#trying to reach wallpaper kinda level here

[cythanadiel]

getting ready for Valentine's Day<3 if you know, you know >:]

[heartfullofleeches]

Reader and their friend trying to find the monster in the "Haunted House" so they can record a video for Youtube even though the monster is just stalking the Reader from the ceiling

Yandere monster x G.N Youtuber Reader

Warning: slight horror elements, slight entomophobia

"What's up, guys? Y/n, here with a new haunted house tour with our special guest, Nicholas!"

You turn the tripod towards your friend who sheepishly waves, dropping the half hearted smile on his face the moment you turned back. The two of you stood on the porch of the Manwaring home; an abandoned house with a supposed high paranormal activity level. You bounced from hobby to hobby quite often, and the flavor of the past few months had been ghost hunting. You started up your channel, searched up local myths - which there were a surprising amount of, and were on your way. Unfortunately, you had yet to make your break, but remained determined.

Nicholas had always been there for you to support you or be the voice of reason; and editor on occasion. The only reason he came along with you this time was because there were reports of someone startling stray animals and kids that came near the house, and he really didn't want you getting mauled by anything.

He had tuned out most of your intro, only picked up on small things as he kicked pebbles to past time.

"The story behind this legend is the owners heard static coming from various places around the house. They could never figure out where it came from, even after unplugging their television. One night, while the husband was alone, they say the source finally caught up to him, and his worst nightmares came to life; never to be the same again."

That sounds kinda lame. Nicholas thinks.

"Alright, let's head in." Pointing your camera at the door, you reach for its handle; knob popping from the lock with a hard push. Dust flies in front of the camera's narrow light; air stale and a musky stench taining the fresh night breeze. Nicholas shudders before he even steps inside, pulling his coat to the back of his neck.

"Can we hurry up? It just got really cold."

"Don't worry Nick. It'll be over before you know it." You pull out a flashlight, flicking it on as you take a step inside. Time stands to an eerie still within the walls of the home. Decorated by paintings and small doodles; both worn by age but keeping a certain standard. Furniture without a piece over turned, and wallpaper faded, but still attached. Nicholas notices a flower vase on a table as he passes by; vibrant flowers housed within, carrying a waxy look due to the nature of the room. He grabs the petal of one, the appendage snapping off with ease. It was a real flower.

"This is where the main activity supposedly happens." You begin, walking ahead of Nicholas into the next room. It was a living room, everything in order except for one detail in the center of the room. A couch was lined to one wall, and before that was a coffee table; both in decent condition aside from glass splattered on both surfaces. Near the opposite wall stood an odd fashion television with its face completely smashed in. Not a single shard of glass was left in place; the tv's right leg broken and causing it to become lopsided.

"They said the husband finally built up the courage to watch tv again while his family was away for the day. As he was getting comfortable on the couch is when it happened. There was a stabbing sound. Like someone stabbing a pencil through paper. Followed by that was a terrible groan right by his ear. After that, it was the static his family had grown to fear. And then nothing. They say if you still in the exact same spot you night hear it too."

Nicholas stares at the couch, eyes slowly dragging upwards to the wall behind. Small holes pierces the drywall, followed by more leaning all the way to the ceiling.

"Y/n...?"

Your voice which had dropped a few pitches during your little speech suddenly picks up volume. "Crazy story, right? We'll check that out at the end of the video. Let's head on to the next room, and see what we can find."

You check on Nicholas, who was still staring at the wall. "Dude, are you good?"

He snaps his attention to you. "Yea... Yea I'm fine, let's go."

The next room is the kitchen. Fixed for a family of four, there wasn't much out of the ordinary aside from the amount of dirt and cobwebs over most of the area. By the stove, there's a small red door a few feet off the ground. With knowledge of the house's layout, you casually walk over and open the door.

"This is a dumbwaiter the family kept from renovations to the house. They claimed to hear noises from here too some nights. Possibly coming from the basement."

You sit on the sill, pointing your camera upwards at the darkness. The elevator had been pulled all the way to the basement, leaving you to hang slightly into the abyss below.

"It's so high up on both sides." You angle the camera down. "Hello? Anybody down there?"

"Get out of there, Y/n!" Nicholas half shouts, grabbing the front of your shirt and pulling you forward before you leaned too far back.

You stand up with a grin. "Relax. I highly doubt there's anything in there."

You continue to talk, but Nicholas pays no mind. Instead, he looks behind you at the shadow poking from the elevator shaft. Through the wires and ropes, he's sure something is there. Almost looks like.. a head. Shifted slightly in the direction of you. It's when something retracts from the dumbwaiter's door that he starts to panic. Hovering right above your head, ready to do God knows what had he not noticed

"What the hell was that?"

You look back. In the second that it took him to blink, the shadow had disappeared. "Huh..I don’t see anything?"

"There was something there. I'm sure of it."

"Whoa you're really getting into now, aren't you, Nic?"

"I'm serious, Y/n." He grabs your arm. "We need to go."

"Aw, come on."

"Now, Y/n."

You look at him with pleading eyes. "Five more minutes?"

He narrows his eyes, trying to pull away from the magnitude of your stare. "Fine. Five minutes then I'm leaving without you. I'm waiting in the other room, this one gives me the creeps."

"Cool, cool. See you in a few."

Nicholas returns to the living room. With most of the night going in one ear and out the other, he plops down on the couch. He rests his head against the back, counting the seconds as he rubs his eyes with his hands. At least it was a comfortable sofa. The second you get back home, he's convincing you to drop this hobby or he's never talking to you again.

He takes a breath; the air feeling heavier than before - colder too. He shudders, squeezing his hands close to fight the cold. A creak plays above him; possibly the house settling more, or something else entirely. Did you head up stairs? You won't hear the end of this when if he has to go and find you. Just as starts to sit up, something punctures the wall. It happens again, the noise repeating over and over like the legs of a swift spider. He soon realizes it's not a wall, but rather the ceiling as something grazes the back of his neck; followed by a low moan.

It was unsettling. Luke a dying man's last breath through water or a lower pitched frog. He hops up from his seat to face whatever was behind him, he color draining from his face as he sees it.

The entity had scaled halfway down the wall; long, skeletal fingers literally punched through it for stability. It's body was charcoal grey; skeleton poking through the thin layer. Whispy strands of white hair dropped over its shoulders and over its face; wrapping around its throat. Its face held two widen, sunken eyes; static buzzing within them like the screen of a broken television - growing louder the longer Nicholas looked. Its mouth was wired together by strings of flesh; shallow breathes bellowing from the chasm behind. The skin stretches further as it groans louder; breaking the distance between it and him.

It's on him faster than he can even let out a scream. Its hand grip his face; eyes darting around wildly in their sockets, keeping Nicholas' open; though its hard to tell if he could close them even if he wanted. It blinks rapidly, face distorting with every open of its eyes. Screams of the damned drill into his skull; his joining as the sight of his own life's body fall before him.

He's thrown into the darkness; nothing there yet everything binding him to a tight space. Insects craw over his face; in his mouth and down his throat. Horrible; terrible things pop in and out of his mind, all leaving their mark in various ways. The worse of it all comes at the end of this torment. It's you - smiling. The image fades as quickly as it comes, but with it follows a single word.

"Mine."

Nicholas is thrown to the floor, reality crashing back as he with the earth. The creature’s head was snapped to the otherside of the room, towards the kitchen which you were now leaving. It shoots back up the wall, crawling slowly to your approaching form. Theres something in its vacant eyes as it looks at you. Something Nicholas can't read. He watches in terror as it hovers above you, ready to attack at any moment. He tries to signal with your eyes, but you fall to notice.

"Hey, Nic. Why are you on the floor?"

The moment you speak, it drops on top of you; caging into smaller form to the ground with surprisingly minimal impact to you. Its palm rests at collarbone level, keeping you pinned, but without any force. Its face scans up your body; locking eyes with you. Its mouth hangs open, a long tongue shouting out and darting across your cheek. Nicholas can hear the wetness and coarseness as it drags along your face. Teats well as he braised for what came next, but instead of tearing you to shreads - it nozzles your face.

You start to laugh. "You ruined it, Static. You were supposed to wait till we got upstairs."

The creatures groans turn to small clicks; rubbing your face once more before allowing you to sit up. You grab your camera and check the footage, frowning at what you see.

"Your eyes are in the shot too. Now we can't show this to anyone."

Nicholas sits up. "What the fuck is going on here?'

You look over at him. "Hm? Oh, this is Static. I met them on my first time scouting the place and I think I'm their husband... wife.. spouse? Now."

Static nods its head at all of the titles, resting its chin on your head as it closes its eyes.

"They can't speak without making a connection to a human through looking into their eyes first. They only wanted to make contact with the family, but they were understandably startled. I offered them a snack I had in my pocket, and now I see them in my dreams. They said they'd become apart of the channel if I came home, but if anyone sees their eyes they'll have nightmares or something."

Nicholas' jaw hangs on the floor.

"I'm really sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted a good reaction for the video. They're a sweetheart I promise!"

Something tells Nicholas that last part isn't true. Especially as Static opens its eyes once more, staring into his soul. It says nothing, but he knows that if he interferes anywhere in your new relationship, the first vision he had will become a reality.

[torilovestowrite]

Dabi x Reader; Try Again pt. 8

Synopsis: Years ago, (Y/n) was left by her villain boyfriend, Dabi after discovering an unexpected news. Ever since then, she never had a lover— focusing on her only son, Yuta. Later on, she meets Todoroki Touya— a new co-worker who seem to be persistent towards winning her heart and attention.

Ship: Dabi x Fem! Reader

❗❗❗Content Warning: Mentions of Abortion, Unplanned Pregnancy, Manga spoilers, Dabi is a Todoroki theory

🖤 » Chapter Navigation « 🖤

"Yuta L/n, you're not going out!" Y/n strictly reprimanded as she tried to keep her son still from his position, lying on bed with a cold towel on his forehead.

It was during a Wednesday when Yuta, y/n's son, had a fever that reached over 41 degrees. Y/n felt threatened about this because her son has never reached this temperature. It's too high— and he also stated something about his body feeling heavy. What could be happening?

"B-but... we're about to watch a movie in school today! I don't want to miss it!" Yuta began bawling his eyes out while Y/n sighed at his dramatic tone. Does it really have to be like this? Yuta has to be emotional and sensitive every time he gets sick? This only reminds her of him— the way he would caress her soft hands every time she would tend his wounds every after a tiring day— the man he used to love, Dabi, would appear to be more gentle and affectionate every time he gets worn out... or ill.

"We're going to watch a movie while you take a rest here at home, okay?" Y/n gently tapped her son's side in an attempt to make him close his eyes and sleep. "For now, take a rest. Or else, it would take longer before you could go outside."

Immediately, Yuta turned his back from his mother in an attempt to be more comfortable; and to have a good sleep. Y/n smiled at his actions. Good thing, her son has always been considerate on her hardwork and the way she disciplines him.

It wasn't too long until she heard a notification from her phone— a message coming from Touya.

touya ❣ : good morning y/n. how's ur pretty face doing?

It's been four months since y/n realized her feelings for Touya. Both of them started dating two months ago and so far, he has been understanding towards her obligations as a mother. Most of their dates included Yuta and there are times when Touya would volunteer to watch over him while she's away during her day shifts. Y/n could never ask for anything— Touya was doing his job greatly; as a boyfriend and as a paternal figure to Yuta.

you : yeah, i'm all good babe. thanks for asking. but yuta's sick rn... i dont really have anyone to take care of him and i need to go for my day shift.

touya ❣ : you want me to go for it? i mean, i only work during nights anyways

Y/n's smile lit up as she read his message. Finally! She thought. She could go to work!

you: sure thing babe 💗✨

Few more minutes, when Yuta has finally travelled to dreamland, Y/n left the house, wearing her thick f/c coat with her hair styled to become more neat-looking. Another day for work, she thought.

It's been two hours since Touya arrived in Y/n's home. Using the spare key under her house's doormat, he decided to enter her house that was silent when he went inside. Until he heard a child's high-pitched scream coming from Yuta's bedroom. His instinct caused him to immediately run towards this direction; but what he saw caused a heavy sensation in his chest. Those familiar blue flames that was once his signature— as Dabi; the heartless villain who claimed 30 innocent lives.

"U-Uncle T-Touya!" Yuta cried in panic while his right hand was burning with blue and heated fire. "W-What should I do?! M-my—"

"Breathe." Touya immediately replied as he kneeled next to him, rubbing his back with his huge and rough hands. "You have to control your breathing and your emotions. You have to control it because the more you panic, the more it will get stronger."

Yuta closed his eyes and focused in calming himself down— taking deep breaths and thinking about things that he liked in life— ice cream, Y/n, Uncle Touya, pro-heroes... all the things that makes him happy. Slowly, the fire became smaller and smaller— until nothing appeared on his hands.

"I-It's gone! The blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as a grin crept on his face. "Did you see that awesome thing on my hand, Uncle Touya?! That must be my quirk, right?"

"Yes, it's an awesome quirk that you have." Touya smiled sadly as he stared at the young and naive child— as if he was seeing his past self; the pure child who was corrupted by his father's evil desires and deeds. It was all fun and games knowing he has an awesome quirk like that... until his father, Enji Todoroki, decided to ruin everything for him.

But he swore to be someone better than him; to be a man suitable to be called a father.

That afternoon, Y/n arrived at her home with such beautiful sight; Touya and Yuta scooped in each others' arms while the movie was left streaming. She smiled at the sight. It was so cute. For a few seconds, she almost believed that Touya was Yuta's father. The young mother couldn't help it but to take a picture of the two while having their peaceful slumber.

"I saw you," Touya spoke, "Delete it."

Y/n giggled as Touya stood up from his position as he tried to grab the phone away from her hands. It was such a cute sight. She was sticking her tongue out while she was trying to chase him. Y/n couldn't help but to feel as if they were all.. what? 17? Whatever, it felt cute, though.

"Yeah, whatever. Have that pic all you want. You can even make it your wallpaper." Y/n got her cheeks pinched by him as he gave her a light kiss on the nose. "I'm going now, sweet cheeks, I'm attending night shift for tonight."

"Sure, sure." Y/n smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek, as she watched his lean and toned figure leave their house. All that's left is her and Yuta. Slowly, his eyes opened to see his mother watching him sleep.

"Mommy?" Yuta spoke in a drowsy tone.

Y/n responded, hugging her son beside her while his eyes still looked sleepy. Seems that the sleep wasn't enough for him, huh? The young lady laughed at this, ruffling his hair, and deciding to ask him. "How was your day with Uncle Touya? Is it better than it was when you're at school?"

The young lad aggressively nodded and decided to tell Y/n the greatest thing that he discovered today.

"My quirk just manifested, ma! I have blue flames!" Yuta exclaimed as he tried to show it off with the tip of his fingers. Y/n's eyes widened at this— it created a tingling feeling in her heart. It was like a slap on her face. Yuta is really Dabi's son, isn't he?

"T-That's awesome." Y/n replied, trying to stop tears from flowing.

While her son was still busy talking about his day, her hands were able to feel something on the couch. It was... hard. She pulled out to see a black leather wallet. Did Touya forget his stuff here? Y/n sighed at his forgetfulness. Well, he's a person, she thought, so he has flaws too.

"Did Uncle Touya forget that, ma?" Yuta asked in a polite tone. "Bring it back to him tomorrow, okay?"

Y/n smiled at what he said. She really raised her son well. "Sure!"

It was night time. Yuta went back to sleep and Y/n was busy contemplating inside her room— walking back and forth; thinking about whether she should check his stuff or what.

It's not what others would think. It's just that it's been two months since they got together but Touya only says few things about himself. All she knew is that his parents are living overseas and he's left alone here. He has siblings who lived with their parents in abroad. Nothing more, nothing less.

Aside from that, it wouldn't hurt to peek just a little bit, right?

Y/n sighed as she finally came to a conclusion to check his wallet to see if there's something that would tell more about himself. It's not like she was nosy. She just wants to get to know him at a better level. He's quite of a silent and mysterious guy himself, which got the young lady curious about him.

Of course, there was nothing new; just few IDs, bunch of credit cards (which Y/n thought was odd because if he had this much money, why would he work in an old bar as a bartender), and a thin wad of cash. Nothing else— until something that was so unordinary in her eyes— fell.

Her eyes widened as she saw that memoribilia. No words could come out from her mouth. Her vision felt so dark; as if it was slowly fading; and her heart hurt so much. Only tears could come out from her eyes. No scream, no words, no phrases— simply, nothing.

"Y-you..." Her fists clenched tightly as her form started shaking— she didn't know what to feel. Is it anger, sadness, remorse— what should she feel first? She began to wail as she stared and touched at this object from the past. Whatever that happened was too painful for her to bear.

"You fooled me... Dabi."

That night, Touya was looking for his wallet. It was nowhere to be found; not even in his car. Maybe he left it at your place? Well, whatever the circumstances are, he was hoping that none of you would be able to find it. Maybe, he'd drive towards your place again and—

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone rang. The caller ID showed Y/n— and a selfie that she sent him as the profile picture. Immediately, he answered it.

"Hello, bab—"

"Don't you babe me. We have to talk." Y/n's voice sounded cold and harsh. She was angry... and he knew it. Touya knew that tone several years ago; and if he hears that, he knows that hell will break because of her wrath.

"What is it?"

"Stop acting dumb." Y/n scoffed.

"How the hell are you alive, Dabi?"

Taglist [OPEN]: @babayaga67 @marydragneell @xxtrash-kingxx @paranoiac-666 @velvet-kissesss @orenjineki @mermaid-starlet @ikita454 @yo-girl-lunar @pansexual-booknerd @daimiyu

a/n: i kinda did stop updating this but like bnha chapter 290 got me like 😭😭😭😭 dabi can i give u a hug plspslslslsl 😗😗

[thatwriteroverthere]

New show, new me, bitches!

“What about you?” you interrupted while Derek Hale was speaking.

He seemed vexed, and looked up from the map you were both hunched over, along with Scott and Stiles, to glare at you.

“What about me?”

“You’re still healing,” you reminded him. He had barely come out alive from his last encounter with the Alpha Pack.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Look, if it’s just a couple of ghost riders, I can handle it on my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“What if it’s more than a couple? What if it’s 10? What if it’s 20?”

“I’ll howl”, you said sarcastically.

Derek’s expression remained stoic, unimpressed by the joke.

“I own a phone, OK? I’ll give you a call if things go south and then you can carelessly risk your life to save me.”

“(Y/N), I’m going with you whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but if I have to drag your lifeless werewolf corpse all the way back here, I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

“That won’t exactly be my problem.”

You made a face at him and turned to Stiles.

“Wow, you were right about this guy.”

Derek shot a death glare at Stiles, who turned white. Derek looked down at the map again and continued drilling the plan into everyone’s heads. Not like it did any good, since, as always, the plan went completely to shit.

Sure enough, there were more Ghost Hunters than you and Derek had prepared for. It would have taken the whole pack to take them down easily. They had been waiting for you at Beacon Hills High School when you arrived, and you and Derek barely held them off long enough for the others to arrive to back you up.

While Scott and Stiles tried to work on a convincing cover story to tell the Sherriff, you and Derek were in charge of the clean up. He barely looked in your direction the whole time you were working, which you found unnerving.

“You’re welcome for taking initiative,” you snapped, finally breaking the silence. “Which, by the way, saved your life!”

“At what cost? Your own?” he managed to grunt out.

“All right, that’s it!”

Your adrenaline was still pumping hard from the fight, which might have been why your anger levels suddenly shot through the roof. You marched right up to Derek.

“You might be able to tell Scott and Stiles what to do but I’m not afraid of you.”

As he whipped around to face you, his eyes glowed red and his face was contorted, teeth sharp and ears pointed.

“You should be!” he roared.

You inhaled sharply but stood your ground. You’d never seen him in his wolf form before. Your fear and confusion turned to fascination as you stared at him. You reached up and touched his ear, which caused him to flinch in surprise. You stroked it, then moved your hand up to his forehead, then down his cheeks, then across his lips. He transformed slowly back to his human form. He didn’t even meet your eyes before walking away.

“Look, I’m sorry I went against the plan, I was just trying to help.”

Derek said nothing, but stalked towards the school doors.

“We look out for those in our pack, that’s what you told Scott,” you reminded him.

He stopped and spoke over his shoulder.

“I’m not in his pack.”

You smiled at him.

“Of course you are.”

He only stood there, hand on the door, and stared at you.

“You are one of us, Derek.”

He opened the door wordlessly and walked out, leaving you to deal with the rest of the mess.

***************************

A few days later, you knocked on Derek’s door while he was busy dressing his wounds after having picked yet another fight with the Alpha Pack. He gave you a ‘what do you want’ look when he saw you. Risking a quick look over his torso before speaking, being very careful to look into his eyes and no lower, you reminded yourself of the objective at hand.

“Is Scott here?” you asked.

“No.”

“Oh...”

“Why?”

“He asked me to meet him here.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know. He’s been sending me cryptic texts all day. Do you know how many times I nearly got kicked out of class because of this thing going off?”

You held up your phone.

“Why would he ask you to meet him here?”

“He obviously has something to tell you, too.”

Derek sighed, annoyed, and opened the door wider for you to come in. You closed the door behind you and looked around at the stark apartment. He sat where he was with his back to you and continued to dress his wounds silently. Well, you couldn’t just stand there awkwardly until Scott arrived, you had to make some attempt at a conversation.

“You know, this place could do with some wallpaper or something.”

Derek ignored you and continued to dress his wounds.

“Maybe a nice shade of red... to match your eyes of course.”

You swore you saw his shoulders shake slightly in a chuckle, but you couldn’t be sure, it only lasted for a split second. He reached for a spot on his shoulder, which he couldn’t get to very well.

“Want a hand?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he continued to reach clumsily for the wound.

“You’re gonna rip open the others if you keep doing that. Here.”

You automatically grabbed the ointment from him and gently spread it around his back as needed. Once you realised what was happening you finished up quickly. He handed you the bandages without looking at you, and you wrapped those around his shoulder, noticing the muscles as you moved your hands across his body. He did not protest, nor did he say anything.

“See? Sometimes even you could do with a little help.”

He was spared answering by a knock at the door. Derek sniffed deeply.

“It’s Scott,” he said.

You went to answer the door as Derek put a fresh shirt on.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” Scott said when he saw you.

“What’s this about, Scott?” you asked, forgetting all about the moment you had just shared with Derek.

“You’re both not gonna believe this. I think I know how to defeat the ghost riders...”

Well, the plan, again, went to shit. It seemed like you had barely just started fighting when you noticed a sharp sting in your side and felt the warm trickle of blood drench your shirt. In an instant, Derek was at your side.

“Ah, shit...” was all you could get out before your vision faded.

When you woke, Melissa McCall was standing over you, patching up your side. Derek was lurking in the corner of the room, but jumped up as you stirred.

“Welcome back,” Melissa spoke quietly, smiling at you.

You were about to answer, but Melissa put sudden pressure on an area of the wound and a burning sensation shot up your side, causing you to cry out in pain. Derek grabbed her arm and growled.

“Be careful!”

“Derek!” Melissa warned, glaring down at his hand.

He realised what he was doing and hastily let go, backing away into the corner again.

“Sorry”.

Melissa continued patching you up, Derek watching her every move.

“All right, that should do it. But you have to take it easy for the next few days.”

Melissa side eyed Derek.

“She’s taking a cab back home.”

“I haven’t got any money,” you realised.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call Stiles,” Derek said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and walking out of the room.

You watched him leave longer than you would have admitted to anyone. When Melissa spoke, your insides jumped, momentarily forgetting she was there.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m actually kinda hungry.”

Next thing you knew, Melissa had forced Derek to walk you to the hospital cafeteria for something to eat.

“What do you want?” he muttered, unimpressed by the selection of food before him.

“Ooh, that bacon looks so good! Plus, I suppose it’s the closest thing to deer they have here.”

You definitely saw it this time. It wasn’t really a full smile, but something definitely changed in his face.

“Very funny”, he said.

He grabbed two platefuls and paid, walking them over to the table where you sat.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“You didn’t bring any money, remember?”

“Right. I didn’t think you were the gentleman type anyway.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

He began to pick at his bacon silently as he sat down opposite you. Your eyes roamed his face as he looked down at his plate. He was still an asshole, but you were definitely starting to think you might be able to get used to him.

[ramuoto]

TOP 10 MANHWAs

if anything good came out of 2020, it’s my discovery of manhwas. 

well, it’s not like i’ve never read a single manhwa in the past 15+ years but tbh, the ratio of manhwa:manga i consume on a weekly basis has jumped exponentially this year. previously it was like 1:99 and now it’s like 90:10 LMAO. 

so, just to remind myself that the world is still full of good things, i had to make this list. which i will probably edit in the future, if i can be bothered to. :) 

anyhow, this list was not made in any particular order, just whichever came into mind. it’s loooong so be prepared! (I’ve read way more titles than mentioned but just included the ones worth checking out)

for whoever stumbles across this list, i hope some of these resonate with you and i hope they make you as happy as they made me. 

pic credits: https://geekculture.co/geeks-guide-to-transmigration-novels-avoid-death-at-all-costs/

1. Ebony

https://mangadex.org/title/41838/ebony

Bahahah omg he looks evil there! But our dearest archduke is hardly that aww. Soz, I just ripped off the covers of the manhwa cos I can’t find a panel I liked more than another. I mean, this manhwa is a GEM. I can’t even begin to describe this because everything about it blew me away. This is not something you read when you are craving for fluff, or just wanna have something brainless after a hard day at work or if you just wanna have some eye candy lol. This is something you pick up on a weekend, when you have time, because you need those hours to digest, appreciate, clutch your chest, tear a little because you find yourself falling in love with these characters. It doesn’t have any of that cliche isekai, romance, revenge themes going on. It has a solid plot, backed by incredible characters, beautifully woven by the authors and artist with incredible pacing that keeps you on your toes and keeps you looking forward to the next chapter. Maybe I would have been happier if I found it after it was completed lol. HAVE I CONVINCED YOU ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU WANNA READ IT?! like, idk, just go. JUST GO READ IT GDI. 

p.s. it says there romance but naaaaaaah, dont go in with that expectation. :) this story is so much more than that. 

2. Bring the love

https://mangadex.org/title/44472/bring-the-love

This...this!!! THIS MANHWA NEEDS MORE LOVE. If you need a lot of fluff, a little, ok maybe quite a bit of sadness and tragedy, sweet sweet romance, cutie pies, please, look no further!!! Again, pacing, character development are so important to me and this manhwa aces it. I love the 2 MCs very much. And the side characters too. :)

3.  A Stepmother's Märchen

https://mangadex.org/title/39474/a-stepmother-s-m-rchen

When I first read this, i fucking cried. like please don’t ask me why. it’s not like its an absolute tragedy but I was just rooting for the MC so much and I really want for everything to go her way. That’s how much I adore this MC!!! I LOVE HER. I LOVE HER MORE THAN YOU DO NORA! HAHAHHA. okay soz. I need to keep this spoiler-free.

Anyhoo, there is nothing typical about this time travel plot. Sure, she goes back to try to undo the stuff that went wrong but phew, she certainly changed things so much everything that comes her way have made it so her previous experiences can hardly help aaaaaaand that’s what makes it fun! I sometimes wish the pacing could be a little more consistent, and there could be more characters I could love a little more wholeheartedly (so i wont have to be in so much despair when i read this sometimes lol) but omg the art, isn’t it pretty?! I’ve re-read this soooooo many times but the art blows me away all the time. And have I already mentioned how much I love her?! I LOVE YOU SHULI! AND I WANT YOU TO BE HAPPY!

4.  Lady Baby

https://mangadex.org/title/34691/lady-baby

I literally LOL-ed when I saw this cover. WHO THE HELL ARE THEY. WHAT LADY BABY?! ehehehe. okay anyway, uhm, this is already incredibly popular. im not sure if i need to elaborate but yes, it’s adorbs!!! i dont think i like the MC as much as i love her family lol. and everyone else who adores her. im looking forward to when they get older. :) actually not really. please stay cute for as long as yall can! but yeah, i do wish the plot can move a lil faster. i want to see more character development in the other kids too COME ON! 

5.  Death Is the Only Ending for the Villainess

https://mangadex.org/title/47754/death-is-the-only-ending-for-the-villainess

am i allowed to reveal how shallow i am rn? like the previous choices were all like ‘wow-deep-plot’, ‘wow-character-development’ and this one i just included cos of AESTHETICS ALONE?! the novel covers are breathtaking!!! the manhwa art is amazing as well. and the harem is great! LOL. as for plot... uhm... it’s alright. it’s pretty engaging and i quite like the MC, she’s smart and independent and i love how she views them all antagonistically at all times HAHAHHA. her past is kinda... weird though and i do wish they’d stop referencing it. cos... girl why do you wanna go back to reality!!! stay here! it’s way more exciting! 

i love the whole isekai/reincarnate/transmigration theme and this is honestly one of the better, not-so-cliche or cheesy ones HA.

6.  Beware of the Villainess!

https://mangadex.org/title/47286/beware-of-the-villainess

do you already see the whole villainess theme?! am i suppose to start feeling embarrassed about my choices?! NO! cos this one is AWESOME!

again, another wildly popular title. for good reasons. it’s hilarious, our MC is as real and candid as it gets and LOOK AT THAT BLUE HAIRED BEAUTY. DO YOU SEE HIM?! IMPLANT HIM INTO YOUR MEMORY NOW!

it’s highly entertaining and breaks all isekai-reincarnation-villainess plot stereotypes. definitely one of the titles i look forward to every week.

7.  Who Made Me a Princess

https://mangadex.org/title/32506/who-made-me-a-princess

what? why did i choose this?

BECAUSE OF CLAUDE OF COURSE. ahahaha. okay aside from the amaaaaaaazing art and the beautiful people, the plot is not too bad. a little extreme at times but it’s interesting enough to keep me going. it’s currently on hiatus though and i was highly annoyed by how the first season ended. (YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED? NOTHING.)

i hope the plot can move faster in the next season! and that our dearest MC athanasia can you know, finally be a little more useful... like omg just tell lucas already!!! and tbh girl, no matter which guy you choose, i approve. :D 

8.  The Flower That Was Bloomed by a Cloud

https://mangadex.org/title/37648/the-flower-that-was-bloomed-by-a-cloud

i featured this before, mostly out of frustration HAHAHA. do you see why i chose this cover?! yeah, i support this (unpopular) pairing okay! the other one is doomed!!! no matter what the author is trying to do now!! I DONT SUPPORT IT!!! lol.

anyway, i had to feature this cos the art is unique! and the story is great. :) and i looooooove listening to the ost while i read it. it starts out kinda slow but as the pace picks up, you won’t be able to stop. and you find yourself conflicted at various points. it did win an award for a reason. 

no matter what, i still think dowun is best for her okay. it’s dowun or nothing. he’s devoted to her, we all know that! he just needs to ditch that annoying female guard!!! ok yknw what, maybe nothing is better. :/ *cries*

9.  Solo Leveling

https://mangadex.org/title/31477/solo-leveling

why do i even bother? this manhwa is popular enough. 

the art is great. the MC is great. i use him and his gang as my wallpaper. 

im just not sure i like how this season’s plot is progressing. :/ but i guess it brings us nearer to solving the mystery in the first leg of the manhwa. i just enjoyed the whole part of him leveling up and now that he isn’t really leveling up anymore... idk. am i hoping for more plot shit like bleach (oh wow now u quincy?)... idk man. anywho, no regrets starting on this series and marathon-ing it to death. 

cross fingers the plot picks up and doesnt get too complicated for its own good.

10.  The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up at the Duke's Mansion

https://mangadex.org/title/31606/the-reason-why-raeliana-ended-up-at-the-duke-s-mansion

okay, tbh, by the time i reached 10, i still have like 15 other series i was considering LMAO. i even considered lengthening this top 10 to top 15. but that would just be more of me and my nonsense. so... why did i choose this?

COS I LOVE THE 2 MCs!!! they’re adorable. the plot is again, kinda far-fetched at times (i literally laugh my head off at some parts) but it’s isekai-reincarnation okay! anything is possible in whatever magical crap country you end up in! lol. and i like how straightforward it is... in the sense there’s no 2nd lead. like okay i mean they are there but we all know they have no chance. oops. sorry!

and cos i can’t give up on the other titles i have, imma just list them down, without pictures... cos im tired. HA. 

11. Doctor Elise 

https://mangadex.org/title/29474/doctor-elise 

Kudos to the huge improvement in art style lmao. The good... lovable MCs, engaging plot. The bad... sometimes lengthy, incredulous medical moments (i work in the medical field so i... idk. sometimes this borders on iryu LMAO and i need to remind myself this is romance) otherwise, this is a highly highly entertaining read.

12.  Seduce the Villain's Father

https://mangadex.org/title/46775/seduce-the-villain-s-father

This is another of my ‘father-love’ whims. MC is adorable and ML is handsome. enough said.

13.  The Villainess Lives Twice

https://mangadex.org/title/49644/the-villainess-lives-twice

This is like a lesser version of Ebony and Bring the Love combined HAHAHA. The plot and premise is great and it’s awesome to marathon! I don’t find myself loving the MC as much as I should but the ML is a darling! I just find her a little toooooooo gloomy. Like come on girl, be more spunky! 

14.  The Stereotypical Life of a Reincarnated Lady

https://mangadex.org/title/46790/the-stereotypical-life-of-a-reincarnated-lady

I dont know why I like this so much HAHAHAHA. It hardly has a plot. I just find the MC and ML amusing i guess lol. 

15.  I'm Stanning the Prince

https://mangadex.org/title/45586/i-m-stanning-the-prince

Sometimes I wonder if I should be ranking this higher but I kinda feel this manhwa is trying to achieve too much with an underpowered MC. I love her... but I just don’t like how she’s just a pawn of everyone else and I dont know how she can change this situation of hers. It’s cute though. the MC and ML.  and the ML reminds me so much of american/jap Mackenyu. 

16.  The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass

I HAD TO. the art is so pretty! but girl, dont use the hour glass so much! you look a little too old! i would appreciate it if MC stops basing too much of her moves on the “past” tho like idk you are gonna sound unoriginal soooooon like develop your own thoughts soon okay? <3

17. Inso's Law

ANOTHER ONE. omg. im a lil on the fence regarding this but i like MC too much. and her harem LOL. i dont see where the plot is going either but i just hope for a happy end... ):

18.  Why Are You Doing This, Duke?

HAHAHA. this is sooooo sooooooo cute, i would have ranked it top 15 if it wasnt licensed by tapas tho cos they are a joke. WHY NOT TAPPY GDI. 

19.  Miss Not-So Sidekick

Uh-oh. Is this a top-20 list now? anyway, the MC for this series is GOLD. im not liking where it’s currently heading tho thus the lower ranking.

20.  IRIS - Lady with a Smartphone

omg IVE NEGLECTED THIS FOR TOO LONG. lemme go buy more chapters hahahaha. it’s a tad too lengthy... otherwise i like the MC and yummy ML!

still not enough?

Special Mentions - Okay, these will be unranked cos I don’t think these are that good but probably still worth a read.

I've Become the Villainous Empress of a Novel - this is new, im looking forward to how it progresses wheeeee.

Lady to Queen - It’s a ruthless manhwa. There was a point i started reading all sorts of sadistic content (i was running out of content i swear) and this was one of the better ones. I appreciate the MC very much. the plot now is a little weird and im a bit wary of the MC’s sister... hopefully the ML can be more useful. he’s pitiful though. but dude come on, dont rely on the wrong gal.

Goodbye, In-law - I’m not sure if i like the current progress buuuuuuut MC and ML are cute so who cares.

The Duchess' 50 Tea Recipes - plot is still engaging. MC and ML are cute. i dont know where the plot is heading towards though. 

A Falling Cohabitation - this is interesting and fun but a lil lengthy.

Light and Shadow - the sequel is out!!! i highly enjoyed this entire series!!! i would have probably ranked it a lil higher if i did this post earlier but too many series have overtaken this in my heart lol.

This Girl Is a Little Wild - is the hiatus ending yet? i would add it back to top 20 if it came back LOL. it’s highly entertaining tho. ML is adorable.

The Duchess With an Empty Soul  - pretty nice. MC and ML are a little boring. i think it can end soon. LMAO.

A Capable Maid - it’s amusing how she gets her powers for all sorts of situations lol. the prince is creepy tbh. and im secretly rooting for the other king hehe.

Beware of the Brothers! - it’s cute and heart-wrenching at the same time! not too sure im digging the latest plot development but okay... i’ll take it. they’re all cuties.

Living as the Tyrant's Older Sister - hehehe. it’s cute. duke is kinda silly but the latest chapter made me squeal!!!

The Evil Lady's Hero  - idk where the plot is going but MC and ML are adorable!!!

The Dragon Next Door - HAHAHA. it’s hilarious.

The Youngest Princess - she’s growing uppppp noooooooooooo

Virtues of the Villainess - ginger is hilarious. i dont see where the plot is going tho... and cant say i like the ML yet. i dont even get to see him much, hello?!

The Justice of Villainous Woman - pretty wholesome... i like the MC! (the ML is fine. no one else to contend with so...) can u end already?! lol.

Amina of the Lamp - hey, what happened to this? it’s pretty inconsistent but i do like the MC and ML... and the art...

The Villain's Savior - this is some sadistic shit. i reserve it for when i feel sadistic. i pretty much wanna see MC happy but idk if she’s making the right choices. :/

I Don't Want to Be Empress! - HAHAHAHA uhm it’s getting interesting. i just want ML to step up more... 

La dolce vita di Adelaide - I FINISHED THIS! and it’s wholesome, feel-good and cute. some parts felt a lil extra but ah whatever.

The Black Haired Princess - plot. move. faster!!! otherwise the MC and ML are pretty cute.

The Abandoned Empress - im a lil on the fence but i know how popular this series is. it started out HORRIBLE. i hated the ML so much. and then i found the green hair boy creepy. like MC, you need better taste in boys. it’s certainly getting more interesting now though. so please, continue to make my money’s worth!!!

Lucia - i. am. not. guilty. of. anything. *smut warning* anyway go read the novel. it’s better. hehehe.

What's Wrong with Secretary Kim - i do not need to elaborate any further. 

Past loves 

I created this section just to remind myself, that what i could like one day, i could hate the next LOL.

The Monster Duchess and Contract Princess - I know this is wildly popular. but i lost interest in it once she grew up. i dont think she’s particularly lovable. soz.

Survive as the Hero's Wife - another popular choice. I find the plot kinda boring now. MC and ML are cute though. 

Sincerely: I Became a Duke's Maid - another popular one. again, boring plot. like cant it end yet? oh you mean we need to wait for the real female lead to show up? dont need luh.

I Am a Child of This House - wow. the plot is shit now. and i do not support the MC and her guard. soz. she’s OVERPOWERED tbh. 

This Is an Obvious Fraudulent Marriage - idk what happened but my enthusiasm for this died.

Charlotte and Her 5 Disciples - i don’t get it. i dont get their obsession for her. 

[rigmarolling]

Top 5 Things That Will Kill You In the Victorian Era

If you’ve ever spent more than two seconds with me, you know that I live and breathe the fog-choked air of Victorian London. All day. Every day of my life. 

See, in many ways, the Victorians were the first version of us--overwhelmed by rapidly-changing technology (and its awful effect on the climate); dealing with incredible wealth gaps; grappling with rising crime and faster travel and out-of-control media and the whole, “God is dead, oh no” thing. 

Also, everything was trying to kill you.

Like, literally almost everything.

From your clothes to your doctor to your canned food, here are the top five things that will kill you in the Victorian era.

5. Other Victorians

If the rise of penny dreadfuls (cheap magazines stuffed with horror stories for us morbidly-inclined goth types) was any indication, Victorians loved them some true crime. 

And there was no shortage of subject matter to choose from: depending on where you ventured in London, at least, you could be subject to anything from pickpocketing to mugging to violent assault and, of course, murder. 

There were a few reasons for this:

For one thing, the population in London alone increased by millions in the 19th century, and approximately no one was prepared for that. So, to accommodate the rapidly-booming population, the wealthy folks in charge reached out and lovingly ensured the masses of the disenfranchised poor were taken care of by redistributing resources and education and access to opportunities that improved lives on a both a personal and social level.

Lol, no, I’m totally kidding; they shoved them into slums and tenement buildings and pretended they didn’t exist.

So of course, there was a rise in crime, because if you have five kids and you can’t find gainful employment and your family will starve if you don’t steal that basket of food over there, or that purse that lady left sitting over THERE, what are you going to do? You’re going to steal the food and the purse to survive, Jean Valjean, I understand, I do.

Except the powers that be did NOT understand, and instead routinely espoused the idea that if people were poor, it was because they were morally bankrupt, or inherently bad, somehow, and the “criminal classes,” as they came to be known by the growing Victorian middle and upper-middle classes, were simply considered genetically bad to the bone and therefore undeserving of assistance.

Basically:

So ANYWAY.

Crime was on the rise and there were multiple efforts to stop it with varying degrees of success, but big city usually = big crime, especially when there’s a massive gap between the one percent-ers and THE REST OF US, WASHINGTON.

Ahem.

All that crime? The booming news industry loved it. The press ate it up and then spit it back out in salacious headlines that never even bothered with journalistic objectivity, like this gem:

I mean. Full disclosure: I, too, agree that cutting off a woman’s head, arms, and legs and then burning them is “awful, inhuman, & barbarous” but just...maybe...maybe tone it down? Just a bit?

No? Okay.

See, here’s the thing: crime sells. It always has. And papers went nuts with full illustrated spreads about the latest brutal murders so you could sit in your parlor and get anxiety poops thinking about how the butcher down the street looked at you funny the other day and oh, God, you’re probably next, oh God.

The most famous murderer of the era, was, of course, Jack the Ripper, which was just the orchestral climax of a hideously corrupted society that had bubbled into naught but a festering carbuncle, an ulcer upon the very soul of man, trussed up as a city of industry, but which is merely Salome, dancing with the Lamb’s head upon a platter and sending us all tumbling into a fiery pit.

....Ahem, again.

Some popular ways your fellow Victorians could kill you included: dueling (with swords but usually with revolvers), stabbing, garroting, and, probably the most popular method of the era, poisoning.

Speaking of which...

4. Anything dyed that hip shade of green

In 1775, a guy named Carl Wilhelm Scheele invented a new shade of green, cleverly called Scheele’s green, and it instantly became a hit. Pretty soon, manufacturers and tailors were dyeing everything this color. 

Look at it. Bright, airy. Calls to mind a fresh, spring meadow. (What’s that, you ask? Well, before the Industrial Revolution belched out black smoke onto absolutely everything, there were these things called plants and grass and they were all over the place and you could frolic through them and it was very nice for your serotonin levels.)

I mean, listen, this isn’t really my color because anything vaguely yellow-ish makes my already yellow-ish skin look especially jaundiced, but it’s a lovely shade:

Besides using it to create beautiful dresses and tasteful waistcoats, they used it inside book covers:

And it was a super popular wallpaper color:

They had green candles and green cups and green kitchenwares and green paint.

But while Carl Wilhelm Scheele didn’t exactly murder anyone (even though he has three names like every serial killer ever), he sort of, accidentally, indirectly, kinda...did.

Because that springy dye contained every Victorian black widow’s favorite method to dispose of a troublesome husband: arsenic.

Scheele, of course, had no idea--no one did--so I’m fully exonerating him here, but the poison nonetheless started to take its toll.

Reports began to surface of kids getting sicker and sicker and then dying in their green wallpapered rooms; of fashionable ladies rocking those green dresses at balls and then ALSO getting sicker and sicker and breaking out in horrible sores before dying. 

They even used this stuff to dye food green, so of course, anybody who tucked into Victorian green eggs and ham also, you know. Died.

And if they DIDN’T die, they got cancer, because if arsenic doesn’t kill you, it will give you cancer. And then kill you.

Eventually, as science advanced and went, “HEYO, there’s literal poison in this stuff,” consumers were like, “Well, shoot, this summer’s hottest beach shade just killed an entire boarding school,” and Scheele’s green finally fell out of favor.

It was, however, used as a pesticide up through the 1930s, so...way to use the...leftovers? I guess?

3. Your canned food

Hey, now that we’re on the topic of deadly chemicals being where they absolutely should not be, let’s talk about canned food. 

In the Victorian era, it was the new Hot Thing (next to arsenic green). You mean I can can my food now? Like? Forever? Oh, only for a few months. Okay, cool. Still cool. 

Above: Road trip snax.

Food preservation methods had existed long before canned meats and veggies and soups, but canned everything really started to gain traction around the middle of the 19th century, and people were stoked. Remember, the population exploded; people needed new methods of obtaining cheap food that didn’t spoil immediately. So: cans to the rescue! 

Recycling hadn’t really been invented, though, so today, archaeologists constantly find giant Victorian trash pits filled with empty cans.

You know what also hadn’t been invented? Consumer health and safety boards.

So guess what was in the tin cans themselves? 

No, no, don’t worry, it wasn’t arsenic.

It was lead.

Which, in case you weren’t aware, is also very, very bad for you.

So bad, in fact, that today, scientists are pretty sure lead-lined tins of canned food were partially responsible for the deaths on the disastrous Franklin Expedition, an ultimately futile trip to discover the Northwest Passage lead by Sir John Franklin in 1845. Every single man on board the two ships stranded in the Arctic died, and in the 1980s, when scientists discovered perfectly mummified bodies (GRAPHIC, if you don’t like that sort of thing, but awesome if you do) of some of the sailors, one of the mummies contained insane amounts of lead. They later tested the cans found scattered across the wreck site and whoops, they also contained insane amounts of lead.

Above: Some of the tin cans from the Franklin Expedition, which contained items like salted beef, vegetables, tea, lethal amounts of lead, and Chicken of the Sea.

Granted, other factors contributed to the Franklin deaths, like, you know, being stranded in the Arctic and starving to death, and also tuberculosis, but lead-lined canned food certainly didn’t help things along.

2. Your doctor

Here’s my advice if you’re in the Victorian era and you’re starting to feel sick: do not get sick. Just don’t. Because then that means you’ll have to go to the doctor. Which probably means you will die.

Hospitals in the 19th century were deadly. Often even more deadly than just staying at home, according to Dr. Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art. Nobody knew how to treat anything, really, because medical understanding of biology was in its infancy and antibiotics didn’t exist yet, so you were absolutely, definitely going to get some kind of infection the second you stepped foot in a Victorian hospital.

Above: The surgery, where nobody has any idea what they are doing, ever.

Doctors weren’t trying to kill you on purpose--they just didn’t know any better. And it super duper didn’t help that common treatments for everything from the common cold to tuberculosis included taking mercury (which kills you) and blood-letting, (which can also kill you) the tools for which are shown below:

Those might look like fun doodads for your astronomy class at Hogwarts, but they’re actually vials and a really, really sharp needle that pricks you until you bleed out a critically dangerous amount of blood into those vials. 

The (ancient) school of thought behind blood-letting was that draining patients of “bad” blood would rebalance their “humours” and get rid of the icky thing that was making them sick. We might laugh at it now, but if you don’t know any better, logically, it makes sense.

Medically, oh my God, it’s the worst.

So if Doc didn’t bleed you to death, he might try surgery--done without anesthesia or antibiotics (until good old Dr. Lister came along--read The Butchering Art!), and then ship you and your amputated stump leg off to the hospital ward where, instead of healing, you’d get wheeled through hallways stained with every bodily fluid imaginable into rooms filled with people coughing up every bodily fluid imaginable, some of which would get into your leg stump, infect it, and then kill you dead.

“But what about medicine?” you ask. “Can’t I just take medicine?”

Sure! Just be aware that it definitely contains morphine and probably contains cocaine, or mercury, or arsenic, or sulfur, or pulverized bits of ancient Egyptian mummies (I am not kidding. True, the latter had started to fall out of favor in the 19th century, but, like. Stop).

Above: Hard drugs, but just for you.

You think I’m joking?

Above: PARTY TIME.

Sometimes, a doctor would just advise that you move to a “more temperate climate” like Rome or Spain if you were feeling chronically ill, which might help you get a tan and COULD help if you had sucky lungs, but eventually, you’d just die anyway, because what you really needed was a strong antibiotic or antiviral medication and the closest you were gonna get was Mrs. Hopplebopple’s Temperance Tonic, which was probably filled with ground up baby bones and just so much heroin.

And don’t even get me started on Victorian surgical tools:

Open wide.

1. Water

There are three rules in this life: don’t watch any Adam Sandler movies except for maybe Anger Management, don’t eat the yellow snow, and do not, ever, for any reason, ever drink water in Victorian England.

That’s because it was about as clean as a Victorian hospital. 

Meaning it wasn’t. At all.

Victorian water--of the Thames variety--contained:

Cholera, one of the deadliest killers of the era and bad water’s favorite roommate.

Poop, human and otherwise, because a functioning sewer system? I don’t know her. (At least, not until the 1860s.)

Pee, human and otherwise, because nothing says, “Jolly Old England” like an open trench of piss rolling through the city.

Dead things, like animals, fish (which are animals, so why am I listing them as a separate thing?), and, occasionally, humans.

Chemicals, which spewed forth from the great factories in billowing, bubbling, belching rivers of sludge. (Ha! Omg, yes, I was an English major!)

The Thames was so filthy that Londoners called it “Monster Soup.”

Above: Same.

In 1855, scientist Michael Faraday (who was also kind of hot; tell me I’m wrong), wrote a letter to the Times about the disgusting state of the river:

"Near the bridges the feculence rolled up in clouds so dense that they were visible at the surface, even in water of this kind. ... The smell was very bad, and common to the whole of the water; it was the same as that which now comes up from the gully-holes in the streets; the whole river was for the time a real sewer."

Tl;dr: “It smelled like ass.”

In fact, it got so bad, so putrid, so horrifically clogged with every disgusting thing your mind and your butthole can possibly conjure up, that it lead to one of my favorite things to read about in the world: The Great Stink of 1858.

Yes, that’s the real name. I did not make that up. History is incredible.

Above: Summer vacation, 1858.

The summer of 1858 was miserably hot in London. And the Thames was miserably clogged with poop, and pee, and chemicals, and dead things, and, uh oh, cholera. During July and August that year, the smell wafting from the river was so offensive that Parliament was actually adjourned because everybody kept throwing up. Cholera devastated the city. The water was killing London.

Faced with either the prospect of living with a city-wide vomit-and-diarrhea smell for the rest of forever OR finally cleaning things up, the government actually did something right and chose the latter. They contracted civil engineer Joseph Bazalgette to overhaul the city’s sewer, to which Bazalgette, pinching his nose, responded, “FINALLY.” 

Above: Joesph Bazalgette, savior of the London sewers and purveyor of a truly beautiful mustache.

Bazalgette proceeded to build the London sewer system still in use today. His efforts greatly reduced the number of cholera deaths, cleared the Thames of its Cronenberg-esque muck, and ensured that poop goes where it’s supposed to: way the hell out of HERE and way the hell under THERE.

Water sanitation still had a long way to go, though, which meant you either had to boil your water to kill the bacteria in it, or you could just drink alcohol instead, which was the safer option but which would also leave you very dehydrated and also, if imbibed excessively, would leave you very dead.

So really, you were doomed in some way no matter what you did, and if that isn’t the moral of the entire Victorian story, then I don’t know what is.

[myfriendsarerealidiots]

Since the TGCF donghua came out a week or so ago and the SVSSS one is almost ending, I’m still very much hungover with MXTX so time for a decently long ramble.

Let’s. Talk. About. MXTX. And. Flashbacks.

Now, do I enjoy flashbacks? Absolutely..not.

Do I think it’s a cheat way to tell stories in the past? You bet your ass I do.

But. Do I understand why they’re being used? Yep.

I previously mentioned here, that my first exposure to any of MXTX’s work was through ‘The Untamed.’ Which was basically a flashback for three-forths of it’s duration. I hated it so much because it introduced me to the current situation of Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng and the newly reincarnated Wei Ying and then completely forgets about that for the next 30 or so episodes.

Now, I’m not your typical viewer per se, I think that I look at things a little too much and was able to infer most of what happened in Wei Ying’s past from just the first few episodes of flashback. Therefore, I was extremely boreded out of my wits as I treaded through the remainder with my only encouragement being reaching the end of the flashback. Which sucked because upon reading the novel for MDZS, it was way less flashback that the webdrama and I enjoyed it even more then.

Ok, moving onto the next novel in the line~ actually wait let’s not just yet because after I finished MDZS, I read TGCF in little under 2 weeks. As much as I absolutely love the story of TGCF, I also think it is the worst offender of the flashback issue I have with MXTX minus ‘The Untamed’ which can just be its own category.

Instead, lemme chat for a bit about SVSSS or Scum Villain—the first, shortest, and funniest novel written by MXTX.

I just want to say outright—Scum Villain doesn’t have any flashbacks. All of BingHe’s childhood? That wasn’t a flashback because we had current-day BingHe interacting with it. QingQiu? His story was explained by..the transmigrated QingQiu.

Shen QingQiu is the narrator of Scum Villain. Everything is from his perspective which 1. Makes everything hilarious af and 2. Is very straightforward. He is a straightforward thinker and therefore, besides his occasional internal panic attacks and anything that has to do with Post-Abyss BingHe, everything he thinks about is surface level. No complex depressions like in TGCF which I’ll touch on later. No weird intertwining relationships between characters either. And that all makes the story very forward in a sense. The only direction it goes in is forward, it doesn’t go backwards to look at the past.

Ah, time for my favorite out of the 3, TGCF or Tian Guang Ci Fu. Did anyone tell you that it has 2 entire books devoted to flashbacks? Cause no one told me. Anyways, TGCF. The story of a Ghost King who stal—I mean loves a God over 800 years.

Firstly, I want to say that book 2 was completely pointless. Everything described in that book was already mentioned in past conversations or implied through dialogue. I guess it’s important if you take it as context for book 4 which is where all the angsty stuff happens but for the most part, you can probably skip book 2 and still understand most of the lore of this story.

While reading book 2, if I’m not mistaken, the only thing I had in my mind was ‘This kid is probably Hua Cheng, what did Xie Lian do to switch their luck?’ And that was it.

When I got to book 4, however, was when all the tears started coming out.

Before I continue, I want to say that I had no knowledge of any plot elements of TGCF past Hua Cheng and Xie Lian getting together in the end.

Now then, when Xie Lian freed that little ghost fire, I started crying in realization especially after the words they shared. When it stayed with him as he got himself drunk in despair, when it cried for him as he got stabbed at the mercy of the ones he wanted to protect and when it disappeared, each time it made me cry because it hurt so much. And it got worse as Xie Lian became the White-Clothed Calamity and he donned the smiley-face mask. Layer by layer, it built up my emotions and eventually I was just left with a soggy pillow.

^^excuse my ramble there but I think that despite the flashback element to it, book 4 is one of the saddest moments in all of her(?) work.

At the end of all this, I still kinda hate flashbacks if it’s like book 2 of TGCF or ‘The Untamed’ but some are kinda worth reading.

Anyways, thanks for reading my ramble. I hope I didn’t take up too much of your feed.

Oh! Right. If you guys have any HuaLian wallpapers without them...kissing can you send them to me? I’m trying to find one for my ipad that won’t get me disowned for being a fujoshi. P.S I wrote this quite a while ago and forgot to post it lol. The tgcf and svsss donghuas have already finished and s3 of the mdzs one has a trailer released as of me posting this.

[monaownsmyass]

Ava’s Phone HCs📱 (Ava x MC)

Requested by anon

Prompt list by @omgjasminesimone

1. What is the background photo on their phone?

Even when she was dating Mason and Chad, her wallpaper was of her and MC hugging each other tightly, a photo that Mackenzie took for them. When she started dating Bayla, she felt obliged to change it to a pic of them instead but she secretly missed her old wallpaper so she immediately changed it back once they broke up.

2. What’s their usual battery level? Are they a 99% charged all the time responsible type, or do they live on the edge at 3% battery?

Ava is the type to maximise her battery charge. She’ll make sure it’s 100% when she starts her day and that 100% is all she’ll need for the rest of her day.

3. What’s their Instagram aesthetic? Landscapes? Selfies? All food or pet posts?

She has kinda like a preppy aesthetic going on. Ava’s Instagram feed is full of her hanging out with friends and her ootd’s. Occasionally, there’ll be a food pic and a scenery pic she probably took for her photography class. She also came out by posting a pic of her kissing MC during national coming out day.

4. What are their most frequently used emojis? 👀

👀😙😩🤨💀🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️💖

5. Do they prefer texting or phone calls? Does it depend on who they’re talking to?

Generally, she prefers texting but when she has gossip a story to tell or knows she’s gonna be talking to someone for a while, she’ll call.

6. What’s the most embarrassing app on their phone?

Tumblr. Need I say more? A baby gay staple.

7. Are they glued to their phone? Impossible to reach because they never have their phone? Somewhere in between?

Ava always has it on her but doesn’t always answer ‘cuz she might be in class or at practice. But she’ll get back to you as soon as she can.

8. How technologically savvy are they?

She knows as much as the average teenager her age. Definitely knows her way around a smartphone and laptop better than any other tech gadgets.

9. What’s their voicemail message?

It’s one she and MC recorded while they were having a sleepover together. It’s just them giggling hysterically most of the time and doing silly voice impressions, asking the caller to call back before it gets cut off with MC ‘cussing’ cuz she accidentally knocked something over, only making Ava laugh harder.

10. What’s their ring tone for their parents? Their significant other? Friends? Work?

She only has one specially set for MC. It’s a song they were both obsessed with when they were still in the early stages of their friendship. They would bond over it and belt it like crazy when they were together.

11. Read receipts or no read receipts?

Most of the time, yes. But sometimes when she’s really busy and can’t get back to them fast, she’ll switch it off.

12. Is their phone in good condition? Or has the screen been cracked for months and they’re too cheap/lazy to fix it?

Ava actually drops her phone. A lot. But surprisingly, there’s no cracks, just a couple of scratches here and there which amazes everyone. If there were anything wrong with it, she’d try to get it fixed whenever she can but she’s in no rush.

[devil-head]

SK8 the infinity episode 12 finale rant/talk caution

Palm trees for the commemoration of the fact we didn’t see them this time round

Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh god it’s over now (◞‸◟) why did it have to end!!!! Anyways let’s begin the final rant. The begin was immaculate despite it being clown Adam. I just love me some edgy over the top opening scenes. The way that this man scared the crap out of the tailor is funny and also scary like what if tu lo mataste de un susto and you now have to go and find another one. Mans probably thinking that if he didn’t obey their head will be chopped off. Moving on to our Canadian poutine eater and the literal embodiment of the sun. God the way that they are just there for each other all the time is something I crave man like chef kiss to that. Reki working on Langas board while on the job is mwah because mr I forgot your name but you know the store owner is just cool with it, knowing that these two children are just that passionate with skating, I wonder if he sees himself in them.

Once they got to S and Adam did his edgy reveal of his new fit and board set up is the level of extra I espiré to have. Ima be honest here I am kinda starting to like Adam but that doesn’t mean I let his perv passing actions slip by. Maybe it’s because I can kinda relate to how he was brought up and how he didn’t have much to enjoy on his own that wasn’t taken from him and that in order to be loved you have to reach certain goals otherwise you won’t receive it and be looked down on. Ya know his whole shibang of reaching all the expectations he has on him to please those above him. But idk anyways moving on the fit was noice (the mask was to die for in my opinion like sir hand it over) and the board graphic touched my edgy heart and now I want it. Langa of course was looking all swaggy and ready to roll which was great.

Now the actual race; man did it pump me up like yo the graphics was everything. The way that they moved so freely and quickly was so pretty (each episodes animation is chef kiss but I felt like this episode hit harder than the others) the “zone” that the two of them both fell into seemed so scary. How are they still conscious enough to understand their surroundings but not exactly there to stop anything from happening. This also makes me realize how good Adam is at skateboarding as he is pretty much always there, he must know the area so well that he knows all the cracks in the concrete and each turn. I got scared when Langa started to lose his motivation and just left mentally like mans was quoting again till Rekis additionally decal in his board snapped him back into reality. Adams little breakdown hit hard and I thought he was gonna lose it completely but best boy over here pulled him out and taught him again the reason why he skated. I really loved that scene because when you look at Adam at a overview level he’s just a perv on a board but when getting at his core it’s someone striving to do the best to gain validation that he desperately needs while forgetting himself and his reasons to skate. Like Langa really set him back on track to face his past that he so desperately tries to hide. I can’t describe what if made me feel but dude was it a ride.

Now at the end of the race you can’t tell me the way that Langa looked at Reki and hugged him wasn’t a sign of some love. I just need them to get together canonically. The rest of the possie was also really happy for the win and cared that he got out alive. Adam making up with Tadashi was also cute like mans finally accepted he got lost in the sauce. Now for last little clips of the episode were so cute. Langa enjoying his burger at his party was augh my heart while Adam was making a flashy entrance as always and I felt so bad for our evil clown simp shadow for finally gaining courage to ask the lady boss out just to find out she was taken like sir you good. Miya stopping cherry from hurting the little pet for sleeping on top of Carla was funny as the boss of the skate shop looked scared. Reki teaching his little sisters to skate and discovering the eldest sister is pretty good at it makes me think that he is so gonna try to get her hooked on it. Seeing Cherry and Joe have their last little bicker on screen is really making me realize that this is the end. Lastly Miya being all happy after the other kid talked to him makes me want to keep him in my pocket despite me being only 2 years older than him.

Okay but they really did the red head chick leave without finishing her case like what?! She was working so hard on it I was so ready for her to bust Adams ass but in the end he sold his partner in crime out and stopping most of the consequences like y’all did her dirty. Anyways I really need a season 2 of the main possies shenanigans like what sort of new s beefs will they do if it even continues or what is Langa and Rekis skate track like. How often do they come together I need answers. Well it’s time for the final words this post is already really long and those who actually read it all thank you. I will really miss waiting each week for a new episode it literally became a solid part of my schedule. What am I supposed to feed my skateboard addiction with now, I can’t get an actual board so I’m stuck, but you know what that means time to rewatch it. I don’t know what I’ll post now that it’s over but I’ll figure it out. I might do icons or wallpapers maybe fan art that is if I even find the motivation to post again. Anyways thanks for seeing my rants I’ll post screenshots again so bye bye

[thepulta]

Part 5

The problem wasn’t even the house, it was the chill. The entrance was bright and airy with little cream fleur-de-lis on the walls. Relia had placed a little semi-circle of bronzewood chairs with green upholstery in a semi-circle around the parlor, off the entranceway. There were wood bookshelves on the wall and a fireplace that the maids lit at precisely 6pm. It was bright from the light of the Clockwork Sun and the whole airy place stank like a dead rat rolled in lavender. It was a cesspit of lies and deceit and Stars- just the fucking arrogance of those goddamn lace curtains curling over the fucking windows like little haunting ghosts. Chilly.

Morgan shrank from the parlor and absentmindedly tossed her carpetbag into her other hand. There were light footsteps in the hall. Unfamiliar. Morgan scanned the face of a maid with short white hair who was probably a year older than her. The maid smiled cheerfully, like a little puppy. “Oh! You must be Miss Morgan!” Wow. I hate you. “Captain Faire mentioned you’d be arriving today. I can take your bag, miss. You must be tired.” I’m not tired. “If you pardon me, miss, where’s Miss Westlie?”

“On the trellis outside.” Morgan said, completely serious. 

The maid blinked in confusion. 

Morgan grinned back and winked. It was a predatory grin and a predatory wink. The chill of the house had infected her face. She wasn’t good at hiding her emotions when she didn’t want them hidden and indignation bubbled just under the surface.

The maid laughed nervously. “Right then.” She took her bag and started up the staircase. She shot a look over her shoulder to see if Morgan was following- she was- and then seemed to shrink into herself. She didn’t chatter again.

How long had the maid worked here? She seemed to know Westlie, but Morgan would’ve remembered her ashy hair, so she must have been hired in the past four months. There were little tells too. If you stepped on the fifth or seventh step on the stairs, the painting of Captain Faire tilted ten degrees to the left. Captain Faire always wanted the portraits level. The maid stepped on them both. 

There was a hallway at the top of the stairs. To the right was the master wing. At the top of the stairs was a little sitting room, and then directly to the left of the sitting room was Morgan’s godawful lilac-smelling shithole. The maid opened the door respectively with a little of her initial pep, like Morgan was supposed to enjoy coming home, and stood there while she walked in.

I really need to put some old books under the bed to make it smell better, was Morgan’s first thought, like it always was, and I really need to make the walls more interesting, was the second, like it always was. There were still nails and blemishes in the wallpaper from her and Arthur’s cold war as a teenager. Nothing interesting was allowed to spice it up, although Morgan had managed to drag in several more “acceptable” bookshelves than Westlie’s room and arrange the thicker ones near the door, so the corners of the room were shrouded. This was permissible chaos.

There was a bed with its headboard against the wall. Boring. (Again, Morgan had tried repeatedly to angle it but it always ended up in the same position as before.) Along with a desk in the corner. She had managed to get the desk closer to the bed so her favorite reference materials were in the bookshelf by the window right against it, there was her desk, and then the bed was adjacent in the middle. It made the corner cozier. But that in itself had been an arduous process, inching the bed against the side of the desk so slowly nobody had questioned why it wasn’t in the middle of the room. She had a dresser by the closet.

The whole room was covered in the same fleur-de-lis wallpaper as the rest of the house, although there were several patches in the corners of Morgan’s room that had clearly been sliced and the same wallpaper had been matched against it.

“Thank you.”

The maid bobbed a curtsey and shut the door. And Morgan was left alone.

The loneliness from the house sparked boredom and the boredom hit her like a pound of bricks to the face. It never got any easier. It was an itch that started in her extremities and slowly moved inward until her whole body was screaming that it needed something (the desire was never named) and it needed it now. The boredom, like it always did, brought memories of trying to fix it because there was nothing in the room but the fucking wallpaper to stare at. Morgan hissed and threw open the window, trying to ignore it and inexplicably unable to.

Five years ago, she had been fifteen and adorable and not hellishly jaded. She’d wandered one of the museums and seen a series of cute shelves placed about two feet from the ceiling - about 6ft up, still grabbing distance – wrapping around the whole room supported by well-placed supports nailed into the wall. It was brilliant. A bookshelf you could reach from anywhere.

She scrounged all night for the proper wood at the docks, snuck it into the room in the morning with some definitely-not-stolen tools and got to work bright and early at 6am. She had to give Arthur credit for not caring enough about her he waited 3 full hours to slam the door open. At that point she’d had the supports attached and she was fucking around with the shelf placement, trying to see if she could make them fit without too much sawing. She could still remember his red face and the way he stopped dead in the doorway trying to take in the boards she was sawing in half on top of the footpost and a bookshelf she’d dragged into the center of the room. Morgan couldn’t help the grin on her face. “Good morning.”

“What.” He blustered. “What. Is this.”

“Bookshelves! They’re going to be lovely.” Morgan had stopped sawing and swiveled to look at the supports with pride, hands on her hips. “Look, they wrap all the way around the room. I put a break there for the other bookshelf. It is kinda tall, isn’t it?”

“Get them off. What the fuck are they doing here? You’ve fucking ruined the wallpaper.”

The wallpaper? He was worried about the wallpaper? He’d said more words to her now than all year and it was about the fucking wallpaper? Morgan actually cocked her head to count what he’d said to her in the last two years. 1) He’d caught Westlie embezzling again and he decided to go to the source of the problem. 2) She was a leech and a problem to be endured and she should be grateful. 3) She should be grateful he didn’t ship her off to Leadbeater for good- which was the most recent jab about six months ago when she ran into him in the hall. She didn’t actually bother to retort that one, just raise an eyebrow, walk away, and book her spot to Leadbeater that evening (ironically). She’d left Westlie a short note. And then she’d traveled until Arthur had demanded – through Westlie in an equally commandeering manner – that she come home and Westlie was going to make sure she did it by meeting her in Port Prosper. (Which was rich, Morgan realized, because all she had to do was not show up, and then Westlie would ask where she was twice, and then Westlie would go back to London to get chewed out by Arthur, and Morgan would stay safely away. But that would require Westlie to be chewed out.)

Speaking of Westlie, she deserved to get chewed out right now because Morgan was sitting on the bed staring at this motherfucking godawful cream-ass wallpaper. FUCK.

The itch to move roared back and Morgan flung her carpetbag over to the dresser and scrambled at the window latch. They had to be inside at this point, unless Westlie had gotten too soft in the months she’d been gone. Lizzie seemed more than capable of climbing in. Morgan finally got the window unlocked – it tended to stick, which was why she went and climbed out of Westlie’s more than she should – and she looked at the garden. There was a small indent in the gravel where they’d jumped over the wall and Westlie’s window had been shut. Fine. They were in. Was it seven yet?

Morgan glanced at the clock on the wall – 6:35, fuck – and her eye was drawn back to the wallpaper that was ever so slightly misaligned so you could see where it’d been cut. That had all happened after Arthur confronted her. She refused to take it down. He fumed and left. When she left for the day, it had all been torn down when she got back. At the time Morgan had the energy to be furious and she wanted those shelves. She cut it all out again and put them back up when he was out on a weekend business trip. They got torn down again. Up and down, up and down, until she was red in the face and the docks started putting locks on their fucking wood – which wasn’t a problem really, it was just annoying that they needed to because her fucking father couldn’t fucking stand to have shelves in her room. After a year and a half of trying, Morgan bitterly gave it up. It was futile. The maids were relentless, and they flocked to Arthur’s beck and call. All she could do was sit there, rearrange her bookshelves, and be bitter as the maids rolled out new wallpaper to cover the blemishes of the wood and the nails. A constant reminder of failure.

Twenty minutes.

Morgan snatched up the newspaper and aimlessly flipped through it. It didn’t scratch the itch but it helped.

She slipped into the hallway at exactly 6:59 and cracked open Westlie’s door to see- Oh. Great. Lizzie was crying. Westlie had completely forgotten about dinner. Morgan could already see it. Westlie stood at attention, always; it was her way of being prepared, and she hated stooping because it felt vulnerable. Morgan was generally good at making the facade crumble. She couldn’t always manage it in the house but when they were walking in the street, at the pub, in quiet places, when they were sitting and swinging their feet and Westlie’s shoulders drooped; her eyes got softer and she looked human. When she felt something intensely it shone through too and she would lean, or soften, or some change so she wasn’t ramrod straight.  Lizzie however, had done a great job of getting Westlie to bow the knee even though the woman clearly didn’t know what the everloving fuck she was doing. She was not good at comforting.

Ire burst in Morgan’s stomach. “It’s seven.”

… oh, she’d definitely forgotten. Westlie offered Lizzie her handkerchief and glanced up. “I-”

You can’t make it. I know. Another burst of anger. Morgan bit her tongue that time.

“Morgan… she’s scared.” Yes. She’s extremely frightened by the lilac-smelling shithole you brought her to. “I’m not leaving her like this.”

She hadn’t asked her to leave Lizzie like that, although, Morgan guessed, she had insinuated it- That was unfair, saying that though, because she should be happy her sister had a fucking soul, right? So kind and benevolent for no reason- for no goddamn reason to a stranger. Anger nearly burst out of her mouth and Morgan swallowed hard. The ball of fury settled in her stomach and she tried to speak again. Lizzie was staring at her with wide tearful eyes now; Morgan wasn’t hiding the struggle well.  “Of course.” 

It dripped sarcasm. She didn’t intend for that. She did, but she didn’t.

Westlie caught the undertone and her eyes flashed as her body shifted ever so slightly in front of Lizzie. It was the same predictable physical block she used when Morgan, Arthur, and her were trapped in the same room, but this time Morgan wasn’t the one being protected. “I’ll come out when I’m ready. Where are the blankets?”

I hate you. Morgan’s anger bubbled over. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your face. I hate that look. I hate how stupid you are. I hate your fucking skirt. I hate your hair. Take your hair down. I hate your shoulders. I hate your eyes. I hate your face. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

But she didn’t, not really, and Morgan hated that most of all.

“Don’t bother. I’m going out.”

“Morgan-”

She spun on her heel and stalked past the two of them to the window. The rope was in a pile on the floor. Morgan flipped open the window and tied it with an expert knot. “Attic. Top shelf. Under the pile of maps. I hope you choke on the mothballs.”

-=-

It took a while for Morgan Faire to get good and properly drunk, so she rarely tried. She was fourteen when she had her first drink of mushroom wine; it was fine. The drink had a nice after-tang. She didn’t realize you were supposed to feel something until a year later when the world of pubs opened to her and three glasses of the stuff had most skyfarers reeling. After a good amount of experimentation, Morgan found she could get buzzed after four glasses of wine, drunk after seven, and fucking sloshed after nine. It varied a bit, especially with whiskey, which was more expensive but worked faster with the high alcohol content.

Which was why she was full bottle of whisky into the evening and starting on the second. The world was starting to spin a bit, and she had to blink at the bartender when he asked for money. The downside of getting drunk was she couldn’t smile at him, wink, and charm him into another glass. She tossed down whatever she had in her pocket after the travel fare. The bartender shoved a few coins back towards her. At least she still looked presentable enough for that.

She poured herself another glass and tossed it back, trying to ignore the room spinning when she slapped the glass back on the counter.

She could still think that was the problem. She never- she never stopped thinking. Even when she was drunk, it quieted, but she could feel the itch of boredom surrounding her, even at the bar. When you looked sulky at a bar people ignored you, and if they ignored her, she couldn’t be distracted, and she was too drunk to go bother them into entertaining her. Morgan picked at the glass indentations on the whiskey bottle. They filled the label in with black paint in thick imprudent letters. Joyce’s Choice. Fuck you, Joyce.

Morgan poured herself another glass. The bartender was eyeing her at this point, probably wondering why she wasn’t fucking dead on the floor yet. If it was John-her-regular-bartender he wouldn’t be wondering, he’d just bring her another glass and drag her into the closet when she passed out and also make her clean in the morning to pay for everything. He was fair. John was great. This guy was less great, but at least he hadn’t kicked her out.

There were other bars, Morgan guessed, but she didn’t feel like walking. Actually, she might not be able to walk at this point. Or hold a conversation? Who knew. She didn’t feel like having one now. She downed another glass and shivered at the burn. She was starting to lose coherency now. Her hands were freezing while the rest of her body tried to process the massive amount of alcohol. The bottles on the shelf looked fuzzy. Everything was floating. Westlie- Westlie- Was she angry at Westlie? Why was she angry at her sister? Westlie was everything good in the world. Westlie- Morgan’s head dropped and she nearly faceplanted on the bar. She shook herself awake. Westlie-

“There you are.”

Westlie. She was too drunk to punch her sister in the face- which didn’t really make any sense but it seemed like the right thing to do. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth; couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. Good. That was the reason she got plastered in the first place. The room swirled and Morgan vomited a little in her mouth.

“You look like shit,” but the words were soft. Morgan yelped as someone slid her – as kindly as possible – off the stool and she drooped against the counter. “Let’s go home.”

“Don- Don’t want-”

Westlie looped one arm around her waist and slid Morgan’s arm over her shoulders. “We’re going home.” It was a command, but it was gentle and even Morgan couldn’t resist. She slumped into it as they made their way out of the pub and slowly down the street. The whole world spun, but it was mostly empty. One person passed; a man with a gold pocket watch and top hat. It was late. How late was late? Was late early? Why was Westlie up? How had she found her?

They stumbled down the streets. Morgan could feel Westlie’s exhaustion the longer they walked together. A little slip of the boot here, a little stagger when the world spun and Morgan had to droop on her. She hated it, a little. She didn’t ask to be dragged home. Westlie never slept at the best of times; now she was out at stars knew when, taking her home when she didn’t need-

Home... Home-?

They made it against the brick wall of the Faire house and Morgan drooped against it. The barrier she usually vaulted over seemed fucking insurmountable. “F-f’king stupid. I can’t climb.”

Westlie’s arms tightened gently around her waist. “We’ll take the stairs this time.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please, no. Something inside Morgan screamed and she jerked out of Westlie’s grasp as they made their way up the front walkway. She managed two steps on her own, stumbled, tripped, and staggered into the front porch where she slid to the ground. She shoved her back against the porch steps away from Westlie so she couldn’t drag her up the stairs. “N-no- No. No.”

“Morgan-”

She was too drunk to be angry. The emotions welled up in fat tears that nearly choked her.  “Pl- please. Please, I can’t. Westlie, I can’t. Please-”

“Hey, hey,” Morgan couldn't face her but she knew the look. Westlie kneeled on the ground and Morgan felt her arms wrap around her. How long had it been? How- Why-? The tears came harder.

“Please, Westlie please.”

“I love you.” Westlie smoothed her hair back; she curled around her in a protective embrace and Morgan could feel the sobs come harder. “You’ll feel better after you sleep, I promise.”

“I- I don’t want to sleep- p-please- I’ll stay here. L-leave me here.”

“I can’t leave you here.” The whisper was gentle. “I care about you.”

“You don’t! You d-don’t- you don’t- You don’t c-care about me a-at all.”

“Morgan, that’s not true.” The voice was soft and concerned and Morgan wanted to trust it so hard her stomach ached. She choked on her tears. Westlie.

“You d-don’t care- you don’t- you don’t care I c-ome back,” the sniffles turned into heaving sobs and Morgan could barely get her tongue to work. “I don’t want to- to go home- I don’t- I hate it. I h-hate it, Westlie- You c-can’t replace me- Westlie, please- I need y-you don't replace me, please- Westlie, please-”

She was twenty and drunk on whiskey and still covered in coal dust from travelling; they were in the fucking gravel in the garden, her hair was a haystack, but Westlie dragged her onto her lap without hesitating. Morgan sobbed harder against her. The embrace was temporary. It was always temporary. They were so bad at this. But it felt good anyway. Westlie dug her fingers into her hair and wrapped herself around her like a shield. “I love you,” she whispered back. “I’m here, and I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn't. Morgan gave herself up, and she cried.

-=-

When she woke up in her room, it was mid-morning without a hangover, boots off, a glass of water on the nightstand, staring at that motherfucking fleur-de-lis wallpaper.

[autisticfangpyreclub]

Gold stained hands, red stained teeth - chapter 1

I finally managed to start writing the vampire au i posted literally a year ago, quarantine does that to ya. Enjoy!

(@kyra-plays sorry it took so long for me to start writing this fic!)

-

“We’re here!”

Kai grunted as he was shaken awake by the car jostling to a halt. He sluggishly sat up in his seat and looked out the window. They were parked in front of a huge iron gate, overgrown with vines and moss. “This is the place?” he slurred, shaking his head to try and wake himself up.

“Yup,” Nya replied. She tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto his lap. “Check it out, I’m gonna go get our tickets.”

She hopped out of the car, and ran over to the ticket booth. Kai yawned, and clicked the light on in the car. The piece of paper had every spot on their haunted building tour written on it, along with a small blurb about each location. He skimmed through the names until he found where they were.

“Castle Garmadon…”

It had been built in the 14th century, allegedly by only two people. A woman and her husband, rumoured by the local townsfolk to both be vampires.

He could believe it when he saw what the castle looked like. It was ginormous, towering over the iron gates surrounding it. The castle sat atop a cliff that overlooked the town below, and it gave the entire countryside a dark and gothic vibe. It looked like something straight out of dracula.

“There you are!”

Kai jumped at the sudden hand on his shoulder, but relaxed when he saw it was only Jay. “Hey, when’d you get here?” Kai asked.

“Just now,” Jay said, gesturing at the blue van that was parked beside Nya’s car. “Zane’s trying to drag Cole out right now, he’s having a bit of a freak out.”

They both turned their heads to see Zane tugging Cole by the arm, trying to pull him off the car door. Cole lost his grip just as Zane gave a hard yank. Kai winced as they both fell backwards onto the concrete ground, that was still wet from the recent shower of rain. “What’s going on with them?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jay crossed his arms and leaned back against the iron gate. “I hear Cole’s got like, a really bad fear of vampires.”

Kai couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Seriously? Why?”

Jay shrugged. “No clue, think he just watched too many horror movies as a little kid,” he raised an eyebrow and scanned the parking lot, “hey, where’s Nya?”

“Hey Jay!” Nya grinned as she ran over to them. “I got our tickets,” she handed a ticket to Jay, and then one to Kai, “apparently we’re the only visitors they’ve had in months, so we’ve got the whole place to ourselves to explore!”

“Awesome!” Jay pumped his fist in the air. “Free reign to touch anything we feel like!”

“I told you in the van Jay, we must respect this castle,” Zane chided, approaching them with a mopey looking Cole in tow. “Look with your eyes, not your hands.”

“Ugh, fine. You brought the go pro right?”

Zane sighed, then reached into his shoulder bag. He pulled out an awkwardly large camera, and strapped it over his forehead. “I don’t know why you insisted on this head mount.”

“Panoramic shots Zane, panoramic shots!” Jay shot back, “now lean down so I can adjust it.”

Kai chuckled to himself watching Jay attempt to jump to Zane’s level. His focus drifted towards Cole, who’s eyes were darting back and forth between the gate and the castle, while his hands clenched the sleeves of his jacket. He was rocking back and forth on the spot and muttering something ineligible to himself.

“You good Cole?” Kai asked him, reaching a hand out to grab his shoulder.

Cole flinched and snapped out of his nervous rambling. “What? Oh, I’m fine,” he waved his hand nonchalantly, “just… the castle is so big, it was making me a little, uh… unsettled, yeah, that’s all it is…”

Kai didn’t really believe that, but he didn’t want to hassle him. He just gave Cole a pat on the shoulder and left it at that. The five of them showed their tickets to the guard at the gate, and walked into the courtyard.

-

Those piercing red eyes had to be the creepiest thing about the paintings Cole was surrounded by. It was bad enough that the old castle looked like it was going to collapse any moment, or that it reeked of death and mold. Of course, of course it also had to be infested by vampires. Vampires who loved having their portraits painted, apparently.

“I think these ropes kinda ruin it for me,” Kai said while prodding at one of the velvet ropes that formed a barrier around the paintings. “The illusion of walking through a historical castle thing I mean.”

Cole turned around to glare at him. “Are you seriously not creeped out by all… this?”

Kai gave him a quizzical look. “I can’t really see anything creepy about it.” He walked over and slung his arm over Cole's shoulder. “It’s just an old building dude, nothing to be afraid of except like… maybe asbestos.”

“There is no asbestos in this castle Kai, the maintenance staff thoroughly check and upkeep the entire building twice a year,” Zane said. He was taking pictures of everything using the go pro Jay had thoroughly adjusted several times now. Jay himself was admiring the two giant swords affixed to the wall, along with Nya who was taking pictures with her phone.

Cole pushed Kai off him. “I’m not scared, I’m just saying it’s creepy. I mean, why do all these paintings have red eyes?”

“Because their vampires, duh!” Jay yelled over to them. Kai shot him a glare, and he looked away sheepishly. “I mean, that’s the most popular theory…”

Jay yelped as Nya shoved him in the shoulder. “There’s no such thing as vampires, stop trying to scare him Jay,” she said.

Jay winced and shuffled away from her while rubbing his shoulder. “I wasn’t! Just stating the facts!”

“I agree with Nya, there is simply no scientific evidence at all that backs up the existence of vampires, or any supernatural phenomena at all for that matter,” Zane said flatly. “No matter what conspiracy theorists say to try to defend their opinion, nothing can rationalize it,” he looked pointedly at Jay while speaking, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, we get it science man,” Jay said, “in other words, Cole needs to stop being a baby.”

Cole sputtered. “Shut up! Can we just get this whole haunted building tour over with?” Cole sighed while shaking his head. “I can’t believe you guys forced me into this…”

“Excuse me? We all agreed to do this together!” Jay scoffed at him. He absentmindedly scratched at the peeling wallpaper, then frantically tried to hide a chunk he pulled off in his pocket before Zane could yell at him.

“That was before I found out one of the spots on the list was a vampire infested hellhole!” Cole spat at him.

Kai gave Cole a gentle pat on the back. “It’ll be alright man, if you get scared I’ll just let you hold my hand okay?”

Cole scowled. “I don’t need to…”

A loud creaking sound suddenly echoed through the building. Cole screamed and grasped onto Kai’s hoodie for dear life.

“Uhh…” Kai glanced over at Cole, who was cowering and hiding his face in Kai’s shoulder. “You good man?”

In a realization that nothing was coming to kill him, Cole pulled away from Kai like he’d been burned. Jay was laughing like a maniac in the background, and he even heard Zane chuckle softly. Nya just shook her head and walked past them.

“C'mon guys, we’ve only got about another hour and there’s still way more castle to see,” she said, pulling Jay by the arm who was still laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.

Cole felt his face heating up. He pulled his shirt over his face so that no one could see how red he was. Or how much he was still sweating. “Uh… Kai, I think I might just take you up on that offer…”

-

“Y’know, I hear the electric lights in this place have always been here, because the people who lived here were so old they had knowledge from the golden age about electricity that was lost to time,” Jay remarked, as they passed by a marble bust lit up by a light on the ceiling.

“That’s impossible, electric lighting was unheard of during the 15th century, and people barely lived past their thirties, much less thousands of years,” Zane replied.

“Unless they were vampires…” Jay hummed.

Cole shuddered, and squeezed Kai’s hand. As embarrassing as it was to be holding Kai’s hand like he was a little kid going through a haunted house, it was… comforting. Jay was being the absolute opposite of comforting, he was being a pain in the ass.

“Hey Cole, you cold?” Jay asked with a taunting grin. “You're shivering so much, it’s like you just saw a ghost!” He poked Cole on the cheek, and snickered when he let out a frightened squeak.

Cole grit his teeth, and grasped Kai’s hand tighter. Kai took notice of this, and pulled him in closer. “Shut it Jay, give it up already,” he snapped.

Jay stuck his tongue out and ran ahead of them. The castle was like a maze of hallways, staircases, and small rooms filled with nothing but aged looking statues and paintings. They hadn’t found anything like a kitchen or a bedroom yet, but they had walked through a faintly coppery smelling wine cellar.

“This place is less a house, and more an art museum,” Nya mused, gazing up at the idyllic painting of the night sky above her. “Oh hey, there’s a hole in the wall...”

She pulled out a book that was tucked inside the small crevice in the wall, and flipped it open to a random page. “How to grow the finest lavender… the most efficient way to cultivate your vegetables… slugs, snails, and other wretched fiends found in the garden,” she read aloud, being reminded of the decently kept flower patch they passed in the courtyard. “They must’ve really loved gardening…”

The hallway they were in now was long and narrow, with red carpeted floors and black stone walls covered in scratch marks. The carpet was stained and tattered, and the floorboards sounded like they were screaming when they were stepped on. The hole Nya had discovered wasn’t alone, many more littered the wall and even the floor, Jay having discovered one when he tripped and fell on his face.

“Odd…” Zane hummed, “this hallway seems much less cared for than the rest of the castle…”

“No kidding, this floor is gross…” Nya groaned, stepping over a particularly large dark stain. “And where are the windows? I actually haven’t seen a single one anywhere.”

Jay stopped in front of a painting of a raging ocean, and put a finger to his lips as if in thought. “Maybe… the ones who lived here didn’t want any sunlight getting in,” he said.

“Jay!” Nya yelled at him.

Cole shuddered, and hid his face in his hands. “Oh god, it all makes sense… red eyes, no windows, creepy castle… look, there’s even a glass full of blood in that painting!” he said and pointed towards the painting in question.

Most of the paintings of people in the castle were of the same person, and this one was no exception. He was young looking, and had blonde curls that hung over his eyes and just barely touched his shoulders. He had dark brown skin, and freckles that covered his entire face. He wore a black high collared cape that was fastened by a golden flower-shaped brooch. A green ribbon was tied around his neck. The most striking thing about the boy was his bright red eyes, but despite the unnerving colour they had a gentle look to them. He also did indeed have a glass filled with… something red in his grasp.

“It’s likely wine,” Zane said.

“Or blood!” Cole yelled back at him.

“Or… maybe it’s tomato juice?”

Zane and Cole both gave Kai a blank look. “Seriously? Tomato juice? This isn’t bunnicula we’re talking about Kai,” Cole said, “he’s a REAL vampire, not some kids cartoon.”

“Kai, tomato juice had not yet been invented at the time this painting was done, and Cole, I’m telling you vampires are most certainly not real, please calm yourself,” Zane said, irritation seeping into his tone.

“But why the red eyes then huh? Explain that!” Cole slapped a hand onto the painting, eliciting a gasp from Zane.

“Cole!” he yelled, “that painting is centuries old, it’s a priceless piece of history-“

“In my personal opinion,” Jay cut in, stepping in between them and leaning on the rope, “I think the whole legend is legit.”

Zane glared at him. “Jay, don’t start this again-“

“Seriously, this family lives in this huge mysterious spooky castle, no one ever sees them go out during the day, they barely interact with anyone, and then some guy with a silver sword-“

“Wait, why is the fact that it’s silver important?” Kai asked.

“Because vampires are weak to silver Kai, keep up!”

“I thought that was werewolves?”

“Well uh… uh… they're both weak to it alright?!” Jay stuttered, “anyways… he has a silver sword, and he kills the whole family, AND he cuts their heads off and sticks a wooden stake in all their hearts… why?”

“Because he was an asshole?” Nya helpfully supplied.

“Because they were vampires!” Cole yelled, “and they got what was coming to them, thank god…”

“Exactly,” Jay said.

Zane rubbed his temples, and let out a pained sigh. “You two make my brain hurt sometimes.”

“Hey, if you guys are done can we please just keep going?” Kai groaned. They ignored him, and only started arguing louder. He clapped his hands over his ears to block them out, and turned to Nya and nudged her. “Hey, you wanna just go on ahead?” he asked.

Her face scrunched up as she mulled it over. “I’m tempted but…” she glanced over at Zane who was physically restraining Jay from touching the painting, and shook her head. “Someone needs to keep them in check.”

“Fair enough… you mind if I…?”

“Go for it.”

Kai quietly snuck away from the scene of Jay loudly pointing out all the obvious vampire clues in the painting while in the clutches of Zane’s arms, and walked deeper into the mysterious darkness of the castle.

-

The many twisting and turning narrow hallways eventually led Kai to a small, dusty room. It was completely empty. “Aw man, dead end…”

He walked into the room anyways, his eyes drawn to the swirling flower patterns on the green walls, a contrast to the pure black walls of the hallway he came in from. The ceiling was also unusually low, not low enough that he had to duck, but low enough that he could feel his hair brush against it.

“Kai!”

Kai turned around to see Cole running towards him, Jay, Zane and Nya tailing behind him. He came to a screeching halt in front of the door, gasping for breath. “Kai, why the hell did you wander off?!”

“Because you were all held up arguing, I got bored. Wait, were you worried I got like, murdered or something?” Kai asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cole’s cheeks flushed. “No, you just get lost really easily, so I thought-“

“He was totally scared you got murdered, that’s why he was running,” Jay said, “hey, what’s going on in here?”

Jay pushed past a fuming Cole, and walked over to the back wall. “Huh, this is weird… ooh! I bet there’s a switch in here for a secret passage!”

He started pressing his hands into random spots on the wall, musing aloud to himself as he did it. “Not here… not there… guys, come in here and help me look for it!”

“Jay, that sounds dum- ow!” Cole banged his head against the low ceiling. He dropped to the floor, and tried to rub the swelling pain away. “Why is this entire castle built so bad?!” he groaned.

“Ah, the tough life of a mountain sized man,” Kai laughed.

Cole brushed the dust off his pants as he stood back up. “Well, better than being as short as Jay I guess.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

“Let’s just not spend too much time here alright? I’m starting to feel claustrophobic…” Cole said, trying to avoid touching the rotting wood on the doorframe as he shuffled out of the room.

Zane ducked his head as he entered. He gazed around curiously before joining Jay by the back wall. “I doubt there’s a secret passage, but there is something fascinating about this wall.”

“What is it?” Nya asked as she walked in, closing the door behind her. She laid a hand against the wall, but pulled away at the icy cold feeling against her palm. “Yeesh, must have been fun to live here during the winter. Not.”

“Yes, I noticed the temperature as well, but that’s not what I mean,” Zane pointed to a tiny spot on the wall. “Look at this.”

She leaned in to see what he was looking at, but all she could see were squiggly golden lines. “Uh… what exactly I am supposed to be looking at?”

“What’re we looking at?” Kai said as he leaned in over Nya’s shoulder.

“We’re looking at a line of writing in an ancient language, native to Ninjago, spoken by only a handful of people in modern times,” Zane replied, zooming the go pro in to get a better shot. “And lucky for us, I know this language… don’t take that ancient languages class Zane, they said, you’ll never have any use for it, they said-“

“So uh, what does it say?” Jay asked, having given up on searching for a secret passageway.

“Huh? Oh, right…” Zane wiped the dust away from the lettering, and cleared his throat. “It says, ‘reveal my sanctuary’, but then again, I could be-“

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, a bright green light began emitting from the wall. All four of them drew back in alarm, Kai tripping over himself and landing on the floor.

“Wha- Zane?! What’d you do?!” Jay yelled, backing up until he bumped against the doorframe.

Zane didn’t answer, his mouth agape as he stumbled back from the light. The door creaked open, and Cole popped his head in. “Hey, what’re you guys yelling about- WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The light suddenly vanished, and in its place was a golden door. The room was silent as they all stared at it. Jay coughed.

“So… who’s gonna go open it?” he asked, still keeping himself as far away from the door as possible.

“None of us!” Cole shouted. “Who knows what’s behind there?” He shakily crept back into the room, and hid behind Zane. “I mean, what if there’s dead bodies that have been rotting in there forever… or worse?”

Zane nodded, and gave Cole a gentle pat on the head. “I agree with Cole, I think it’d be best to ask a facility member about this.”

“And miss the chance to go somewhere we’re not supposed to be without anyone knowing?” said Kai, who without anyone noticing already had his hand on the doorknob.

“NO KAI DON’T-“

He ignored Cole, and slammed open the door. He flipped on the light switch, and was greeted with a colourful sight. This new room was very spacious, and anything but empty.

Shelves covered in glass figurines and ornate jewelry boxes lined the walls, and a giant display case bursting with dolls and plush toys stood against the far wall beside a cabinet filled with wine glasses and bottles. There was a half open wooden wardrobe with gold flowers painted on it, with many lacy and sparkling dresses and capes hanging inside. Green flowing drapes hung from the ceiling, framing a large portrait of the blonde haired boy with two others, a dark-haired solemn looking man, and a woman with red hair and a soft smile.

Kai’s mouth dropped as he stared at the beautiful decor in wonder. It was like being in the room of a disney princess. Well, aside from the coffin that was laying in the center of the room.

“Wait, what?” Kai did a double take. A… coffin. It honestly looked more like a bed with the drapes hanging over it, but it was undeniably a coffin the more he stared at it. “Woah…”

“What’s woah?” Jay peeked over his shoulder, then gasped sharply. “I can’t believe it! I was right! Hey Zane, come in here!”

All of them huddled around the coffin, except for Cole who stayed in the doorway. “Oh my god… is… that a-“

“Coffin? Yup,” Nya said, running a hand along the golden patterns on the coffin's lid. “This is so creepy…”

Cole felt like he was going to throw up. “This is so bad… this is so bad you guys- KAI!!”

Kai flinched and dropped the lid of the coffin. “What? I just wanted a peek.”

Zane’s eyes were wide with amazement. “This is incredible… we may be the first ones to discover this historical treasure… although I do agree that we shouldn’t open it,” he added, “not because of vampires, but because there is likely a decomposing body inside.”

“Gross…” Nya gagged, and stepped back to take a photo from a safer distance from the dead body.

“You seriously still don’t believe me?!” Jay shouted, while violently gesturing to the coffin. “This is all the proof you need!”

Zane narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Hardly. This doesn’t indicate anything other than the fact that this room served as a crypt of some sort, probably for a beloved family member.”

“It’s obviously a vampires bedroom!” Jay retorted. “Probably the blonde guys, since the other two were a married couple so they’d have a two person coffin-“

Nya snorted. “A two person coffin? Those don’t exist.”

“Well I for one think it’s a great product pitch!”

Kai wandered behind the coffin and gazed up at the portrait. The family seemed to really love getting their picture painted. They’d probably lose their minds if they were around when cameras were invented.

He really couldn’t see anything scary about the family though. The blonde kid especially, he just looked like a normal teenager, who just happened to have red eyes. There were plenty of normal human beings who had red eyes.

“I’m just saying there’s no way you can prove that vampires aren’t real.”

“False, I can prove it quite easily with-“

“Guys, give it a rest!” Nya groaned in exasperation. “Look, why don’t we just open the coffin for a minute so we can find out once and for all which one of you is right.”

Zane and Jay looked at each other, then both nodded in agreement. “Sure, why not?” Jay shrugged.

“While I hate disturbing such a beautiful artifact, or any possible remains inside, if it can end this tiresome discussion I agree it is the best course of action,” Zane said.

“Great!” Kai cheered, throwing his arms up, “I’ll open it-“

“NO! NO NO NO ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Cole shrieked as he barreled into the room and blocked Kai’s path. “Do you all wanna have a vampire suck the blood from you like a human juice box? BECAUSE THIS IS HOW THAT HAPPENS!”

“Cole, chill! It’ll be fine! If there was a vampire inside there, don’t you think they would have tried to kill us by now?” Kai asked, gripping onto Cole’s shoulders to try and keep him steady.

Cole glanced down and bit his lip. “Well… it’s daytime, so they might be sleeping-“

“No offense Cole, but you just did a whole lot of screaming,” Nya pointed out. “I think they’d be awake by now.”

“That’s… true… okay, fine,” Cole relented, “you can open it, but before you do…”

He walked over to a small wooden footstool that was laying on its side, and broke a leg off it. Zane let out a strangled cry. “How many times do I have to tell you people, this castle is a piece of history that IS NOT TO BE DISTURBED!”

“This thing is going to protect us,” Cole said while swinging the wooden piece around like it was a sword, “from something far more dangerous if disturbed.”

Zane rolled his eyes and backed away to give Kai room to pry open the coffin. He slid the lid off, and shoved it onto the floor. A choked gasp came from his lips when he saw what lay inside. He stumbled backwards, and was just narrowly caught by Cole before he fell over.

Cole felt his entire body shaking as he looked from the coffin to the also shaking Kai in his arms. “What?! What is it?!”

“It’s… it’s a…”

Jay finished his sentence for him. “HOLY SHIT, it’s a guy!”

Cole dropped Kai ungracefully onto the floor. “WHAT?!” He gripped his makeshift wooden stake tighter as he peered into the coffin.

The boy from the paintings was lying inside the coffin. His hair was a tangled mess, and he had a wooden stake lodged in his chest, but it was definitely him.

The room was dead silent, until Jay loudly cleared his throat. “Well Cole, somebody beat you to it…”

Cole fell to his knees, his stake clattering onto the floor. “Oh god… oh my god… thank god he’s already dead-“ Cole was hyperventilating, “thank god, oh god-“

“Hey, you wanna say sorry for dropping me anytime soon?” Kai asked dryly from where he was still lying on the floor. “No? We too focused on the dead guy?”

“Kai, this is serious!” Nya snapped at him.

Zane also fell to his knees, but for a much different reason. His quivering hands carefully pulled the boy’s shirt up to check his injuries.

“This poor boy died recently…”, he whispered, “several fresh cuts and stab wounds… he’s so cold…”

“Don’t touch him!” Cole yelped.

Zane gave him an icy glare. “Cole, please, put aside your superstition for one moment and grasp the reality of this situation!”

“What’re those stains on his shirt?” Nya asked, pointing to the red and gold splotches on the white blouse he was wearing.

“The red I’m assuming is blood,” Zane replied, “but those gold spots… paint maybe? I’m not sure…” he gently brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes, his heart aching when he saw the bruises covering his face. “Who could do something like this…”

Cole was about to say something before he received a nasty look from Nya, so he shut his mouth and clenched his fists instead.

Kai cautiously prodded at the stake lodged into the boy's chest. “Yikes, that looks like it hurt… hmm,” without thinking about it very much, Kai grabbed onto the stake and yanked it out of the body. Immediately a river of sparkling golden liquid poured out of the wound.

Cole fainted. Kai dropped the stake and grabbed onto him before he hit the floor. “Dude, snap out of it! Don’t bail on us yet!”

Cole’s eyes fluttered. “Vampire… stake… really bad…” he mumbled, drifting between being awake and being unconscious.

“He’s lost it,” Jay said flatly.

Kai lifted Cole down and laid him onto the floor, then looked down at him with a smirk. “By the way, that’s how you put someone gently onto the floor.”

“Shut up… I’m sorry…” was the last thing Cole said before completely passing out.

“Great, Cole’s blacked out, we just found a dead guy and Kai got his fingerprints on the murder weapon which means he’s totally going to be implicated…” Jay stopped mid rant and hummed thoughtfully to himself, “unless we don’t report this to the police-“

“Jay! How could you even suggest that?!” Zane yelled in shock, “he has a family!”

Jay sputtered, but then bowed his head in shame. “Your right, that was shitty thing to say… but… if he is a-“

“If the word vampire leaves your mouth at any time during the foreseeable future, I’m going to stab YOU with a wooden stake,” Nya said coldly, glaring daggers at Jay whilst already dialing 911 on her phone.

“Wait, just, hold it one minute,” Jay stuttered, “how are we supposed to explain this to the police? Hey we found a body in this old tourist attraction that barely gets any visitors anymore, actually according to the lady at the ticket booth we’re the only ones who have gone in here in like months! But there’s totally nothing suspicious about that guys, no way, haha, we’re just a bunch of innocent college students amiright? Oh god we are fu-“

“OW!”

“What is it now Kai?!”

Kai clutched his hand and hissed in pain. “I tried picking up the stake again, but I got a giant ass splinter! Look!”

He waved his hand in Jay’s face. “See? It’s huge! It’s like a whole twig is stuck in there!”

Jay batted his hand away. “Then pull it out, genius.”

Kai grimaced. “Uhhh… I’d rather not…”

Zane grabbed Kai’s uninjured hand and pulled him over to him. He sat Kai down on the rim of the coffin. “Sit still, I’ll pull it out.”

Sitting still was unfortunately not one of Kai’s strengths. He squirmed as Zane tried to pull the sliver of wood from his palm, accidentally kicking him in the knee when the pain flared up. “Ack! Sorry, it just… stings a lot- OW!”

“It hurts because you're moving around, please try not to kick me again… almost got it… got it!”

“AGGH!”

Kai quickly pulled his hand away as a drop of blood trickled down his palm. It dripped from his hand onto the boy's lips, slipping through the tiny part in his mouth.

And then the boy’s eyes opened.

-

Blood. Need blood. Thirsty. Thirsty, I’m so thirsty… need blood, blood, blood…

Lloyd gasped as air flooded back into his lungs, and his cheeks were filled with intense warmth. He breathed in slowly, and almost started crying at how good it felt to finally breathe again. He was alive. He was alive… but he was so thirsty.

Blood. Blood, I need blood now.

His stomach was aching with hunger. He felt like he was about to die again.

No, can’t die again. Blood, blood… I smell blood…

His vision was blurry from his burning hunger. Shadowy figures were leaning over him. He could hear them yelling at each other, he had no idea what they were saying. Their blood smelled delicious. He felt an urge to bite tingling in his jaw, in his fangs.

Blood, delicious blood…

His fangs… they were back. He remembered something from before dying. He could remember them pulling out his fangs… ripping out his treasured fangs, stealing them… as a prize from the hunt. They stuck silver blades into him when he struggled, blades that burned through his flesh and scraped against his bones. And then… and then they…

“Kid, can you hear us-“

He managed to use the little strength he had left to focus his vision, and was met with the sight of four humans looming over him. Lloyd screamed, and frantically tried to push himself away from them. “Leave me alone! Please!”

He tumbled out of his coffin, landing on the floor with a thud. His sharp nails scraped against the floorboards as he tried to get up and run away. It was no use. He fell back onto the floor in exhaustion, and curled up into a tight ball.

“Please, I’ll give you anything you want,” he sobbed, “just please stop hurting me!”

“None of us are going to hurt you kid, we promise,” he heard one of them say.

Lloyd nervously moved his arm aside to see who was speaking to him. The man who had spoken had tall pointed hair, and was dressed in a red… robe of some kind. He didn’t look like a hunter, but he also didn’t look like anyone Lloyd had ever seen. He took a shaky breath. “Who… who are you?”

The man kneeled down in front of him. “I’m Kai. You?”

Lloyd sniffled, and wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “Ll… Lloyd…”

“Hey Lloyd, nice to meet you. Here,” the man reached into his robe, and pulled out a small cloth. He handed it to Lloyd, who cautiously accepted it. Holding it in his hand, he realized it was a handkerchief. For him…

At that moment the dam behind his eyes burst, and the tears seemed to endlessly flow out of him. To be treated with such a simple kindness broke him after what he had endured. The overwhelming situation and the aching thirst still inside him was clouding his senses and leaving him vulnerable. Much too vulnerable.

Bite him… drink his blood…

“You poor thing,” another one of the humans, this one taller than all the others, crouched down beside Kai. “My name is Zane, what happened?”

“I… I… It was… they…” Lloyd could barely remember what happened. He didn’t want to remember what happened. All that he could recall was running, and feeling the agonizing sensation in his chest, and then darkness…

“Endless darkness…” he mumbled. It was still inside him. Gnawing away at him.

Blood, blood I need blood I need it NOW-

He hissed, startling the humans who lunged away from him. Lloyd slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Did you see that?!” the short human in the blue shirt cried out, “he has fangs!”

Oh god, now they knew. They must’ve thought he was human like them, but now they knew he wasn’t. They were going to hurt him, they were going to kill him, no… no, god please…

“Hey, hey hey it’s okay…”

Kai softly shushed him and wiped away a tear that had fallen down his cheek with the handkerchief. “Your safe now Lloyd, no one is going to hurt you anymore,” he soothed.

“You… you mean… you don’t hate me?” Lloyd asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even though I’m… a vampire?”

“Dude, I fucking knew it!” the short human shouted. “Take that Zane-“

“Jay, so not the time,” the only human who hadn’t spoken yet said. She had long black hair, and her sleeveless shirt showed off her built arm muscles. She out of all the humans was the most intimidating.

“Of course we don’t hate you dear,” Zane said, “but when you say vampire… do you really mean…?”

Bite someone now, drink their blood. Do it. Do it NOW.

“Stay with us kid, it’s going to be okay,” Kai placed a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, but jerked away when Lloyd shuddered. “Sorry, I should’ve-“

He could barely even force himself to speak at this point. Kai’s hand was so warm, and his neck was so close…

BITE HIM DRINK HIS BLOOD DO IT NOW-

His thirst was only getting worse with each passing moment. Pushing away his intrusive thoughts was becoming excruciating, and it was showing on his face as sweat dripped down his temples.

“Please don’t come any closer,” Lloyd begged, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not safe to be around right now…”

Kai backed away, but his gentle expression didn’t waver. “We’re not going to leave you like this, your obviously hurt really bad.”

Bad was an understatement. The gouge in Lloyd’s chest had only partially healed, and blood was still oozing out of the wounds left by the silver knife. If he could get even the tiniest bit of blood…

Jay coughed. “Uh, Kai, if the six hundred year old vampire says he’s going to go crazy, then maybe we should-“

“SIX HUNDRED?!” Lloyd gasped, clutching his chest in shock. There was no way he had seriously been dead for that long. “Oh god… I’ve missed so many… oh god…”

“Uh, well… I mean I might’ve miscalculated the exact amo-“ Jay clamped his mouth shut as he shrunk under the glares from every other human in the room.

Six hundred years… but then that meant… that meant… they were dead. The ones who had done this to him were dead. It felt horrible, celebrating that someone was dead. But…

Kai seemed to catch onto what he was thinking. “The people who did this to you are long gone, lucky for them,” Kai clenched his fist into a tight ball, “because I would’ve made them feel ten times more pain…” he growled.

“And then I would’ve made them feel twenty times that, and ground their asses into the dirt,” the black-haired woman added, her eyes lit up with intensity.

“And I would’ve… uh,” Zane stumbled, “defended you the best I could, because no one should ever have to suffer such horrible abuse.”

Despite the pain, Lloyd could feel a warm sensation filling his chest. These people, whom he had only just met, were treating him with kindness he wasn’t accustomed to from those outside of his family. Perhaps… vampires weren’t as hated now, in this new time period. What a lovely time it must be.

Jay, who was still trying to avoid anyone else’s eyes, found himself staring at the glass cabinet behind the coffin. It was filled with bottles of ‘red wine’, a.k.a, probably blood. He pried it open, and took a bottle out. It was cold, and caked in layers of dust. “Hey uh, this isn’t… human blood, right Lloyd?”

Lloyd’s eyes locked onto the bottle in Jay’s hands. His pupils dilated. “Give me that… please.”

Jay gulped. “Uh, sure…” not wanting to get too close, he tentatively rolled the bottle over to Lloyd, who snatched it up faster than he could blink.

The cork was thrown heedlessly aside. The blood inside the bottle was ancient and spoiled, but Lloyd savoured every last drop. He only stopped once to take a gasp of air, chugging the sweet red elixir until the bottle was completely dry.

He sighed with relief as the ravenous voices in his head quieted. Almost immediately, his wounds began healing. The bruises on his skin disappeared, and the gouges and cuts in his flesh vanished without a trace. His full senses returned to him, his eyes grew sharper and his ears twitched as he took in every bit of sound around him.

Kai helped him to his feet. “I’m guessing you're feeling a bit better now?” he asked, taking in Lloyd’s now completely healthy looking appearance.

Lloyd grinned, fangs on full display. “I’m feeling wonderful now, thank you.”

“Woah!” Jay ran over and leaned in close to Lloyd’s face. “Those are so cool!”

“My… fangs? Really?”

Jay bounced up and down on the spot, barely able to contain his excitement. “Totally! Sorry about how I acted earlier, I was just surprised, but this is so awesome! You're a real vampire!”

“O-Oh…” Lloyd blushed, and looked down at his feet. “Thank you-“

“I have so many questions! Okay, one, do you burn in the sun, or is it just like irritating? Oh, and is the garlic thing real? No wait, when you turn into a bat where do your clothes go- hey!” Jay grunted as the dark-haired woman pushed him aside.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like this about everything,” she said, “I’m Nya by the way, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jay ran over to Zane, and pulled a notebook and pencil out from his shoulder bag. He ducked under Nya’s arm and sat down on the rim of the coffin. “Okay, as I was saying-“

“Sunlight burns us, but we don’t burst into flames or anything, garlic makes my tongue swell up, and…” Lloyd pondered the last question for a moment, “y’know, I’ve never actually thought about that… I assumed they just disappeared… then reappeared.”

Jay paused his furious scribbling of notes. “What? But how does that work?”

Lloyd shrugged. “Don’t ask me! Wait, let me show you something…”

He stretched out his arm, and smiled as a green flicker of light danced across the palm of his hand. For a moment he had feared his powers hadn’t returned yet, but the sparkling flicker growing into an orb of bright light in his hand assured him otherwise.

Jay, as well as Nya, Zane and Kai watched, mesmerized. Lloyd shaped the orb into a diamond, then into a flower, and then in a burst of light dissolved it into a shower of tiny sparkles that floated through the air.

“This… doesn’t make any sense,” Zane said, gazing up at the ceiling that was now lit up with hundreds of star-like lights.

“Does it have to?” Nya replied, smiling as a light landed on her nose. She sneezed, and it drifted until it landed on her finger. “This is so beautiful…”

Lloyd spun around the room, letting out more bursts of sparkles each time the lights dimmed out. He abruptly came to a stop behind the coffin. “Why… is there a sleeping man here?”

They all looked at each other. “Shit, I forgot Cole was still passed out,” Kai said, rushing over to go shake Cole awake. “Cole! Wake up buddy!”

“Hnnngh… huh?” Cole blinked wearily. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Whuhhappened?”

Kai swallowed stiffly. “Don’t freak out, but-“

Lloyd blew a tiny sparkle to Cole. “Greetings sleepy human!” he giggled.

Cole’s face turned pale as he caught sight of Lloyd’s fangs. ”Y… You… your a… vamp-“

“Yes, I am a vampire!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!”

[saventhhaven]

Only You - Chapter 14

Title: Time Out

Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.

Only You Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: grieving!reader, fluff, sweet!Dean, small talk

Word Count: 3,430

(Gif not mine)

When you jerked awake the next morning, you were especially disoriented. It wasn't until you felt Dean's warmth beside you that you even remembered where you were. And it wasn't until you gave your brain a moment to catch up that you remembered that your mother was no longer alive. The thought left an aching hole in your chest, and you sighed, moving into a sitting position. Fresh tears stung your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined not to start the day crying. What time was it, anyway? The pale, watery dawn seeping through the window told you that you had slept through the night, which was surprising, but as for the amount of sleep you had gotten, you were still at a loss. It seemed almost silly to want so badly to keep track of such a trivial thing, but since everything else was falling apart, you were trying to line up the little things every chance you had. It would certainly help if you had any clue what time you had actually fallen asleep last night, but, of course, no such luck. Based on how you were feeling, it couldn't have been more than five hours, but that was still more than you had been expecting to get in the first place.

Subconsciously, you shook your head as you tried to gather the rest of your bearings. What now? You didn't have the slightest idea. Hiding out in this house with the Winchesters for the rest of your life wasn't an option, but yet again, you found yourself without a plan. You were beginning to wonder when that would stop happening. You felt clueless, and you hated that. The only thing you did know was that you had to do something about Isobel Gray. She had already hurt enough people and ruined enough lives. You would be damned if you let it happen to anyone else.

The blankets rustled quietly behind you as Dean began to stir, and you quickly forced your rising emotions down. He sat up, wrapping his arms around your torso, and you allowed your eyes to flutter close.

"Morning, sweetheart," he whispered before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "How are you feeling?" His gentle touch was more than welcome, and you leaned into it, taking comfort in him.

"Better. Not much," you admitted, "but better." That was all you could ask for, really. A light pressure had settled in your forehead just between your eyebrows as a parting gift from last night's stress.

"You look better," Dean nodded. Snorting, you glanced at him over your shoulder. You knew damn well that you still looked like shit.

"You're just trying to get on my good side." He fixed you with those bright green eyes, a sure sign that he was about to say something witty and charming.

"Babe, I'm already on your good side." Well, he wasn't wrong. You didn't miss the way his face lit up when you chuckled. In fact, you had your suspicions that that had been his goal the whole time.

"How is it that you're still able to make me laugh even when everything has gone to shit?" Dean smiled as he chucked you under the chin.

"It's a gift."

"It really is," you agreed. You knew he was joking, but having him with you helped immensely. Even since he had woken up only moments ago, you already felt better. Dean was the calm through the chaos, and he always made you feel like you could keep fighting, even if you were on your last leg. Turning in his arms, you rested your forehead against his. "I love you." He pressed his lips against yours with a tenderness that damn near had you melting into a puddle.

"I love you too." With a small sigh, you pulled yourself from his arms to reach for your phone, which said it was just after 6:00. In any other situation, you would have seriously considered going back to sleep. At this point, though, you were already wired.

"So, what are we doing today?" Dean carded a hand through his bedhead as the sunrise reflected in his eyes. In this lighting, you could see the handful of freckles sprinkled over his cheeks. When he caught you staring, one corner of his lips quirked up into a half-smile. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

"Well," he started, "I was thinking we could clean up first." You looked down at yourself, noticing that you were still covered with soot and some dried blood. Getting clean had been unthinkable last night with how exhausted you all were.

"I'm dying to wash up," you put in. Dean nodded.

"Me too," he said. "And then we can pop into town and grab some grub, maybe look for a new lead?"

"Perfect," you mused. "The sooner this is over, the better." Dean let out a reluctant groan as he pushed off the blanket and stood, wincing slightly as he did. Immediately, the doctor side of you took over. "How are your stitches feeling?"

"Sore," Dean answered. "Nothing I can't handle, though."

"I can help you wash up," you offered. "You shouldn't be getting those wet." He smirked at you.

"You sure you're not just trying to get me naked?" You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh, please. If I wanted you naked, I would only have to ask."

"True," