your eyes.

“Mm, yes, but also,” She shook her head slightly, eyes squinted in a grimace. “Him not talking to you for a month over this? That’s insane if he has any expectation that you’re still together. You need to talk to him.”

“He’s not answering any of my calls, Marce.”

“Ugh, men.” She rolled her eyes as she continued, “Their egos get so fragile when their feelings are hurt.” She finally looked back at you and saw the tears running over your cheeks. “Oh, honey, no.” She set down her coffee and reached for you, scooching closer on the couch to hug you.

“I miss him.” You finally allowed yourself to admit it between shaky breaths.

Marcy squeezed you tighter and rubbed your back as she responded, “I know.”

-

“Would you just do it, please?” Jason’s request was a hushed shout as he argued with his brother.

“You’re getting sent away on a mission and this is what you’re worried about?” Dick questioned, tone matching that of the younger man. “I thought you two were done, why the hell are you asking me to keep an eye on her?”

Jason’s stare was answer enough. Dick knew he was too proud to say so out loud, but he was clearly still in love with you.

Jason huffed. “Just tell Tim she’s a target you’re tracking or something, I don’t care. As long as she’s alive, and okay, that’s all I need.”

“And you think making Tim break into the hospital’s timeclock system to see if she’s going to work every day is a reasonable request.” Dick seemed calm until he asked, “Are you insane?” He had to cross his arms to stop them from flailing as he spoke.

“Well, I’m not telling you where she lives, so checking on her there isn’t really an option, is it?” Jason cocked his head as though to emphasize having made a good point.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Sensing he was no longer on the offensive in this conversation, Jason recoiled slightly. “Yes?”

“I thought you said you hadn’t been responding on your little bracelet anymore.” His tone was laced with accusation. “I thought you said she wasn’t even using it anymore.”

“Right…”

“Oh ho! So, you’re stalking her.”

“I am not-”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re stalking her.” Dick interrupted Jason’s thought and continued before his little brother could jump in again. His patience was gone. “You blew up whatever your relationship was with her, and now for the last month you’ve been following her around without her knowledge or consent. That’s stalking.”

“I’m not-” He stopped himself when he saw the ‘I dare you’ look on Dick’s face. Jason chose a new sentence. “I did not fuck up my relationship, she rejected me. She didn’t want to know who I-”

“She was being considerate of you, you giant asshole!”

“What?”

“You told me that she said she didn’t want to fuck up your life. She was trying to make sure you weren’t just doing it for her!” Dick’s consciousness of his volume disappeared as his temper rose. “I have watched you be broody, and sullen, and a fucking prick about this for weeks because I thought you’d get your shit together eventually but no, why would Jason Todd have a full conversation with someone when he could just walk away and then be pissed at the world for the next three to five business years?”

Jason stood in silence, grinding his teeth together as his brother ranted, and once Dick was done, Jason turned and walked away from him.

Dick nodded knowingly, still fuming. “There it is.” He watched his younger brother exit the room before he shook his head and forced deep breaths to calm himself. It was around 20 minutes later that a text notification from Jason popped up on his phone.

“I will make time to talk to her when I get back.”

Dick responded, “I’ll look out for her while you’re gone.”

-

The drive to Metropolis was only a couple hours, and Jason found the time on the road to be helpful in sorting his thoughts. He knew Dick was right. Smug bastard. He would find time to talk to you, and actually listen this time, when he got back from this mission, but right now he needed to focus.

Once Jason was settled in his hotel room, well into the early hours of the morning, he texted Clark that he was in town and ready to meet. Superman appeared through the open balcony door a minute later.

Jason rolled his eyes at the theatrics of having a cape that flutters in the breeze, even when indoors. “How did you know what room I was in?”

“I did a scan of the building; you weren’t hard to find.” Clark looked around the room for a moment before asking, “Do you have all the gear you’ll need?”

Jason knew the man had x-ray vision, and therefore probably already knew the answer. “I thought I was just consulting on this for you.”

The other man nodded thoughtfully. “Bruce said if anyone could help it was you. Whatever information you have would be incredibly useful.”

“Sure,” He responded with a nod. “What do you need to know?”

Jason spent over two hours explaining everything he knew about the Gotham Underground, and who was currently running it. Occasionally, he answered specific questions, and asked some of his own. He discovered that the person Superman was going after was Morgan Edge, and Jason knew that his history with the man was why Bruce had sent him on this mission instead of one of the others. Edge, whom Jason had worked with on occasion during his crime-lord days, was the leader of Intergang; based in Metropolis, and attempting to make connections in Gotham to expand. If those bridges were stabilized, things could get so much worse for both cities. The pair put together a surveillance plan for Edge’s headquarters in Metropolis, and Jason put lines out to some of his old contacts in the Underground to see if any of them had useful information. By the time they wrapped up, the sun was rising.

The Kryptonian stretched with his arms over his head as he yawned, visibly Clark in the Superman costume when he asked, “Is this your normal schedule? Gosh, I’m beat.”

Jason nodded slightly. “This is the standard for almost the whole team in Gotham. I’m going to get some sleep, you should too. I’ll let you know if I hear back from any of my guys.”

“You got it boss,” Was the only thing Jason heard before the ‘woosh’ of Superman flying away.

Four days, lots of communication with Clark Kent, and a hefty room service bill on Bruce’s credit card later, Jason was getting his stuff packed up to head back to Gotham. He was supposed to meet up with one of his contacts who knew when and where Edge would be in Gotham and communicate that back to Clark. Then Superman would go in and take care of it, and Jason would be free to return to his regularly scheduled programming. He was nervous about the talk he knew he’d have to have with you. He was afraid to admit that he was wrong, but he was more afraid you wouldn’t accept his apology, or worse, wouldn’t see him at all after such a long time.

Jason used his drive hack to Gotham to plan what he’d say. He was distracted when he rendezvoused with his contact. He didn’t notice he’d been double-crossed and surrounded until it was too late to get out.

-

You sat on your couch, reading in an attempt to wind down before going to bed. Work had been uneventful, which was always a good thing, even if it meant you were bored, and your current at-home project was going well. You’d used your end-of-year bonus to purchase supplies to make more of the healing compound, but you’d also branched into a new experiment. The one thing Gotham General (and many hospitals) always seemed to need more of was blood. Some small adjustments to your original stem cell formula had yielded promising results for blood duplication in small amounts, and now you had a refrigerator shelf full of your own blood to start running tests. It could wait, though. Something felt off about tonight.

