#the tagging system truly will be the death of me

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 177

warnings: nsfw moment, stalking, mentions of blood hmh masterlist

Since John has some things to get done today, you and Ronan are having a girls' day. He kissed you both goodbye after breakfast, then he left for the day. You took Ronan to the toy store so she could pick something out before you took her with you to the store to pick up some stuff for dinner. She played with her new toy the entire time and said hi and waved at every person who walked past. It’s her thing right now, and it’s probably the cutest thing ever.

After a trip to the grocery store, you ran a few more errands as quickly as possible since you didn’t want her to grow fussy, then you headed back home. It is a pretty warm day, so you definitely want to spend it outside. Ronan has some toys to play with and you have a book you’ve been dying to read since you brought it home from the shop a week ago.

When you pull into the driveway, a smile immediately spreads on your face. John is back and he’s standing by his car talking with Jimmy. You’re sure he just forgot something, so you pull around his car so you don’t block him in the driveway, and when Ronan sees her favorite guy, she screams with excitement. She’ll never tire of seeing him, and that’s also pretty fucking cute.

“Daddy!” she yells from the backseat, and you roll down her window and laugh when John rushes over.

“Hi, bug.” he leans in and kisses her cheek, “Did you get a new toy?”

From the rearview mirror, you see Ronan hold it up to show her daddy, and she smiles when John gasps and asks her questions about it. Jimmy even comes over to check it out too. John moves aside so Jimmy can talk to Ronan, and he opens your door and smiles at you.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” you give him a small bashful wave that makes him laugh, and he reaches out to help you from the car so he can hug you. “What are you doing home?”

John gives you a quick kiss before gesturing to the house, “Forgot something I needed, then I stopped to talk to Jimmy.”

“Oh, so you still have things to do?” you ask, and he nods his head and smiles when you frown. “Okay. Well, I already did all my errands for the day, so hurry up.”

“I’m letting you two have a girls' day.”

You nod, “We’re having one! I bought some nail polish for her. I found this kind that is strictly made for children, so it’s non-toxic, vegan, cruelty-free, and all kinds of other stuff, and I’m totally losing you because your eyes have glazed over and you’re just nodding your head.”

John starts to smile, “I was listening.”

“Then what did I say?” you put your hands on your hips as he stares at you with a stupid grin on his face. “Exactly.”

“You said it was safe for Ronan to use.” he takes your hands off your hips and wraps them around his waist, pulling you close, “I just have a few more things to do, then I’ll be home.”

You look down when you feel Ronan tugging on your shorts, “Okay, well, we’re having a girls' day and we’re going to paint our nails with non-toxic, vegan, and cruelty-free nail polish.”

“Yeah, I was listening,” he teases, and you roll your eyes before leaning up to kiss him. “Say goodbye to daddy, Ro.”

Ronan hugs tight to John’s leg, then reaches up for a hug. He lifts her into his arms and hugs her, then he kisses her plump cheek before putting her down and kissing you again. You wave bye to Jimmy as he heads down the driveway after saying his goodbyes, then you hold Ronan and wave as John backs out.

“Bye, daddy!” Ronan yells, and you laugh as you look over at her. John taps the horn a few times, and she giggles loudly.

You blow a kiss to John and wave at him, then you take Ronan into the house to paint your nails.

__

It’s super warm this afternoon, so you and Ronan got settled on a blanket under the tree in the yard. She’s running around with Bleu and Sadie while you watch her, and you laugh when she trips and tumbles to the ground. You’re only laughing because she immediately gets up and keeps running around as the dogs chase her, giggling non-stop.

One day, she fell, and John immediately made a huge deal about it, which, yeah, is completely understandable, but because his reaction was so intense, so was hers. She sobbed. She didn’t even hurt herself. She just tripped over her feet. John took her into his arms and cuddled her until she felt better, then later she did it again (She’s a toddler, what do you expect?), and you playfully gasped and said "Uh oh!” and had a much more laidback reaction. She didn’t cry. She just got up and said “I okay,” before running off to play. You told John that if his reaction is intense, she’s going to feed off that.

It’s like those videos where the parents use their hand to hit the door, then they say “Oh no, are you okay?” to the baby, who then starts crying. They didn’t even get hurt. They’re just basing their reaction on yours.

Ronan is a Wick through and through, though. That girl will fall seven times and get back up eight. She is so John’s daughter.

You tilt your head back and close your eyes when a light breeze blows past, but you look down when you feel something hit your arm. You furrow your brow and pick up the candy wrapper, then you look around the yard.

Usually, you don’t get much litter in the yard. Mill Neck is very adamant about picking up any and all trash left around. You’ve never even seen a cigarette butt on the sidewalk before. They constantly patrol the neighborhood and the lake behind your house and are always picking up trash.

When another wrapper blows past, you quickly sit up and grab it before standing up and scanning the yard. Maybe a raccoon got into the garbage last night. You walk over to the garbage can to investigate with Ronan and the dogs right on your heels. She’s found a stick that she’s now waving around, so both dogs run off and finally plop down in the yard for some rest. You sure wouldn’t want to be in the way of her and that giant stick.

“Careful, Ro.” you say as you walk around the side of the house, “Uh oh, not near the windows.”

Ronan looks up at you with her big brown eyes--she is so John’s twin--then she nods her head and takes a few steps away before waving it around some more, knocking it against a flower pot and a patio chair. You make your way to the back of the house and keep looking around for any wrappers while Ronan gasps and finds more sticks to play with, you assume.

“What the hell?” you whisper to yourself when you find another wrapper for an energy bar.

“Momma!” Ronan calls out, and you turn around to see her walking over with a plastic bag in one hand and a clear water bottle that is definitely holding something that is not water.

“Put that down! Now!” you yell loudly and completely on impulse, and Ronan drops it and immediately starts to cry. You didn’t think about how your tone would absolutely scare her. You quickly rush over and grab her hands since she always sucks her thumb when she’s tired or sad, and you rush her into the house while she cries. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You take her into the bathroom and immediately put some soap on her hands, scrubbing them vigorously and lathering the soap up nicely before rinsing it away. She’s still crying, but you’ll console her in a minute.

After drying her hands, you walk out to the living room and set her in your lap as you sit on the couch. You move her wispy brown hair from her eyes and press a kiss to her forehead. Her thumb immediately goes into her mouth. Thank god you washed her hands.

“I am so sorry that I yelled, baby.” you whisper against her warm forehead, “What you were holding was icky, and I didn’t want you to get dirty. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Ronan nuzzles into the crook of your neck and tries to say she loves you back. You give her a big kiss, then you hold her tight in your arms, rocking her gently. It’s almost nap time for her anyway. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, so you carry her up to her room and let her rest for a bit before wandering back outside to check everything out--this time with gloves and a pair of tongs.

You pick up the bottle Ronan had and inspect it. Definitely pee. You search the bag and find more energy bars, protein bars, and an energy drink. There’s a receipt too, and it’s dated for just a few days ago. You try to recall if any work was done on the house around that time, but no one has been here.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a wrapper catching the sunlight, so you walk over and find a few more behind a bush, along with a matted-up blanket. It’s definitely time to call John.

You peel off the gloves and toss them on the ground next to the other wrappers, then you grab your phone, cradling it between your ear and shoulder as you walk back into the house for another pair of gloves and a garbage bag.

“Hey,” John answers after the third ring, “Can I call you right back?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s fine. No biggie. Just call me back when you can.” you say, then you hang up with John. You bring the garbage bag outside and snap a quick picture of what you’ve found, then you send it to John with no context. He’ll want to see a picture of it anyway when you talk to him.

After gathering everything in the garbage bag, you sit down on the side patio and wait for John to call you back. He does after about 5 minutes.

“What the hell was that picture you just sent me?”

“Have we had anyone over in the past week working on the house?”

John is quiet while he thinks, “No. Last time someone came out was for the pool. Why?”

“Well, I just…found that stuff in the bush behind the house.”

“What?”

You shrug, “Yeah, I found some empty wrappers blowing through the yard, so I went to look around, thinking it was a raccoon or something. Ronan found a bottle of something that is definitely not water.”

“Peach, when I asked if I could call you back, you should have said no because it was important. I would have dropped what I was doing.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to drop everything for me.”

John scoffs, “It’s not okay, and yes, I do. I’m down the street right now.”

You smile as you get up and walk over to the driveway just as John pulls in. You hang up the phone and stuff it into your pocket, then you shrug when John looks at you.

John immediately gets out and rushes to you, “Are you okay?”

You nod as he looks you over, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Where is everything?” he asks, and you point over your shoulder. He takes your hand and drags you with him, “Don’t ever say this is nothing, mouse. This is important.”

“I felt like maybe it was nothing. Maybe it is nothing.” You hope anyway. “Maybe it’s Logan’s stuff from when he stayed out here once before he moved in.”

That doesn’t make sense though. The receipt was from a few days ago, and Logan has been staying at the house for a while now.

“Logan has been here for months. It can’t be from him.” John takes a deep breath and kneels down to look at everything, “You have gloves or something?”

You hand John the tongs. He looks up at you and laughs before taking them.

“We’ll need a new pair,” John says, shaking his head, “Definitely not flipping burgers with this anytime soon.”

Taking a deep breath, you kneel down next to him, “What do you think?”

“I think…” he takes a moment and looks at everything before looking at you, “I think someone has been staying in our backyard.”

“Staying?”

John clenches his jaw, “Or worse.”

You swallow hard and nod your head, nervousness and uncertainty settling into your gut, “Like…watching us?”

The thought makes you absolutely sick. Not only could someone be watching you, they could be watching Ronan. It’s a huge violation of privacy. And creepy. So fucking creepy.

“I gotta call Jimmy,” John says as he stands up. He reaches for your hand and helps you up, “Make sure every window and door is locked.”

“I will,” you look up at him and nod, and he quickly leans down to kiss you. “I love you.”

John is sensing that you’re scared, so he smiles softly as he cups your face, “I love you too. Now go inside.”

You hold his gaze as you tear up and watch his demeanor change from the soft, caring man you married to the cold, ruthless Baba Yaga. He immediately cracks when he sees a tear slide down your cheek.

“I’m going to protect you,” he whispers against your temple as you cry, “I’m going to protect you and Ronan both. Please go inside. I need to know you’re locked inside and that you’re safe.”

“What about you?”

John lets out a small laugh, “I’ll be fine. I’ll keep my phone and my keys on me at all times. Set the security system too.”

“Okay,” your chin wobbles as you look down and close your eyes, then you look up at him, “Find whoever this is.”

“Trust me,” John looks into your eyes intensely, “I plan on it.”

You watch John as he walks away, but he abruptly turns around and rushes back to you, reaching for you. He takes your face in his hands and presses a deep and desperate kiss to your lips, then several soft ones, before resting his forehead against yours for a moment.

“I’ll always protect you, Y/N.” he whispers, tears rolling down your cheeks when you look at him. Using his thumb, he wipes them away and kisses your forehead. “Get inside and lock that door.”

__

Unfortunately there’s been no news the past two days. That’s a good thing and a bad thing. There’s been no signs of anyone coming into the backyard since John put up some security cameras. When you went to bed last night, he was looking at the security cameras, and he was still looking at them when you woke up this morning.

As soon as you realized that someone was staying in the backyard, you packed a big bag for Ronan and took her to your parents' house. They understood and even offered their guest bedroom to you and John. He jumped on the opportunity, but only if it was for you to stay there, not him. You’re not going anywhere if he isn’t with. Ronan is safe with your parents, but you’re not leaving John’s side.

Logan was made aware of what was going on too, and you and John felt it would be best if he wasn’t at the house either, so he’s staying with Jimmy and Tess. He wanted to be a little closer so he could get his things for work, plus he gets along really well with Jimmy.

The living room is too open for John’s comfort, so he’s been making you stay in your bedroom. At night, you can close the curtains and lock the door to the balcony and know that no one can see in, but you can’t do the same in the living room.

“I can’t do this.” you say as you turn around to look at John, “I can’t just…live my life in our bedroom. I miss our daughter. I miss our living room. I miss going outside.”

John sits up straight and nods, “I know. It’s not forever.”

“Well, I’m about to rage.” you say, and John smiles a little. “I’m not kidding. I’m about to go in the yard and scream at the top of my lungs. Why does this person get to have this control over us?”

“Because we don’t know why they’re out there watching.”

You pout with your whole body and flop face down onto the bed. John lightly scratches your back and smiles when you look at him, and he sets aside the laptop and opens his arms to hold you. After you get into his arms, he reaches for it again and sets it in his lap.

“This is all you’ve been doing for 24 hours,” you whisper, looking at the different views around your yard, “Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes and no.” he says, and you look up at him, “Yes, because not much is happening, but also no, because Jimmy was taking Sadie for a walk and got tangled in her leash and tripped.”

You start to laugh as you look back at the laptop, but the laughter quickly fades, “I just want to know who this person is.”

“Me too.”

Closing your eyes, you nuzzle closer to him, “Do you think they’ll show up again?”

“I hope so,” he whispers, rubbing your side, “I’ll be waiting for him when he does.”

__

Shooting up in bed, you look over at John as he quickly rushes out of the bedroom. You get up and follow behind him, calling out, but he’s not waiting for you. He flings the door open and runs into the yard, and you stay in the house for a moment. It’s pitch black outside; you can’t see anything. You rush into the kitchen and get a flashlight, then you step outside and shine it around the yard.

“John?” you call out, not stepping foot off the patio, “John?”

After waiting for a few minutes, you go back inside and lock the door, still searching in the darkness for him. You hear footsteps coming up to the house, so you wait a moment before you see John. You quickly unlock the door to let him in, then you lock it behind him as he pants.

“Did you see him?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“He…” he exhales loudly and stands up, taking the flashlight from you and covering the living room in darkness so no one can see the two of you, “He was in the backyard. I was falling asleep, and the motion sensor woke me up. He was back.”

“What do we do?”

John grabs his phone and calls Jimmy. Despite it being almost two in the morning, Jimmy answers on the third ring.

“He was back,” John says, reaching for your hand and leading you upstairs. “Yeah, I just chased him around the yard. He’s fast. No, no, she’s okay. She’s right here with me. She didn’t stay inside like I told her to, but she’s okay.”

You shrug bashfully when he looks at you. He made you promise that you wouldn’t leave the house when he went outside after dark, but it was on impulse. You couldn’t just let him run out there in the dark.

John shuts and locks the bedroom door, “Yeah. I’m gonna keep looking. Hopefully one of the cameras got a good view of him. Yeah, I’ll send it right over if I find something. Sorry for waking you up.”

Since you’re sitting next to John in a silent room, you can hear Jimmy telling John not to apologize and to call if he finds anything else. You smile to yourself. Jimmy really is the best.

John hangs up with Jimmy and looks at you, “I told you to stay in the house.”

“I know you did, but--”

“No!” he says sternly as he looks at you, “I told you to stay in the house. I don’t care what your excuse is.”

You furrow your brow in anger, “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“I don’t tell you what to do, Y/N, you know that. I’m telling you to stay in the house when there’s a fucking stalker on the loose. I’m telling you to stay inside so you don’t get hurt. I don’t know if he’s carrying a gun or a knife with him, and I don’t know what his intentions are. You stay in the damn house next time.” he says, and you both stare each other down. He raises his brows, “Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” you scoff, and he chuckles as he reaches for your hand. You sigh loudly, “Sorry.”

John tugs your arm to get you to move closer, “I can’t lose you, and you know I’m not telling you what to do; I never have told you what to do and I never will.”

“I know,” you frown as you look up at him, “I was just scared when you ran outside. I was only out there for a few minutes.”

“Next time it’s zero minutes, okay?” he presses a kiss to your forehead and helps you lie down. “Are you tired?”

You nod as you look up at him, “Yeah, but I can’t sleep.”

John rests his hand on your hip, “Well, can I distract you?”

“Well, shouldn’t you be watching the cameras?”

He takes a deep breath, “I chased him down. He won’t come back tonight, I promise. He knows we’re watching.”

“Then yes, please distract me,” you reach up to cup his face, then you pull him down to your lips as he slips his hand into your underwear and rubs your clit. He slowly slides his middle finger deep inside of you and lets out a small laugh when he feels how wet you are. You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, so I think you’re hot when you’re assertive. What about it?”

John smiles softly as he looks down at you, then he pulls the blanket over you both as he moves down between your legs.

