#reception fic

[shortysus4]

CBC&K: Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Giving and Recieving

The wedding reception is full of dancing, toasting, cake cutting-- and the boys get some lovely gifts from people in town. Later that night, Ben has a surprise for his new husband, and has a crisis of regret.

CW: ~language ~sex ~mention of sibling death ~mention of drugs ~mention of overdose

Heart events/spoilers: ~Wedding reception at the Log Cabin Hotel (RSV)

This is the FINAL CHAPTER before the epilogue... WHAAAAT

[myeagleexpert]

The Perfect Boyfriend (PT 3)

𝕾𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖜𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖊𝖝𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝕴'𝖒 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖋 𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖘𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖑, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉𝖓'𝖙 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖟𝖞 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝕴'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖜𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖑𝖊𝖊𝖕

Doppleganger/Skinwalker!Yandere x YN (AFAB)Summary: Your relationship with Kain has never been one of the best, but recently it's like you've been thrown off an abyss over and over again. Oh, and there's a dog too, but he's not important. Anyway… with a storm of emotions in your mind, you end up leaving a gap that a certain creature will take advantage of. Warnings: (Toxic relationships, obsessed relationships, mental manipulation, the smell of rot, description of death, description of fear and panic, a little sentimental smut, The thing loves you - too much.) Uncertain motives. Lots of couple fights and domestic violence, but YN defends herself and fights harder, this story takes place before chapter 1, you will now see what the original Kain was like.The term 'YN' and 'you' is used several times in the fanfic for better grammatical use, my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. <3

𝕭𝖊𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊 < < 𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍, 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖊𝖆𝖙 > >

You think you saw something under the window.

It's something - you're sure.

But it's not important enough for you to give it your full attention. Not when you're fighting with Kain right now, it's probably about some nonsense, the two of you have been fighting for so long that you don't even remember what you're fighting about and Kain is getting more and more aggressive.

"I can't believe we're fighting about this, Kain! Your mother must have thrown the baby away and created the placenta instead, because there's no way you only understand what suits you!" you say louder, running your hands over your face in an irritated way.

Today was supposed to be the perfect date. It was your and Kain's anniversary and after missing the date 4 times, he finally agreed to go today. Of course, you got ready in a happy and relieved way, who knows if it was a sign of his change? You did a great job with your makeup, your hair looked like a celebrity blowout but the most beautiful thing is your beautiful black dress. This one accentuates each of your curves in an attractive and elegant way, with shiny details in some part and The high heels, a black sitelleto perfectly match the occasion, the black and transparent tights give a stylish air to the look. A wine-colored velvet bow is in your hair, giving an air of significant femininity.

And given the special occasion, you are finally wearing a beautiful set of accessories that you ordered online! You waited so long to receive it and today you will wear it for the first time! The necklace is a beautiful ruby ​​choker with encrusted diamonds, combined exclusively with the button earrings of the same style.

Now, you can't leave the house without your black bag, huh? You chose this model yourself, padded and medium-sized, perfect for work and to use when going out. The black bag is a universal symbol of female independence, and of distrust of men. After all, a good partner should pay the bill and leave the girl at ease, right? That's what people are saying on the internet and Kain is your partner but… he's a delicate case.

You think twice before putting your wallet with cards and money in it, Kain paid the last few times but what if….... no. Don't think about it. He'll change. He promised.

Before leaving you listen to the voice in your head and put your wallet, lip gloss and documents in it.

Just in case.

And oh boy, thank God you listened.

*knock knock*

You hear him knock on your door, and as you walk down the halls, you check yourself in the mirror from head to toe and smile dreamily, happily, lightly, mentally praising yourself.

You look really beautiful today, YN

He appears at your door, smoking a cigarette while talking on his cell phone. He didn't give you a kiss. Just a look to confirm that you were in front of him and he threw the helmet in your hands, unceremoniously returning to the motorcycle.

The bike was beautiful, but dirty and Kain already smelled of cigarettes, his old jacket was stained with alcohol he had been drinking, you surreptitiously held your breath so as not to breathe in that terrible odor. Carefully, you slowly climbed on it so as not to get your dress dirty and abruptly, he started driving to what was supposed to be the romantic dinner he had promised at her favorite restaurant. Imagine the disappointment when a route was changed to a darker part of the city, but it was a small diner, a hot dog cart with a few tables around it. A slight embarrassment of being overdressed rose on your face, but you disguised it with a crooked smile as you cleaned the chair dirty with ketchup from the last person who had used the table.

“Heya, YN, you look pretty good.” he complimented you, sitting in the chair opposite yours.

“Thanks, I–”

“You don’t mind if I call a few more friends, do you? They’re nearby and I invited them to come eat with us.”

He interrupts you and confirms the call before you can say anything.

YN doesn't want to be immature, petty, or a boring little princess who doesn't want to have fun like he already said, so you just nod and mentally prepare yourself for the vision that arrives.

In less than 10 minutes, at least 6 more boys arrive… drugged… drunk… dirty with dirt and stained with oil. The group of brutes TAKES MORE CHAIRS AND TABLES around so they can all be together, the smell of sour and loud voices, words tangled with each other and insults are exchanged as a form of greeting.

Even the cook at the stall looks at this group of troublemakers with disdain, and when he realizes that you are there in the middle, he turns his head, confused, as if asking what you are doing there. And to be honest, at that moment you don't know either. The waiter quickly brings the menu to your table, which is already starting to attract the attention of other people.

"Good evening, what would you like?" the waiter says in a harsh tone, this group had caused problems before.

"Francis, old man, I'm surprised you're still here!" Kain exclaims with disdain. Last week, they unfairly involved the waiter in one of their scams, causing him to almost be fired.

"Thanks to my boss, I am, if it were up to you I would be out on the street like you good-for-nothings." he huffs irritably, grabbing his notebook

The group just laughs, as if nothing mattered, and orders drinks and hot dogs. Kain doesn't remember you, it's the waiter who stops by your side and asks in a softer voice.

"Would you like to order something now?"

"A juice with the number 2, please." You asked for the quickest thing to get out of there as quickly as possible, preferably something already prepared that they only had to heat up and you could leave.

"Of course, yours will be ready in a minute." The waiter quickly takes your order and leaves before the disgusting horde can get him in trouble again.

"Omg, YN, what a surprise you're here!" one of them exclaims, isn't that the one who hit his own mother?

"She wanted to go out today so I thought I could bring her with us." Kain doesn't let you answer, distorting the truth while laughing disgustingly with his friend next to him, the one who got out of prison last week.

Ouch.

You feel so small and dirty now, like a stunned cockroach on the floor, like a puppy that its owner conveniently takes for a walk. You don't know how, but somehow, some girls approach your table, flirting with the boys and with Kain himself. You ignore the feeling of neglect, disgust, and revolt and smile tightly, a thin line made entirely to disguise the tremendous discomfort you feel.

Sweet you, struggling to stay calm and hide your true feelings, try desperately to control your body and facial expression. Your hands remain static, despite being elegantly in your lap, and your breathing is controlled so as not to appear agitated, occasionally distracting yourself on your cell phone while you wait.

As you observe the scene in front of you, your face remains impassive, without any trace of apparent emotion. Inside, however, the storm of feelings continues to stir uncontrollably.

You want so much to leave there and cry, how could you have been so naive to believe that he would change? That today would be a special day? As if the universe was reaching out to you, the waiter soon delivered your orders, gently placing his hand on your shoulder and speaking softly in your ear.

“If you need anything else, we are at your disposal, miss”, the staff was empathetic to your situation, your discomfort visible from miles away, you were there like a pearl among swine, a little princess in a horde of stinking goblins.

Kain interpreted it as if the waiter was flirting with you, in front of him, in front of his friends and the fight went on and on, he made advances on the waiter, the boys stole some things, security was called… and finally… being the only one with documents when security arrived, you paid the bill for the boys’ losses and were forced to pay the bill for the snack as well, you angrily took your wallet out of your black bag. At that moment, you dropped your politeness and your princess pose and fought with Kain in front of everyone, calling a nearby motorcycle taxi to take you home.

You don't want to see Kain's face now.

You might break up today.

That's it.

That's it.

You're fed up.

You furiously take the bow out of your hair and throw it somewhere in the house as soon as you get home, your expensive high heels being thrown to some corner of the couch while you control your breathing, tears of frustration threatening to roll down your face but for all the self-respect you have left, you won't cry for him today. Your boyfriend, Kain, arrives a few minutes later, banging on the door incessantly as if he wanted to break it down.

And on the one hand, you were already pissed at him, but on the other… if he came all the way here… it means he cares, right? You open the door with expectation, only for them to be destroyed once again.

"Are you stupid or what?" he shouts, entering the house with all his steps stomping loudly in his muddy sneakers as if he were the owner of the house, and takes a big swig from his cheap beer can.

"What…?" You feel confused, is this son of a bitch blaming you?

“I know.”

He throws the beer can on the floor when it's finished and marches towards you with arguments and points, blaming you for hitting on the waiter, for embarrassing him in front of his friends, for calling the security guard and for a million other facts that he created in his head.

It's never Kain's fault. It's the waiter's fault, the friend's fault, the police officer's fault, YOUR fault, but never his.

It seems like a joke.

A cruel joke in a circus that you didn't pay to enter.

But you paid, YN, you entered the circus and kissed the clown, now who's being made fun of?

"Kain, that's not how it happened." You confront him firmly on your position.

"Oh no? And that other time when you—”

And whenever he’s losing an argument, he brings up memories from the past to justify the nonsense of the present, like how he loves you so much that he picked you up from the hospital, how your father cheated on your mother, how his father is working a lot, that he helped you move….. it has nothing to do with today’s event, with today’s argument, but he wants to win this argument no matter what.

The argument doesn’t make sense, but it escalates quickly, it’s like airing dirty laundry, and you decide that if you’re going to throw shit in the fan, you’re going to throw it. Tonight’s already terrible, let’s end it on a high note.

The best cure for a crazy person is someone crazier than him. My mother used to say that…. let’s see for real?

Fuck this thing.

“Kain, do you practice at home to talk so much shit, or is everything that comes out of your mouth improvised?” you gesture sarcastically, the words cutting more than a knife, like an acid that bubbles with the amount of anger inside you.

Snowball, the female cat you adopted a few weeks ago silently approaches the room where you are, crawling elegantly and meowing in retaliation to your boyfriend. The more upset your boyfriend gets, the more annoyed Snowball seems.

The cat, despite being a cute kitten, didn't win Kain's favor. He complains about the white fur getting on his clothes, about all the unnecessary expenses you're spending on a stinky kitten, and mainly, how now that this cat has arrived, you only have attention for her. Which is obviously a lie, he just wants something to fight about and blame you for. The kitten is affectionate with you, always being close and purring in your hands, maybe that's why she's a little… protective of you? Sweet YN, so kind to her. Snowball is at the door now, her tail slowly wagging from side to side in a clear sign of agitation, her meows becoming louder as if she wanted to defend you.

The couple's shouting, with the TV playing loudly in the background, and the incessant meowing of a cat is chaos, an irritation that grows more and more. At some point, Kain gets really angry and approaches YN aggressively, stomping his feet hard and raising his hands. It is exactly at this moment that Snowball uses her incredible feline speed and scratches his feet, the kitten's soft white fur standing up while her pupils turn into two little holes.

There is something under your window, and the thing wipes its bloody mouth and does its best to stay still, observing the situation.

And most importantly… the thing sees you.

"See? Even a cat understands that you're overstepping your bounds! Enough, Kain, there's no way you're that upset!" You huff loudly as you walk away from the man, you don't know what's worse, the yelling or the teasing of the kitten.

Kain turns around, now focusing his attention on Bola de Neve. He scoffs at the kitten and scowls at you.

"Oh, shut that thing up. If you can't keep it quiet, you shouldn't have gotten it. You know cats annoy the hell outta me."

Oh, this is the final straw for you. Not only did he ruin a perfect date, but now he wants to rule your house as if it were his? Oh no. All the women inside you roar in unison, ordering in your heart that you should not stay silent and lower your head.

"Oh? Excuse me? This is MY HOUSE! If you're bothered, go to YOUR HOUSE! Because in mine, MY kitten can even sing if she wants to," you proclaim louder than him, disgusted with the situation while gesturing to the house.

Kain turns to you, his face red and his expression darkening even more.

"I'm your boyfriend, I have every right to be here!" he snaps back, getting even closer to you. Snowball doesn't like this at all, approaching you and climbing onto the nearest couch, meowing and hissing again louder than before.

You swallow your fear and apprehension and head towards the door, crossing the room while maintaining eye contact with the man. "You have the fucking right to be here, the door is open for you to go vomit and talk your nonsense outside. In my house, I'm the boss, big head."

Kain turns to yell at the cat again, annoyed and frustrated, he imitates the meow more loudly and in a childish way. He's clearly losing his temper.

"Will you shut that thing up! It's making my damn head hurt, I'll throw it outside myself if I have to! What an annoying noise! ​​I'm leaving if you keep this up!"

Oh, does the asshole want a formal invitation?

"Oh, do you want me to do the honors?" In a sarcastic tone you answered him, taking Snowball in your arms and protecting her as if she were your own kitten, placing her in her cat tower, a safe haven for now. There's a high chance that Kain will get really angry and go after the cat, but even so you hold the cat tighter against your chest and stomp on the floor.

Big man, head of a childish boy.

Enough of bowing my head to him hoping that everything will be better the next day.

Kain glares at you, furious and frustrated. He's not expecting you to actually kick him out, especially considering his current state, the idiot was already drinking before your date, the smell of cheap alcohol on him is unbearable.

"Are you serious right now?! You'd really kick me out over a cat?!" he yells, standing up and walking towards you, getting in your face.

"You're the one who's bothered by the cat, and you know the saying: those who are bothered should leave!" You cross your arms and continue even more determined "Either you leave and save the rest of your dignity or you spend the night here in silence."

Kain looks like a mad man with rage now, are you choosing the cat and not him? Do you dare to turn against him? Your boyfriend?

He approaches you again with strong and threatening steps, crossing the room again until he's close to you, next to a beautiful decorated bookcase. As a reflex of revolt, you tie your hair in a bun and approach him with the same intensity. A sign that the fight is far from over.

“You’re being too-!”

“Listen here, you-!” you gesture with your hands as you speak

The creature thinks that you look terribly big now, taking up more and more space as if, like any animal, you were showing your dominance in the territory. With increasingly larger and more offensive gestures, your voice increasingly loud and cold, arguments mixing with emotions, the situation is escalating very quickly. And the most interesting thing….

There is not a single drop of fear in you.

Creatures of his kind can feed on people’s fear and anguish too, but he doesn’t smell that in you… he smells that in your scoundrel boyfriend, who tries to disguise his weak points when he raises a threatening hand at you, shouting in a deep voice that imposes dominance.

“Shut your mouth!”

You glare at him defiantly and grab the first thing closest to you: a sharp sculpture, a decorative gift from your mother that you've never found useful, well, until now.

"Shut you up!" You hold the sculpture at the same height as his raised hand, raising your voice so it echoes through the house.

He looks at you, his face red with anger and his breathing fast. Kain never thought you'd threaten him back, defend yourself, but knowing you, he knows that the likelihood of you attacking him is as high as him attacking you now. Given this, and his weak state, Kain curses in a low tone and slowly lowers his hands.

You take a deep breath and pray that your own voice doesn't shake and slowly lower the sharp sculpture, but holding it tightly in your hands in case he changes his mind.

"Respect me. And if you really have feelings for me, you'll get out of my house right now and leave me alone!" You growl in an authoritative tone, leaving no room for suggestion as you slowly walk towards him, circling him like a predator while pointing the sculpture directly at him.

Your eyes are like flames of fire, with hatred and anger escaping from them as you focus exclusively on the man in front of you.

Today was perhaps the moment of greatest mental clarity of your life, and Kain hates every minute of his girlfriend's insubordination, as if he had seen the size of the iceberg for the first time, and not the small cubes or ice shavings that subtly melted with the heat of kisses or weak threats.

This little thing thinks she can threaten me? Shout back?

"YN, you're overreacting!! You're going to regret this!" The cornered man slowly makes his way to the door, frustrated and with a bruised ego. Kain keeps his eyes wide as he watches your domineering figure, but out of pride he still wants to have the last word to tell his friends.

"Enough!" You hold up a hand signaling him to shut up, and he does so immediately. "Don't make me repeat myself. Get out. Now!" You open the door abruptly, knocking over a portrait that was behind it as you breathe heavily through your nostrils, like a bull preparing for combat.

Kain glares at you, his anger fading slightly as he realizes he's not gonna win this one. He knows you're being serious, and doesn't have a choice. He sighs loudly and turns around to grab his stuff.

"Fine then! I'm leaving! But don't come begging for me to come back when you decide to ditch the damn cat…" He grabs his things and still grumbling curses. He gets to the front door and looks back at you one last time. He's still grumpy and annoyed, but defeated.

"I'll call you when I get home."

“Sure.” You say with a forced smile, the words coming out between clenched teeth.

The thing remembers that most species show their teeth as a sign of aggression, and it wonders if one more step in the wrong direction and you would open your jaw and furiously bite your boyfriend’s throat until it bled?

No.

When Kaim approaches, you allow him to kiss you on the mouth, albeit angrily, and say goodbye. He gets on the motorcycle and then exits the house, without looking back while you stand at the door, waiting for him to leave. Acting silently as a sentinel of your own house, your straight posture and raised chin indicate that you remain firm in your position. The sound of a motorcycle starts up and then fades away in the distance. It's finally quiet again.

The creature thinks humans are complicated.

If a miserable dog dared to even attack its owner, the owner would hand it over to a kennel or the streets, returning the hatred a thousand times over.

But if a human attacks another….

A human will be a thousand times more merciful with their own kind, they will apologize and make amends for the aggression, they will blame the drink, the drugs, the stressful day but they will never blame the other, they will never admit their own mistake.

Through a hidden bush the creature sees you enter the house and close the door and before you can walk with strong steps to the other side of the house… Snowball, the kitten, meows sweetly at you. It is as if the big and strong independent woman melts at the sight of a worried kitten, disarming herself of the armor she used in the argument earlier. You pick her up in your arms and take her to the sofa in the living room, where you put on a romantic movie to watch, something that internally you wished to live, something to distract from this moment.

Snowball purrs against your chest, raising her head subtly to lick the tears that roll down YN's face, staining the makeup she had done so excellently in doing. Stubborn, frustrated, angry, tears roll down her face insistently while YN holds herself back from crying, but poor thing, her lip trembles slightly as the kitten does what she can to bring some comfort to her owner.

*crash*

At that moment a loud noise is heard, the dramatic scene is interrupted by the trash can falling and YN remembers that she had actually heard something. YN quickly gets up and goes to check what it could be. Some raccoons were rummaging through the house's trash can looking for food, accidentally causing the can to fall on the creature's tail, scaring and hurting it, quickly pulling its tail off and attacking its attackers.

What YN sees, however, is a large black dog going after the raccoons that were rummaging through her trash can. Maybe out of hunger, maybe for something else, but before YN can grab a broom and chase the raccoons away, the large dog does so, and then their eyes meet.

YN looks at the dog, he is a great mass of black fur with long legs and sharp teeth. He is bigger than any dog ​​she has ever seen, his bark is too loud, his fur makes it easy for him to stay in the shadows but his eyes…..two crimson balls reflecting the light from the window in a bright red. The poor thing immediately shut up when he noticed YIN's presence, and sweet YN, thought he was fighting over food with the raccoons.

YN saw him.

Even after such a stormy night, she gently closes the window as if nothing had happened and goes to the kitchen, calling Snowball to come with her.

For a dog that size, he must eat a lot……

YN grabs some leftovers from her lunch, along with some dog food that she had saved for when she would go for a walk in the park and feed some stray dogs, she grabs some eggs, and a few other things that might please the canine palate and puts them in a bowl, filling a small bowl with water to give to the unknown beast as well.

The girl turns on the light in front of the house, and holds her breath in case the dog gets aggressive, keeping the door closed and Snowball inside the house.

“Hey, I can see you,” she says in a sweet tone to call the big dog from hiding in the bushes. She wasn't supposed to see him.Why can she see him?

“Come here boy, I have something for you.” She makes a sound to call the canine, placing the portions of food and water near the window and the bush.

“Come here boy,” she calls again.

The dogs she feeds at the park usually wag their tails when they see YN approaching, let her run her hand through their fur and come quickly when they are called.

But not this one.

The creature wasn't expecting this tonight, having quickly put on his dog skin before leaving, but it's undeniable: He's hungry. And you're offering him a feast. It would be stupid to refuse. So, slowly, he starts to emerge from the bush, his head and snout coming out first and his body reluctantly following. He's incredibly suspicious of YN, not taking his eyes off the human for a minute, which makes her back away too, in her head, giving the creature space to feel comfortable.

“Very well, now I’m going, okay?” Before she can turn around, the dog changes course and begins to walk slowly towards YN, ears and tail pricked, his gaze fixed on the human.