You took a sip of your water and nearly choked as your bracelet lit up for the first time in nearly five weeks. You put your glass down and for a moment you only stared. The thought crossed your mind to perhaps ignore it after so long of him ignoring you, but the feeling in your stomach twisted again. Something felt wrong. You tapped the disc, and it immediately started a rapid flashing. Was he already there? You twisted to view the map and found his dot on the other side of your building. “Why would he be over in-” On. Not in, you thought. You scoffed but slid your shoes on and tossed a jacket over your shoulders anyway and left your apartment to climb the roof access stairs. As you opened the door, the chill bit into the parts of your skin that were still exposed to the air.

“Did we have to do this in the snow, Red? You could’ve just come inside,” You grumbled the last bit more to yourself than out loud. As you scanned the roof from the doorway, you couldn’t see him. “Red?” The response you got was a pained groan, and when you turned to peek around the corner you saw him. Red Hood was on his knees and hunched over himself and bleeding. A lot. The noise you made was something akin to a strangled cry and your feet were moving before you realized. You fell to your knees in front of him. “Red? Hey, listen to me, can you hear me?” When you put your hands on the sides of his helmet and tilted his head up to you, you found the mask shattered on one side.

His exposed eye, the softest green, blinked slowly at you. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” His voice was weak and raspy as he exerted himself to speak, “I had to see you before-” A wet-sounding coughing fit interrupted him, and you saw more blood pulse from the multiple wounds in his torso.

“Fuck, no, you can’t do this-” Tears you hadn’t noticed before began to roll down your face.

He reached a gloved hand up to your face, making careful eye contact with you the entire time. When the material made contact with your skin it was warm and wet, but you pressed your cheek into his hold anyway. The eye you could see watered as he spoke, “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

At that your wits came back to you, and your body and mind went into crisis control. “No, I don’t need that. I need you to stand up, come on.” You nearly begged as you stood up and attempted to pull him with you. He complied as best he was able, and you shouldered most of his weight as the pair of you shuffled toward the door to get back inside. “Red, come on, I can’t lose you, please.” When you reached the stairs, you put him between you and the wall and used every bit of your strength to catch him each time he slipped a step.

“Y/n, stop.”

“No.” You snapped, “We’re almost there, it’s just a little farther.” The walk to your front door was easier than the stairs, but you were still almost dragging him by the time you got to the end of the hallway. Getting your door open was a struggle, but you managed to keep the man upright just long enough to get him inside. As soon as the door was closed, he slumped off your back. “Okay, come on.” You dragged him to the center of the floor behind the couch and ran to get your kit. When you returned, you found his breathing shallow, and labored, and he was shivering. “Shit.”

“Doesn’t look too good, does it?” He wheezed.

“Shut up, Red.” You snatched gauze from the kit, suddenly incredibly thankful you’d remembered to restock on supplies weeks ago, and began packing it into the hole in his left thigh. He seethed in pain, but you ignored it and moved to look at his chest and stomach. His armor was full of dents and was punctured in three places. “I can’t cut this,” you realized aloud, and Red moved to put his arms above his head. You pulled the shirt off of him, struggling a bit around the helmet, and while you had his back off the ground slightly, you checked for exit wounds. You found two. You were quick to pack the two wounds in his left side, finding that neither had gone through any of his organs. The third was in his left shoulder, and you knew the bullet was still inside. You took a shaky breath. “There’s one still inside your shoulder.”

“What?” There was clear panic in his voice.

“Don’t scream.”

When you dug into his shoulder, he let out a brief yell through gnashed teeth before his eye rolled back and he passed out. You kept searching, and finally found the bullet. You pulled it out as carefully as you could and set it aside to start packing the cavity. Once he wasn’t actively bleeding anymore, you rushed to pull blood from the fridge and dropped several of the small bags onto the warming plate on the counter. While you waited for it to heat up, you returned to the man on your floor. You knew you had to check for a head injury, because something had hit him hard enough to shatter the helmet, so you reached for the release buttons and pulled it off of him. He had a small gash in the side of his head that started at his temple and went into his hair line but looked otherwise okay. You allowed yourself a single moment of relief as you realized he was still breathing and wasn’t going to get any worse. You could save him. Your thumb ran gently over his cheekbone where you still cradled his cheek, mirroring where you knew you still had a bloody handprint on your own face. “Hello, Jason.”

Setting up for the transfusion was fast because you’d done it so many times, and despite the blood loss and the cold, it was easy for you to find a vein. You set the warmed bag on the counter so gravity would push the blood through the flushed tubing as you began to work in other areas. You had to cut open Jason’s pant leg to have better access to the wound but were able to stitch everything back together fairly easily, applying the compound as you went. The two in the side of his stomach were harder because he kept twitching every time you touched him, and the wound in his shoulder was easily closed once you determined the bullet hadn’t clipped any bones.

-

Jason attempted a deep breath as he began to wake up but found that he couldn’t. He had a vague sensation of someone touching his face and scrunched his nose and eyebrows together.

“Red, stop moving.” The voice sounded far away but felt familiar.

He attempted to pull his head away but didn’t make it very far before he ran into something hard behind him. “Ow.”

“That’s why I told you to stop moving.” He could hear it a little clearer now, though that also meant the ringing in his ears was clearer too.

The turn of his head brought a sigh that he swore he recognized.

“Jason, baby, please stop moving, I’m almost done.”

“Mm,” He hummed in acknowledgement as a small smile crossed his face. It was you. “I like when you say my name like that.” He opened his eyes slowly and saw an only slightly blurry version of you there with your head cocked, staring at him. “You’re so pretty.”

You shook your head. The painkillers were definitely working. “Okay. Can you stand?”

He hummed as he took a moment to think. “I need help,” he whined with a pout on his lips, and you had to stifle the chuckle at the sight of a man so large acting like a child.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” You moved to his left side knowing it would be harder for him to put weight there. When he began to rise, you shouldered as much of his weight as you could, careful not to grip anywhere with fresh stitching, and the two of you found a balance. “You ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” you answered, pointing to the open door just across the room.

You kept a careful eye on him as you began to move, trying to determine if his expression was one of focus or discomfort, though you assumed it was probably both. You also kept track of each step, watching how his weight and balance shifted as he walked. The shuffle to your bedroom was slow, but eventually the pair of you made it, and when you laid Jason down, you found him sweating and panting from the exertion. Once he was situated in an okay position, rolled partially on his right side with pillows for support, and the last of the blood bags on the headboard, you tried to pull away and found yourself stuck.

Jason hadn’t let go of you, and when he brought his right hand up to touch your face, he found himself confused. “…Feels so real.”

The tired skepticism in his voice as he rubbed your cheek made you snort a laugh. “I am real.”

Jasons made his best attempt at shaking his head as he released you and closed his eyes to think. “No, I hit my head real hard, and now I can’t feel the left side of my body, so I’m definitely dying.” He scrunched his face again. “I fucked up too bad for you to really be here.”

Your heart twinged with pain at his words, and you put down the now empty syringe to lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. “Go to sleep Jay, we’ll talk about it later.”

He barely bobbed his head in a nod before you saw his face relax again; the anesthetics you’d given him taking effect. You took a moment to finish applying a bandage to his face before looking back over his entire body. He was covered in bruises that were already deep shades of black and blue, but his pulse was steady and getting stronger, his breaths were sounding better, though still shallow, and the blood in his mouth had been from his nose, not an internal issue. He was already clotting up under the bandages, the compound well on its way to working, and he was taking well to the transfusions. He needed time, but he was going to be okay. You found that you had to keep repeating it to yourself. You needed him to be okay.

-

The next time Jason woke up it was slower, and everything hurt. He groaned, and tried to adjust, finding that when he attempted to move his arms, there was something wrapped up in them; someone. He froze, doing everything he could to recall what had happened. He’d been ambushed by Edge’s men. He was dying, and he knew that, but he needed to see you. Selfish asshole. He pushed the thought away to continue running through the events of the night. He’d found you, and you’d brought him inside. You’d been patching him up- Was he still there with you?

“Jay?”

He heard your voice from above his head, and though you spoke so softly, the noise still set off a pounding in his brain.

“Do you need more pain meds?”

Everything hurt. He let out another groan of pain and nodded. When he felt you begin to move out of his grasp though, he stopped you.

“I need to get out of bed to get you drugs.”

“Mm nm” He hummed in disapproval and pulled you back into him by your waist, burying his face in your chest. A happy sigh escaped his chest when he felt your fingers begin carding through his hair, and he snuggled ever closer.

You let out a soft chuckle. Such a big baby. “Jason, let me get you meds, you’ll feel better.” He let out a frustrated grunt, but eventually released you, allowing you to get out of bed. You returned only a moment later with another syringe in your hand. “You’re going to go back to sleep, okay?” You let him know as you emptied the fluid into the other port on his transfusion line. He nodded, and though it took a couple of minutes, you eventually saw him relax again.

You decided now was as good a time as any to answer the dozens of texts and calls you’d been getting from Marcy, so you grabbed your phone off the nightstand and went to the living room, closing the bedroom door on your way. You knew she was at work, but it only took one ring before she answered.

 “Y/n?” Her voice was panicked.

 “Hey Marcy.”

“Don’t you “hey Marcy” me. What the hell is going on? Are you okay?” Her tone shifted from worry to anger. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering my calls? We all got an email this morning saying the hospital needed coverage for all of your shifts for the next two weeks and claimed you had a family emergency.” You heard a door open somewhere nearby her and Marcy continued her rant in a hushed voice. “But I know you don’t have any family so What. The. Fuck?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I promise I will explain everything to you later when shit settles down. It’s a very long story, and I promise I will take you out to lunch and walk you through the whole thing, but right now I need some time off and for you to just trust me.”

“So now there’s secrets and- oh,” She cut herself off and you could almost hear it when she put the puzzle together about the only other time you’d kept secrets from her lately. “Something happened with the boyfriend.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Yeah… and um,” You took a deep breath as tears you weren’t expecting rushed into your eyes. “He’s fine now, but he really wasn’t for a while. He uh- he’s going to be fine; I promise I’ll explain later.”

“Okay,” She sighed the word through her end of the phone. “I love you. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

You nodded though you knew she couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I love you too. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, babes.”

You hung up the phone and dropped yourself onto the couch and for the first time since Red had shown up last night, you let yourself cry. The release helped to clear your mind enough to actually fill out the leave of absence paperwork you’d been sent after your frantic early morning call to your boss begging for time off. You asked for 2 weeks initially, pending condition changes, and you knew it would be approved because your boss had suggested at least that amount.

The next thing to be done was cleaning. A lot of it. There was blood dried into your floors and bloody articles of clothing and bandages everywhere. It took well over an hour to bleach and scour everything down so it no longer looked like a crime scene, and you stashed the destroyed pieces of the Red Hood uniform in a duffle bag and dropped it on the floor in the hallway closet. You’d ask Jason what he wanted to do with it later.

You also needed a shower. Desperately. You’d wiped off your face earlier, but there was blood in your hair and all over your skin and clothes. You scrubbed everything as much as you could with a stain remover before throwing it all in the wash, then went to clean yourself up too. Jason stayed asleep through all of it. He’d need more blood soon, and you were out of your reserves. The decision to draw more from yourself was an easy one. You’d do it as soon as you were clean. You were so happy he was alive, but you knew you needed to talk to him. About what happened, about who he was, about how to proceed. You did your best not to think about it, trying to avoid making any assumptions until you could actually have the conversation with him about everything. The last thing you wanted was to fuck this all up again because you assumed you knew what he was thinking. You just got him back; you couldn’t lose him again.

Taglist: @4rachn3, @lettucel0ver

[stickyspeckledlight]

Tidal Cesspool [Yan!Chrollo x GN!Reader]

Chrollo brings up your favorite literary genre in a typical conversation.

WC: 3.6k

Tags: n0nc0n mention (chrollo hasn't done anything yet, but there's...there's just a VERY brief mention), potentially a bit OOC *sweat*, not beta read whatsoever, borderline crack at the end

Note: Ngl I think there's an ask which covers this crack scenario. However I can’t find it but this silly lil thought was still plaguing me so here we go. If I’m not hallucinating, then don’t fault me for the “plagiarism…on accident [which I will fix immediately]” (Somerton, 2020). IF anyone knows abt such an ask then pls put it in the reblogs. Anyways this wasn't necessary I just wanted to put in a plagiarism joke before the fic starts lel

Anyway here's chrollo being a pretentious shithead who should just go and die or something (ngl sometimes i can't help but think he's shalnark expect he tries to pretend to be a gentleman lol).

enjoy my yandere comedy piece <3 xoxoxoxoxo

There is something inane to the way you stare up at the ceiling. You're sprawled over the couch like a sea star, waiting for the tide to come take you.

However, the air continues to waft over you. Continues to prick at your skin, tangling your hair and stinging your eyes.

But you're stuck to your rock. You can't move from your tide pool to the nearshore, much less the deepest of depths, even if you wanted to.

It's not because of your own attachment to the rock walls, however. Rather...

"Deep in contemplation again, love?"

A hand keeps you pressed and trapped against it; a hand that currently runs down the leather spine of a book that you think he's been going through for about a week. Probably about this or that; but most likely, a word salad of pretentious philosophy he’ll use to justify his usual fatalism and/or the Troupe’s actions. Taking after his name (which you’re convinced he must’ve chosen for himself), he does play the devil’s advocate well; but you’d say his ability to twist words to suit his own needs is much, much more impressive. And annoying. But begrudgingly, impressive all the same.

You only wish you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

Chrollo regards you with a patient smile. Joy doesn’t reach his eyes—even if he was capable of such an emotion, he’s irritatingly good at concealing his emotions—but he can never fully mask the hunger that crinkles his eyes; crinkles, like a wolf’s snout, right before it tears into prey. It's the only reason you believe in his insistence that you're of some interest to him. You don't believe in that interest being 'love,' as he likes to say, but you're wholly assured in being a passing, if not intense, interest. Like being enamored with a new show, movie, or game; for a bit, it'll be all your life is defined by, etched into the sand, but eventually, the tide will come back and wash it away like it was never there in the first place. Only truly precious things can be engraved in rock, after all.

For him, only the Troupe is engraved there. And you'd be a fool to think you would be there, too.

The couch shifts. Chrollo's closer to you, his hand barely a pace away from the edges of your hair. Though it tries to beckon, you only ever feel repulsed by it.

...That said, if you only try to delay the inevitable, the inevitable will become much, much worse. And if he gets in a bad enough mood, he might suction you to his chest come nightfall, rather than his usual trick of the room's temperature coincidentally dropping to where cozying up to his warm body would be nice. Well, nice, if you disregard the fact that it's Chrollo's body, and not someone you actually like.

You roll over with a grimace, looking up at him from where you lay. You don't bother to sit with him eye to eye yet, and soon enough, you look straight ahead. All you see are his legs and the rest of the couch.

"And I thought you were deep into that book," you unenthusiastically respond, tracing patterns into the cushions.

“Quite,” he admits, “But few things match your level of salience.”

Salience? Really? “What’s with you and talking like a book? Talk like a person, please.”

“But you understood what I meant,” he breezily counters, “Seeing as you are my only present company, it follows that in this rhetorical situation, I need only ensure that you understand me, love. And in that, I have succeeded.”

You frown, “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Not this again.” You would normally bury your face in your hands, but given your position, you bury it in the couches. Sure, he’s technically not wrong, but goddamnit if it doesn’t annoy you. You thought hearing stuff like that was far behind you, with the completion of your required writing and communication classes all the way back in college…

“You’re admonishing me, yet here you are taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Says the guy whose last name is a letter off from Lucifer. Shouldn’t you be alight with exuberance?” You suppress a sneer at your own mocking mimicry.

“I never claimed any moral superiority before, though. I’m only stating facts, love,” the book is set down on the couch, next to your head. His hand inches closer. It’s a sign for you to get up.

As you rise, he continues.

“If you have complaints about my language, then you should watch your own…that’s all I’m trying to say, love. I'm not contradicting myself.”

You grumble. “I’m only saying you should talk more…casually. More normally. Swearing is a part of that.”

“Ah, but I am speaking to you like that,” Chrollo tips his head, “Casual and normal are both subjective. No two people will have the same definition of them. My and your speech are wholly normal, both from our perspectives.”

“Not from my perspective. You've always been a weirdo.”

He challenges, “Even if I cared about what was ‘normal’ or not,” his fingers entwine with yours, despite everything, “I wouldn't call your situation...normal. Do you think 'normal' applies here?"

Now he's just deliberately pushing your buttons. Raving on from some weird, philosophical ledge, twisting out technicalities to craft arguments the average sociologist would drool over. Maybe you could appreciate it more if you were the academic type, but you were never really interested in that scene. Most of what those types talk about just seem too abstract, too pedantic (pretentious) to be of any use at all. Whenever you'd overheard some of the sociology majors (either kids with no idea what they wanted to do, or kids with parents too rich to let them fail---though, that's not to discredit the kids with a loose screw or two. You actually like those kids, but those kids also talked normally), you'd end up scoffing to yourself and rolling your eyes. You swear that those kids were doing everything in their power to use as many big, weird nobody-could-find-anywhere-besides-the-annals-of-a-dictionary words as possible to describe something that could be more easily described as "power activate many monkeh brain, so monkeh fight."

It's exhausting, and you want him to stop. At least---at least stop pretending that there's some sort of deep meaning to be twisted from this, and not just what the situation really is: "an obsessive psychopath kidnapped and imprisoned you and is trying to make you obsessive for him too."

"Whatever," you mumble, already drained. It's not a response; your response would've been begrudging agreement, followed by you sulking and him preening (even though he never seems to have to try too hard to win an argument against you; but you think it's just because he likes the overwhelming power and 'superiority' he holds over you).

No, you just want him to shut up. In an ideal world, his mouth is either sewn shut, or its not there at all. Actually, the latter would be truly ideal, because if that were the case, he would've died from dehydration hours after leaving the womb.

But, that's wishful thinking. Even when he has you stuck against sharp rock, he never resists the urge to twist his palm, grinding you impossibly closer to it.

"So you don't care about what's normal or not after all?" Chrollo muses. You bristle as his grip firms up. As you feel sharp rock edge on puncturing your skin. "That's a curious change of heart."

You groan, "Chrollo---" you swear he glows "---it doesn't matter. You can talk like some sort of cult member or something for all I care. Just because I'm annoyed at your weird pretentious hoity toity thing doesn't mean you'll stop it, considering the circumstances." You feel even more heated, and take a deep breath to try and quell it. A bit of shame creeps up your cheeks regardless, though. You're getting worked up for the worst reason. Even if Chrollo egged it on, even if you hate him, even if you're just lonely and want to di---you're getting worked up over so, so, so little. "Just...just chill out or something, man."

(Or is that just his manipulation creeping into your thoughts?)

"But it's indicative all the same," He hums. His smile has dropped, leaving behind the blank expression wholly characteristic of him (the only expression that looks like it belongs). Now, he did little to hide his observation. He prowls out in the open, right below the overhead sun. Perhaps it's a contradiction, given his profession, but you understand it as sheer, almost lackadaisical confidence. "If you're able to drop your conviction so easily, even for something as small as this," his hand raises so he can rest his chin on it, leaning forward in thought. He does not let go of your hand. "Then it stands to reason you could drop the conviction that has you refusing me."

You don't mention Chrollo's many, prior claims that you'd give into him, eventually. There's no need to, because from the look in his eyes, you're both thinking about those exact same claims. A futile pursuit, he called it.

And you know? It's true.

But if you've gone this far with futility, then there's no reason to not indulge in it for as long as you can.

"Just because I get annoyed with your conversational meandering doesn't mean I'll just suddenly get all kissy wissy with you," you snap.

"You're getting caught up on the macroscopic level. Today was just a microscopic display, no?"

Despite yourself, you feel heat returning to your cheeks. To your heart. Your whole body, really.

"As if. There's nothing redeemable about these circumstances."

He'll probably cheekily mention your use of room service, curling into the luxurious bedsheets---things like that. Expected things. Actually, things that have already happened, because he really likes mentioning that. It serves its purpose of pissing you off.

He doesn't say any of that, though.

"Are you sure?" he raises an eyebrow, "I was sure you’d enjoy this kind of situation."

Anger spikes in your heart. You realize in the back of your mind its bait, that he's trying to draw out this exact reaction, but emotion already courses through you. Maybe it's because you're so shocked that he didn't go the route you were expecting---or, or---

"Me? Enjoy?" You bitterly laugh, because what else can you do in front of such sheer audacity? "Wh-what," you sardonically chortle, "The kidnapping? Losing my friends, my family---my life?!" And oh, oh no, tears bead at the edges of your eyes--- "How you---how you force me to be with you, to---to kiss you---" the words are hissed, "just so you don't massacre the people I actually care about?! And---and even then," you swallow a lump, unpleasant scenes of sufferance and cruelty unwillingly passing through your mind, "You'll just kill other people anyway?! Steal, plunder, kill, massacre---" your mouth runs with words now; your mind feels too white, too raging hot to string together coherent sentences---

And Chrollo wears that patient fucking smile.

“Love,” he blinks languidly, fluttering his eyelashes, “Are you sure you aren’t lying to yourself?”

"Why would I be lying?!" You snap. Your hand now has a vice grip on Chrollo's, which he simply responds to by drawing circles on it with his thumb. It only incenses you more. "What, annoyed that I can't be your happy little doll of your fucking fantasies and, and---"

For the first time, a chuckle rumbles in of his chest. Somehow, it makes you freeze. It sends a shudder up your spine, and though you still shake with unreleased anger, it's forcibly tempered. It shouldn't be. Chrollo laughs during your conversations often. Before everything went to hell, he'd laugh with and for you. After everything went to hell, he laughs at you. Nothing boastful, of course; Chrollo's a reserved man to the greatest extreme. But it's always small. A slight rumble through his chest, a huff accompanied by a smile, and a chuckle in his throat. They're much different than the laughs with or for you---sometimes they were chuckles with a smile ear-to-ear, or even boyish giggles---but they ARE the closest thing to 'genuine' you think you'll ever be able to get with him. You hate them, but you've developed some defense mechanisms against them. They don't happen often, but when they do, you tend to be able to largely ignore them.

But what's so different about this laugh? You don't know, but something about it feels meticulous and planned. It feels---

It reminds you of the day he took you. It reminds you of all the times you've unwittingly sprung a trap.

Now that you think about it, Chrollo's smiled more in this conversation then he has in entire weeks.

"You used to ask me what kinds of books I read," Chrollo calmly starts, lifting his head to raise his book up. You did, but ever since that fateful day a few weeks ago, you haven't bothered.

"And?" You spit.

"Aren't you still curious?" There's a twinkle in his eye. It tells you that there's no choice but to be curious.

You don't want to take it. You're not going to give him the clean segway he surely wants. If not, prefers.

"No," you sneer, "I've got no interest in what a murderer likes to read. Like I said, if you want some nice little doll, go somewhere else."

"If I wanted a doll, I'd have killed and displayed you somewhere," he flippantly replies. You don't think he's serious (you think maybe it's a joke, as cruel as it is), but you can't tell at all. "What I want is you."

"Oh, so then, the 'me' you want is one locked up and currently miserable?"

"You catch on quickly," he teases. He chuckles at the glower you give him.

You think you're bleeding from the sharp rock.

"Since we both understand this, then you should know I love nothing more than some conversation, darling," Chrollo sweetly says. Sweetly, as in a weird, perverted approximation of it. You would've fallen for it before, but you don't anymore. Can't, anymore. "You haven't engaged with my interests for a good while. It worries me about the state of our relationship. Don't you think so?"

He delivers the word lightly, like a soft spring breeze, but the subtle threat doesn't go unnoticed. You like you're being plunged into sharp rock directly, now. Like you're being placed on a series of pikes.

"Ok, ok, ok," you breathe---you still want to scream, but maybe Chrollo's patience has started to wear, and maybe if you don't play along with his stupid little game, maybe he'll do something to you you'll really, really hate. Even more than being spooned by him in your sleep. "What are you reading? ...Chrollo."

Chrollo regards the tome in his hands almost tenderly. Almost dearly. Like a treasure. A priceless one, even, and not just something to admire before pawning to the highest bidder.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" He offers it toward your bloody, pinned hands.

You gingerly accept it, and when you do, he finally lets go of your hand. The tide still hasn't come for you.

You start to read. But you quickly notice...perplexing things. The language seems too...too normal, too casual. Not the sort of thing you'd expect to be printed in this sort of fancy leatherbound book. It's not bad, of course. The prose is solid, the imagery magical, and the dialogue vivid; but it's just so...understandable. And familiar, but you can't quite place your finger on it.

Then you come a name, and you swear you've just lost a good 10 years of your life.

“What…” a cold sweat forms on your back. Should you laugh? Should you cry? Should you rage? What are you supposed to do but ask? What CAN you do but ask? When this whole conversation---when you've been put on edge over this fuc---

“Shal has a way of tracking down info even I can't match,” he explains, running his hand over the paper, “Before his help, I never would’ve thought…” his eyes lock onto yours with a devious grin, “You had this…interest. It was a pleasant surprise."

You want to scream. You'd love nothing more than to take his head and slam it into the ground over and over---you'd love nothing more than to scream into the couch and flail your arms and legs with revulsion---you'd love nothing more than to laugh until you're blue and choking.

"H-how," you choke, "The book. And just. This. How'd you---how'd?"

"I went to a bookbinder," he explains. "I'm quite happy with the results. It was worth every single jenny I spent."

Your eyes are wide. "...How long? How long did you know?"

"Long enough."

You're too mortified to be properly offended by the non-answer.

The bastard went to a bookbinder so he could physically behold the copious amounts of yandere fanfiction you consume.

You look over at him helplessly.

"It's a fairly niche genre," he explains, like you aren't currently going through the five stages of grief, "But above all, fascinating."

Someone should just kill you.

"You've been so resistant to loving me because I stole you away. Yet, for years, you've taken escapism in these narratives of the unwilling 'darling' and doting lover."

Doting lover? That's what Chrollo is using to describe the person who imprisons? Who quashes any semblance of individuality out of a person whose only crime was being loved by the wrong person?

The leans in. "Rather than being my fantasy, don't you think you're the one living out a fantasy? I certainly never fantasized about this, at least not until I decided to take you on as my lover."

"N-no," you weakly defend.

"No?" He hums, "But there's everything. You, unsuspecting of a charming man, who eventually betrays your trust to whisk you away. And yes, you fight. But...you aren't truly threatened. You are surrounded by all manner of luxury---even if you say you don't like it."

"Don't tell me you can't differentiate fiction from reality," you stammer. "Why the fuck do you think just because I read about it meant I actually wanted it?"

"I didn't," he admits, "How long do you think I've had this book anyway?"

...A week or so, you think. After he took you. But he could've read a ton beforehand and only had his favorites binded. You just glare up at him in lieu of an answer.

"It doesn't matter," you raise your hands and let them fall unceremoniously, "The fact that you've read all of this makes everything worse. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised given the whole murdering thief thing, but I'll never not be surprised at just how depraved a man you really are."

"Depraved?" He smirks. That's not a good sign. "Darling," he pointedly says, "I'm not sure how much more depraved I can be than someone who gets raped vicariously through transformative fiction."

Humiliation punches you in the gut.

You choke. "If---if you---" you feel heat rise to your eyes, "You don't let me even have silly little secrets," you helplessly breathe, unable to say anything but the first thing that came to your mind when you read that damning name, "You can't let me have anything of my own."

"Not necessarily. You possess a portion of my heart." A lesser half than the one belonging to the Spider, you'd bet.

"And I'd be happy to relinquish it."

"It really does put a lot of things in perspective," Chrollo ignores you, attention turning back to the accursed book you have half a mind to tear, "How, sometimes," his eyes become lidded, "There's a small part of you that wants to give into me."

"Bullshit," you spit, reflexive more than anything, "A bunch of stupid fanfiction doesn't tell you shit about me."

"Clothes maketh the man, as they say. I imagine a similar principle applies to fiction."

"Have you even heard of---" you bite your lip, "Well, sometimes really good people read stuff that isn't deemed good or vice versa. I hear there was an artist who painted lots of cottages, but was a horrid drunk in real life. My favored sorts of stories doesn't inform my desires, and with you, I desire to skedaddle and never see your face ever again."

"Your most common tag is Stockholm Syndrome." He hums. "Say what you will; about the barrier between fiction and reality, but it tells me that, at least, a small part of you is...receptive."

You groan. "You do realize you sound like some weirdo pearl clutcher with that line of logic, right?"

"I'm not speaking in absolutes, love," he preens, "Merely that it's not remiss to consider you have some semblance of an agreeable predisposition to all of this."

"You---you're just," you want to scream, you want to tear out your eyes and ears and--- "fucking delusional and I---"

You don't realize you're heaving until a hand is placed on your shoulder. The ice it sends down your spine is enough to freeze over the fire of rage, embarrassment, and humiliation fueling you.

"Often, when people read," he begins, "They envision themselves as the perspective character while they do so. They try to feel what they do, and think as they do. Given the genre's heavy use of the second-person perspective, it's safe to say you were able to do that with ease."

"So, if that's the case..." he doesn't smile, not anymore, because there's just no need,

"Why don't you start eroding that barrier?"

It's going to be a long time before the tide comes back, you think. Until it does, you've nowhere but this cesspool.

ㅤㅤ Works Cited

Hbomberguy. “Plagiarism and You(Tube).”

Youtube, 2 Dec. 2023, youtu.be/yDp3cB5fHXQ?si=KsUuykgb8Xswn_he. Accessed 26 Mar. 2025.

Somerton, James. “James Somerton Stream .”

Youtube, 11 Dec. 2022, cant.be/botheredto?si=findlinkonwaybackmachine.. (qtd. in. Hbomberguy, Plagiarism and You(Tube)) .

plagarism joke after the fic 🔥

(it'll be off on mobile i think RIP)

im tired so i'll post it but tbh i might go back and edit this fic lmao

[zombeikid]

Laimar Brain Rot pt 2.

On to part two! Thanks a lot tumblr!

The reason I think it's sexual attraction rather than just Marcille being able to turn Falin into a monster and translating it over is... Laios plays with his sword the whole time. He doesn't unsheathe it until after she begins to tempt him. He's then passing it back and forth between his hands the entire conversation. It's the only point in the entire manga we see him be this nervous. Also she delicately holds his chin and then leans down to lick him. I'm sorry but that's not something friends do to friends or want their friends to do to them. That said, I'm not sure how much Laios even realizes his crush. He has more important shit to deal with. And of course Marcille is pretty.. Senshi is handsome, right? Just normal friend thoughts. H'okay so, another point I want to bring up is the Lion's attempts to twist Laios' desires. The succubus was our first taste of something understanding desire but not understanding the complexity and context of those desires. Laios desires Marcille's smile.. Because it makes him feel comforted that everything will be okay. Out of context, it probably feels more like the people who scammed them. Laios seems to desire Marcille's hair being down, for whatever reason. (Dark magic is hot. I don't blame him.) So the Lion eats her desire to do her hair. This is a two-fold play to some degree. We know Marcille's hair is important to her so her desire to keep it presentable was probably very tasty. I also think he was trying to cultivate Laios' desires.

The biggest Laimar shipper is the Lion tbh. I think he wanted them to rule together as a pseudo lord and lady of the dungeon. He even says as much during his dream talk with Laios. I personally think he was trying to exacerbate Laios' budding crush, to grow that desire so he could eventually consume it in the future. Do I think the Lion planted the seeds? No. Do I think the Lion was happy to spread some fertilizer to speed up it's growth? Yes. Yes I do. I also think this is where the whole giving kids to Marcille in Laios' body line comes in. Of everyone in the party, Laios is the only one who really comments on her infertility. We never see how Laios feels about the idea of having children beyond those two scenes. On one hand, it could be traditional views of thinking women want children but on the other hand, it could be Laios wanting to have children with Marcille. I read it as some combination of both. I've always viewed Laios as someone who would be open to other ways of thinking but he's just never been exposed to it really. He doesn't seem phased by the orcs having multiple wives after all. I also think he would try to logic himself into why Marcille would be a good mother. She's smart, and kind, and brave, and pretty, and also very hard-working. I can see him being like yeah idk she just seems like the most logical option I am not in love with her. Nope.

Next post will be about Marcille!

[faithhearted]

Even the sensation of his thumb tenderly grazing her inner wrist was enough to rob her of breath. Edwina hoped she wasn’t so dreadfully obvious in her longing for his affection, but knew better to think he wasn’t entirely aware of how she so clearly cherished any act of fondness he was willing to give. No. Surely, she appeared pathetically desperate, especially after he’d finally bedded her. But, God, she couldn’t deny that she wanted him, that she wanted his love and approval, no matter how often he’d hurt her. How terribly pitiful indeed.

He thanked her for her admittance, his hot breath warming her cheeks as she stared at him. Her heart was full. Even more so when she revealed her secret to him. It liberated her, in a way. And knowing that Ben would be the only one that kept this secret, and she his was enough to sate her.

“I would like to follow in your sister’s example.” he admitted, “Clearly, Kate was quick to discover what it means to love you… Though I should hope it won’t take something so drastic to affirm this to my heart.”

“You should know, Benjamin…” Edwina’s gaze fell to their still intertwined hands as she felt the need to lightly squeeze, “I do not expect you to fall in love with me. I’m not fool…”

She paused a moment, saddened by the thought that he might never be in love with her. In that likely case, friendship would have to suffice, and even though it wasn’t ideal, she could certainly live with that. It wasn’t far more appealing than the distance that had existed between them up until this point.

You’ll be happier when you have children, her mother had assured her in a recent letter. Children bring happiness even to the most loveless of marriages. They will be your light and reason.

As much as she’d always dreamed of having a large family, Edwina could only hope her mother spoke the truth.

“Did you have any friends growing up? I would like to meet them — and…I would like you to meet my friends, as well. Caleb, you know, but Abraham and Anna, you do not.”

“I’m afraid I must disappoint you,” she answered sheepishly, adding an ‘again’ in her head. I have very few friends with whom I’ve maintained contact. I do still correspond with one or two. Peggy Shippen is a lovely woman, but we’ve grown less close when the war began. She and her family are Loyalists. I do still hear from Daphne Basset every so often. She’s had her hands full with four children and one on the way. Her husband has a seat in Congress, so their lives have become quite busy.”

Fearing she was proving to be nothing but a disappointment, Edwina shifted the conversation back to his friends.

“Caleb has mentioned Abraham and Anna a few times in his tales. He’s a rather talented storyteller, albeit one for embellishment, I’m sure.”

It was better if Benjamin was the one doing the talking now. His past, after all, was far richer than hers.

“I’m eager to meet them…” briefly, she hesitated before mustering the courage to add, “And if you’d allow it…I’d like to meet your Katherine too.”

Her whispered "Always" came as a bit of a surprise. Although Benjamin knew Edwina was devoted to being a good wife, the idea was still so unfathomable to him, and most especially when he didn't deserve her patience and grace.

He moved to ask her why -- why me? Why do you forgive what I've done? -- but the words died on his lips when her hand came to cup his face, careful and gently stroking.

Swallowing, he caught her wandering touch in his, then cautiously anchored her palm to his cheek. It seemed unfathomable that he needed to tread so carefully with his own wife, but he genuinely feared hurting her and returning her to a state of wide-eyed, teary sorrow. With his thumb stroking along her inner wrist, he thought of pressing a kiss to her palm, but ultimately refrained. Despite all they'd shared, it somehow felt far too intimate.

Finally, Edwina processed his request, and her lips quirked into a baffled little grin.

Benjamin couldn't recall ever having seen her smile before -- but then, had he ever truly looked?

Before he could tell her she looked beautiful like that -- natural, unbothered, at peace -- she squeezed his hand and praised, “That’s beautiful, Benjamin. Truly… Thank you for sharing it with me.” 

With a self-conscious little smile, he dipped his head by way of answer. In that moment, he didn't trust his words.

“Samuel told me much about Susannah in his letters. You both clearly love her very much and I’m certain she’d…” The hesitation was palpable before she barreled on, “That they…would be extremely proud to see you now. I certainly am.” 

Benjamin faltered. Could she truly mean that?

With the lump in his throat growing near unbearable, he whispered a soft, "Thank you," his pulse still racing as they remained a hair's breadth apart.

Edwina confused him further when she grinned and nudged her nose into his. The act was affectionate, endearing, and dare he think it, akin to what an actual couple would share. On impulse, his free hand fell to her hip and he chuckled, idly stroking his thumb along her skin. "Only share if you want to," he murmured. "I hate that all I've done is ask of you, rather than ask what you truly want..."

Edwina hesitated. Although Benjamin initially wondered if she would recant, she was quick to spin a tale of sibling rivalry and one-sided resentment. It completely baffled him. Her own half-sister hadn't wanted her? Did this poor woman never wind up as anyone's first choice?

Guilt-stricken, he listened as the story eventually pulled to an uplifting close -- the love the two sisters shared was near unrecognizable in contrast to the past Edwina had revealed -- and on impulse, he blurted, "I'm glad you were all right...that you lived." Flushing, he looked in between her eyes and their entwined hands. "I would like to follow in your sister's example. Clearly, Kate was quick to discover what it means to love you... Though I should hope it won't take something so drastic to affirm this to my heart."

Idly stroking her knuckles, he asked, "Did you have any friends growing up? I would like to meet them -- and...I would like you to meet my friends, as well. Caleb, you know, but Abraham and Anna, you do not."

[dykedvonte]

I think the reason why people doesn't like genderbend AU of mouthwashing especially male Anya is not because they believe men can't get raped but it would remove the whole point of Anya's pregnancy that wouldn't be the same if female Jimmy is the one who's pregnant

I mean the point of the swap is to explore the same themes under a different lens and see how those exact themes can play out in a different scenario.

It is different but it doesn’t remove the point of the pregnancy rather than change the context. I think the confusion is it’s not supposed to be a one to one swap. It is changing things both ways different than other what if aus and swaps. It’s one of those aus that is common in fandom and in games with topics like this that branch off to explore the material in a different light with the same characters in a sense.

I understand not liking it or wanting to focus on the female experience the game is about with Anya but it’s the vitriol and rather blaming comment that made me upset about people being angry. Like it’s so simple to just not even acknowledge it or just mute posts. Tbh the post wasn’t even an au just a hypothetical design and people were getting mad and saying crazy things on it.

Aus are never supposed to just be the same. I don’t know what else to say other than this is like not the first fandom that has had an au of similar nature, I just don’t understand why a lot of people get like hateful when they see something mundane they don’t like here.

[vulpinesaint]

Do you have a fav blush? Do you like cream, powder, or liquid blushes?

ok so my favorite right now is the colorpop blush stick in cottage life it is a wonderful like. terracotta orange that looks super natural on me. so awesome. also super super blendable it blends out so easy... also used the elf putty blushes and those are good, i have two of the like. orangey shades (<— orange blush enjoyer) (checked. i have bahamas and one that doesn't have a shade name but i'm p sure is turks and caicos) and they're rlly nicely blendable and buildable with good color payoff :) other than that i have the nyx sweet cheeks one that's like. a tube. in coralicious and that's also a good one that's rlly colorful! i have to put that one on the back of my hand before i use a brush to apply it though which Is a little more of an inconvenience so. y'know. it also looks like my sunburn shade in the summer so i have mixed feelings on wearing it then haha. i would say a cream blush is probably my fave? powder blushes are delightful obvi but in terms of what i actually wear day to day the cream ones (i think the elf ones are cream to powder. but y'know) are more realistic. liquid ones are cool but they are often just too pigmented for me... would never use the rare beauty ones cause i just don't need that much color and if i did i would just layer up more of the ones that i can use for more natural looks

[promisedhexvens]

As Thayer explained, Amos found himself beginning to understand. He could understand the need for another body. He could understand the love that could grow between the two men under those circumstances. It had felt like the end of the world.

"I understand." He spoke, simply. They had all needed someone, something to stay alive for. And if Kit and Thayer had one another, then Amos was glad. At least, this way, the two of them were able to come back. He wouldn't like to know a world without his brother - even if he did barely speak to the other. If Thayer had played a part in keeping him alive, then Amos thought he had to thank him for that.

The more Thayer spoke, though, the more concerned he grew. Perhaps he hadn't realised how similarly the pair of them had thought before. The darkness which fed every thought in his head. The questions of why him. Why did he get to live whilst so many people had fallen? What was the point in going on now? Amos knew that he wasn't the only one who had come back from war changed. He had known that he wasn't the only person to feel so hopefully, to have such dark, challenging thoughts. But to have it reflected from a friend? He did not like that.

Amos lent over the table and gripped Thayer by the shoulders. "I will not hear any more of this talk from you, Thayer." He huffed. "You are here. And you are alive. And that needs - it has to be enough." He could hear the plea in his tone and he hated it. It was as though Thayer was a lifeline for Amos. If Thayer continued, then he knew that he could too.

If his friend fell, would he give up hope for himself totally? That was the thought which scared him.

Amos shot back to sit in his seat - as though there was a bolt of electricity coursing through him - as Thayer confirmed that he did indeed love Kit. As he continued, though, Amos grew confused. "Both halves? Who -" But it dawned on him who it was. Who the other half could possibly belong too. "Isabelle." He muttered. He didn't need to ask. As much as the woman drove him insane, he could understand her appeal. "Kit and Isabelle..." He shook his head. He did not like this. He didn't like it one bit. The Locke household was already complicated enough. Why must Thayer complicate it even further?

Did Amos believe Thayer? Did he truly believe that him being the younger Locke brother had nothing to do with their friendship? He didn't know. And he didn't have long to dwell on it. As Thayer compared the two of them, Amos suddenly felt dizzy. He honestly would have preferred the other to slap him rather than hit him with that realisation. He had his reasons for holding Kit at arms length... but so did Thayer.

"Do not deflect the conversation by comparing the two of us. We are not the same." He huffed. He was lying through his teeth but he did not want to face up to this right now. He could not bring himself to think about him brother in the context of how he had been as well. "We are talking about you. And how you seem to believe that two of my siblings have your heart."

"I loved him when I did not want anything in the world to make sense— you remember it, it haunts you, too. It calls out to you in the dead of night no matter who lies next to you. He was the only thing in all of that death to understand, to stay alive for."

He hadn't realized it but he was hardly breathing, unable to catch his breath. The concept finds him again as he shuts his eyes under the room that is too bright against this shame, too hot to bare. He sees it again lying against the wood of some wretched little house barely pieced together.

The same dog, grayed around its eyes and nose with a wisdom that does not serve it in death.

It lies there under the sun, pants that are slowed but he knows once raced against suffering. A guard dog, the knight of its household, now no more than some echo in a childhood and replaced with something smaller and kinder and ignorant. The creature is kept only because of familiarity and pity. The dream that finds him only when he is awake, when this world fades just for a moment, carries the sound of children in the distance that the beast does not know and they will never know him. He knows he is belittled to what he is instead of who— dog.

Knight.

What the pet has done to deserve such love does not matter, nor does how much he was cared for. It longs for the sun to burn it to bones, to ash, where its shadow will linger against the porch and sets the rightful place of all to come after it. He should have died at his owner's bed or in their arms but instead it is alone as the world continues on even with him in it.

"What happens— What happens to dogs when they can no longer learn new tricks?" Thayer pants out, his body too heavy— slipping, falling as he pulls the tablecloth into his fist. "When they bite at the hand that feeds so it whimpers the same way they do?"

Oh, Kit. If he saved him, what ever for?

"You put it down. You bury it alone— why can I not be buried?" He hissed, hands over his face as if this could keep the world still. "If I tell him without some frivilous circumstance, it will give him the reason to have some hope and I cannot give it to him, Amos. I do not know how to be alone but it is fate's decree that I am too cruel in love to not be."

Are you still in love with him? Is he still in love with you?

"Yes," He finally says, but it comes out bitten in an anger knotted and strangled. It pools in his mouth with an anguish that tastes like copper. Has he sunk his teeth into his tongue, teeth painted red as the taste only beckons for salivation— begs for satiation. He lives in such squalor rage. The composure he is known for, praised even while he chokes on it, snaps little brittle bones of a long decayed cadaver. "I love him. That wretched house of yours, Amos, holds both halves of my heart and if I cannot be buried then I swear I must be burned in it. If I am to be buried, it is in its grounds like some old forgotten dog to make peace with it."

He shakes his head at an even greater insult— that who he considers friend across from his is no more than some game piece.

"Everything with Kit is our burden alone, as it always has been. I did not even know you were his brother when we met and I first called you friend. It is by chance, but I do not know what favor it serves. Nothing from that time is a blessing," He says. "But what happened to him and I has never fallen into this until now, and what a reversal of fortune to know him— the two of us— and love him, only for him to be one that cannot be alone and we cannot bare him close. The reasons are different but he returns to arms length all the same and there he will stay there with bated breath until you take one step forward— or I take three steps back to when we were loved and despised each other all the same."