__

Tess and Jimmy came over first thing this morning, and the guys went outside to scope everything out while you made breakfast. They came back in and ate, still talking about what they should do next. You finished eating and went to the living room with everyone, and now you’re just sitting around trying to wrap your head around everything.

“So, we have a stalker.”

Jimmy nods, “Sounds like it.”

“Why would someone want to stalk us?” you ask, and Jimmy shrugs.

Tess shrugs, “People stalk for all kinds of reasons. Who knows. It could be something like they like your house or…someone is stalking John because they saw him at the mall and thought he was hot. People are fucking weird.”

“Could it be Matt?” you ask, and John shakes his head. “Are you sure?”

“It’s not him,” Jimmy chimes in, glancing at John. “I immediately checked with a buddy at the station. He’s not even in New York anymore. Lives somewhere in southern New Jersey now. We matched the dates from the receipt and he wasn’t in New York. As far as I know, he moved shortly after you got married.”

Tess chuckles, “After John beat his ass.”

“Maybe it’s your ex.” John says, and you look at him, “What was his name? Drake?”

You jerk your head back, “Derek? What? No! And why does it have to be my ex? We ran into him months ago. I haven’t even talked to him in forever, not since I ran into him, and he was cool about everything. You even met him! Why would it be him?”

“I don’t have anyone who would want to watch me.”

“You’re John Wick, of course you do!” you say loudly, then you shake your head, “What about your crazy ex, Rachel? She applied for a job at our shop and wanted to fuck you! She practically admitted it!”

John shakes his head, “It’s not her, but I don’t know about your ex.”

“Oh, so you’re blaming me for this?”

John furrows his brow in anger, “I’m not blaming you. I’m thinking about potential people.”

“Well, you’re really shit at it.” you say as you cross your arms, “Why does it have to be about me? Why is it my fault that this is happening?”

“Hey!” Tess stands between the two of you and puts her hands out, “Stop. Why are you two fighting when you should be leaning on each other for support?”

John closes his eyes for a moment before looking over at you, “I’m sorry. I just…I’m just trying to think of people.”

“Well, it’s not him.” you say, and John nods. “I can call him to prove it. Though…now that I think about it, I don’t have his number--because I don’t talk to him.”

“I believe you,” John says, and you nod your head. “I believe you, peach.”

Tess grimaces when you look at her, “But how do you know?”

“I don’t.” you admit as you shrug, “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think it’s him.”

Why would it even be Derek? You ran into him a while ago at a restaurant and even introduced him to John and Ronan. It’s not him. He’s moved on and the break-up was completely amicable, and quite literally years ago. It’s not him.

You grab your phone from the coffee table and pull up Instagram. You get to his profile and see he’s just recently added to his stories, so you open it. Relief washes over you when you see that he’s not even in the state. He’s not even in the country.

“He’s in Costa Rica.” you say, turning your phone to show everyone, “From the looks of it, he’s been there for a while. Something for work. He’s been there nearly two months.”

“The receipt was from a few days ago,” John says, holding your gaze, “It’s not him.”

You let out a big breath and shake your head slightly, “I’ll be right back.”

You just need a moment to yourself, so you head up to your room. You sit down on the bed and put your head in your hands, then you rub your tired eyes. You’ve barely gotten any sleep.

“I’m not blaming you, peach,” John says from behind you, and you look over your shoulder as he walks over in the dark room. The curtains have been completely shut all day. He sits down next to you and wraps his arm around your waist, “I’m sorry that it came across like I was accusing you. This isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to think that at all.”

“It wouldn’t be him. He wouldn’t do that.”

John nods, “Maybe I just accused him for personal reasons.”

You furrow your brow when you look at him, but you nod when you see the guilty look on his face and his big puppy-dog eyes.

“I don’t want to be with him, John.” you say as you turn to face him, “I haven’t for years. I just want to be with you.”

“I know,” he nods, sighing loudly, “I know that. I just remember how he looked at you that night that you ran into him, and…I’m just being jealous.”

You smile as you reach over to cup his face, “You don’t have to be jealous of anyone ever. You know how much I want you. You know how much I love you, so please don’t be jealous of someone from my past.”

John looks at you and starts to smile since every now and then you get a little jealous about his relationship with Helen. Hey, you’re human, okay?

“I’ll do the same,” you say as he leans over to kiss your cheek. You smile softly at him before it fades and you begin to worry again, “Are we sure it’s not Matt?”

“It’s not,” John shakes his head. “As soon as we found the stuff in the yard, I asked Jimmy to look into it. It’s not him. Selfishly hoped it was, so I could beat the shit out of him again, but it’s not him. I don’t know who it could be, but if I’m honest, it’s…it’s probably someone from my past, not yours.”

You shake your head, “We don’t know that, John. We can’t jump to conclusions here. All we know is that someone has been staying in the backyard. We don’t know anything else.”

“Whether it’s someone watching us or staying in the backyard, we keep these curtains closed at all times. No more sitting in the living room either.”

“So,” you pause for dramatic effect, “We just…don’t live a life then?”

John sighs, “For now.”

You get up from the bed and exhale loudly, “Okay.”

John stands up and reaches for your hand when you walk past, and he pulls you into his arms and holds you, resting his forehead against yours. He tips your chin up and kisses you softly, leaving his lips there for a few moments before kissing you deeper. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he slides his hand down to your ass, then he grips it and cups your face in his other hand.

You get a little worked up from kissing him, so you pant as you lean back to look into his eyes, “Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” he whispers, and you close your eyes, “Ronan is safe with your parents--Dan assured me of that. But I don’t want you leaving my side.”

Closing your eyes, you lean against his chest for a few moments, listening to his heart pounding. He wraps his arms around you tightly and holds you, then he rubs your back and nods his head toward the doorway, so you head back downstairs.

“You know, I was thinking…” Tess turns around and gestures to the floor to ceiling glass walls, “You might wanna get rid of this.”

“We are,” John says, and you scoff and look back at him.

You roll your eyes, “We’re not. I’m not changing my house because someone is being a freak and spying on us. We’re not getting rid of it. Sure, we’ll get some curtains, but the glass walls stay. We’re not ruining the aesthetic of this house.”

“Fuck the aesthetic,” Tess says, and you look at her.

“No. I’m not changing my house because of some person. You can’t even see our living room unless you’re standing in our driveway. The walls stay.” you say firmly as you look at them all, “I’m not changing my life for someone who is violating my privacy. End of discussion.”

Tess puffs out her cheeks and lets out air as she looks at John, “A spitfire, that one.”

“I know,” John smiles as he looks at you, “I love it.”

__

John has been patrolling the yard for the past two nights before bed. He goes out there and stays out until he’s searched every inch of the lawn. He checks the bushes, behind the garbage cans, and the dock on the lake. He checks the backyard nearly five times before you finally call him inside. He comes inside very reluctantly. You both make sure the house is completely locked up, the security system is set, and there are no lights left on inside before you head up to your room for the night and lock yourselves in.

“Should we get a gate at the end of the driveway?”

You look over at him as you both brush your teeth. You quickly spit out the toothpaste and put your toothbrush away before turning to him while he finishes up.

“No,” you shake your head when he looks at you, “I don’t want us to cut ourselves off from people here. Tess comes over too, so what am I supposed to do every time she wants to come over? Tell her that she needs to wait for me to open a fucking gate for her? Or tell her that I’ll meet her down there? I’m not locking us away. Plus Bleu and Sadie run from Tess’ house to ours.”

“I know, but--”

You take a deep breath, “I get it. You’re trying to protect us and I love that, but I don’t want to lock myself away because someone is watching us. I want to know who it is so we can lock them away.”

“And I’m going to find them,” he says, and you nod your head, “They have violated our privacy. They’ve made you feel unsafe in our home. I will find them.”

“I know you will.” you place your hand on his chest as you look up at him, “I believe you.”

John sighs as he looks at you. He’s been beating himself up over this. He can’t catch this person who is making you feel unsafe, and he feels like he’s failing.

“Do you still feel safe with me?”

“Of course I do,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Why do you think I’ve been stuck to your side?”

John closes his eyes, “I can’t catch him though.”

“But you will.” you reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “I know you will, John. We’ll catch him.”

Holding tight to one another, you stand on your tiptoes and bury your face in the crook of his neck, finding safety and comfort in his arms. You try to keep yourself from yawning, but you can’t, so you lean back and yawn as John laughs.

“Let’s go to bed.” he whispers, and you smile softly.

He won’t sleep a wink tonight, knowing that there’s someone out there, but at least he’ll be by your side.

__

Since Ronan has been with your parents at night, you and John have been spending the day with her. You’ve taken her to the museum and, of course, the aquarium--you put that season pass to good use, and thankfully she never tires of the place. You’ve been spending all day with her and John, but his mind is still back at the house. H’es laughing and enjoying the time that you’re all spending together, but his smile will slowly fade as the worries creeps back in. He knows that he can’t just sit there all day since whoever is stalking will show up once you aren’t there.

Ronan clearly misses you and John since she’s clinging to your hands as you walk through the aquarium together. Once she gets to her favorite part--the rainforest area--she lets go and runs over to crawl through the tunnel. Her giggle echoes through the tunnel, and you snap a few pictures of her inside as she points at the snake wrapped around the branch.

“I swear if she could get in there and cuddle with it, she would,” John says, and you look up at him, “She is too sweet.”

You look back at Ronan as she waves at the snake and talks to it, “I want this to be over.”

“What?”

“This…stalker shit. I want to be able to bring our daughter home.” you look at her and smile, “She deserves to be able to come home. She deserves to be able to play in the yard with Bleu and with us.”

John wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, “And you deserve to feel safe.”

“I don’t care about me.”

“But I do,” he says, hugging you close to his side, “And I’ll make sure that you both are safe.”

Ronan comes running back over to you, pointing at a colorful bird flying overhead, then she squeals with excitement and takes off running up to the next exhibit that is housing a huge lizard or something. Of course, she crawls into that tunnel as well and smiles when the creature crawls past her. John nudges you and points to the tunnel. You break out in a grin when you look at him, then you quickly crawl inside to join Ronan.

__

Men are screaming loudly in the yard as you shake on the couch, clinging to a pillow. There are cops everywhere, and their blue and red lights are flashing brightly through the window. There’s even one parked in the middle of your yard.

Ten minutes ago, you and John were just sitting on the couch watching a movie when you both saw something from the corner of your eye. It was the stalker. He was just standing there, watching you through the window. You saw him but didn’t react. You just quietly whispered to John, but he already knew. He had spotted him a few minutes before you mentioned it. He said he wanted to play it cool and see if he could sneak away. Before John could even do that, the stalker banged on the window, and John immediately jumped up to chase after him while you called the cops.

The door opens, and you instantly tense up until you see that it’s Jimmy.

“Where’s John?”

“I don’t know!” you get up and walk to him, “He ran out.”

Jimmy rubs his hand over his face and looks outside, “We can’t find him or the guy.”

“There!” someone yells, and you see the stalker running across the lawn with John hot on his trail.

Jimmy puts his arm out to protect you and keep you inside, but you push past him and run onto the patio. You hear the splashing of water as if someone is running along the shore, then a gunshot rings out and causes you to freeze for a moment. Your blood runs cold, and everything is silent for a minute, like the entire world went on mute. But another shot rings out, and you immediately take off running. You hear several more gunshots and duck down when one hits a tree next to you, then you keep running to John.

“Wait! No!” Jimmy yells as he chases after you. “Don’t look!”

You have to. You have to look. Because you know who was shot. You know it deep down. John didn’t have a gun when he ran outside.

As soon as you get closer, you see John. He’s holding his side. You run up to him and immediately press your hand over his, searching his eyes.

“I’m okay.” he says, nodding his head as he pants, “I’m okay.”

“No, no, no!” you cry as you help him sit down. You move his hair from his face before looking up, “Help!”

John coughs a little and reaches up to touch your face, “Peach, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you cry as you lift his shirt to look at his side covered in blood, “Oh, my god! Help!”

Jimmy slides up next to you and immediately applies pressure to John’s side. He yells out something to another cop, but you can’t hear what it was over your cries.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper to John as you lean closer, “John…”

John opens his eyes, “I’m okay. Just a graze. Did they catch him?”

You look over your shoulder to see two cops wrestling someone down onto the ground, and you catch a glimpse of the stalker before you look back at John, who is trying to keep his eyes open.

“Mrs. Wick,” an EMT kneels down next to you and looks at your hands that are covered in John’s blood. She smiles softly at you, “Let’s get up so we can get him into an ambulance, okay?”

“I don’t--” you reach for his arm and cling to it, “I don’t want to leave him!”

She smiles sincerely, “You can stay by his side the entire time, I swear.”

“I’m fine!” John says as he tries to get up, but Jimmy pushes him back down. “Get off! I need to find him!”

“They got him, man. He’s in custody.” Jimmy says, and you lightly rub John’s arm to get him to look at you.

You lean down and kiss him, “We have to get you to the hospital.”

“I don’t want to go.” he whispers softly, and you lean closer, “I need to find him.”

“He’s in custody. He’s not going anywhere.” you say, rubbing his cheek softly, “But we need to get you to a hospital.”

John closes his eyes in defeat and nods his head, “Fine. I can walk though.”

The EMT smiles when you look at her, “Nice try, Mr. Wick. You’re going on a stretcher.”

He’ll run otherwise. He’ll chase the car down to get to that guy, you know it. It was personal before, but now with the gunshot wound in his side, it really is.

You stand up while they get John onto the stretcher, and you smile when he reaches for your hand. You walk alongside him as they push the stretcher through the yard to the ambulance, then you get in after they put him inside.

“Mrs. Wick,” an officer says, and you look over at him. “We’ll need you to come to the station to identify the suspect.”

You shake your head, “I’m not leaving John’s side. You hold him there until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he nods before walking off.

To be honest, it felt kind of nice to have all that power just then.

You look back at John and smile softly when you see him looking at you, “We’re gonna get this all fixed.”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers as he reaches up to cup your face, “I’m okay.”

Immediately, you start crying harder as you lean down and rest your forehead against his. He wraps his hand around your arm and squeezes lightly as the ambulance pulls onto the street and turns on the lights and sirens. The EMTs in the back are getting something set up for John while you sit back and hold tight to his hand. He’s still trying so hard to keep his eyes open.

“Peach,” he says with his eyes shut, and you lean forward until you’re closer to him, “I love you.”

You smile and let out a small laugh, “I love you too, but you’re scaring me. Don’t start saying goodbye.”

“I’m fine. I’ve been through worse,” he laughs with his eyes closed. He hums when you rub your thumb over his cheek, “Stay with me though, okay? I’ll protect you.”

“I know,” you smile, resting your head on his chest, “I’m staying right here.”

__

taglist:

@spiderfangirl22 @im--blushing @ruby-octo @sunnythebunny7 @livetosing21 @lilithlinen @ladyren33 @multifandombliss @tnu-ree @scream-queen-25 @beingnerdyissupercool @sakurachan-9

[peppermintpegis]

netflix one piece live action feels a little like fanfic in that it makes sure it hits all the important notes but doesnt do all the work to make them hit which works in fic where the reader is supposed to bring all the emotional story investment from the original but doesnt work in a multi million adaptation that is supposed to be able to stand on its own or even serve as an intro to the series. it even does this in service to have more koby and helmeppo gay moments in this essay i w

[sunlitmiracle]

smashes my current interest together with my old interest (aka yet another "what Dungeon Meshi but Gamers?" AU)

Once when I was a child I had a complete crying meltdown over Creatures, because the manual insisted that the complicated AI of the Norns made them truly alive and 10-year-old me was freaked out at the idea of being solely responsible for making sure these real animals wouldn't die. The funny part was that this was the Playstation version of Creatures, which has no biochemistry and very basic AI compared to the PC/Mac games where players actually were debating whether or not it was true artificial life. A PSX manual gave me existential dread and it wasn't even telling the truth.

Anyway, kid!Marcille would also have a meltdown over the Creatures series, especially if she had the computer games and got to see how vastly different some breeds' lifespans are. Like in C2 where you have Norns that live for around 5 hours and Norns that live for 10, both of which are vastly more than Ettins who don't even live for 1.5 hours (and usually less due to radiation or starvation).

Lucky for her, having the computer version means she could download modified genomes made by other players that make creatures live longer or even outright remove certain death triggers. However I think she'd have more fun learning to read and edit the genomes herself, to get a better understanding of how the game works and how to change it to suit her own tastes. And because she could pretend she's one of the mysterious ancient Shee who created the Norns, Grendels, and Ettins and then vanished, leaving behind relics of their old society.

(Speaking of Grendels, she would unfortunately dislike them because they're the Designated Evil Species and she'd hate how they harass and attack her Norns. I think she'd also pity them though, because they get sick a lot and have short lifespans. Likely she'd just end up downloading/creating a genome without the aggression towards Norns. Ettins she'd like except for in C3 when they dismantle her meticulously-placed gadget setups, so she might mod out their hoarding compulsions too. Both of them would of course also live for however long her Norns would live.)

Also. While standard creatures' lifespans are counted in hours, if you modify the half-lives in the genome editor you can increase it to centuries. Or even just over a millennium if you set the half-lives to their max length (assuming you also leave the old age death trigger at its vanilla value).

and I like to think that elven Creatures players would pass around copies of what they consider a template genome that's appropriate to their own lifespans. Something that would make their creatures live for weeks or months of continuous play. I also like to think the Creatures DS Warp is still active in this AU because of the hilarious frustration when these long-lived Norns travel to worlds run by short-lived players whose Norns have vanilla lifespans, and vice versa.

(Most of the time in Creatures, offspring of parents with different lifespans will just have one or the other, but there's a chance the genes cross over right in the middle of the various age triggers and cause unstable aging rates. Like a Norn that goes through the childhood stages in hours but then has a very extended adulthood. Or a days-long childhood followed by suddenly dropping dead of old age once the vanilla adulthood genes kick in. Or, if the child has one parent's half-life decay rate and the other parent's age triggers, all sorts of odd things could happen. I once had hybrid Norns who lived for 20 hours and would die of organ failure before reaching the old age threshold!)

(Now that I think of it, Marcille would absolutely hate fast-agers. The first time she watches a creature hatch, turn old, and die in just one brief minute of life, she would be sobbing for days. One of the first things she'd learn to mod out would be mutations that cause the Ageing/Life chemical to decrease unusually fast.)

On a lighter note, while I don't know what her favorite designs would be I think she'd love choosing cute breeds to use in her world. Once she figured out how to give her creatures the comfortable life she wants them to have I can see her redirecting all her gene-editing efforts into changing color expressions. She might even learn to sprite or model her own custom designs.

[chibishortdeath]

Hmmm I kinda want to make a side blog for RPG Maker game development related things to be able to talk to more experienced people in that community, but at the same time I both don’t really think I’d get much attention and don’t want to accidentally spoil my own game (^^ ; ).

I have a rough story, concept doodles, a tileset, some character sprites, an enemy that walks around but can’t initiate battle yet (if I even decide to have a battle system), a couple rooms with some events, and a functioning run button, but I’m still lost on how to do much else at the moment. Especially since this program has the ability for scripting, meaning I’ll probably have to learn and actually retain another coding language.

So, I’m not very far at all lol. Idk how well that’d go over on the established fandom website, but eh.

[the-acid-pear]

I never tried the option myself bc it'd probably mean skipping the Reason You Suck speech at the end (fire for speedrunners though) but I Love that you can frame your Phoneys in 3, especially so if you've already killed the previous two. Like yeah couldn't send you off to die so i'll let the goverment do it for me 🧸 like its just Peak evil imo.

[aceing-on-the-cake]

Compulsory Heterosexuality Info Dump

So because a friend of mine didn't know what comp het was and their internet history is monitored by their parents so they can't just use google, I'm doing a very quick research dive and giving you guys the results in case there are others out there who are in the same situation. I'll also be tagging blogs bigger than me because again, there might be fellow queers out their who are in the same boat as my friend and I want them to have access to this information.

So what is compulsory heterosexuality (or comp het)?

Comp het is in essence the societal belief and enforcement of being straight.

What does this mean?

In basic form it means that the only options presented to everyone, from the moment of birth, is that of a cis, amatonormative, heterosexual lifestyle.

You are given two gender options, these gender options determine the two roles you're allowed to fulfill, husband and wife, and you are told that these two roles are what will make you happy and are what you are supposed to strive for.

Meaning society, if you are born AFAB, tells you you're going to one day get married, it's going to be a boy, and this is what will make you happy. Almost everything in life is then seen through this lens. How attractive your are, how you are supposed to talk, how you're supposed to behave, etc is all considered through the lens of if a man will be attracted to you.

On the flip side, if you are born AMAB society tells you there are roles you have to fulfill as well. You are told you will one day want a wife, that you have to be able to have a job to provide for her, that you have to behave in a certain emotional way to be strong for her, that if the things you like are too feminine well then you're gay or a girl which is a problem because at the end of the day you're supposed to want the girl-fiance-wife.

This literally just sounds like the patriarchy.

Yes, it does, because it's caused by it. Nowadays people commonly know about compulsory heterosexuality from the Lesbian Masterdoc, but the term actually originated by Adrienne Rich in 1980.

Adrienne Rich in her article Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence put forward three ideas, 1) that heterosexuality and lesbianism were institutions themselves/possible political ideologies, 2) that heterosexuality as a system if not constantly maintained and upheld would eventually crumble and 3) that heterosexuality as a system could be opted out of and actively fought against whether or not you were actually attracted to women/non-women.

This is very different from the way we currently think of and define those terms, I am aware of that, but her point does still stand to some degrees that comp het, cisnormativity and amatonormativity all crumble when we stop rigidly enforcing the structures that uphold them, i.e., the patriarchy, misogyny, classism, and racism.

Ok but like what does that actually look like?

It can look like a lot of things, for a lot of different people. In the Lesbian Masterdoc you see comp het presented from a straightforward lesbian lens (of a 19 year old figuring out and defining their own sexuality guys, I'm not gonna sit here and critique it and rip it to death, go do that somewhere else).

This is therefore presented through things like women/non-women who were raised/socialized as women possibly having crushes on men, but they're always unattainable in some way (celebrities, fictional, someone real but they wouldn't actually ever be able to truly be in a relationship with, etc). It might also show up for lesbians as liking the idea of a man but being uncomfortable when one actually wants to move forward in the process. Or even sometimes it might show up as sexual fantasies with men but they're faceless, they're more an idea, or you're actually viewing another woman sleeping with him.

This presentation of comp het has made a lot of bi/pan/mspec people uncomfortable because they feel they too have experiencing comp het and when reading the Lesbian Masterdoc it's presented as if experiencing this is a straight shot towards being a lesbian.

And they're right that comp het isn't experienced by just lesbians. For mspecs who present feminine/as women this could be in the feeling that they have to dress a certain way to be presentable, but presentable is based on appealing to men. This can mean something as simple as women are expected to wear makeup, always, regardless of if they're looking to seek men's attention or not, because that's the base standard.

For mspecs who present masculine this can look like the inability to express themselves in an overly emotional manner because that doesn't make them "strong" and if they're not "strong" then they won't attract women, and that's what they're supposed to be doing.

For mspecs in general that can look like their queer looking relationships to be seen as a phase even if their mspec-ness is respected because of course they're eventually going to get married to a man/woman.

This can affect polyamorous cishet people in that they're seen as doing heterosexuality wrong because you're supposed to have the one partner and the 2.5 kids.

This can affect aspecs because they're told they'll never truly feel fulfilled if they don't have that boyfriend/girlfriend/partner to love them in a way that's so special nothing else could match up.

This affects all of us guys is my point.

How is this helpful to me?

Well for sapphics and lesbians (or sapphics/mspecs confused on if they are actually lesbians) this can be a helpful concept to consider because it can help you determine what relationships you truly want to pursue, which is the main point I feel is to be gained from the Lesbian Masterdoc. As she's put it "it's way more important to ask yourself if you can be truthfully happy with a man than if you’re attracted to them"

So if you're a sapphic who experiences attraction to men but you honestly can't ever see yourself willingly entering into a relationship with them, consider the idea of comp het.

If you're Achillean the opposite of this can be true, if you've been attracted to women before but honestly can't ever see yourself willingly entering into a relationship with them, consider whether comp het is working on you.

For mspecs this can be a helpful term to throw over the table back at your parents when they ask when you're going to get a "real relationship".

This can be a helpful term to consider when asking "am I forcing myself to wear mascara because I feel this is the only way I look presentable or do I actually like mascara."

Or it can be a helpful concept to look back on when undermining our internalized ideals of misogyny, towards ourselves and others.

This is a helpful term to put in our tool boxes to talk about the harm the systems of patriarchy, classism, and racism impose upon us.

Comp het can help us to understand why so many people look down on polyamory as a legitimate way of life.

It can be a helpful term for aspecs who are trying to figure out if they really want to date/have sex, or if they just believe these are the only things that will make you happy.

In general

Compulsory heterosexuality is just another term to describe a system we are all intimately familiar with. But by giving us the words to describe our experiences, it gives us the power to communicate those experiences more effectively, and to possibly understand why we're experiencing them.

This is just a bare basic knowledge post.

Honestly if you have the ability to, as in your internet history is not monitored in the way my friend's is, I encourage you to go on the deep dive through the sources listed below. Many of them are honestly only 30 pages long, that's a relatively short read, and understanding queer theory like this not only helps you to understand your own identity, but the ways in which you are connected to the rest of the fellow queer community.

Sources

Lesbian Masterdoc

Queer Theory 101: Compulsory Heterosexuality

Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence

Normativities Defined

Taglist

I'm tagging blogs bigger than me so that this has an easier time getting passed around as I mainly talk about aspec issues because I am aspec, but as stated above, I wanted to make sure that queer people who's internet histories are monitored and are only able to find information through tumblr safely could do so.

@our-queer-experience @our-sapphic-experience @our-lesbian-experience @our-aspec-experience @our-polyamorous-experience @our-pansexual-experience @our-unlabelled-experience @our-aroace-experience @our-mspec-experience @our-questioning-experience @our-bisexual-experience

[miraclewoozi]

HIGH FIDELITY, PT 2. -c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

( PART ONE )

pair ; vernon x fem!reader.  content ; strangers to lovers.  up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.   fluff, angst, smut. (MINORS DNI). warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage. mentions of sickness (acute). wc ; 12.2k ( ~38k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3

smut tags : making out. some groping. some 'first time together' shenanigans. oral (m rec) & ball sucking hehe. he has a big cock because i have an agenda to push. implied f rec oral. implied multiple rounds. PLEASE let me know if i’ve forgotten anything.

The clock on your bedside table reads somewhere between 4:00 and 5:00 in the morning when you resign from trying to fall asleep and force yourself to sit upright, fed up of tossing and turning between your now too-creased sheets, brain stuck in a foggy, hellish limbo. Your mind won’t shut down. Your body won’t rest. Birds are starting to chirp outside and you can hear them clear as whistles through the cheap window that doesn’t quite seal shut to your left. Your eyes squint in preparation as you reach for your lamp and flood the room in yellowish light, drawing your knees up to your chest. 

You’ve spent so much time in your own thoughts that you’ve begun to feel systemically unwell. Your stomach twists and aches, your eyes are so dry it hurts to even blink and there’s an ache behind them that started as an annoying throb, but has grown over the hours into a roaring flame. From the hairs on your head all the way down to your toes, you feel like you could burst. 

You wish you had it in you to cry. To let it out. Keeping this pent up is no doubt making you feel a hundred times worse, and you think it would be nice to feel something other than the endless swooping of the spiral you’re well and truly making your way down. Your alarms are going to go off in a few hours. I can’t let anyone see me like this, you think. I can’t work in this state. 

You throw ideas around in your head for a little while, thumbs tweaking over your phone as messages get typed, edited, deleted, and repeat. Part of you thinks maybe you could manage. Just tough it out and put on a brave face, because actually, what right do you have to be hiding away when you’re the one who ran out one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met? But you just know something will go wrong, even if you tell the boys that you need to camp out in the office for the day. When you need peace and quiet, you can never find it behind that creaky old door. When was the last time you got a full admin day without being called through to help with a problem or deal with a drama? And truly, the idea of facing the world right now makes you feel like you could be sick. 

Sick…

Could you—?

You’ve never enjoyed taking sick days, even on occasions where you’ve really needed them, when you’ve woken up feeling like you’re knocking at death’s door. Sometimes, you swear the guilt that it brings ends up making you feel ten times worse than whatever your ailment is doing to you in the first place. But your exhaustion lets impulse take hold and you’re already sending a message into your group chat with the boys before you can talk yourself out of it, biting the inside of your cheek as the little indicator pops up on your screen. Delivered. 

Well. You’re committed now, whether you like it or not. 

Not feeling so hot. I won’t be in today. Take it easy, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Sorry. 

You pick your comforter up off the bed and wrap it around your shoulders like an extravagant, well-padded cape, trudging your way through the apartment until you’re stood, barefoot and cold, staring into the bright light of your refrigerator. Somehow in the seconds between pulling the handle and now, you’ve managed to forget what is what that you were hoping to find. More out of spite for how the bulbs are currently bleaching your retinas than because you want it, you pull the milk from its home in the cradle of the door and fix yourself a glass to take with you and put it on the coffee table back in your living room.

Without an ounce of grace, you throw yourself onto your couch: your head rests against the arm of the seat like you’re in the apartment of a sketchy therapist, and you’re wrapped up in your duvet as if it’s a sleeping bag, treating yourself to the luxury of a slightly different ceiling pattern to stare up at. And it could be the change of the room that finally manages to drag you under, or it could be the total fatigue of the emotional rollercoaster that has been your last twenty four hours…

But your glass of milk goes completely untouched as you eventually drift off, either way. 

Of course, it’s not for nearly long enough. Barely an hour after finally managing to fall asleep, your phone starts to vibrate harshly against your chest. You tap at the screen blindly, hoping to shut off what you assume is your alarm; when it’s still buzzing a few seconds later, you reluctantly open your eyes, fighting back a sob. It’s not your alarm – it’s an incoming call. Why would it be anything else?

“Hello?” You grumble, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on the couch cushion next to your head. The energy expenditure of holding the device up to your ear feels mammoth.

“Ohh, you sound terrible.” Seungkwan’s voice sounds more taunting than it does concerned, but you pin that down to a symptom of his over-familiarity. “You’re sick?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I heard there was something going around,” Seungkwan tells you. Great, you think. Good to know. Now go away. “Yeah – one of my cousins… ah, what did she say…”

“Hey, man, I really-...”

“That’s it. She said she was love sick.”

You sigh so hard you think it’s a miracle you don’t pass out.  

“Don’t–”

“You better make sure Vernon gives you plenty of Vitamin D, today,” he harps on. “It’s quite the disease. I heard it can really–”

“Seungkwan!” You snap, finally, grabbing your phone and barking straight into the microphone. He doesn’t need to know that you’re stretching the truth to its absolute limit, but you certainly won’t let him keep believing that you’re calling out just to get laid. “Knock it off, okay? I’ve been awake all night.” 

(You suppose you should be glad that that much really is true.)

He falls silent, and you don’t know if he totally believes you, but a few breaths later, you hear his voice through the speaker again. He’s softer, this time. Quieter.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, hesitating a moment before he goes on. “Try to get some rest, all right? I’ll swing by after work and check in with some food, and… if you need anything, just text me?”

You’re immediately overcome with guilt at the sharp change in his demeanour, and it does nothing to settle the way your insides are writhing inside you. You clear your throat and pull your duvet up to cover your face, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. 

“I will,” you mumble. “I’m sorry – thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. You can hear the front door to his own apartment slam shut and his breaths pick up as he starts to rush down the stairwell of his building. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

“Hey–” he rushes, before you can hang up the call. “Rest up. Run a bath, drink plenty. Love you.”

You cringe a little, but not enough to stop you from saying it back. Sort of. 

“Yeah. You too.”

Nobody could ever accuse Seungkwan of not being a man of his word. As irritating as he can sometimes be, as determined as he is to get on your every last nerve, you’ve never known him fail to come through on a promise. 

Not long after 6:30pm, you hear a series of knocks at the front door of your apartment. You’ve managed to squeeze in odd shifts of sleep throughout the day and though your head is still in a mess, you feel significantly less irritable than you were this morning. Cleaner, as well. One of your (several) naps took place in the bath, where you laid there and let the hot water draw some of the anxieties clean out of you to float towards the ceiling amongst the lavender-scented steam. 

In the knowledge that Seungkwan’s expectations of you are quite literally zero, you don’t bother to fix the one leg of your sweatpants that’s rolled up before you heave yourself off the couch and go to let him inside. He stands in the doorway with a bag of takeout food in each hand, all wind-flushed cheeks and that brilliant smile, and you feel like your stomach settles almost straight away when you see him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, toeing off his shoes as he comes inside and lets the door close behind him. He sets the bags down on top of the small table by your front door and cups your face in both of his hands, squeezing your cheeks and frowning down at you. “You look awful.”

“Wow, thanks,” you huff, squirming to get out of his grip. “I was going to say I feel a little better, but…”

“You look exhausted,” Seungkwan clarifies, picking up the bags once more and following you through to your living room as you start to walk away from him. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t realise you were actually… this bad…”

“This is doing wonders for my ego,” you grumble. “Keep it coming. Really.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, no. By all means, continue to kick a girl while she’s down. Super classy.”

Your best friend flops down onto your couch with an exaggerated huff at your petulance. You curl up in the armchair instead, bringing your knees up beneath you. 

“Do you think it was something you ate?” He asks, refusing to give into your bickering and changing the subject matter instead. 

You shrug your shoulders at him. “I don’t-... I mean, it was more of a head… thing?” 

He sucks his front teeth. “What, like a migraine?”

“Sort of?” 

“What do you mean, ‘sort of’?” He asks. “You’ve had a migraine before. Was it that or not?”

“Well, it’s difficult to-... It wasn’t exactly…”

“Okay.” 

Seungkwan interrupts you as you hesitate again, swinging his legs off the couch and resting his elbows on his thighs, leaning as far towards you as he can while still remaining seated. He wrings his hands, plays with his fingers, lips drawn forward in a stern-looking pout. 

“I thought something was up this morning on the phone, but I didn’t wanna push it because you sounded mad. Now I know something’s wrong with you. What’s going on?”

You swallow hard and cross your arms over your chest, dropping your gaze away from Seungkwan’s very intense one. 

“Nothing,” you lie. 

“Bullshit.”

“Seungkwan!” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, tipping his head forward and running his hands through his hair. He’s never been a coddler, always one to prefer the tough-love approach: it’s no surprise that he doesn’t appear any softer when he looks back at you. “But we both know that’s crap.”

You can feel your pulse starting to quicken the longer he stares you down. It’s as if he’s burning two great big holes into your head, laser-beams where his pupils ought to be. He’s the master of the hard stare, and you know he won’t move until he hears the truth. 

Maybe I should just tell him. Maybe it’ll help…

“Look, I don’t care how famous he thinks he’s gonna be, if Vernon upset you last night, I’ll kick his ass myself.”

And there are the alarm bells. In hindsight, maybe you should’ve seen this coming; it’s not that far of a reach, and given the few facts that he actually knows, you can’t blame Seungkwan for jumping to this conclusion. It’s quite effective in triggering you to speak up, too. (You think that maybe, this was on purpose. Attack where you’re likely to defend. He knows you like the back of his hand.) In an instant you’re sitting upright with your feet firmly on the floor and you’re shaking your head at him like a dog trying to get itself dry. 

“No, no, no, back it up,” you rush. “It’s nothing like that. He hasn’t done anyth-... God, it’s not him.”

“It better not be,” Seungkwan tells you. His voice still has that dark edge to it, and you’re not sure how exactly to stamp it out. “I’m serious. If he’s done anything-...”

“He hasn’t,” you say more firmly. After a couple slow breaths, you clasp your hands together, swallowing your pride. “The food’s gonna go cold. Go grab a couple glasses and-... whatever else from the kitchen—”

“Only if you tell me what’s happening,” he says, slowly pushing himself up to stand. 

You don’t assent with words, but you don’t have to. You look up at him and nod a couple of times and that’s all he needs. Seungkwan strides off through the doorway, leaving you to shakily exhale away the stress that is once again squeezing at your lungs.

Once the containers are laid out on the table, food is divided up, utensils are handed over and he’s poured you each out a glass of soda, Seungkwan sits back on the couch. He doesn’t prod you, or ask you again – he doesn’t need to. You know what he’s waiting for. Even so, he allows you a few mouthfuls of your dinner first: seeing as this is the first substantial thing you’ve eaten all day, you silently thank him for the generosity.

“All right,” you say, gulping down a few mouthfuls of your drink to re-lubricate your throat. “Okay. Fuck – you’re gonna wanna make yourself comfy for this.”

The only way he moves is to pick up one of the food cartons and settle it on his thigh. Oh, how you wish you were joking. But if he really doesn’t want to heed your warning…

“You know I went on that date the other week?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek. Seungkwan nods at you, lifting a helping of noodles out of the carton.

“With the hitter and quitter,” he confirms. “I remember.”

“Right,” you say. “Well – okay, wait, no. That’s a bad start. He didn’t do anything either.”

“I mean…”

“Not the time.”

He lifts his free hand up in surrender and gestures for you to continue as he slurps his food into his mouth. You clear your throat, bouncing one leg so rapidly that the decorative candle holder on your mantelpiece starts to rattle. 

“So… it was before the date. I was on my way to the bar, walking down past-... that convenient store. You know the one Chan keeps going into ‘cause he’s got the hots for the person who works there on a Friday night? Yeah, I was walking down that way. Actually running on time for once, and-...” 

You falter, sucking a breath deep into your lungs. It causes your next words to come out more strained than they ought to. 

“I ran into Jaehyun...”

Seungkwan swallows just in time to prevent himself from choking on his mouthful of food, but his eyes still shoot wide and you think his chest convulses a little bit anyway. His is a name you haven’t mentioned in a while, but he clearly hasn’t forgotten who it belongs to.

Because, well… how could he ever forget? 

Your ex-partner. Jaehyun.

The ex-love-of-your-life, Jaehyun.

The man who asked you to marry him after three and a half years of dating only to leave you, heartbroken and alone, six months later because he wanted to travel the world and there was too much that you couldn’t bring yourself to leave behind, Jaehyun. 

How could Seungkwan forget when he had been one of the people who helped drag you through what was not only the worst break-up, but one of the worst times of your entire life? 

Aside from the other week, it’s been… nearly eighteen months since you saw him last. Almost a year since you let yourself talk about him. Even sitting in your own apartment with a box full of your favourite food in your hands, a sense of dread chills you from head to toe just going so far as to say his name. But you’ve started, now, so you might as well finish.

“…right outside that stupid fucking store.”

Your voice cracks when you say it and you hurry to set your dinner down on the floor to free up your shaking hands. You cup them over your mouth, closing your eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths. It helps enough for you to be able to continue, even if you still feel a bit like you’re drowning.

“I thought he…” Seungkwan starts, putting his own food down and slipping off the couch. He comes to sit on the arm of your chair and puts a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “When did-...?”

“Yeah, uh… apparently he moved back a couple weeks ago,” you swallow, leaning into your friend’s embrace. 

Seungkwan looks down at you and you look up at him, all misty-eyed and drained. There’s more. He knows there is, but now he waits for you patiently, giving you all the time in the world to get through this and to let it out and to lean on him. He doesn’t butt in. The quiet feels worse than the talking. 

“He’s with someone now. They, uh— they met in Paris. Just over a year ago.”

Seungkwan finally dares to make a noise and breathes out heavily, so loud that it’s almost a groan. 

“Y/n,” he sighs, tightening his hold around you. “Shit – I’m so sorry,”

You shrug, staring across the room to where your record player sits on top of a low cabinet, lid open, table collecting dust. 

“For months, I sat here feeling… fucking, sorry for myself,” you say, barely above a whisper. You swallow around the lump in your throat and shake your head. “This whole time, refusing to get back on the horse ‘cause I thought maybe-... but he was-…”

The room goes quiet again as you lose the words you want to say and Seungkwan just rubs small circles against your arm. The problem is that you know this doesn’t explain why you called out of work today. It doesn’t explain what happened last night, and you’re not sure where to begin with that either. Especially seeing as the last time your best friends saw you and Vernon, the sparks flying between you were nigh-on visible. 

“I thought I was handling it, you know?” You sigh, leaning harder into Seungkwan’s soft sweatshirt. “Like… yeah — it hurt… but I was okay? I guess. And then Vernon fucking… kissed me last night—“

“He— what?”

“Hang on — no, he… I wanted him to.” You fumble with a thread hanging off the sleeve of your t-shirt as you talk. Why is this all so difficult? At the same time, why does it feel so juvenile to say out loud? “I just… I don’t know…”

Your wall clock tick, tick, ticks away in yet another painful fall of silence. 

“How bad was he?” Seungkwan asks when you struggle to elaborate. 

You assume this is an attempt to shatter the gloomy atmosphere and lighten your mood a tiny bit; it works, you suppose, because despite yourself, you laugh drily. Not without nudging your shoulder into his ribs, though. He deserves it, and you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that it does make you feel a little better.

“He wasn’t,” you groan. “Don’t—… you’re such an ass.” 

He pulls himself away from you at the sound of your laughter and moves to sit on the edge of your coffee table instead, careful not to disrupt any of your food while keeping himself close enough to you that he can hold both of your hands in his and soothe his thumbs over your palms.

“You freaked out on him, didn’t you?” 

He sees straight through you and truthfully, no part of you is surprised. No part of you tries to fight it, or reject his assumption, or even question why that’s the first explanation he leapt to. You just nod, looking to where your best friend’s fingers are currently the only things holding you together. 

“Ran out his apartment like the building was gonna burn down,” you sigh, still laughing but harshly now. He squeezes your hands gently, urging you to look up at him. You do, slowly. “It’s ruined everything.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Seungkwan tries, narrowing his eyes at you when you scoff your obvious disagreement. “No, seriously. Anyone can see the poor guy’s got it bad for you.”

“Even if that’s right, you didn’t see his face,” you say. “God, he isn’t gonna wanna look at me ever again.”

“Have you spoken to him today?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe if you explain what happened–”

“Oh, sure,” you snort. “‘Hey, Vernon. Sorry for running out on you like a lunatic yesterday. I ran into my ex recently and when you kissed me, it reminded me of being with him and I got freaked out and had to dash. Hope you don’t mind.’ God.” 

You try to draw your hands back but Seungkwan just holds onto you tighter. “We’ll workshop it,” he says firmly. “Do you like him, or not?”

“Seungkwan–”

“That wasn’t an option.”

You scowl at him. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yes,” you stress finally, groaning through it. “Yes – I do.”

Seungkwan’s face lights up for a second, his eyes sparkling, lips lifting. You’re half expecting him to say ‘I knew it’. Half expecting him to try and be all deep and philosophical and a little bit motherly, as he sometimes does, especially when you’re upset. He’s always been a sucker for a happy ending. But this isn’t a happy ending, you remind yourself, squaring your jaw. It’s past that, already. It isn’t going to happen, you just know it. 

“Stop being so fucking hard on yourself,” he tells you, squeezing your hands one last time before he lets go and moves back over to the couch so he can finish eating before his food goes cold. “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”

You’re not sure what’s in the air right now, but this has been one of the busiest weekends that you can remember. Both yesterday and today, almost as soon as the store opened, your first handful of customers came through. Apart from about an hour around lunchtime, you don’t think there have been any periods of time where you’ve not had someone milling around the shelves. It makes a nice change, really, from some of your weekend shifts – hours at a time where the dust starts to settle and hardly anyone disturbs the bell above the front door. But this means you’ve been in full customer-service mode basically all day, and you’re starting to feel exhausted from keeping up the persona.

Still. There’s only an hour or so left — you can push through, and when you get home, there’ll be a nice, hot bubble bath with your name written all over it.

The bell chimes again just as you finish serving a group of teenage girls. You watch them scurry away, excitedly giggling about their new albums and you look towards the door with a smile already plastered on, all ready to greet the new customer until your eyes lock with theirs.

A ‘hey, how’s it going?’ stops somewhere midway up your throat, a pathetic little ‘huh?’ sound escaping you in its place. You’re frozen all of a sudden; you and the man who just came in both stand perfectly still, staring at each other like a pair of bunnies in headlights. It takes you forever to register the strap wrapped around his fist, the purse that hangs just below his grip. My bag, you think to yourself, but the voice that narrates your thoughts is hushed for the first time ever, too. Everything in your head gets sucked away into a little vacuum. The only thing left is him.

“I-… thought you might want this back.” Vernon breaks the quiet first. Your throat runs dry. In a flash, the noise in your brain is as loud as it’s ever been and in amongst all the chaos of thoughts and questions and apologies, you can’t pick out the words you actually want to say. 

He slowly unravels the strap from around his hand and takes a few steps closer to you, inching towards the counter. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he hurries to assure you. Your heart aches for how reserved and nervous he looks. It doesn’t suit him. You hate it. “It’s okay. I’m… really sorry, about the other night. I didn’t mean to—” A deep breath. “I’ll see you around.”

Vernon lays your bag so delicately on the wooden surface that you could be forgiven for thinking he was handling an explosive. Then, he takes one, two, three steps back, before turning and heading to the exit.  

“Wait—” you call out to him, finding your voice at the most critical time, right as his fingers curl around the door handle. “Wait—, please.”

He spins back around to face you as you slip out from behind the desk. His left brow lifts higher than the right but otherwise, he gives nothing away. He doesn’t even say anything as he stands there, pushing his hands deep into his pockets. 

You swallow around the golf ball sized lump taking residence in your throat and clasp your hands together in front of you, wringing and twisting and accidentally popping one of your knuckles in the process. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

Vernon chews this over in his mind but ultimately just shrugs his shoulders at you. What is there to say? He surely agrees, but he seems so adamant to ensure you don’t feel bad about it happening that he just… says nothing. Again. It’s kind of maddening, even if you fully get why. 

“No, I mean it,” you try again. “It wasn’t you. It’s nothing you did.”

“We really don’t have to do the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ thing,” Vernon offers, his cardboard-like posture softening. There’s even a little bit of a smile on his face, you think — but it’s not the kind of smile you’ve grown used to seeing on him. It doesn’t reach his eyes; he looks kind of like someone who has read their cards and accepted their fate. “Seriously. It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” you stress, stepping closer to him again. You sigh deeply. There’s something almost relieving about the position you find yourself in. You suppose this really is crunch time; it’s now or never. “Can we… talk? About everything?”

“What? Here?” Vernon asks. 

You glance around the store, at the few people doing a very poor job of pretending to be minding their own business, and frown. He’s right. This isn’t the time, or the place. The problem is, you have a feeling that if you send him away, he may not decide to come back and listen to you. In his defence, why should he? He’s already done more than the decent thing and brought you back that which you abandoned in his apartment; several of your previous conquests would have shoved the bag and its contents either in the trash or the back of a closet somewhere. This is more than you could have hoped for. 

You hold a finger up to him and ask him to stay where he is, and though he looks a little bewildered at the gesture, he ultimately doesn’t move. You rush off out the back to the storeroom where you banished Chan an hour ago, on account of his raging hangover and your low tolerance for his whining about it; you’re genuinely surprised to find him working, and actually alphabetising the records you got in a few days ago like you asked him to.

“Hey. Can you do me a huge favour?” You ask, not announcing your arrival and subsequently scaring Chan out of his skin. He jolts as he hears your voice and claps a hand to his chest, exhaling hard. You don’t entertain his dramatics, though. There’s no time. “I need you to close today.”

“Huh?” He asks, still acting as if he’s trying to catch his breath. “I thought–”

“Please.” You wave him off, knowing he’s about to ask about the task you gave him. “We can look at this together tomorrow. You did great. It’s just an hour – is that okay?”

He chews the inside of his lip, almost looking disappointed. To be fair to him, he did look like he was in a groove when you appeared, but he doesn’t argue with you as he puts down the record in his hand and picks his phone up off the table to his right, silencing the catchy tune that was playing while he organised. 

“Of course it is,” he says, holding his hand out for your keys and starting to walk towards you. “Everything okay?”

“It-...” you start, faltering as you place the store keys in his waiting palm. Your default response was about to be ‘it’s fine’, but you’re trying harder these days to stop pretending, especially around him. So you swallow, nodding your head, flashing him a tight lipped smile. “I’m about to find out.”

“Oh? Is it…?”

A brief pause later, not before cringing at how predictable you’ve apparently become, you say, “yeah.”

Chan claps you on the shoulder as he skirts his way around you, leaning in to give you a sort of side-along hug on his way. You stretch your arm across his waist and pull him closer for a moment, trying to drive home how much you appreciate this. He doesn’t comment on the uncharacteristic display of affection, and you want to find out why, but Vernon isn’t going to wait around for you forever. 

“Go get him, tiger,” Chan whispers.

“I owe you, big time,” you promise. 

He winks at you before he disappears through the door and you follow him briefly, but as he does a round of checking in with your customers and making sure they don’t need any help, you hurry off to grab your jacket from the office.

Vernon is exactly where you left him when you come back out into the storefront, hands unmoved from where he stuffed them into his pockets earlier, rocking back and forth on his toes and looking around from wall to wall. You think perhaps he took your request slightly too literally and the fact that even his feet are in the same position as before you left is reminiscent of a puppy commanded to stay, but if anyone here is at liberty to start poking fun, you think that it certainly isn’t you. Instead of trying your luck, you lock the office door and walk up to him, returning his polite, yet slightly awkward smile.

“You’re not, like, super busy right now or anything, are you?” You ask him. 

His brows crease and his eyes shift side-to-side before they land back at you. He shakes his head.

“Did you maybe wanna… take a walk?” 

Vernon nods this time, still not moving or even pulling his hands out of his jeans. His elbows are locked out and the length of his arms means his shoulders are raised quite some way. He could not be more uncomfortable looking if he tried, but he doesn’t say no and nothing on his face gives away that he wants to reject your proposition, either, so you’re the one to take that tentative first step towards the door. When you do, he follows. 

You left the store at least ninety seconds ago and still, neither of you have said anything yet. Honestly, it’s taking all you’ve got not to just burst and let it all out; it’s building and building and your stomach feels tight, but it’s less of a knot and more like a tightly-coiled spring. His eyes are dipped to the ground, incredibly aware of every step he takes, in what you realise now are a gorgeous pair of platform boots tucked up beneath his baggy jeans. He’s at least an inch and a half taller than the last time you saw him. 

“Your friend,” Vernon starts finally, pausing before he continues.  “Is he always so… you know?”

“What did he say?” You ask, peeking over to him. Trust Chan to start getting —

He hurries to shake his head. “Nothing. He just… kept looking at me. In a weird way, like…”

“Like he knows something you don’t, and he’s not gonna tell you, but he wants you to know that he knows it anyway?” You supply.

“Yeah— exactly like that.”

“Mm. That’s just… Chan.”

“Huh.”

“It’s worse when they’re together,” you say. He breathes out a chuckle and you feel his elbow bump into your upper arm. The distance he put between you when you fell into step outside the store has reduced, you realise now; you’re not sure when, or if it was on purpose. Did he move closer once you started speaking? Was it just so he could hear you better? Or…

Either way, despite being side-by-side, he still feels a hundred miles away from you. This isn’t enough.

“You get used to them, though,” you add, trying to stay on track. “I swear.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Jokes aside, he still won’t look at you for longer than a few seconds, which tugs at something deep in your chest. Discomfort clings to you, and even if it does seem like you’re making some progress, you can still feel unease radiating off him. A cheap laugh at the expense of your friends who aren’t here to defend themselves won’t fix that which you took a wrecking ball to a few nights ago. This needs to be heartfelt and genuine, and more importantly it needs to come out right. 

But when you open your mouth to speak, still searching your brain for the right way to explain why you acted the way you did, there’s nothing. 

How wonderful would it be for the perfect explanation to just tumble from your lips calmly and evenly, and for it to make everything okay? But the reality is that your throat runs dry as petrol fumes make their way through your parted lips. You hold your tongue again just a second later, sighing quietly. 

You’re starting to feel like a lost cause when Vernon breaks the silence for you, again. He slows his steps to a halt when he eventually says, “so.”

“So,” you repeat, freezing mid-stride as you go completely tense. It’s like you’re staring into oblivion’s wide open mouth. “I-… don’t really know where to start. I’m sorry.”

“The beginning’s usually pretty good?” He offers.

You nod. “How much did you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with telling me.”

If anyone on this Earth deserves a medal for their patience, it’s Vernon. You still haven’t turned to face him yet, your eyes fixated on the traffic signal some fifty yards away from you and you’re pretty sure if someone poked you too hard, you’d shatter into a million tiny pieces. But, as impossible as it seems all the while you try to get your thoughts in a reasonable order, you manage to swallow your nerves. 

It’s crunch time. It’s now or never.

The explanation you give him is messy. Disjointed. But once you start, it becomes difficult to stop: you end up sparing very little detail and circle back on yourself no less than three times. You tell him about how you were engaged and about the breakup, the run-in, your shitty date, gesturing with your hands to emphasise the most important parts. When you start to move again, Vernon makes his steps bigger until he’s walking alongside you. He never interrupts you. He acknowledges every sentence when you pause for breath. Encourages you to keep going when you fall over your words. 

“… and—... I guess I just lost my head. But it wasn’t your fault.” You swallow hard before you continue, “I’m… really sorry.”

He nods slowly, taking his time to digest everything.

“Don’t be,” he says, lightly bumping into your side. It’s a very small reassurance that he’s not going to walk away, but it means much more to you than you’re sure he meant it to. “I get it.”

“I—”

“No, like. I get it.” 

“Yeah?” You ask, only understanding when you catch the very pointed look in his eyes. 

“For sure.”

Of course, it makes sense. Vernon’s young. Attractive. Nice. Talented. He must have been with people before. Hell, you think he surely leaves a trail of broken hearts everywhere he goes. He gets it. 

“We dated for like… five? Years. Her name was Nari,” he tells you. 

A few seconds later, you watch him start to shrug off his jacket on one side and expose one of his toned arms to you. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t need to air his dirty laundry out if he doesn’t want to when he twists at his elbow; you catch sight of a tattoo you remember having seen the night he wore that black singlet on stage. Two lily flowers blooming up the inside of his bicep. 

It’s so pretty. Intricate. The line work is beautiful, the petals shaded with hundreds of little dots. You wanted to ask about it that night, but you never found the right chance, and now—

Lily?

It takes you longer than you’re willing to admit to join the dots, but when the penny finally drops, so does your jaw. Vernon slides back into his sleeve with a big, entertained smile and a little shrug. 

“Mhm.”

“Oh my God?”

“I know.”

It’s not that you’re laughing, per se. This isn’t your baggage to laugh at, no matter how unbothered Vernon seems to be by what he’s just revealed. But you do rub your hand over your face and cover your lips, shaking your head in disbelief as a breath that contains the edges of a bemused chuckle escapes you. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind; if anything, it appears to give him a boost to keep talking.

“I got that on our third anniversary,” he goes on to explain. “A couple years later… She called it quits. Turns out there was another guy. I thought about lasering it, but… apparently that hurts worse than getting the tattoo in the first place, so…”

“That’s…”

“It’s whatever,” Vernon says, shaking his head. “They’re my mom’s favourite flowers too. That’s what almost everyone else thinks it’s for.”

You haven’t looked back up at his face since the unveiling, not until now. When your eyes meet again, Vernon tilts his head in the direction you’re walking and continues down the street, spinning now so he’s walking backwards but still facing you. “I just mean... It’s okay. I get it.”

The moment you’ve caught up to him and you’re back by his side, he turns to face front, just in time to avoid a collision with a streetlamp. The lingering awkwardness starts to fade to nothing; you can see it in the way he holds himself, and you can feel it in the way you do, too. Everything relaxes. Your neck, your shoulders, your fists. It all ebbs away. 

“It really wasn’t anything you did,” you clarify once more. 

“So you keep telling me,” Vernon quips, tips of his ears turning pinker by the moment. “It’s okay, I swear. Do you want me to walk you home?”

You accept his offer and lead him down a side-street, picking up a completely unrelated conversation now to purify the air. Before you really know it (what was that everyone always said about time flying?), you come to a stop outside your building. Vernon’s sentence fades away when you stop moving; instead he stills, glancing sideways, and you nod confirmation at him with a lopsided smile. 

“This is me,” you say, reaching into your back pocket for your keys. “So…”

“So,” Vernon echoes, glancing around again. “Can I like, lay my cards out, real quick?”

You nod. 

“I like you.” He shrugs, now toying with the leather bracelet around his wrist. “Like, a lot. But…”

But. You feel like you should have seen this coming. But. But. Of course there’s a— 

“I’ve got some shows coming up out of town and I need to see some family, I’m not gonna be here from tomorrow for like, three weeks...”

Oh. 

Well. On one hand, it’s not what you thought. It’s not a flat-out rejection. It’s not a shut down. On the other? You bite the inside of your cheek and look at your hands, playing with your keys to keep them busy. Under any other lens, three weeks isn’t really a very long time at all. You’re pretty sure that the milk you bought yesterday is going to last longer than that. But three weeks… this early into things? 

That’s longer than you’ve even known him.  

“… and I thought, if you wanted — I could… take you out. When I get back. For real. Maybe.”

Oh.

“Like…?”

“Like… on a date,” he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. “One where I’m not like… fresh off stage and all gross and shit.”

Relief replaces anxiety on both his face and yours when you let out a quiet laugh. 

“I’d really like that,” you say, twitching fingers suddenly still. “Yeah.”

“I’m not asking you to like, wait around, or anything,” he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbles with it, and just barely manages to soften the fall with the toe of his boot before it lands screen-up on the concrete. “We’ll just see how it goes. And it gives you some time to… deal with things. Whatever you’ve gotta do.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest as he bends low to pick his phone back up, smoothing his thumb over the small scuff on the protective case. It seems remarkably undamaged otherwise. 

“And if you’re still interested, then…”

“Interested?” You ask with a small grin. 

“Aren’t you?” Vernon asks.

“I—...” You think about playing coy, but when he’s been so open with you about where his head’s at, it feels so silly and childish to bother pretending. That playful ‘I might be’ gets swallowed back. Instead – “Yeah. I am.”

“Cool. Then we’ll figure it out. At your pace, okay?” 

“Okay.”

He grabs his earphones out of his other pocket, slides one in, and is about to step back away from you when you do something you don’t really expect yourself to. Something you’ve never done to a man you can barely even say you’re ‘seeing’. You close the space between you and, as if to lock in your words, push forward onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you,” you say when you fall back down to your heels. If he wasn’t so dumbstruck, you feel like he’d be about to ask what you were thanking him for; as it stands though, he’s frozen, blushing, and the only reason you can tell he’s still alive is because he can’t stop blinking at you. “For… giving me another chance.”

He still can’t quite find his voice, so Vernon just shakes his head, clearing his throat. (No need, he wants to say.) Alas, his lips just open and close soundlessly.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” you supply for him. He takes in a deep, mind-clearing breath and nods his head.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

You see the apples of his cheeks lift as he presses his thumb against his phone screen and restarts whatever song he was listening to when he walked into your store. A brilliant smile consumes his face. It only grows as he turns away from you and walks off down the street. 

For a second, you think it’s all very smooth. Movie-like, even.

Then, he stumbles over a crack in the pavement. When he glances back to pray you didn’t watch it happen, he catches you snickering into your fist. He shakes his head and continues on, leaving you to fumble with your key in the lock before you finally let yourself inside.

You overslept. 

Sort of. You heard your alarm go off straight away but you might have snoozed it, and when you heard it sound for a second time, you turned it off completely, telling yourself that you just needed one more minute. You just wanted to rest your eyes for a few more seconds. There wasn’t any danger of you going back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later, you practically fell off your mattress in a panic when you realised that there had, in fact, been a big fucking danger. 

You were still able to wash up well and make it to work on time, but you had to sacrifice your morning coffee stop after seeing that the queue at the register was going to take too long. For years, you’ve refused to consider yourself to be the kind of person who relies heavily on a caffeine kick first thing in the morning, but today? It’s barely ten thirty and you’re seriously flagging: like you’ve never known what energy is, like you’ll never feel it again. 

(You blame the fact that when you first looked at your phone today before rolling back over, there was no ‘good morning :)’ text to entice you out of bed. But you’re trying really hard not to think about why that is, nor why it was such a deciding factor.)

So, when the bell above your shop door jingles and you’re forced to stand upright (a change your back doesn’t thank you for when it has to readjust from the previous hunched position you had adopted over the countertop), you groan quietly. Nonetheless, your tired eyes crease at the corners as you smile at whoever it is that’s come across the threshold.

After a second, your eyes refocus; when you can finally make out their features, it’s as if someone gives you a shot of adrenaline.

“Oh my God,” You say breathlessly, brushing your hair back and moving to stand up fully unsupported. “I thought you weren’t back until Friday?”

“Change of plans,” Vernon grins, scratching the back of his neck. “We drove through the night. I got home like… an hour ago.”

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him dressed down, and hell, does he look incredible. Gone are the ripped jeans, scuffed boots, the leather jackets and chunky rings. Grey sweatpants and an oversized white hoodie (alternatively: the brightest outfit you’ve witnessed him in thus far) drown him, blurring out his usually so distinct frame. You pin both of these things as the reasons you hardly recognised him when your eyes were refusing to cooperate. Paired with what Seungkwan would call ‘dad-sneakers’ and completed by messy hair and tired, soft eyes?

If you could jump his bones right here, right now… God, you would. 

“But hey, it’s nice to see you, too,” he adds facetiously.

“Quiet down,” you groan, fighting the urge to run over and envelop him in a hug. You’re not sure that he’d mind if you did, but you also don’t quite know if you’re ‘there’, yet. “Obviously it’s good to-...”

His arms, both of which have been stuck behind his back since he arrived, now move around to the front, revealing to you a takeout cup and a little brown box from the coffee shop down the street. 

“Oh, shit. It is so good to see you.”

Vernon laughs, coming closer until he can set them both down on the counter. “If it’s wrong, Seungkwan gave me your order, so.”

You start to wonder how on Earth your employee and your… Vernon managed to have this conversation without you knowing. Does Seungkwan have his number? Did they happen across each other on one of their socials? Did Vernon call into the store while you were out in the bathroom a little while ago and ask? But whatever happened, you quickly stop caring to find out: popping the lid off your cup, the aroma of your favourite coffee immediately fills your senses. It’s so overwhelming that you think you might start to cry.

“Oh my God. You’re the best,” you sigh, wrapping your fingers around the cup and taking a long sip, eyes rolling back into your head. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Vernon laughs, rolling up his sleeves before folding his toned forearms over his chest. “I got you a-... okay, they only had those gluten free brownies in, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know if they taste the same as the normal ones but… like, he said you hadn’t eaten today and I know you said you liked brownies before, — if you don’t like those ones, it’s okay! I can go back, it’s–”

He trails off, cheeks turning pink when you tilt your head to one side and feel your brow go soft. He asks, “why… are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so cute,” you say, putting the cup down gently so as not to splash your drink all over the counter. 

“Huh?”

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” Vernon says, shaking his head. 

You almost definitely hear a floorboard creak and quiet shushing sound from just around the corner towards the back room. You don’t call out your eavesdropping friends for trying to listen in on your conversation, though: it barely even crosses your mind. Besides... you can’t take your eyes off Vernon, even if you wanted to. He looks so soft. Like he needs to sleep for a whole twenty four hours, and he must feel like it too, but he came here first. 

“So,” he starts, tapping his right thumb against the inside of his left elbow. (The reason why he came so quickly starts to become evident. He just couldn’t wait to ask.) “You don’t have to commit to anything right now…” The silver of one of his rings glints with every tiny movement. “…but, I was just wondering–”

Smiling at him over the top of your coffee cup, it feels like your heart could burst.

“I was just… wondering… if you’d thought any more about letting me take you out?”

You’ve been texting him almost every day since he left. He’s sent you a hundred and one pictures of statues and cool buildings and nice looking food and the sky, and far more animals than you think you’ve ever actually seen in real life. You’ve spoken to him about your strange customers. What’s going on with your friends. Sent him recommendations for songs that you discovered on obscure albums that you pulled out to play over the speakers. 

One night after one of his shows, he called you. He was a little bit drunk at the time, chilling in his hotel room with a pizza as he informed you that he’d snuck out of an after-party super early but couldn’t get to sleep. With an audible pout, he went on to confess that he was feeling kind of lonely, that he just wanted to hear your voice: one thing led to another and you stayed up talking to him until he passed out at nearly 4 o’clock in the morning.

To put it simply… 

“I’d still really like that,” you say. It’s incredible to you that you can see every one of his features brighten up. 

“Okay,” he breathes, unwinding his arms and pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants now instead. “Okay, cool. I’ll… text you later? We’ll figure something out?”

“All right,” you agree. “Now go rest up, okay?”

He laughs as he swears that he’ll go back home and get some sleep, and with that, Vernon takes his leave. You’re once again alone, but this time you have a drink that could only hope to make you feel as energised as he does, and a treat nowhere near as sweet as him. 

You aren’t complaining, though, and neither are the two men that miraculously reappear the moment the door closes again. 

The smile Vernon leaves on your face doesn’t falter for the rest of your day.

You suppose a big part of the reason you haven’t dated anyone in a while is because you can’t stand the ‘talking stage’. That weird little limbo where you’re never sure if it’s too early to make certain jokes, where you’re checking and second-guessing all your texts, where you can’t figure out if someone’s really into you or if they’re just blowing up your phone to pass the time. The awkward small talk. The ‘getting to know each other’ part. The ‘why haven’t they replied yet — was it something I said?’ anxiety. 

Thankfully, with Vernon, that’s not really something you have to worry about. 

While he was away, you learned that he’s the kind of guy who just spews random facts at you in the middle of his day and then forgets to check his messages for three hours. Sometimes those facts are interesting things about himself. Other times, you’ve known him to shoot you a text just to announce [ just found out tigers have striped skin as well as fur. wild ].

(On one such occasion, Chan caught you giggling at your phone in the middle of a quiet Thursday afternoon, zooming in on a picture of Vernon’s heart shaped birthmark. This put a swift end to checking your messages while you’re at work.)

[ btw, im allergic to peanuts ], he told you one evening. Completely unprompted, just after dinner time. You spilled half of your glass of juice down your front in panic when you put two and two together and scrambled to ask him if he was okay. [ near miss, dw about it! just felt important haha ], he replied, and your response was just a picture of your newly stained t-shirt and a request for him to never do that to you again. 

He can drive — at least, he has his licence — but he doesn’t have a car. He chooses public transport, and he tells you that it’s because he likes not having to worry about fuel prices and it’s ‘healing’ to zone out of reality on the train until he reaches his stop. He tells you that he came up with the melody and two verses of one of his favourite original songs on the bus to his parents house, and one time, he dropped a giant cockroach on a class field trip to the zoo because it tickled when it crawled over his palm and he didn’t like it. 

(You later discovered that this piece of information was triggered by the appearance of a large bug in his shower.)

Last night, as you settled into bed after a whole evening of back and forth, he told you that he has all five of the top scores at the piano game in the arcade downtown, and that he has an approximate 75% success rate on claw machines. When you replied saying you hadn’t been to an arcade in about two years, he was horrified. Enough to send 7 broken heart emojis back to back, as individual messages. [ shakespeare himself couldnt write a tragedy that sad ], he said. 

But, harrowed as he was by your admission, it did give him an idea. 

That idea is exactly how you end up standing side-by-side at a basketball shootout game on Friday night. It’s how he ends up winning one of those cute reversible octopuses — true enough, on a claw machine — which he gives to you immediately. It’s how you watch him hunch over a pinball machine for twenty five minutes before he loses his ball, how you end up tied after four games of air hockey, at which point he calls it quits while citing a ‘cramping hand’.

It’s also how you deliver his ass to him in not one, but two rounds of bowling.

“All right — all right,” Vernon laughs, holding both his hands up in defeat as your final ball takes out all ten pins at the end of the alley. “You made your point. Damn.”

You shrug your shoulders as you walk back in his direction, picking up your glass from the table and sipping your soda through your straw. 

(Though the arcade has an entire menu of cocktails, some of which you’ve never even heard of, the thought of navigating an evening alone with him under the influence of alcohol was totally unappealing after last time. Thankfully, Vernon agreed. You quietly think that being stone cold sober has made tonight even more enjoyable.)

“I told you,” you say when you finally sit down. He puts an arm around your shoulders straight away. Naturally, like it’s instinct. Like it’s a position he’s adopted a few hundred times before. “I’m undefeated.”

“We’ll see,” he says, tapping out a rhythm on the ball of your shoulder. “I still think you just got lucky.”

“So,” Vernon says once your leisurely stroll back lands you outside his place, kicking the toe of his left sneaker into the concrete. “What… are the chances that I get a do-over?”

You blink at him a few times, tilting your head. “What do you mean, a do-over?” 

Does he not think this went well? Gods, it’s probably the best first date you’ve ever had, but what on Earth else could he mean by that? Did you say something earlier, and not realise? Has he not had fun? What does he m–

“I got these new coffee beans,” he says. “While I was away — and I figured something out with the-… the machine? So— ”

Ah. There he is.

You smirk at him, patting the outside of his bicep and rolling your eyes. When you glance down, Vernon is pulling out his key, thumbing over the ridges down the one side. He reaches for the door, happy to take your teasing as confirmation that yes, you’ll come up. Yes, he gets his ‘do-over’...

…but leave it to you to fall for the world’s dorkiest rockstar. 

As he slips the key into his apartment door, there’s a steady pressure against the small of your back: the same one that’s been there ever since he gestured for you to step out of the elevator before him. One of his palms rests over the fabric of your t-shirt and you feel weirdly tingly because of it. He gently guides you inside once the door falls open and doesn’t move away when it’s locked again behind him. 

With an anticipatory shiver, you turn around to face him. You make a point to leave just a matter of inches between your chests. To have your eyes soft, patiently waiting.

Vernon’s hands are - for the first time ever - cold when his fingers hesitantly come up to either side of your face, tilting your head up so that he can see you better, unobstructed by any shadows. You gasp at the contrast between them and your flushed, warm cheeks. He swallows thickly at the sound.

“Is this… okay?” he asks, gaze darting between the space separating your eyes from your lips. “We can slow it down, if you want. I just—...”

Your own hands find home against his chest in response, fingers curling into the muscle beneath them. Not harshly, definitely not so much that it could hurt — just enough that it makes him puff himself up a little bigger. Enough to make him square his shoulders as he drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth. 

“Vernon,” you say quietly, pressing him backwards. Balling his t-shirt into your fists, you send him stumbling over his own feet before his shoulders find the wood of the front door. A quiet grunt escapes him on impact, but he just holds you closer. “Shut up ‘n’ kiss me. Please.”

Clumsiness aside, the moment he obediently ducks his head and presses his smiling mouth to yours, you feel weightless. Even when you tilt forward onto your toes to meet him halfway, it’s as if you’re not even touching the ground anymore: clouds beneath your feet have you floating. Everything about it is so very different from the last time.

It’s so much easier. Not just for you, either – you can feel it from him as well. Your collective baggage has been left out in the hall, barricading the door, shutting out the hesitation and nervousness and leaving you together, wholly alone, to just… be.

Vernon gets increasingly more brave as the seconds tick by. When you separate for air, his head tilts the other way, lips a little parted, hot breaths fanning over your skin as he meets you again, and again, and again. It’s the perfect give and take. Firm one second, waiting for you to chase him the next. The soft sounds he starts to make are amplified as his tongue presses against your bottom lip: he tests the waters, groaning into the heat of your mouth when you so happily invite him into it. He drinks you up for all you’re worth. 

One of your hands uncurls from his chest and moves up to his head instead, threading into his hair at the top of his neck. It feels just as soft as it’s always looked, sliding through your fingers. A gentle pull makes him whine. He draws away from you. His lips are pink and shine with the gloss you touched up in the elevator’s mirror, his lids are heavy, his pupils blown, and looking up at him feels like staring into the sun; you physically can’t keep your eyes open, but it’s so hard to look away. 

You tuck yourself into his neck as a compromise, laying gentle pecks everywhere you can reach. His aftershave leaves a bitter taste on your tongue as you touch the tip to a stretch of skin just beneath the harsh cut of his jawline, but the way he shudders and drops his hold down to your waist makes the sting in the back of your mouth all worth it. You only stop when one of his hands sinks lower still and he squeezes at your ass, making your eyes roll back.

He mistakes your surprise for hesitation, though.

“Is this… okay?” he asks, tipping his head back and pressing his crown into the door. Though he doesn’t withdraw his palm from your backside, he also doesn’t pinch at you again. You press your hips backwards, pushing into his touch to encourage him, with this green light he starts to knead at your cheek over the top of your skirt.

“You have no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself around you, do you?” You say, slipping one up the hem of his t-shirt as if to prove your point, splaying your fingers out over his stomach. 

He takes a shallow breath, hovering with it in his lungs, holding back from saying something. You get there before he can.

“I want you,” you say certainly, pulling back from where you’ve been nestled into his shoulder so that you can look him in the eyes again. He releases that breath and his face flushes when his eyes find yours, moving both of his hands back up to your waist, tightly gripping at you as if his life depends on it as he nods. 

“I just… I really don’t wanna mess this up,” he adds quietly. “I—”

When you kiss him again, hoping to further assure that you’re just as into this as he is, he reciprocates, sure. You can tell straight away that there’s a little less bite though — a stiffness to him. He doesn’t relax into you the same way he did a few minutes ago. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, falling back onto your heels. Is this because of the way things went last time, or are you going too fast for him? Selfishly, you hadn’t considered that could be a barrier. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, you know that right? It’s okay.”

You make to step away from Vernon, unwinding your arms from around him to give him some space but he refuses to let you go too far. His hold on you is just as firm as ever.

“Trust me, I want to,” he says. “It’s just–...”

You stay silent, waiting for him to finish. He chews at his bottom lip, his blush deepening right in front of your eyes. To try and steady him, you lay one of your palms over each of his biceps, saying, “Whatever it is – it’s all right.”

“I just… haven’t been with anyone since…”

And when you laugh, it’s not at him (at least, not for the reason a fly on the wall might initially assume). You drop your forehead down onto the muscle of his chest, feeling his heart’s erratic rhythm underneath his clothes as you loop one arm back up around his neck.

“I thought you were about to tell me something awful,” you chide him through your giggles, lightly swatting at his shoulder. He starts to loosen up beneath you, his own body beginning to shake with laughter too. Those strong arms pull you flush against him, the gentle shift of his weight from one foot to another rocking you both side-to-side. “Like– like you were secretly married or you realised you didn’t actually like me, or something. Jesus.”

He stays quiet for another few seconds, but even without speaking, you can feel how he shakes his head above you. You look back up at his face and brush his hair out of his eyes, fingers lingering on his brow when you’re done.

“It’s okay,” you tell him for the third time. The last wisps of anxiety start to fade from his eyes, replaced with the same look he’s been wearing since he showed up at your apartment door earlier this evening. “I don’t care — I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

The kiss that follows lands hard and with it, Vernon succeeds in wiping your brain empty. You can barely remember what you were even giggling about a few seconds later. 

“Don’t want you to go easy,” he insists against your lips. Then, he’s wallowing up your breathy sighs as he licks into your mouth again, pressing your tongue with his own, reminding you that he’s absolutely not incompetent, just rusty. 

When you make it into his bedroom, confessions and various articles of your clothing forgotten out in the hallway, you separate from each other long enough for you to be able to to lay one hand on his bare chest and push him down onto the mattress. He bounces on the foam and pushes up on one elbow, watching as you sink down to your knees and press kisses down his stomach while your hands deftly take care of the button on his jeans. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You say to him as he lifts his hips up and lets you pull both his jeans and his boxers down in one sharp movement. 

“M’not gonna want you to,” he laughs breathlessly, pushing a hand through his hair as he kicks the remainder of his clothes all the way off and nudges them away to the side. “But yeah. Okay.”

He looks so pretty like this and you can’t help but think he’s even prettier when the first time you curl your fingers around his length, his jaw falls slack and his fingers curl into the bedding underneath him. You drink him in and he watches you do it; your mouth is watering, desperate to feel him press down on your tongue, and you feel a pull towards him that you’ve never felt towards anyone before. 

“God,” you whisper, shuffling on your knees to get a little closer. 

“Okay?” Vernon asks. He tilts his head to the side and you nod up at him.

“Just… had a feeling you’d be…” you trail off, tugging a few times to feel its thickness in your fingers. Why are you mesmerised by it, a little? What the hell has gotten into you? “But it’s actually bigger, and—”

He laughs quietly and falls back onto the bed, crossing an arm over his eyes. “Shut up,” he groans. 

“Yes, sir.”

You lean towards him and gather saliva on your tongue, dragging it from base to tip before closing your lips around the head. He gasps softly and holds onto his next breath, angling his head back further; you give a satisfied hum and slide a little further down. 

The glide is made smoother by the spit your tongue left behind and that which mixes with his pre-cum in your mouth. As you start to bob up and down, some dribbles out past your lips so you start to move your hand, too, smearing the mess all over his cock. When it bumps the back of your throat — and on assessment, you realise there’s daylight between your lips and your fist — you squeeze your eyes closed and whimper softly, holding him in place while you adjust before you can take him deeper. 

“Fuck— just like that,” he gasps out in a shattered groan when you start to move a little more fluidly, no longer too intimidated by your gag reflex preventing him from slipping down your throat. Your hand and your mouth work in tandem to get him riled. Every sound he makes feels like someone injects lust straight into your veins. When you look up at him from between your dewy lashes, you ponder that you’d watch him fall apart from this angle a hundred times a night forever and still not get bored. 

Your jaw starts to ache from the thickness of having him in your mouth and the way he’s restraining himself from fucking his hips up to meet you tells you that he’s too polite to ask you for more. You suck harshly one last time before pulling away with a ‘pop’, using only your hand to pump his length as you shift down to gently suck one of his balls into your mouth. 

The sound he makes is so fucking melodic. You think he’s made a similar one before when he lifts into a falsetto, and you’ve never felt more powerful than you do right now. Knowing you have someone with such a commanding presence eating out of your palm could really do something dangerous to your ego. It’s a bit of a miracle, therefore, that you recognise his desperate tapping at your shoulder, but the second you feel it you settle back from him, looking up at his impossibly tense abs and his blissed-out face.

You catch on quickly and feel your features split into a grin at the realisation. When it takes him a second, you know it’s because he’s still trying to remember the mechanisms it takes to breathe. Bless his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, pushing himself to sit upright and running a hand through his hair. “It-… fuck, that was so…”

“What happened to ‘I don’t want you to go easy’ huh?” you tease, resting your chin on the top of his left thigh, grinning up at him. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep going like that,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief at himself. “And trust me — I want to, but…” He swallows hard. “Not yet.”

You nod slowly up at him, starting to get up off the floor. You stop in your tracks when he says, “I’ve gotta taste you first. Please.”

Maybe it speaks too much to the quality of some of your previous lovers, but his desperation takes you a bit by surprise. You blink at him, ignoring how your thighs burn with the position you’ve frozen in. 

“If— that’s okay?” He adds. “I’ve… been thinking about it? A lot. Especially since-”

“Shut up,” you breathe, finally standing all the way up. He shuffles back further onto the bed and you quickly move to straddle across his hips, one hand coming up to hold his jaw in place when you’re in place. “Of course it’s okay.”

You lean in for an impossibly needy kiss, only breaking away when you physically can’t breathe anymore. Vernon’s eyes flutter open at the same time as yours do and as you reach behind yourself with one hand to unclasp your bra, he looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.  

(He tells you that you are no fewer than three times before you fall asleep a few hours later.)

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. there's approx a scene and a half left for part 3 and then we're all done with this baby! stay tuned for that, coming soon.<3 p.s. no i will not apologise to jaehyun, this is what he gets for making me feel insane. thanks !

[kennedyalike]

you’re saved

elijah mikaelson x reader drabble

word count : 695

tags: kissing, rain, mentions of violence, mentions of torture, mentions of wounds, fluff

the sound of the pouring rain echoed in your ears, it was like a humming noise that would usually calm you down. this time it was like a bad omen, the water connecting in small rivers, streaming down the drains. the night had settled in and you held out your hands in the rain. letting the water wet your hair, washing the blood from your hands as your breathing struggled to calm down. the wound on your stomach had healed but the adrenaline never left your body.

whole nervous system crashing down as you looked around while panting. not a sound. only the rain falling down on the hard asphalt as the night settled in, slowly getting darker and darker.

debating your choices, you needed to run, but stay hidden or they were going to find you. in your mind, you had already given up, there was no sign of him and the feeling of desperation and fear was consuming you. he wasn’t coming, he left you like everyone else. just this once, you had no hope or survival. how can an immortal creature be afraid of death. your voice broke and a sob escaped your throat. this was the one thing you couldn’t survive. your eternal life would end here.

even with your unnatural hearing, the rain blocked out everything. every human, every car, you couldn’t even hear your own heartbeat. no choice, but the survival instict in you pushed you to move. tired body stumbling forwards, being weakened by torture, vervain and starving. nothing but pure instict. your wet hair was sticking to your forehead, sniffles were heard and your wounds still hurt even after closing up.

only a matter of time when they would find you, then, and truly then…your hope would die with you.

limping across the road, rain still pouring down as fog rose up, making the night even more scarier than it was. no one could even make out the tears between the raindrops hitting your face. between all the sobs and the rain, a crack was heard and then a gust of wind.

someone was here.

panic quickly rose and you closed your eyes, convincing yourself you’re hearing things as your exhausted body tried to make its way forward. your neck turns quickly as you look behind, expecting to find someone following you. quickly you’re pulled out of your trance when a big figure appears in front of you, making you slightly bump into him.

”ah!! no!! i swear i don’t know anything, please!!” you sobbed as the strong hands grabbed you. ”it’s me.” a deep, calm voice called out and you looked up at the man. and at that moment, everything around you, every bit of pain and panic you experienced, dissapeared. because it was him. ”e-elijah..” your tears never stopped flowing but this time they weren’t from fear. he hums and quickly embraces you. he was wearing a suit and his clothes were still warm and dry. you nuzzled your face into his chest as your arms wrapped around his neck.

”i-i thought you left- i-” you sobbed as he patted your wet hair. ”shh, i’d never leave you dear. i’m here.” he reassured, grabbing your shoulders and parting the hug. his face leaned down to yours, looking at you with the softest look ever. his eyes were mesmerazing. the rain only got stronger and you saw his hair sticking to his forehead as water droplets ran down his neck.

”elijah.” you sobbed once again and he shook his head with disapproval. his cold, big hand caressed the side of your face. you closed your eyes and he followed, pulling you into a deep kiss. his soft lips connecting with yours felt like he could erase every worry, every pain and miserable moment you’ve ever felt. it just felt so right. your passionate kiss only deepened second by second when your hand came to caress his jawline, bringing his face closer to yours. head turning to the side, lips fighting for dominance, pressing romantic kisses onto eachother as you both listen to the rain fall.

[cr-noble-writes]

Title: Argonauts Series: Odyssey Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Explicit Characters: Alex Shepard, ME1 Ensemble, Aria T'Loak, Minah Atruzea Relationships: mShenko Tags: ME1 timeline, minor character death, canon typical violence, nightmares, male Shepard, Sole Survivor Shepard, custom background, paragade Shepard

Summary: Alex Shepard, his crew, and the quest to find Saren Arterius.

Notes:

I've been writing and rewriting this fic for about 2 years, and I finally decided that it is time to start posting it.

I want to thank everyone in the Dragon Effect server, and my besties, who have listened to me rant and rave and come up with increasingly angsty bullshit to put Alex through for the last 2 years. Truly, I don't think I'd have gotten this far without y'all.

This is still a WIP, and as of right now I am planning on posting every other week.

Extra thanks to @unfair-water-plane, @ad-astra13, and @mallaidhsomo for alpha reading, doc gremlining, and otherwise helping me stay motivated, and to Snarkelogist for beta-reading for me <3

Read Prologue here

Excerpt:

“Do you know why we’re here?”

Alex shrugs. “I know more than most of the crew. Covert pickup on Eden Prime. Testing the stealth systems in action.” He looks at Nihlus. Spectres are the galaxy’s best soldiers. They don’t ask questions like that without already knowing the answer. “But you know something I don’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Yes.” The bass of Nihlus’ subvocals offset the tenor of his voice in a pleasant harmony. “I’m sure you are aware that the Alliance has been pushing for the induction of a human Spectre for years. I’ve been sent to evaluate your candidacy.”

[sugar-plum-writer]

"Jujutsu Lover~ OTOME GAME"

System: 002 [Part - 01]

Loading 99%----> 100%!

Loading Route! Character?

System Administrator!Gojo Satoru

Love interest for Player- 3%

[Be aware not to cross above 100% for your safety~] Best of Luck!

[Player Death Rate- 80%]

Difficulty- SSR**

[Failing to clear will result in immediate death!]

Warnings/Tags?

[Slight!Violence; A System Administrator!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Otome Game Player Reader; Isekai]

Route Name?

[Do you love me Mr. Gojo?]

Good Luck player Y/n

The situation you were in now was unexpected, sure you might have hallucinated about it but hallucinations do not come to life correct? correct. If so was the case why are you stuck in this situation?

"Yo~ Y/n welcome to the afterlife!!!" pulling you by the wrist the man smirked smugly

"Congratulations on living the dream everyone has wanted to live, applause please!!!!" he clapped his hands loudly, setting off a party popper wearing a birthday hat

The man was a giant, 190 cm tall, with broad shoulders, white hair, and his eyes a blue embodying the entire sky- Looking into them felt like a freefall through an endless vast expanse of never ending Azure.

"W…Wait what!? I am dead…like dead dead? or a demon is trying to take possession of me?" confused you looked at him a bit freaked out at the situation

"Ah… possession well that's a first I have heard as a system administrator, oh well it's interesting" Smirking he offered you a party hat too

You looked at the party hat, then looked at him doubting and wondering if he was serious, as silence filled the heaven-like white room, with no beginning or end a span of endless white

"......."

"Ah you are no fun~" With a pout he threw the party hat away

"Believe it or not you are dead its not a dream, this is 100% real, you died in a car crash, a drunk driver slammed into you"

"So…I am dead?" you felt a pang in your chest, sweat dripped down your neck as the heart pumped itself to oblivion

"Yes, you are dead" The playful demeanor was gone as he looked at you, the gold threads embroidered into the royal blue and white suit glistened- something straight out of a French couture. The print was abstract-outwardly but fit him perfectly as if it was made for him.

"I…Is there no way to go back?"

"Hmmm…Well, you are going to be a player to test out the new world" sneering he leaned in, "If you win and survive, you can go back to your world"

"Really!? What do I need to do?"

"Well first of all~ you will need to make one of the characters fall in love with you, clear the route, and get a happily ever after, it's like a dating sim!" with a snap of his fingers a hologram appeared in front of you of a game like system

The Hologram had all kinds of stats missions, routes, shop, etc as you clicked around seeing different options

"And winning is assured because- I yours truly Mr. Gojo Satoru will accompany you through this! see!" he pointed at a small chibi icon of him in the corner of the hologram smirking.

"I see…but how are you so sure about winning? It's not like you are a god" you looked at him and chuckled finding it funny.

Without batting an eyes he gazed at you, looking into the depts of your soul every nook and cranny, and stated the obvious calmly as if it was obvious beyond doubt. For a moment he looked like a man above all, as if the world was nothing- not even worthy enough to be under his feet for it could never bear his divinity

"Darling", He chuckled , "Why would I need to be a God when my existence is higher than any position a God could want? As, throughout heavens and Earth, I alone am the honored one"

[System message!]

"Player Y/n do you wish to change route to other characters of jjk?"

Yes/ No

Link to my Masterlist

[If you wanna be tagged for other parts ect! comment below I will tag you~ and heart the post to let me know if you want more~]

@hinakazino it's out! Sorry for the late tag love ❤

@nissatamz it's out!!!

[neverchecking]

Day 13: Olfactophilia- With Sage

Man it's crazy this this was always day 13 and i never changed it bc it was already written and someone (bailey) told me there were craving Sage. Nah, that's crazyyyy.

Smut so Minors Do Not Interact. If I find out a minor has interacted with my blog, I will block you.. Thank you!

Smut CW: Sage. (He has a thing with how you smell), thigh fucking bc MAN is that HNNNNG, also he bites.

This is Day thirteen of My Kinktober so be sure to come back and check out the other days! Friendly Reminder that all of my smut is tagged 'Cindersins' including this, but this will also be tagged as 'Cinder's happy halloween' along with the run of the mill smut tags.

Kinktober Masterlist <<< Day 12 >>>Day 14

He knew he experienced the world…differently.

 Ever since his death however many odd years ago, he’s witnessed it first hand. His eyesight was sharper, catching the smallest movements as they brushed against blades of grass. Pinpointing the exact moment a club was swung in his direction, easily dodging past it for a counterblow. Catching the smallest reflection of light against ores that otherwise would’ve been lost in the depths. 

His hearing was exponential as well. He could hear the soft pads of paws behind him in an effort to sneak past him. Hear the delicate crushing of weeds as a cave dweller moves about. Catch the smallest rumbles of pebbles falling from a hill as a beast tries to sneak up behind him. 

His taste could pick out any spice used, he could feel the smallest changes in texture, but truly, his sense of smell had been his saving grace. When the wind shifted, he could smell different prey from miles away. When he really focused, he could smell which direction the nearest stable was, where the nearest monster camp was. 

He could smell you. 

You were his favorite smell, by far. Something tinged by the smell of skin and sweat, but nothing could hide your natural musk. Something laced with the natural undertone of the earth and whatever soap you had bought off a merchant that month. It was indescribably comforting. It grounded him because if there was something Ganon could never replicate, it was the way you smelt. His puppets could look just like whoever they wanted, they could feel as Hylian as they come, but they would never carry the smell of life. 

It’s why he took every chance given to him to stuff his nose into your heavenly hair or the junction of your neck and shoulder, just to smell you. 

It’s why his teeth stayed clamp right under your jaw as he dragged his cock between your thighs, feeling the muscles twitch as you clung to him, marking up his back in your own delicate handwriting. It was sensation overload, but something so deliciously overstimulating he couldn’t help but indulge. From his nerves shocking his entire system with each drag against your plush flesh, to the tantalizing taste of your sweat remaining tart on his tongue to the pure essence that clouded around him. It was smothering, choking him with a cloud of something that was utterly you he couldn’t help the urge to drown in it. 

Golden Goddess above and her three servants, he prayed this is the one thing in his life he’d never lose. He’d burn the world to keep you with him, ignoring the smell of ash that followed after him. 

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 8

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the anniversary of Natasha’s passing comes around, Y/n feels another wave of grief coming to knock her down. But with the support of her friends, and a special visit to Natasha’s grave, she knows that she can keep going. And she knows that Nat would be happy for her.

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: cursing, dead romantic partners, death, wind symbolism, graves and cemeteries, way too many references, depression and depression themes, therapy, bad hygiene, and mental health issues. As always, let me know if more needs to be tagged.

🌻Series Masterlist 🌻

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

It had been a while since that...incident. The leaves had changed colors and fallen off the trees, which all turned dark. Snow had began to dust the ground, and the wind had begun to bring shivers to everyone outside.

And with the cold weather came a dreaded anniversary. One you knew was coming, but that hadn’t made it better.

Everyone else could see it too. The way your mood seemed to dampen, the way your smiles began to not reach your eyes, the way you seemed more and more tired each time they saw you.

Snow was on the ground now, but some things stayed the same.

Group therapy was still going on, and it gave you a reason to get out of your house.

“Now, I’d like to talk about support, and why it’s so important to have a support system.” Coulson introduced the topic. “Does everybody know what a support system is?” As the group nodded along, he grinned.

“Great. Why don’t we go around in a circle and share one reason why having a support system is important?” He invited the conversation.

Every session had the same structure. You walk in, everyone shares how they’ve been that week and what they’ve done or whatever, then the topic is introduced and discussed, then you play some kind of game, and then everybody chats a little bit before leaving. You found comfort in the routine.

Clint went first. “It’s important because if you have one, you’ve got people to rely on and help you out with stuff.”

Tony nodded, before beginning to speak. “And people who can tell when you’re having a breakdown.”

Then it was your turn. “When..when you feel like nothing is getting better and nothing is going to get better, having..having people around to talk to, or to..relate with, even….it helps.” You murmured.

“Yeah. And when you’re spiraling, you’ve got friends and family who can pull you out of it.” Wanda nodded along. You gave her a small smile.

“See ya, kid.” You waved to Peter on your way out. He waved back, beaming.

“Bye, Ms. Y/n!” It had taken so long to convince him to not call you Ms. L/n, so you accepted the name.

“Bye, Maria.” You shot a smile at the receptionist.

“Have a good day, Y/n.” She smiled warmly.

“You too!” You called as you walked out the door. You let out a breath as the cold wind picked up outside. You walked down the bumpy sidewalk towards your car.

“Y/n!” Wanda called for you, a smile on her face.

When you turned to look at her, her smile dropped.

“Oh, hey, Wands.” You used the nickname.

“Are you okay? You seemed more..down, than usual.” She noted.

“Yeah, just..tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” You explained. It wasn’t exactly a lie. You truly hadn’t slept very well. Stupid nightmares.

“Oh. Okay. Uh..do you wanna FaceTime later or something?” She asked. It had become normal for the two of you to FaceTime every so often.

“Sure,” you answered, as you gave her a nod before you began to walk away.

The worst part is when you start losing your sense of joy.

Your favorite meal, which you’d cooked for dinner the night after therapy, didn’t taste as good. And it wasn’t an error on your part—you’d cooked it perfectly, just like you normally would. But when you ate it, it…just didn’t hit.

It was hard to not think your brain was broken. Well, in a way, it kinda was now, but apparently that’s not a good word to use.

You began to fall back into old routines.

You get up. You get ready. You go to work. You drive home. You turn on the TV. And then, you just sit. 

Sometimes you call Wanda.

You turned down the group’s offer to go to lunch that week. And the week after that.

Normally, the group would go to lunch together once a week. You were all really becoming friends. Sometimes it would be right after therapy, other times it would just be a different day of the week.

You were interrupted in your moping by the sound of your phone buzzing. It was Wanda.

Hey! Made some tea and I have some extra water. Feel like stopping by? The text read.

Sorry, I’m busy today. Maybe some other time, though! You typed back.

No worries. I thought you stopped working weekends though?

“Shit.” You murmured as she caught you in your lie.

You sighed, before pressing the FaceTime button. “Hey.” You greeted.

“Hi.” She smiled, her mug of tea visible. You were propped up on something on her kitchen table, so you could see her from the chest up. Her hair was up in a bun.

“I..I’m not busy.” You confessed.

“Yeah, I know.” She admitted.

“It—I just—“ you sighed. “Today’s the uh, the anniversary, so..”

“Oh, Y/n, I’m sorry.” She frowned. “Her grave’s at Dreykov Cemetery, right?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Can you be there in two hours?”

“The hell—sure I guess?” You were really fucking confused. Was this a normal things for friends to do for each other?

Regardless, you got up off your ass and took a shower. You changed into some clean clothes and brushed your teeth, something you’d been neglecting as of late (much to your shame and embarrassment.)

You grabbed your keys and walked out of your apartment, down the stairs, and to your car. You drove out to Groot&Rocket, a local floristry business. You picked out a nice bouquet of flowers suited for winter, paid for it, and began to drive down to the cemetery.

You found the whole group waiting at the entrance. They all gave you warm smiles, with Wanda rushing up and giving you a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around her, making sure to not mess up the bouquet.

“Oh, I’m sorry Y/n.” She murmured in your ear.

You just rubbed her back in response. You both pulled away after a moment and walked towards the rest of the group.

“Hey, you guys.” You breathed as you stood before them.

“Hey.” Steve replied, a gentle smile on his face. Bucky gave you a tiny wave. Tony gave a nod in greeting, and Thor opened his arms for a big hug as he walked towards you. You passed the bouquet to Wanda, knowing that there was no escaping this.

He squeezed you tight in a massive bear hug, shaking you from side to side ever so slightly.

You laughed a little, and he grinned, knowing he’d done his job right.

“You guys really didn’t have to come out here, you know.” You said awkwardly.

“Relax,” Bucky hummed, clapping a hand on your shoulder, “you’d do it for us. You did it for me.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “It’s the least we could do.” You noticed they each had something in their hands. Flowers, small trinkets, normal stuff.

In Wanda’s were a small bouquet of flowers, not a sunflower in sight. She also had the yellow Care Bear in her left hand.

“Oh, uh, right this way.” You said, awkwardly leading the group through the graveyard.

Natasha was buried beneath a tall and beautiful tree. You looked up at it, its leaves still looking okay, even in the cold winter. You kneeled next to her grave, dusting away the snow gently. You adjusted some things already left at her grave, either from friends or family, before setting down the flowers. Then you stood up and took a few steps back.

Everyone took turns leaving stuff. First Bruce. Then Tony. Then Thor. Steve. Sam. Clint. Bucky. And then Wanda.

It’s gotta be wrong of me, your thoughts echoed around in your head. Bringing the girl I kind-of-maybe-sort-of have a crush on to the grave of my dead former girlfriend.

Just then the wind swirled through, and you watched as Wanda’s hair danced in the wind. She was beautiful.

It felt like Nat was telling you that you were being a stupid idiot. And that she was happy.

That it was okay. Okay to let her go.

No, a part of you wailed. Just like you had in her hospital room. Just like you had when you got home that night. Just like you had when Yelena showed back up.

It’s okay, the wind seemed to sing as it blew through again. Let me go.

And so you let her go.

A/n: hi everybody!! I hope you all had the best and most wonderful holidays. I would love love love to talk about this series, so don’t be afraid to send in an ask!

[thatoneluckybee]

pinned post time

Hey, I’m Bee!

Minor

She/her please!

ADHD, trichotillomania, (potentially autistic? doing research at the moment)

Christian

If you send me an ask for money, I probably won’t answer it. There’s too many and it’s overwhelming. But I may try and add your donation posts to my queue. I’m a minor—I can’t donate.

AND THE FANDOM/ORGANIZATION STUFF

I don’t even know I’m hyperfixated on right now. YTTD and SBG and Homesick are fighting to the death, PJSK/Vocaloid is trying to sneak in again but failing, and I am suffering help. What is my brain. Will\ go on mass reblogging sprees of random other topics/fandoms

Said fandoms are MAINLY Your Turn to Die, School Bus Graveyard, Homesick, Space Boy, Not So Shoujo Love Story, Surviving Romance, Realta, Castle Swimmer, the One of Us Is Lying trilogy, Morgana and Oz, Silent Screams, Marionetta, Danganronpa, Cursed Princess Club, Suitor Armor, Nomads, and the like. I read way too many Webtoon series, expect a lot of those lol. I’m also a huge fan of Winchifrost and Marina and The Diamonds!

I have no idea how to use tone tags but I'm trying to figure it out!

Finally have a Pronouns Page!

I don’t have a consistent tagging system, I use whatever comes to my heart. HOWEVER, I will USUALLY try and tag posts like memes and fanart with the fandom name (and, if I reblog or a post about a fandom a lot, FULL character names! For example, I will tag “nao egokoro” instead of just “nao yttd.”) I do have a couple tags I use a lot:

rambles: My rambles. Original posts or reblogs I have a decent amount of commentary on or changed in some way.

fambles: Rambles but specifically fandom related. This is a new tag I may forget to use it but I need to separate original from fandom lol

important: Anything that’s genuinely important (usually!) Much of this will be about topics I feel more strongly about. For example, a post about ableism I think is a good find would be tagged as important.

shenanigans: That’s… yeah, shenanigans.

Bee Hall of Fame: I’m stealing this tag from a beloved mutual. Favorite things that has something to do with yours truly <3

crumch: I don’t even know. Crumch. Food related. Biting people affectionately. Something that would be Entertaining or Horrific to consume.

yeah: This evokes such a specific and visceral emotion in every inch of my being that I am unable to comprehend or fully articulate in. Just yeah.

girlsuffering: Ow. I don't vent per say but if I'm theatrically complaint about a headache it's girlsuffering

Bee plays PJSK: HI I finally got the game and I’m playing, so these posts are just me going through the stories and getting used to it and suffering

Thanks I love you and GOODBYE!

[thisuserislilsilly]

Synopsis: The years go by, but Jubik never forgot that day.

Pairing: Jubik x Ascilen (baby boy of @jaghatai-khock) Aureus from the same OG creators makes an appearance too

Genre: Drama/angst/PTSD mentions/ gore

TW: Blood, gore, angst, depictions of PTSD

Goblin tag squad: @cardinalcanis @finchly-tintinnabulation @artemisareia @echo-of-damnation

@meervalv0 @jaghatai-khock

The past isn't Merciful

Jubik had being sitting outside of Ascilen room nervously tapping his foot against the floor over and over, each time faster, his leg becoming a blur f speed. His eyes were fixated on the ground, his hands fidgeting with a cup of Mjod and a cigarette the serfs of the Merciful had brought him after the scandal he had just made.

He made passed a hand through his forehead, doing tiny circles in his skin to calm himself down, to shake off that memory from his mind. He had exploded there, to Ascilen, yelling and waving his hands around about how little did the Merciful seem to care about her baby, about the birth, the whole thing; treating it as another simple operation when it had been maybe the most important event in their lives, and Ascilen had been so nonchalantly every step of the process, from the moment he knew he was pregnant to the moment the Apothecary had showed them their little, precious daughter.

Some slow steps coming his way snapped Jubik out of it, he glanced upwards to see Aureus there, followed closely by what seemed to be a serf in case he needed some assistance; although Jubik knowing him for as long as he had suspected Aureus would rather fall to the ground or die before asking for someone else help.

"I heard what happened..." Aureus spoke softly, sitting down besides Jubik, glancing at Ascilen room and sighing "That memory again?" "Yes...again" Jubik returned his attention to his fingers fidgeting nervously, he was still tapping his foot on the ground "Have you spoken with him at all afterwards?" Ascilen guessed the answer before it came out of Jubik lips "I don't think he wants to hear that story now, specially with the girl in his arms" "You told me it was a woman...?" Aureus raised an eyebrow inquisitive "Fuck...I never told you the rest of it" "Heh, well, we never really got a chance to speak without formalities after the fuckers attacked the system" Aureus offered a weak smile to his friend "Wh-you want to hear it? Now?" Jubik raised his gaze at Aureus again, trying to spot any malice in his words "If that gives me further insight as to why you ran off the room shaking and tossing a servo-skull against a wall, yes" Aureus punched Jubik arm lightly "I guess..."

Jubik inhaled deeply, taking another drag out of the cigarette, tossing it to the ground and crushing it under his foot. Then he stared at the ground for a couple of seconds, lost in thoughts; minutes silently passed until Jubik started speaking without any notice, it began as a whisper that raised in tone once he realized Aureus could barely hear him over the serfs passing them by in the hall.

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

The Indomitus Crusade had tossed us Nomads truly into the unknown, to places we could've never imagined or believed it was real if we hadn't seen it for ourselves; I was young in those days, on the mechanized company, can't remember if it was the 5th or the 6th and to be honest now that I only serve in the 10th I do not care if I am imprecise in that regard. We were tasked with being the back-up that would finally put an end to the rebellion on Fallorica IV, a pleasure World that had not been prepared in the slightest for an attack in the size and scale of the Death Guard and the worshippers of Nurgle; I will forever curse those who follow that fucking God, they had not allowed me to eat one meal since then that doesn't remind me of the pulsating tumors on a child infected with their "gifts" or a woman holing her dead child while maggots ea away the little bit of eyes she still had to see what was happening around her. It was hell, but not what made me react this way when I saw Ascilen giving birth to our girl.

No, it was the road to Kamusha. We were approaching the edge of that hill, the one every rich scumbag had once used to exploit their most wildest desires on big residential towers that, as I knew later, were used to be filled with the brim of those bureaucrats and entrepreneurs that danced, drank, fucked and ate everything they could while some poor guy had barely enough to pay for the clothes he was wearing. Those towers were no more than rubble that had rolled downhill and was now used for cover by Imperials and heretics alike. Each side trying to claim the hill for their own and have advantage over the plains below, so that was why we were there, to blow up stuff with the land raiders and repulsors and give the land troops a way up without getting shot before they reached the top.

On the way there was this camp of refugees, people that had been lucky enough to survive and flee the combat zone but not enough luck to know how to use a gun and make themselves useful for the Astra Militarum, so of course the regiments found nothing better for them other than build some improvised camps and help them with a big fireplace that they had to constantly put out at nights as to not signal the enemy that they were held up there. We were passing the first tents when the vehicles suddenly stopped, the gunners on top screaming at folk to get out of the way or else they would shoot, but nobody, not even the gunners themselves, actually believed that the Astartes would go through with any of their threats.

I was called by one of them to get up there and help with the few civilians that were already climbing n our land raider, get them out of there, simple pick the person up by their clothes and as gently as possible throw them back to the crowd below. As I began to help the gunner on that front, the tank began to slowly advance when the crowd understood what was going on, however that too made their demands for any kind of supply even more insisting; throwing their hands in the air towards us to grab onto whatever they could.

In the edge of the mob there was this...woman; by the Emperor I can't even remember what she was wearing or how her hair looked like, I just have the image of a young woman tucking her baby close to her chest, the child couldn't had been older than a year or a year and a half. She was in worst shape than the rest, that I remember clearly, because something inside of me just...had to help her, more than the others who could be able to fend off for themselves a day more or bother some guardsman for food; that mother wouldn't had a chance at doing those kinds of bargain taking into account her kid.

The gunner beside me, about the same age as me, taking into account almost the whole company had gotten out of the Neophytes around the same time that they had joined the 5th, groaned in frustration as she noticed the same woman I saw before; he bumped my shoulder to get my attention.

"To the Warp with this, someone hand me a stash"

I looked at him, shrugged, poked my head inside the land raider and grabbed one of the little bags we had stashed the supplies by the exact amount we needed for a day, upside down like that I saw the local interpreter we had brought with us if the locals couldn't understand High Gothic. He saw me, his eyes were injected with surprise and fear "No, Lord, don't try to give anything to them", he said with a trembling voice; I ignored him and returned to the surface giving the little bag to the gunner.

Taking advantage of how slowly we were moving, the battle-brother managed to calculate his throw perfectly; the bag flew in the air and landed at the woman feet. I remember the smile, bright despite the little teeth she still had left on her mouth. She picked it up with one hand as she shifted the child to his left; I remember her grip on the kid, gentle enough to not squeeze it, strong enough to not let them fall when they leaned.

The mob then opened a path big enough for the land rider to speed up, with our driver not wasting more time and hitting the accelerator with his foot while silently cursing in Cthonipem. The gunner and I kept looking at the group; then we held our breath as we understood the thing that had made the mob go away was their fixation on the bag the woman was now opening focused on the zipper while mumbling something to her kid with a smile. It didn't matter how much I screamed to get her attention, nor the threats the gunner made and the couple of shots he fired at the mob's feet.

They didn't back up. About five or six from the group swarmed on her. A second later, more joined the attempts to get the bag off from the woman. They did, she fell to the floor with the kid, the baby was crying. I remember it because it began to cry harder when the fight between the mob for the food began and the stomping commenced. The kid was far away enough, thank the Emperor, to not be stamped or squished by the bodies of the faceless mob that fought each other for getting those rations of food; the mother of that child wasn't so lucky. I watched it...I was low enough on the Land Raider to see brief glances at her body as it was kicked, punched and caused people to fall on top of her. I knew she was dead, I knew there was nothing I could do, but I felt compelled in jumping down the raider and separate the group.

I interrupted them when the bag was torn apart and the food spread everywhere; I tried to make them regain some sense of what they were doing, to control themselves. I saw the angry faces, the drive fueled by just one thought, one feeling, emotions controlling the body more than the mind could. There was no rhyme or reason; I could bet for my life that none of those citizens knew what they had done at that moment, it was just to survive, right?

They punched me, I felt nothing because of the armor, I could not move though, they surrounded me, demanding more food, for everyone, for nobody in particular. They scratched me, clawed the armor to rip it off from my body, broke there feet while trying to kick me. One of the vehicles that had stayed behind, a Repulsor, who they had just seen a Marine being swarmed by people, opened fired upon the mob; I saw each life leave their eyes as they were shot down, the last breaths, their last words in a language I couldn't understand and never wish to learn. It was brief, but I see those faces every time I wake up and when I go to sleep; just resting in Ascilen arms has made me sleep easily.

And when I saw Ascilen hold our baby like that, Aureus, I saw the woman again, talking to her kid about how lucky they had been by receiving such a boon from the Astartes that had come to make their miserable lives a bit better.

You asked me what had made me exit the room shaking, well...

There it is.

[lilmissnatcat24]

Electric Sheep Chapter Eight- The Electromenon Phenomenon!

Shepard and Garrus both have important meetings on Illium.

pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

rating: Explicit

tags: Lovers to enemies to lovers, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, ,Violence, Blood and Gore, Torture, Disturbing Themes, Dual POV, Earthborn (Mass Effect), Ruthless (Mass Effect), Mass Effect 2, Whump, Eventual Smut, Requited Unrequited Love, Mind Control, Pining, so much fucking pining that even i'm a little disturbed, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, OC Central, a kid show called the electromenom that teaches shepard about basic physics, yet another cliffhanger ending (sorry), second in series

cover: done by the stunning @/milkywayes!!!!!

lil text blurb:

A Transcribed Interview Between Khalisa bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News, and Commander Delia Shepard, Disgraced Former Alliance Officer and Current Cerberus Terrorist, on September 8th, 2185: 

[al-Jilani]: Khalisa bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. Do you have a moment to answer a few questions? 

[Shepard]: Oh, fuck me. 

[al-Jilani]: Admiral Hackett has released a formal statement that since the disaster at Horizon, that your position through the Alliance has been officially terminated. Is this because you failed to save the colonists on the planet, or because you were complicit with their disappearance? 

[Sheaprd]: We just landed, like, five fucking minutes ago. How did you find me? 

[al-Jilani]: The threat to Horizon and Freedom’s Progress comes after the now infamous geth invasion of Eden Prime. Tell me, does the Alliance truly value the lives of humans above all else, or do you believe that they offered up the colonists to ward against expansion and to appease the alien-centric Council? 

[Shepard]: We’re not even on the Citadel. We’re on Illium. 

[al-Jilani]: And now, you’ve allied yourself with known human extremists. Do you think this is an insult to your old partner, Garrus Vakarian, by partnering with the very organization that would threaten his existence, a noted fallen war hero? 

[Shepard]: Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve managed to clone yourself. There can only be one of you leeches the galaxy at any given time, and even that’s pushing it. 

[al-Jilani]: What would you say to Kaidan Alenko, your alleged lover, if he saw you cavorting with terrorists in his name? Or would he approve, seeing as he held former ties with the Terra Forma Party previously? 

[Shepard]: Alright, first, no he didn’t. Second, he’s not my lover. And third, do you ever hear the words coming out of your mouth and wonder why no one in this entire system can stand to be in your presence? 

[al-Jilani]: Has anyone told you that the scar on your face is hideous? 

[Shepard]: Has anyone told you that your face is hideous? 

[al-Jilani]: You very publicly have indulged and abetted a red sand addiction. Is it safe to assume that your previous comments are made under the influence of the illegal narcotic, despite your claims that you’ve been sober now for two years? 

It was at this time that former Commander Delia Shepard attempted to attack Khalisa bint Sinan al-Jilani. She was held back by an unknown woman in a hood, two unknown Cerberus officers, and one unknown turian, before ending her tantrum by storming away. Charges have been pressed, the local authorities of Illium know of Shepard’s numerous crimes against the freedom of press. al-Jilani, while shaken, has asserted that she will continue this story in search of the truth. 

[transidbillzo]

congrats to those who guessed i was bait/an anti

in all honesty, i didnt get any weird messages with people trying to like groom me. but there is a few really weird fucking identities and my friend got someone who i will not @ or say who, in their dms talking to them vaguely sexually and just in a very uncomfortable way. absolutely not okay and i dont think that a safe space for many many minors should be treated like that

me and my friends arent really into dsmp and that ptwt bullshit was 100% a lie although i am a recovering paraphile . i am one hundered percent anti contact. absolutely in any context. i believe that many radqueer ideals paraphilia etc is the root of genuine mental illness.

in a way i absolutely infiltrated this community, which appears to be some peoples 'safe space'. but seriously this is insane

as a osdd-1b system, person with chronic pain, adhd , and autism all diagnosed. just dont bring that transid shit around people who are 'cis' disabled (not entirely sure how to describe it..)

no hate. absolutely. i dont think anyone should be exposed to literal death threats and suicide shit thats fucking insane,,

i guess i have no room to truly judge but i hope this community grows as people, and to people who are struggling i am so sorry. i hope you are able to move on in life past anything going on and if you need to vent this account will stay up , just not as a radqueer blog .

so anyway sorry for this, it was out of genuine curiosity but its actually nauseating pretending to be rq

im pro recovery, in every way -- even if that takes time for you

watchers collective signing off

(tags are just so yall see it, sorry)