In the blink of an eye he's in front of her, in an alert position. YN has been in this situation before, so like any other dog, she gently extends her hand so he can sniff and get to know her.

"Oh...hello boy."

The skinwalker sniffs YN's hand, her scent enveloping his senses and immediately making him relax, it was a unique scent, he had never felt this sensation before and hesitantly he licks the back of YN's hand…

Mmm… delicious.

YN takes it as a sign that he is friendly and runs her hand over his head, petting him and showing him where the food is.

"Very good buddy, there's your food, see. See you later."

The creature's fur is dry and hard, like that of a stuffed animal and YN doesn't look into the animal's eyes, not wanting to cause more problems for the stranger. Oh, if she had looked into its eyes she would know that what she had touched was not just any animal, she should never have fed it, she should never have given it a break.

After all,

If you feed a dog, it will come back.

And it wasn't just any dog.

The following days are marked by a strange sensation in YN, a feeling of alertness and unease. Every time she leaves the house for work, she feels a strong sense that something is wrong, and there really is something very wrong around her. A shadow. The shadow lingers, faint and cold, a veil across the surface, untold. Whispers soft, a chilling breeze, Upon the wall, an enigma it weaves.

At dawn, the girl finds peace, a calm knowing that the great Sun would bring her a slight feeling of security and warmth and finally, the feeling of seeing things the way they are. The danger is returning alone at night, YN. What lies beneath, concealed by the veil, A wind that blows but will never fail. A heartbeat, a gentle sigh, A secret that will never die.

She quickens her pace, taking longer and faster steps as she looks anxiously around corners, praying hard that the Sun will be merciful enough to allow her to get home in time to lock all the doors and windows and finally relax, ignoring the persistent shadows she sees in the corner of her eye and the sound of howls in the middle of the night. But unfortunately, today is one of the days when the Sun has been generous with the Moon, allowing it to shine earlier than it did for all of humanity, but the poor human is very anxious, hearing things and seeing things that according to her are just products of her imagination. It's well known, the shadow does reside, but only revealed when looking inside. A ghost that hides and persists. A mystery that the soul can't resist.

After days of feeling followed and watched, YN finally accepts the ride her boss offers her, making her arrive home early and and decided to extend a helping hand to the young woman in the city that YN didn't know. The experienced woman had noticed that YN was in a constant state of anxiety to return home and that something was not right.

Home is everyone's safe place, why wouldn't YN want to go back?

“Hey Snowball, did you miss me?” YN pets the cat as soon as she arrives home, the kitten purring as she leans in with her affections.

“Did you catch any mice today?” The girl does not expect answers from a cat, and quickly checks the house for any body or evidence.

It can't be just ONE mouse.

A few days ago, YN saw some mice in the house. There had never been any mice there before, but the girl assumes that things like this happen in the new house. The mice are fast, too fast for YN to hit them with the broom and too fast for Snowball to catch them. They are like shadows, being recognized only by the rotten smell and the noise they make when they move from one place to another, a heavy noise for something so small. But strangely, they never go after food. YN checks the food, the bathroom, the fridge, the yard every day… but there is no proof that they have been there.

But it is better to have rats than Kain, isn't it? It was Kain's habit to disappear for a while and then appear as if nothing had happened, never remorseful, never guilty. He wasn't always this infinite well of idiocy, he was kind and loving in the beginning but as the relationship progressed things went downhill. Like a tick that starts innocently grabbing an animal's fur, and it doesn't hurt at first, but as time goes by the tick digs its claws and teeth into the host's skin, sucking the soul and blood, weakening the host and leaving the host at its mercy.

As much as the tick hurts, it will be even more painful to remove, like a stubborn person who would rather keep the knife embedded in the wound than remove it and risk losing blood. The boy didn't say much these days, just a few lame excuses while YN cut the conversation short and ignored him. It's better this way. She is still writing the script for how she will end the relationship. Even though he is a stupid asshole, what guarantees that he won't come and demand satisfaction later? That he will send one of his idiot friends to take care of you?

Hmm… better memorize the police number here… get the neighbor's number… better be prepared in case something happens…

“…hey.”

A voice calls her from the other side of the house, in the backyard.

But YN is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't recognize the tone of the voice, lost in the loud music from her headphones. But she still goes to the backyard to open the door, not realizing that Snowball's fur is bristling and scared, but when she opens the door she finds only…

“Oh, hey boy. Its you!” You find the black dog from a few days ago sitting elegantly on the grass, attentively awaiting your presence.

“You're early today, huh?” The sun is still setting today, illuminating some children in orange tones while they are still playing outside.

Maybe one of them called out to a friend and you heard, thinking you were being called.

“I’ll get your food and I’ll be right back, okay?”

The big dark ball has been fed every now and then in the last few days, always after the young woman gets home from work. The dog seemed to guess and emerge from the shadows when he noticed YN’s presence in the house. YN and her huge heart already set aside something for him, buying more food and treats for him at the market. She has enough to feed him and bring him water, but not enough to open the door and adopt him. It’s as if Yn had wisely created a wall between the two of them, establishing a limit that she felt was necessary.

In the kitchen, the music is still playing loudly in her ears, a lively rhythm to chase away bad thoughts while the young woman prepares an old bowl for the dog’s dinner and another for his water. She quickly pauses the wireless headphones, poking her finger a few more times when the sound doesn't pause.

At these times, YN likes to be on alert to attend to the dogs, even when feeding other stray dogs, there's something particular about this one that makes her feel… agitated, as if she were playing with the flames of a candle and seeing how far it really gets burned. Or in this case, bitten.

“Hey buddy, here's dinner.” Yn announces the entrance while the dog is sitting exactly in the same place, with a confused look but accustomed to this routine of the last few days the girl puts the bowls under the window in a clean area.

“Come. You can eat now.” and so he does, walking over to the place and eating from the bowl, his big tail wagging slightly as he savors each bite, his tense muscles relaxing as the feast is served.

He must have been domesticated and when he got too big they pushed him out onto the street, because how is he so… obedient?

This is usually where the story ends.

She feeds him and goes back home.

But this time, the creature notices when YN is about to walk away and growls slightly, making her become confused and stop.

What? What did I do?

The black dog approaches and imitates the behavior he has seen other dogs doing, wagging his tail while staring at YN with pleading eyes and lowered ears, relaxing some muscles in his face so that he appears more friendly.

“Oh, you want some affection, is that it?” YN hesitantly brings her hand gently to the dog’s head, preparing to immediately pull it away in case the canine decides to bite at the last minute.

But the bite never comes.

He would never in his right mind hurt you.

He closes his eyes as he welcomes the touch, his hand noticing how much softer and longer his black fur is now, his tail wagging much faster now showing how good he is feeling, sweeping some autumn leaves away as YN pets him more willingly and freely, more comfortable with the idea that he won't bite her hand.

"So you're not aggressive, huh? Do you like it?" she continues to caress the creature tenderly, two hands to stroke his fur all over as he lets out small grunts of joy.

He feels more playful now, his tail wagging as he sinks deeper and deeper into the girl's touch, closing his eyes contentedly. But when he opens his eyes to observe her more closely, to delight in her beautiful and majestic face, to take the chance to study a face so beautiful that it would make the most miserable of men a king, and the richest of men a mere pauper in search of attention, imagine his surprise when he sees that the girl was also studying him. YN takes the chance to see the vulnerable canine and looks for wounds and scars, or indicators of what kind of dog it is, some collar or ship that identifies it, but is surprised by what she finds: beautiful blue eyes.

What beautiful blue eyes, did they turn red because of the light at night? This happens with the reflection sometimes, I saw photos about it.

But Yn avoids looking directly into his eyes for too long, she feels something strange… they look with such precision and intelligence that YN has never seen a dog have, eyes almost human, almost emotional, almost… something. Almost as if she asked him something, he would answer.

But that's not important now, not when he precisely closes his eyes again as he moves closer to her body, wanting more of the warmth and affection that only the girl can give him.

It's a beautiful and tender moment, which makes YN forget the enigmatic problems that are on the other side of the door. But she is remembered when the sun sets completely, leaving her alone in the darkness. Little by little, in affectionate but anxious acts, she moves away from the dog.

"I have to go now, go eat, boy. Good night." In a sweet voice, she reluctantly says goodbye to her canine friend, it was good that he showed this more affectionate side of him.

"Boy" because he is not something dear to her yet.

"Boy" because to YN he was just a street dog.

"Boy" because he is not allowed to enter the house.

Understanding that she wanted to enter the house, he slowly moves away, allowing the girl freedom to walk to the door while he remains standing in the same place. The darkness of the night quickly becomes present and more terrifying because when she left the sun was shining outside, but now in the house and in the yard, there are no lights on. As she is about to reach for the doorknob, she hears something that makes her freeze.

“…thank you.”

It was a voice so impossibly clear and deep that it could not have been from her headphones, since they were turned off. It was a voice that spoke inside her head, making each letter reverberate with intensity in every nerve and muscle. A spectral and disturbing voice. Her heart immediately froze and a deep fear took hold of her, words of gratitude that were supposed to make her feel good, now it was as if something primordial had awakened. From the corner of her eye, she slowly notices that the dog is in the same place, looking at her with his head tilted, almost cute, if it weren't for his eyes shining with a light that shouldn't be there.

YN comes out of her trance dizzily and quickly and enters the house, closing and locking the door safely while turning on the doors of the house, all of them while recovering the strength in her legs and breathing unevenly.

Perhaps, if she had looked back one more time, she would have seen the creature moving away and merging with the shadows of the yard in a surreal way, like a shadow merging with the darkness of the night.

Oh, what a terrifying soul to have around….

Oh, what a tormented and dangerous creature….

No one taught him to be this creature, he has never seen another of his kind either, but perhaps he has not always been this way. He does not remember exactly what he was, what he once was in existence. He does have a conscience, portraits of memories and abstract concepts, but for the most part he is "an almost animal thing".

He was once human, an original form that he has not used for decades and perhaps he has even forgotten what he once was, after so many masks and disguises it is difficult to know what is true, merging with more animalistic perceptions over time.

Repeating a primitive cycle, eating, sleeping and hunting when he is hungry, exchanging the rotting skin for another.

But for the first time, he did not want to be a "thing", he wanted to be "someone".

Because he is "someone" who can be by her side.

He envied humans in a way, for being able to gather around a campfire and have a normal life. Every animal returns to its den at dusk, or leaves it to hunt, but this creature has no place to call a "den" or "home" as humans call it. He hides in caves or any available corner to spend the night, avoiding sunlight so that people do not see the flaws in his disguise.

For the first time in the creature's entire life, he felt that the path from his "den" led to you.

You are his home.

And if he could be a dog at your feet, this would be it. You yourself could choose a collar and chain especially for him.

Chain him up.

Put a collar with his name on it, identify him as something of yours.

Put your name and number on the collar, so that everyone knows he belongs to you.

It's already decided. It's you he wants. No one else.

Now he understands the story of Kain and Abel, he too would kill to receive such a divine blessing.

As he crawls through the darkness he thinks of strategic plans to get into your house. Maybe he has to get rid of that white cat, he wouldn't share your precious attention with him. Maybe he has to create more rats and kill them in front of you, performing a play in which he comes out as the hero and you are so grateful that you let him into the house. Or maybe…

Maybe he has to get rid of your disgusting scoundrel of a boyfriend, steal his skin and throw him into the darkness. Because who else would YN forgive for acting strange? The creature doesn't know how to be a functional human… he can still make some mistakes while living with you, learn from other humans and from movies, who knows?

A creature of his kind needs to kill to steal a skin, eat to take the place of another. A macabre laugh echoes from the dog's mouth, malicious satisfaction as he makes the plan in his head, steps idealized in his evil mind.

In a single night, he will visit the scoundrel Kain and a powerful shaman, the night is young and his plans are ambitious, a lot to plan and plan. Oh, how good it is to have the malicious mind of humans, capable of planning things as simple as a hunt or something as grand as a coup.

Now tell me, sweet YN, did you lock your bedroom door?

Are you sure?

So what is that behind you?

Tags: @buniwtch @spookynotkid @aminekun009 @twinklingbeautifulstars @heizouislife @cheesecakeyuri @hewhehe @sumeyyeecrin

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

If you want to be tagged in future posts, comment here! ( ^^ )

[nyoomerr]

I already have a crush on the tianlang-jun in your fic. He's sooo annoying. I need him desperately

he accepts. you will regret this.

jhgjh no but i'm glad you're enjoying the fic!! there are lots of tlj-centric scenes in the next couple chapters <33

[lokh]

ok but what if....... hair swap in modern au

[enkimesh-truther]

image via @ xelarale on twitter / @xelarale on tumblr

I’m literally never active on twitter but my friend sent me this picture and… omg! I wrote a fic just like this!

Here is the link if you’d like to read it :)

Happy pride month to all t4t relationships!

[biplet]

Drew a cover for my fic Portal Fantasy.

Read the latest update -> here <-

[camembri]

just had the humbling realisation that, as both an aspiring academic and a fanfiction writer, my literal life's work will always be outstripped by those gay pirates in terms of reach. thank you zosan nation this is objectively the funniest thing that could possibly happen

[a-cat-in-toffee]

ideal humanstuck dynamic the most annoying douchebag in the universe and guy who Really doesnt wanna be there

[wexhappyxfew]

From Prompt List #3, can I please request [ TO THE THREAT ]: " is there a problem over here? " for Judy and Rosie OR [ TO THE THREAT ]: " right, either you leave or i kick you out. your choice" for Carrie and Douglass?

Thank you! I always enjoy reading your Silver Bullets stories!

-lestweforget5

HI AND HELLO MY FRIEND @lestweforget5 !!!!!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for sending this in!!! and thank you so so much for the love for Silver Bullets! they are truly my pride and joy to write and knowing they were just as enjoyed just makes me <333333 for this, i decided to write the carrie x dougie piece and prompt because someone requested the judy x rosie piece with the SAME prompt and so that will be coming out eventually!!! i wanted to write it either way and so i was very happy sent that in, too! be on the lookout for that soon! ANYWAY! please enjoy this carrie x dougie piece that cracked open the energy of carrie of being the eldest sibling + daughter, overachiever, stubborn, and emotionally bottled-up person she is <3 carrie achterberg you will always be famous (and loved)!!!

it's in the jar

(a/n): carrie achterberg, forever my stubborn, sweet pea who just wants to be cared for and loved! please enjoy this piece that focuses in a bit more on carrie and her character, alongside james douglass who clearly and evidently cares for carrie achterberg more than anything :) carrie x dougie u will always be famous! plz enjoy! and thank you again! <333

"And if you'da seen it," Carrie whispered to herself, her mind suddenly a hundred miles up in the sky, Silver Bullets swinging side to side, bullets and ammo ricocheting off the side, smearing up through the bitter cold against the metal, "you would've thought that I'da been dead." Carrie threw a small pebble, hearing the quick pattering sound it made into the jar she had placed at the base of the chair where she sat when she was Bombardier; Lieutenant Achterberg.

Now, instead, she was just Carrie.

"Then," Carrie whispered quietly, aiming the next small pebble in her hand carefully, "Krauts going right by. Boom, boom, BOOM. One after the next. Never did I see my life flash faster than I did in those 10 seconds." She aimed and watched as the pebble landed again in the jar.

That's what you get training to shoot and score with nothing but a Norden bombsight for months.

"10 seconds," Carrie whispered, holding up the next pebble, "all it took for Margie Harlowe to take the hit, knocked unconscious." The screams filled her mind as she sat there frozen, pebble in hand, her voice echoing off the walls of the inside of the nose of Silver Bullets like a paralyzing echo, a hollow one.

A shiver ran down her spine as she sat there, before aiming and harshly smacking the pebble into the jar, the patter-patter of the pebble making its way inside. Carrie picked up another, the texture smooth between her fingers as she adjusted and took aim.

"She's in the Med-Bay, unconscious," Carrie whispered, trying to maintain composure of herself, "almost reminded me of Birdie Faulkner. Almost." Almost, Carrie thought quietly. Except Margie's alive, Birdie's not. She aimed, fired and BOOM. The pebble was inside the jar again.

"But we were still in the air, ya know? Even with Margie hit above, knocked flat-out unconscious, we still had a mission to complete. The bullet sprays - like a sheet of ice hitting fire. Splaying out across the wide berth of Silver Bullets," Carrie said quietly, holding up another pebble, "you'da thought that we were going to di-"

"You thought what?" Carrie froze, whipping her head around, eyes narrowed, ablaze with light to find James Douglass there. She anxiously thumbed the pebble in between her fingers before clenching her jaw, turning and launching the pebble, which sailed right inside the jar. Then she glanced back at Dougie.

"What are you doing here?"

"This where you hide out after missions?" he asked her, ignoring her obvious question she had posed in the first place.

"Hide out?" she managed out with a scoff, turning in her crossed-legged form to pick up another pebble, "I don't hide out. I escape the chatter, Dougie. The noise, if you will." She glanced over her shoulder, glanced at him up and down, hands on his hips, smirk on his face, eyes softly staring at her own. A right sight if you were to ask her.

"How the hell did you know I was here?"

"Carlisle." Carrie raised a brow and Dougie chuckled.

Oh Bessie Carlisle, what the hell.

"Oh." Carrie said quietly, picking up another pebble and launching it forward, watching it knock inside the jar with a clink. The air was tense, almost like Dougie expected her to say something - but she didn't want to say anything. Trying to calm down from that was already enough. She didn't have any reason to perturb Dougie. Not like she tried to in the first place anyway.

Carrie slowly glanced back over her shoulder. Dougie was still standing there, quiet look on his face, like processing her words wasn't enough. Like he had to find out more. She didn't want him to find out more.

"Uh….something you need?" she asked awkwardly, feeling bad at the flash of guilt in his gaze, "Help with something or…..to talk-"

"No." Dougie said with a shake of the head and a nod, "Just…..wondering what you were up to."

"Yeah." Carrie said, her mood dimming as she sat there, equally remembering what she was doing, too. The screams, the blank stares, the blood. Carrie blinked. She looked at him again.

"Also was wondering if you wanted to come hang with some of the guys. Get your mind off Harlowe for a minute and well….outta this bucket of bolts." Carrie's lip quirked upwards the slightest bit. Inclusion was one of the things that would warm her heart every time, someone realizing that obviously she wasn't okay, but wanting to make the effort to make sure she was okay or could get her half-way there.

"I'm afraid I won't be much fun tonight, Dougie, but," Carrie offered a slight smile and a nod, "I appreciate the offer." Dougie put on a smile and nodded before sticking his hands in his pockets and nodding at her.

"It's all good, I get it," he said quietly, "shit like that sticks with you." Carrie nodded. It fell quiet and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by the silence herself. She cleared her throat.

"Right," Carrie said quietly, eyeing him up and down there in the doorway to the nose of the plane, "well, either you leave or I kick you out." She met his gaze before turning it back towards the nose. "Your choice." Dougie let out a low whistle.

"My choice, huh?" he said, slowly making his way into the nose of the plane, knocking gentle on the metal bolts inside of her that Ken had screwed in that one time before a mission, "What are friends for then?" Carrie sent him a look, before slowly turning her head forward again.

"Care to explain the whole jar thing?" Carrie glanced at him quickly again. "And why you're alone in here?" Carrie fell quiet for a few moments, considering his words and her own thoughts. She let out a quiet sigh, thumbing the pebble over in between her fingers again.

"Well," Carrie started, "usually I get through about 10 pebbles before I realize I can process what happened. Each pebble that goes by, I talk about something that happened, something that jumped out at me. Margie's injury, for example. I speak about it. Let myself hear it, see it. Then, I throw the pebble away. Into the jar. And I don't take it out… ever. And then that memory is gone. Shoved away in a jar, covered by all those pebbles, all those memories. All gone."

There was something in Dougie's eye as he looked to her and she suddenly felt much more self-conscious then ever under his gaze. Her cheeks warmed and she brushed a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear before looking at him.

"Don't act like it's a dumb way to cope, I know how fast liquor and beer seem to disappear around here." she said quietly. But Dougie let out a quiet chuckle and for once there was no jeer, or teasing comment or anything of the sort. Just an acknowledgment, a chuckle, a nod and a look.

"And it seems to work?" Dougie asked her and she glanced over her shoulder at him and nodded. She watched as he took in her words and stepped closer, before settling down on the metal ground beside her, criss-crossed, their upbent knees nearly touching as he sat there next to her. He looked at her and she offered him a quiet, reserved look.

Carrie figured she had to look a sight. After interrogation, she hadn't gone anywhere except straight back to Silver Bullets, hiding up in the nose of the plane to try and forget. Her B3 looked nearly charred in a few places, her blonde hair greasy, possibly tangled and in a poor looking bun, smoke and grease stains on her face, near her eyes and along her forehead - her entire body ached, with exhaustion and hunger - and her mind hurt to even conjure a coherent thought. She sighed.

"It's hard," Carrie said quietly, watching as she tossed the pebble forward, hearing it clatter into the jar, "watching Margie like that. Seeing the other girl's faces. It sucked." Carrie sent another pebble forward, the clank satisfying enough for her to breathe. She looked at Dougie, who watched quietly - rather invested at that.

"Yeah," Dougie said softly, looking down and glancing at the jar set beneath her chair, "no one wants to talk about it either. But it hurts everyone. Ya know?" Carrie stiffly nodded before glancing over at him.

"Here," she said, offering him a pebble, "have a go." He watched her as she offered him a small smile. "You are a bombardier after all. Helps to have some aim." Dougie grinned at her words and looked at the jar. He aimed it for a moment, staring at the jar intensely before glancing over at her.

"I thought we were going to die up there today." he said quietly, before aiming the pebble again, more confidently and letting it sail into the jar a clink following. Carrie watched him for a moment, his eyes staring off forward towards the jar in a distant way she couldn't describe. And she felt her heart sag a bit at the sight. She felt bad. Instead, she picked up a pebble, quickly took aim and launched it forward.

"Me too." she said as a tiny clink followed. She glanced over as Dougie met her gaze and offered a small smile his way. He managed a small one back. For a second, they just watched one another's eyes - and Dougie did have a tender enough gaze to make the ice melt it seemed. Carrie let a small laugh escape past her lips as she looked away and down at the pile of stones at her feet.

"What?" she heard Dougie ask with a small chuckle as she picked up a few stones, wordlessly handing him a few before holding a few herself.

"A few of the stones in various jars were because of you." she said with a smirk, glancing his way, watching as awe seemed to fall upon his features. And she couldn't help but laugh a bit more."Don't act so surprised, Dougie, there were plenty of reasons to throw some pebbles in the jar," she said sending him a grin, "be lucky you never have to hear 'em."

"I never get to hear them? Oh, c'mon, Bergie, give me a laugh," he said, "what could I have said to earn a pebble in the jar?" Carrie raised a brow.

"Please tell me you're joking." she said.

"What?"

"Exhibit A," Carrie said, taking a pebble, making quite the show of holding it up in front of her before taking aim at the jar, "today Dougie sat beside and man, you should've seen his face when I told him a few of the reasons some pebbles are in the jar are because of him. I told, you must be joking and he just proceeded to stare." Then, she took aim and let the pebble sail into the jar, a tiny clink following.

Then, she looked over at Dougie, whose face was a mixture of something she couldn't quite make out - surprise, awe, maybe slightly dazed? Carrie chuckled as she uncurled her legs from their stiff, crisscross position and stood to her feet, removing the tiny pebble and turning to him.

"Wanna have another go?" she asked him, looking down at him as the setting sunbathed the front of his face in a honey-gold, shining through the nose of Silver Bullets in quite a glorious way, "Feel free to have a go at whatever you want." Dougie watched her.

"Why the hell you remove the pebble?" he asked her, smiling a bit, "Thought that sorta stuff went in the jar and never came out. Ya know, things you wanted to forget." Carrie smirked and shook her head.

"Nah, I don't want to forget that." she said laughing at the slightly surprised face he wore as she settled down next to him again, bumping her knee against his own, before turning to him, "Seriously, even if it's something stupid, it relieves some stress. It could be anything." Dougie just watched her and she took the moment to reach forward, uncurl his hand and put the pebble in his palm. Then, she nodded.

"Have at it." she said, quirking out a grin. Dougie watched her for a moment before looking towards the jar.

The silence, accompanied by their breathing, filled with tiny front nose of Silver Bullets, and it was enough to possibly have driven her crazy - but there was something comforting about sitting here, beside Dougie, in the silence. In what was to be after a day like that. He took aim and then let out a breath.

"Hearing Silver Bullets got hit scared the shit outta me." he said quietly and Carrie's smile slowly fell - she could feel the corners of her lips slowly drop, her heart beginning to pound faster, and her palms growing sweaty. Suddenly, sitting next to Dougie made her eyes water.

"Blakely had come running, threw open the doors, mentioned something or other about a plane being hit pretty badly, some wounded on board and that it was Silver Bullets. Couldn't help the fact that my mind went to the worst." Dougie said quietly, licking his lips before adjusting his shoulders and looking at the jar again, "Thought she was dead."

And with that, he launched the pebble forward and it landed perfectly inside the jar.

Then, it was silent.

This was the first time in ages where she was sat with Dougie and it was dead silent.

Slowly, Carrie pulled her eyes from the jar and glanced over at Dougie who sat there, jaw clenched, fists balled at the curves of his knees.

"Dougie-"

"It's in the jar." Dougie said, pushing himself rather suddenly to his feet and wiping off his pants, "Just….glad everyone else is okay." Carrie looked up at him, watching as he adjusted his crusher cap to his head and then grabbed the white scarf he'd placed by Bessie's navigator chair.

"Wait. Dougie, wait-" Carrie said, pulling herself to her feet as he wrapped the scarf around, "I…..I thought…."

"We didn't know who had gotten hit, just that someone was wounded," Dougie said, glancing her way, "so hearing it was Margie, it was a lot. That's all. Especially after Faulkner. That shit stays with you." Then, Dougie fixed his cap and looked at her deeply.

"I thought it was you." he said, and then turned and jumped down right out of the plane. Carrie stood still, completely frozen for a moment, before shaking her head.

No, no, no.

He didn't get to just leave while saying that. To her. Carrie grabbed her crusher cap, shoving it on her head and jumped down out of the plane, feet landing on the tarmac. The wind had picked up since she had holed up inside the plane nose.

Turning her head, she watched Dougie walking away back towards the nissen huts and stood up, righting herself before hurrying after him.

"Dougie!" she called after him, "Dougie!" He didn't stop at her words and with the flurry of emotion in her body right now, everything inside her wanted to scream at him to stop and turn around and look at her. But that small child inside of her told he'd walk away. Everyone always walked away. Her eyes welled with tears that she tried to blink away.

"James!" she yelled and it seemed that caused him to stop, back straightening as he turned towards her, face set as he looked at her - where she was rapidly approaching him, casting her to gaze upwards at him as she stopped in front of him.

Breathing a bit heavier than she had wanted, she looked at him, his eyes narrowed, gaze darkened and anxiety swirling. She sucked in a breath.

"What the hell was that?" she managed out, watching him intently, trying to untangle and undo him in anyway, "You thought-"

"It's in the jar." Dougie said again, firmer this time, "It's over."

"No." Carrie said quickly, hanging onto every word from that second in the nose of Silver Bullets, "You thought…it was me? Why?" Her words were left out in the open, lingering in the air between them, the question unwrapped, awaiting an answer.

Dougie just watched her, his eyes searching hers as they flicked back and forth in her gaze, his head tilted, that crusher cap crooked on top his head again.

James Douglass had never openly voiced any sort of emotion towards her that didn't start with a joke and end with a smirk. And to be fair, neither had she. She had never thought of anything more than what their bickering and teasing was - something good natured, something to get you through the war. Carrie blinked.

"Dougie…." she started quietly, but instead he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her fully.

"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, catching her completely off-guard. Carrie watched him, her heart continuing to pound - Dougie's eyes continuing to watch her - and she nodded.

"What is it?"

"Do you think I don't care about you?"

Now it was her turn to be silent.

Carrie stared at him.

Something inside of her wanted to cry.

"I…" Carrie started quietly, her throat choking up as she shut her mouth and cleared her throat, "I'm not…." She couldn't get her words out. Between him staring at her like that, her mind playing tricks on her, and her thoughts running wild, she couldn't even get herself to speak. He watched her as she cleared her throat.

"Not like that." she managed out, looking up at him as her eyes watered, letting out a shaky breath. There was so much said in the unsaid and with each passing second, the more her emotions were taking hold of her.

She thought of Margie in that moment - not only a crew member, and someone who had been there from the beginning, but a friend. Someone who was like a sister. Almost and nearly dead.

She thought of Birdie Faulkner, who had gotten this whole crew together in the first place - the whole reason she was here now - who was now dead and gone.

She thought of her family - back home in New York - her parents constantly gone, her siblings constantly asking for her, the long nights spent studying late at night, making up for lost time during the day. The times she had to skip school, get out of work early just to help her siblings - all the mouths that needed to be fed, the time that needed to be spent with to make sure they wouldn't end up like her, like Carrie.

How much she had put out and no one had cared.

Until she came to the Silver Bullets crew.

Until she'd been with other women who had felt pain just like she had.

Carrie's eyes welled with tears and she couldn't help but feel her chin shake and her lip wobble as Dougie watched her. She let out a weak whimper before sniffling and putting down her head to shake away the emotion.

"I'm sorry." she managed out, voice high-pitched.

"You don't have to apologize for anything." Dougie said quietly as she shook her head.

"I shouldn't be crying like this-"

"It's okay, Carrie."

"I'm sorry-"

"Carrie." Dougie said quietly, looking down at her with a tender look, "You don't have to say sorry." She looked at him, a few stray tears crawling down her cheeks as she nodded.

"Here." Dougie said, pulling the white scarf from his neck and handing it to her as she wiped at her eyes.

"Thanks." she managed out, sniffling as she took in the soft scent of the scarf - God, it smelled like him. So much like him. Even if he was standing right here. Him, that cologne he always wore - him.

"I'm serious though." Dougie said, nodding, before chuckling slightly - whether it was his nerves or how close they were standing, "I thought it was you. Couldn't help it. I hear the words Silver Bullets and there you are in my mind." Carrie looked up at him, managing the tiniest hint of a smile and laughed slightly, a stray tear falling down her cheek.

"It's just been a lot, that's all," she managed out, her voice struggling to break again, "especially after Birdie. And now Margie." Carrie squeezed her eyes shut, and wiped at her eyes, sniffling. Dougie placed a hand on her shoulder, softly rubbing his thumb against the exposed part of her neck, before looking to her.

"It's in the jar, Carrie." he said quietly, "Right?" She looked up at him. Then, she broke out in a smile, before a small, watery laugh escaped her lips. Lightly, she smacked the feather-light scarf at him before chuckling again.

"What?" he said with a chuckle, "It got you laughing, didn't it?" She looked up at him and managed to hold the smile for a bit longer.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "thanks for that." They grew quiet and he watched her, nodding.

"Come get some dinner, alright?" he said and she nodded. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she glanced up at him with a small smile. Pulling her into his side, he grinned at her.

"C'mon, Bergie, who else would I be able to crack a joke with and get my own balls broken with at the same time?"

"Oh shut the fuck up." Carrie said with a chuckle as Dougie grinned.

"Nah, nah, I'm being serious, who else, huh? Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"She'd only break your balls and then some." Dougie laughed, before looking at her with a small grin.

"C'mon," he said as they began walking towards the mess hall, "I'll buy you a drink after." Carrie smirked.

"What a gentleman." she whispered with a snicker.

"Remind me about the last time I bought you a drink-"

"Oh don't you even DARE start with that, Dougie-"

"I have every opportunity to take it back-"

"Dougie!" He looked at her with a grin. Her eyes softened.

"Thanks again." she said quietly, for caring.

Softly, without much of a word, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the side of her head underneath her lopsided crusher cap, before continuing to walk forward beside her.

"Thank you." she whispered under her breath, side of her head warm where his lips had just pressed - small, hardly even a peck, but enough for her body to go hot, her mind to scramble. Thank you for caring, she wanted to say, for me, about me, with me.

Thank you for caring for me.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Secrets in the Rain

Summary: Under the boughs of the great tree at Windrise, you and Kaeya share secrets

Word Count: 1201

CW/TW: Mentioned/referenced Sexual assault, hurt/comfort, use of “lady love” as a term of endearment

Kaeya x Fem!reader

A/N: It took a couple years and a lot of editing, but I think this is pretty good. It used to be one of my least favorite fics, but now I think it's worth its salt.

In the Land of the Winds, sheltered by a tree that has seen the passage of ages, you and Kaeya sit side by side.

The silence that hangs between you is broken only by rumbles of thunder and the constant drum of the downpour on the grass around the great oak. 

The longer it lingers, the more oppressive the quiet becomes.

When you had come out here, hoping to find guidance from Mondstadt’s greatest hero, you hadn’t asked your boyfriend of several years to follow. It's not like you mind his company, but the turmoil inside you urges you to send him away.

He shouldn't be here. He'll hate you. Don't let him see just how broken you are.

For a moment you’re reminded of one of Amber’s favorite stories, the one where the birds couldn’t fly until they gathered the courage and took the plunge. Looking at Kaeya, who seems to be waiting for you to speak, you realize that in this situation, you’re going to have to be that little, flightless bird. That somehow, you have to ignore the terrified voice, and take the plunge.

So you speak. “Why did you follow me, Kaeya?”

“Am I not supposed to be concerned about my --”

A crack of thunder obscures the end of this sentence, but you’ve heard his favorite term of endearment enough to fill in the blank.

Most days, the charming “lady love” falling from his lips warms you, even if all you do is blush and roll your eyes. 

Today, however, isn’t one of those days. Today you sigh, closing in you yourself as one hand wraps around the opposing arm.

A drop of rain splashes on your neck, but you pay no mind.

“Don’t call me that, Kaeya. Not right now.”

“Talk to me, Y/n. What are you thinking? You're not supposed to sit under trees in a storm.”

While you bite your lip, unable to answer, Kaeya narrows his eye at you.

He knows you have your secrets. He sees it in the haunted look that you get sometimes, in the nightmares he knows you have but have never let him soothe. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s been waiting. He knows as well as any that when you're ready to speak, you will.

Another crack of lightning sends a pang of loss and frustration through his heart, reminding him of another, similarly miserable day and the vision he received. His vision, Secrets.

Mondstadt is the City of Freedom, not the City of Trade. Contracts are not its value and Rex Lapis not its god, but perhaps one of its precepts could be a solution. A fair trade, one thing for another. A secret for a secret.

All he knows is that if you're going to be hurting, putting yourself in danger to find comfort in solitude, he at least wants to know why.

Kaeya moves closer, not touching you--knowing that at times like this that you don't like touch--but bringing himself close enough that the storm can't swallow his confession.

“I’m from Khaenri’ah.”

The words are soft, but they’re enough to have you staring at him eyes wide and lips parted.

“Kaeya?”

He takes your question as a prompt to continue. “I was abandoned here, left to be a spy for Khaenri’ah, Though… I’m not sure where my loyalties are anymore.

“The Knights, the Winery--even Diluc as much as I hate to admit it--- and most especially my beautiful lady love. But I was raised for this mission, raised to fight against Mondstadt. I try not to think of what would happen if I were forced to choose between the two.”

Kaeya’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for your response.

You rest your hand over his. “Is that why you and Diluc fought?”

“It was poor timing on my part. He still hasn’t forgiven me.”

“Neither of you are anything less than mule headed. It’s frustrating, but endearing. I'm happy you told me. ”

You hesitate, biting your lip.

As Kaeya had anticipated, knowing his secrets makes it harder for you to bury yours.

It certainly silences the voice inside. After all, how can he run after sharing a secret like his.

"I guess this means I can't withhold my secret from you anymore. I just don’t know how to say it. I almost can't speak of it, and often, I physically can't."

Kaeya remains silent, letting you take your time.

You sigh, roughly, glaring at the ground. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying to think of a way to say something. To tell you. I trust you more than I trust anyone but…”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Exactly.”

Kaeya doesn’t push, his single, star-pupiled eye giving you quiet encouragement. “You don’t have to tell me, y/n. I might have shared with you, hoping you would tell me what you've been thinking, but if you’re not ready to talk, you're not ready to talk. I won't force you.”

You shake your head. “I want to. You trusted me. I want to return that trust.”

Kaeya shifts your hands so that instead of laying one on top of another, your fingers are laced together. “Take your time.”

You inhale, closing your eyes and steeling your resolve. When you open them your gaze falls to your intertwined fingers.

“Do you know why I won't sleep with you?”

“I’ve made a couple guesses.”

Guesses based on your reactions to certain jokes, to bawdy talk at the Angel’s Share, to your reactions any time he tries to initiate anything more than a heated make out session. 

The conclusions he makes are enough to have anger pooling in his gut. But he never pushed, trusting that the truth would come out in due time.

“I should have figured you would. You’re so perspective it’s scary.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I--” You avert your eyes as your throat constricts, trying to stop the words before they can be aired. You force them out anyway. “I had my innocence stolen. A long time ago. It took me a long time to realize what happened, but now that I have? It hurts, Kaeya. It hurts so bad and I don’t know how to fix it. And--And I’ve been scared.”

“Scared?”

Tears slip down your face, mixing with the rain that now soaks you both. 

“Scared that you’ll leave me because of it. Scared that you’ll learn what my nightmares hold and leave me because of it, because I’ll never be fully whole.”

The look in your eyes is so lost, so scared, a polar opposite to the vibrant aura that surrounds you everywhere you go--his heart breaks for you.

Kaeya draws you into his arms, mindful of any negative reaction to his touch.

It’s gratifying when you melt into his embrace.

“I would never leave you over this. You’re my wonderful Y/n, my lady love. I’m here for you. Always.”

His words break through the last of your barriers and a harsh sob tears itself from your throat.

Kaeya whispers soft words of love and comfort as tears join the rainwater soaking his chest,

Under the boughs of Vanessa’s tree, two secret keepers find honesty and the first step to healing. 

Somewhere out there, the Anemo Archon smiles.

[nyoomerr]

Just months before the Immortal Alliance Conference, Luo Binghe discovers the cure to Without-a-Cure. With his own heritage still sealed and mostly unknown to him, there seems to be only one solution: Shen Qingqiu must receive the cure from the last known Heavenly Demon, Tianlang-Jun, even if it means that Luo Binghe has to grit his teeth and set his precious Shizun up with another man. Shen Qingqiu does not want to receive the cure from Tianlang-Jun. He doesn't particularly want to receive anything from Tianlang-Jun. Shen Qingqiu somehow ends up fake-dating Tianlang-Jun anyway, if only to swindle the System into delaying the Endless Abyss plot for as long as he can.

🌹 bingqiu 🌹 no-abyss AU, misunderstandings, light-hearted 🌹 lbh tries to get his shizun medicinally laid 🌹 31k, 3/5 chapters, updating weekly!

chapter 3 is out! this week, sqq has his first date with tlj, and lbh makes some very bold moves...

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

brain is being mean 2 me i need kenjaku’s services asap …………….

[randomgamefan]

Everything Lives On In The Stars Chapter 3 is out!!

Read Chapter 3 here!

As we're getting deep into this world and it's characters, we'll soon learn how they all tie in with the strange device they've found.

Feel free to shoot me any questions or comments over here as well!!

As always big thanks to my beta reader @soratsuart !!!!

[zushimart]

whatever i want prince!scara x gn!knight!reader (masc leaning) royal au, pining, slight angst (jealousy, possessiveness), fluffy resolution, 4.4k words

he has never extended himself for what he wants. there is a person for every question. there is a chef to handle an exotic food craving, an advisor to schedule a luxury travel plan, a servant to send on a petty errand. each person is nameless and nothing is out of reach. there is no line between want and need. 

his knight is a fixture, stuck to the rules and him like glue when scheduled to guard his bedroom door or the hall outside of his study or the garden gate when scara chooses to take a breath of fresh air. at first, they were like a fly ��� ever present even when waved away – but now, scara struggles to raise his hand to dismiss them. 

there is a sensory experience he is seeking that he is not dextrous enough to catch between his fingers. 

it starts with a mistake. scara is never allowed a private moment to himself. he is followed by the same ghosts that make his opulent lifestyle possible. and so, he retires to bed early only to take to the halls without chaperone. one night, while cutting corners to reach the kitchen for an early breakfast, he stumbles upon a cozy banquet hosted by the knights for one another. he finds himself peering between the cracked mahogany doors to watch the brazen few laugh amongst each other in the crackling fire’s glow. 

they are close with one another. grins split across their faces as they throw arms around shoulders and thrust mugs of beer into hands. 

as his eyes dance from person to person, he catches sight of a familiar face. his own personal guard with a look so unfamiliar to the prince decorating their face. they’re sitting off to the side, quiet as ever, but with a fondness written in their eyes accompanied by a matching smile that scara has never had the benefit of seeing before. 

he watches as their eyes flick from person to person while gently tending to the fire. they drop the iron rod to steady a friend who stumbles too close to the flames, their capable hands wrapping around the other knight’s waist. scara feels the ghost of them around his own, but the difference is the nonchalance of their grip. his knight even squeezes their comrade close, teasing him for being so clumsy. 

they would never do such a thing to their prince, would they?

they even tell a joke – eliciting rambunctious laughter from the small crowd and managing to tilt scara’s lips into a smile. he hides it behind his hand, embarrassed. 

scara begins to imagine himself entwined in their comradery. instead of the disdain he expected to feel from lowering himself to their status, envy eats away at him like poison. frustration bubbles up his throat. he shouldn’t have to fantasize of intimacy – he has a monopoly on his knight’s time… he should be the closest one to them in the room.  

he sighs the slightest of sighs, the sound lost in the chatter. scara stares. 

and as if his knight had been aware of scara’s presence the entire time, their gaze flicks up to meet his. 

his eyes widen and he sharply pulls away, slamming his back against the wall beside the door. his heart thunders in his chest and his cheeks flush red, but he can’t fathom the dramatics of his reaction. why does he feel as though he’s been caught misbehaving? he was the prince of their country. 

but still, scara rockets down the hall from where he came, holing himself up in his chambers and praying that his knight will think the sight of scara in the crack of the doorway was just a trick of the flickering light. but as he readies himself for bed, with the promise that he would rise in just a few hours, the images of his knight shed of their stoicism repeat in his mind.

when he wakes up, the clarity of his memory has waned. their smile is distorted by the licking firelight and their laugh has dulled a decibel or two. he wants to see and to hear and to feel it again, and nothing he wants is out of reach.  

so why are they out of reach? 

><

while stable boys saddle their steeds, scara glances up from petting his horse to look at his knight. he watches, enraptured by the ease with which they weave playful banter between the servants. 

“you’re much too small to properly saddle my mare,” his knight teases a young boy whose face scrunches up at the challenge, quickly pushing his older brother out of the way to take over preparing the horse for riding. a few more quips and the group of kids are falling over themselves with laughter, piling the knight with curious questions, and trying to get a closer look at their sword and armor.

despite not even knowing their name, the stable boys are crawling over his knight like they’re an older sibling. scara watches as they rally the boys and carefully unsheathe their sword, telling them the history following the blade. the bright-eyed kids crowd around the knight, begging to hold the handle or even touch the metal. scara holds back a smile as his knight waves them away, shaking their head. 

“his majesty bestows the sword only to the most terrifying,” scara interjects with an attempt at sarcasm, “so don’t get too close…” his tone is too serious despite his intention to participate in the conversation, not end it. the boys disperse in fear. 

his knight consoles him. “ah, i’m sorry, your highness. they didn’t understand your humor.” and although the words are kind, they’re distant. 

he rolls his eyes, mounting his steed without another word. how, scara wonders, is one supposed to grow close with another? he grits his teeth. 

><

“come here,” he orders, and they stride close. the two of them are in the library in the west wing. far from the bustle of servants or wandering nobles, they are wrapped in quiet. hidden between bookshelves as tall as buildings, each fortified with volumes upon volumes of books slotted together like bricks. the silence is interrupted only by scara’s page turning and accompanying hums. 

his knight stands beside him, patiently awaiting orders. scara leans against a desk, tilting his head and letting his dress shirt slip down, hanging dangerously off his shoulder. “could you help me?” he asks, voice pitching lower.  

“yes, your highness, what do you need?” his knight asks, impassive as stone. in fact, their eyes don’t even lift to meet his. 

scara tries not to let the frustration show, but his self control is near nonexistent. “i am going to get the oldest publication of this philosophy anthology,” he says through gritted teeth, pointing to the very top of the bookshelf. the ceiling is seemingly miles away, and his knight opens their mouth to express concern, but scara is quicker. “it’s fine, just watch me,” he says,

his knight finds the wheeled ladder attached to the bookcase and pulls it to scara, taking a step back to watch the prince mount and climb. when he’s a third of the way up the ladder, he looks down to his knight. “oh no,” scara says, voice devoid of any emotion as he manually loosens his grip on the ladder, “i’m losing my balance.” 

“sir, are you alright?” his knight calls up to him. 

“i’m falling,” he calls down before letting go. he plummets directly into their waiting arms and stares up at them expectantly as if waiting for something. he’s swindled their touch – their strong hold carefully cradling him – yet he can’t swindle familiarity. he can’t manufacture ease. instead of teasing him… instead of even scolding him… they simply righten him on his feet and ask: 

“would you like to try again, sire? or shall i?” 

he frowns. “it’s the green book with golden binding,” he says, taking a seat at the desk. he lays his head down on his arms, staring up at his knight climbing the ladder up the bookcase and plotting how best the fill the gap between them.

><

the study is quiet. scara leans over the chaise for guidance when he needs help with a special stitch of his embroidery. his aunt nahida carefully instructs him where to prick his needle next. “is there something on your mind?” she asks when she catches his brows furrowed.

“i’m frustrated,” he admits almost immediately.

“with embroidering?” her voice tilts with curiosity. 

“no…” scara says, looking up from his work. he looks up, then down, and then to nahida. “how did you do it?” scara asks. “how did… how did we become close? how did you manufacture comfort? why is it easy to speak with you?” 

nahida blinks and puts a finger to her lips. she hums, thinking hard, intrigued by his question. “i’m not sure,” she admits. “shouldn’t you be the one to answer those questions?” she asks. “why?” 

scara’s face turns back to his stitching, but it does little to hide the way his cheeks flush. he doesn’t answer. 

“is there someone you want to be close to?” nahida asks. 

“yes,” scara admits quietly. 

“do i know them?” she prompts gently. 

“yes,” he answers again, thread and needle working vigorously as his anxiousness builds. 

“can i ask who they are?” 

“no,” scara almost squeaks. “isn’t it enough to know that there is someone?” 

“oh, well, okay,” nahida says, putting a finger to her lips. “why do you feel comfortable talking to me?” 

scara looks up, red in the face. he bites his lip, thinking hard. “you’re persistent,” he says carefully… just halfway to an insult. “you listen to me…” he continues. “remember things i tell you… ask me questions… and i feel like i want to tell you more and more.” 

he looks to nahida to see her smiling giddily behind her hand and his face sours. “this is just an ego trip for you.” 

“no!” she bursts, “i’m just happy… to know how you feel.” 

his eyes widen a little bit and a puzzle piece snaps into place. he sighs before letting a fond smile turn his lips as he looks away. “shut up,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t mean it. she giggles, sitting closer to him on the chaise and fixing his hair with affection reserved for family.

><

it’s morning. his eyes still haven’t adjusted to the bright rays shining through the windows of the dining hall. he squints at his plate, pushing the fresh fruit around with his fork and growing more irate by the second as his advisor flips through the details of his schedule, reminding him of his lack of autonomy. 

“and finally, a gift in honor for your stellar performance in our diplomacy lessons,” he drones on, “we do not meet for our evening class tonight.” 

“yeah, yeah,” scara waves him away before the words register. “wait, we don’t?” 

“no, i’m giving you the hours to rest… or to get up to whatever mischief. please don’t implicate me in your plans. i’d rather not be scolded by her majesty for my decision to give you this freedom.” 

“she doesn’t care,” scara slights, rolling his eyes. his advisor is jaded, excusing himself without a word for the prince’s disrespect of the throne. scara leaves his half-eaten plate behind and makes his way to the door, his eyes flicking up to the knight waiting at the threshold for him. to think there was a time he never glanced, looked. stared… – he catches himself, turning his face quickly to hide the heat painting him pink all over again. 

and his conversation with nahida lingers in the back of his mind, growing closer as he approaches until it’s front and center. words he didn’t even know he wanted to say inch up his throat and before he could even process them himself, his mouth opens and they come falling out. “during my free hour you will practice piano with me,” he blurts.

his knight tilts their head curiously before giving him an uncertain nod. 

ah, it came out as an order… not an invitation. scara shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. he tries again. “i-i mean… would you like to practice piano with me tonight?” the words are creaky like rusty hinges as he uses manners gone unseen since childhood. he acts in his etiquette classes, of course. this is real. 

“i accompany you everywhere, sire,” they say as if the prince has forgotten. 

scara’s mouth clamps shut and he looks away, defeated. “i-i know that,” he says, biting his lip. “whatever,” he snaps, storming off into the hall, his knight trailing behind like a puppy. 

><

when the final lesson of his day comes to a close, his wrists are sore from the articles he’d written and his eyes are strained from deciphering various diplomats’ awful lettering. piano seems like a terrible idea. 

“are you headed to the study now, then?” his knight asks from behind him. he jumps from the sudden sound of their voice and turns around in his chair. 

“i’m not sure,” he answers timidly. “i think…” he doesn’t want to say it. it feels like a secret, like if he reveals where he wants to go and what he wants to do it will reveal what he wants from his knight. what do i want? he asks himself. “i am going to the greenhouse instead,” he says. he’s lying. he wants to go to the field adjacent to the greenhouse. he’s going to grab a picnic blanket and a basket from one of the closets in the kitchen. 

the knight doesn’t question him. they never do. a part of him wishes they would… especially as he rifles through the walk-in pantry, disappearing into the cellar and hoisting himself up metal racks without explanation. 

as they enter the garden, the cool night air helps the tense heat in his body loosen and dissipate. he turns around, holding his knight in place with his sharp gaze. “are you not going to ask me anything?” 

their response is obedient. “what should i ask?”  

he frowns and spins around, taking bigger steps towards the field. 

when they arrive, the grass is dewy. the shine of the moonlight reflects off the droplets like jewelry. it’s quiet, with only the sound of a lonely owl and the wind pulling at the tops of the trees surrounding the clearing. 

and although they try to help, scara angrily pushes his guard away as he sets up the blanket himself. in the basket he’d hastily prepared is a bottle of finely aged wine and two glasses wrapped in cloth.

“d-do you want me to pour you a drink?” scara asks, already having taken a seat. he stares up at his knight who stands a few steps away from the edge of the blanket. ever vigilant, their eyes are turned to the edge of the forest as if expecting an ambush. 

“shouldn’t i keep watch, your majesty?” they ask with the same tilt of their head as earlier. his heart squeezes up in his chest. this won’t do. 

he remembers nahida’s giddy smile in the wake of his honesty. “i wanted to spend time with you,” he admits, voice small. anyone could have missed it in the wind. 

and with the same swiftness as if they had been commanded, his guard takes a seat across from him. scara feels rewarded.

the gaze they turn to him is at an intensity he has never prepared for. he feels like he’s being dissected. filled with nervous energy, scara keeps his hands busy with uncorking the dark red bottle. 

the silence eats away at him, eyes shifting all over as he sets up the frosted glass on the linen blanket. he pours them a drink. “only one,” they say, taking it. “i’ve never been served by royalty. it feels blasphemous, in a way.” 

scara’s mind goes haywire trying to find the right question to ask to foster a proper conversation. it’s as if every etiquette class he managed to attend has been wiped from his memory. “do you drink often?” he finally asks. 

his knight contemplates after their sip. “no… only with friends,” they say. 

“it seems like fun,” scara responds. 

the knight hums. “what, does?” they ask. “drinking with friends?” 

“yes,” scara says, thinking back to the night he spied them in the small crowd of cozy comradery by the fireplace… until he realizes his knight is giving him a knowing smile. 

“you can join next time,” they say softly. 

scara feels his heart thump a little harder. he looks away from their face, spending his focus elsewhere and letting the taste of bittersweet wine flood his tongue. “i think i might scare them with my presence if i interject,” he manages. 

“maybe the first time,” his knight agrees. scara’s shoulders tense. “i’m sure the second time, though, a brave few would extend a mug,” they say, grabbing the wine bottle. “and the third, they might even pour you a drink.” 

as if to prove their point, they pour more wine into his cup. he takes a huge gulp in his nervousness. his knight laughs. scara smiles against his glass. 

“i don’t think you’re scary,” they admit into the cool night air. the sentiment slips into scara’s heart.

><

he rolls around in his bed, unable to sleep. a week had passed since the night sky and the picnic blanket and the wine and his guard and they’re friends and apparently always have been and if that was his goal… 

friends? scara asks himself. he feels greedy. 

he groans, burying his face into his pillow and kicking his feet. he rolls over and over and over until he’s reached the other side of the bed. finding the moon through his window, scara frowns, pushing himself up and tossing his legs over the side of the mattress. if he can’t sleep, he might as well take to the halls.

the castle is quiet except for the occasional jangle of a lamplight in a patrolling guard’s hand. he dips between halls, hiding behind heavy window drapes and slipping into empty closets. he keeps his body as occupied as his mind with the one-sided dance of getting from one wing to the other undetected. 

he has no objective other than to tire himself, flitting from room to room like a moth. he runs his finger down dusty bookcases, breathes on windows till he can draw shapes into the glass, and rearranges decorations to keep the ghost stories circulating among the maids. 

he finds himself near the barracks as if it were the light he was drawn to. 

steps sound in his direction – another patrol – and he reaches for the nearest door handle, hastily disappearing into a room he’s never been in before. he looks around, eyes adjusting to the low light. a small bed and plain canopy take up most of the space… a guest bedroom for visiting servants. he doesn’t seem to be alone this time, though, if the lamplight in the far corner of the room is anything to go by. 

but the sight in the burgundy armchair beside it makes his stomach plummet to the ground. 

“your majesty?” his knight asks in shock, the words smushing together in a rushed jumble. there is a girl in their lap. 

scara stares with wide eyes as the woman scrambles out of her… seat… to bow over and over, apologies spilling from her mouth. he ignores every word. she’s still too close to them, scara thinks. “get out,” he whispers. 

she falls silent, meeting his gaze. “get out,” he says a little louder. she looks at the door and points at herself in confusion. “are you stupid?” scara asks, tone scathing. “get out,” he repeats. 

he feels satisfaction at the fear in her face, dashing past him and through the door in a scramble. it slams closed behind her. why am i so angry? scara thinks, clenching his fists.

“and me?” his knight asks from the chair. “my punishment for my unprofessionalism?” 

scara feels something stinging the back of his eyes when he looks at them. “s-shut up,” he barks. “i’m thinking.” 

“of?” 

his jaw clenches and there’s a fire in his eyes as he asks: “why would you let her touch you?”

it’s so unfair, he thinks.  

“w-wh… sire, what do you mean?” they ask gently. 

“what did she do to deserve it?” scara feels tears welling up in his eyes and he’s mortified by the strength of his emotions, inundated by waves of heat rolling through his limbs. a pit opens up in his stomach as tears begin to drip. “tell me,” he demands, striding over and looming ominously.  

“s-sorry… what?” his knight asks, sitting up in their seat. 

scara pushes them back down into the armchair, feeling his heart flutter as his eyes comb over every detail of their face softened by the glow of the moonlight through the window. “i’m being very clear,” he says, managing to regain the edge to his voice.

they go limp, letting scara dig his fingers into their shoulders and hold them down. “are you asking how we got into that… situation?” 

“yes,” scara says. “what did she do?” he asks, stressing every word of his question.

“u-um, well,” they begin, a little embarrassed. “we talked… it was a bit of flirting… first–

“you look beautiful in the moonlight tonight,” he practically shouts, cutting them off. the compliment loses its meaning entirely through its awkward, manufactured delivery. “now you to me,” he commands. 

and the tension shatters as his knight’s eyes widen, jaw slackening in shock. the prince is so… awkward. it takes everything in them not to laugh in his face.

“is his highness… jealous?” they ask softly, lips curving into a smile. 

“no!” scara bursts, face flushed red. he bites his lip, grabbing the arm rests of the chair and hoisting himself into the seat, straddling his knight’s lap. “i-i can have anything i want,” he says, and yet he nervously searches the knight’s face for any signs of discomfort.  

how painfully endearing. 

they encourage him. “she held my face,” they say. scara takes his two shaking hands and harshly cups his knight’s face, chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “she…” they trail off before biting the inside of their cheek. “she told me how she felt.” 

scara pales. 

he pulls his hands away and wipes his tears with the sleeves of his nightgown. the sound of the ocean in his ears calms to the silence of a still pond. he swallows hard. “i want you close to me. i want you to be closest with me,” he says, voice just above a whisper. 

and his knight sits with his confession for a moment, studying his eyes and the teardrops that had caught in his lashes like watery diamonds. the tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, wiping at his face and looking away like he can’t bear to meet their gaze. it seems almost silly – the prince in a fuss. 

“only if you’ll be close to me,” they say, hands finding scara’s waist. “closest with me.” 

scara’s breath catches in his throat. “are you serious?” he asks. 

“lying would be against my oath,” they say. 

“did you say that to her?” scara asks, frowning. 

“nope,” they say, having to defend themselves like an unfaithful lover. “i’m not even entirely sure what her name is.” 

“then why did you let her touch you?” he asks, eyeing them down suspiciously.

“because i wasn’t aware that i belonged to the prince,” they say, grinning. “it’s news to me, haven’t you realized?” 

scara blushes. “as the prince, i command you to never… do that again with anyone,” he says, lip curling in disgust as he thinks of the maid touching what’s supposed to be his, “anyone but me,” he breathes. 

“you know,” his knight laughs. “you could command me as yourself,” they say. 

scara’s heart stutters like his tongue as he mutters “s-shut up.” he pinches their cheeks hard enough to make them wince. 

“what now?” they ask coyly and scara becomes hyper aware of where he sits, nothing but the thin sheet of silk of his nightgown separating him from his knight. he almost falls backwards as he stands up, putting a bit of distance between them. 

it’s as if the sheer dramatics of his performance have finally caught up to him. 

“i-i don’t know,” he admits. what does he do now that he has what he wants? he has to ask nahida. “i’m… i’m tired,” he lies, adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

“should i escort you to your chambers?” the knight asks, amused. scara backs away towards the door. 

“i know how to get there by myself just fine,” he says, hand grasping for the door handle, “i live here.” 

“goodnight, sire,” they say, leaning forward and propping their chin up with their hand, “take care.” 

“yes, night, good,” he says, shutting the door behind him and taking a deep breath against the wall to calm himself only to realize he’s been caught in the light of a senior patrolling guard’s oil lamp. he’s escorted back to his room by his ear, cursing the entire way.

when he’s tucked away with the senior at his door to keep him inside for the few hours before the sun rises… his stomach is a mess of butterflies – he feels sick and shy with love. morning doves begin to coo in couples.

>< 

his tutor leaves the two alone in the study and scara fills the silence when it grows too loud to ignore. “rid that smile from your face,” he blurts. his knight’s eyes have been burning holes into him the entire morning. 

“i’m happy to see you,” they say. 

and scara can’t help but smile in tandem, gaze glued to the documents piling his desk. he clears his throat. “my mother is hosting an upcoming ball, i know you’ve heard…” he trails off, “and perhaps… perhaps we can practice my waltz tonight?” 

“of course, if it would make you feel prepared for the ball,” they say, committing to the act. they both knew it was an excuse to be near each other without a chaperone and they both knew they would be continuing to make excuses for a long time to come. 

[thegoldenavenger]

struggling under the cresting waves

Liu Qingge has a gill worm. Shen Qingqiu takes issue with this.

“Move.” Shen Qingqiu abandons his wordier inclination when he finally gets close enough to touch. He bats at Liu Qingge’s arm so that he lifts it away from his gills before holding his hand out lengthwise against Liu Qingge’s side. “What…” he says before trailing off, because with the dark flash of Shen Qingqiu’s eyes Liu Qingge suddenly understands. Measuring.

[delightful-dorks]

NumbuhPhenon's Cold Reception is really making me think about the Interesting Twins and Rowdy Hooligans in light of how the Delightful Children came to be. The way the fic sets up Sector Z is just so gutting and horrifyingly plausible that the mere existence of other delightful children suggests so much about Father as a character; namely that for all the awful things he had to do to turn Sector Z into the DCFDTL, there's proof that they're not the only ones he's done this to-- and they might not have even been the first!

(And even if you aren't familiar with Cold Reception's specific recounting of how that happened, ZERO still implies a lot about them; the fic just illustrates one possible scenario in such devastating clarity it made me think about their Whole Deal a lot more.)

I think it's interesting that, out of the many delightfulized groups, the DC are the only group of children that Father actually claims as his own-- the Interesting Twins and Rowdy Hooligans don't live with him, and I think it's interpret-able from the way both of them talk about him whether or not they consider him their Father, or if he's just their boss. It's really making me look at Father as an embodiment of an abusive, selfish parent in a whole new light, in that perhaps the Twins and Hooligans represent the way some fathers have children that they either don't claim as their own or abandon for one reason or another.

Father says that the DC are his "perfect" delightful children, made from his original machine, but we don't ever see him mention any other attempts or children other than them. We know he must have done some experimentation, given how many delightfulization machines we see over the course of the series; it's probably his life's work that the DC were a culmination of, so.... where is all of his previous work? Whether he "made" the IT and RH before or after would probably give us some insight into his view of the DC-- maybe they weren't as effective as he had hoped and kept trying, or maybe his first few attempts before the DC weren't as driven or disciplined as he wanted. Either way, though, it doesn't help that both the IT and RH are never seen with parents and are conveniently not in America where the DC and people that know Father might see them. The two groups definitely strike me as being either too prone to failure (IT) or not willing to hold grudges enough (RH) for Father to accept-- probably seeing them as failed experiments that he distanced himself from. But honestly that's just the beginning of my questions. Do they even know about each other? What if they all think they're Father's only real kids, with Father maintaining a separate lie for all three? And, barring that, who were either group before?? We know the Delightful Children are Sector Z, but who were the Twins before? Who were the Hooligans before? Were they all KND, or was that where Father went wrong? Did he kidnap regular kids and expect them to be just as tactical and strong as Sector Z was (no doubt giving his machine too much credit for their efficacy) and thus abandoned them when they couldn't perform?

Much to consider....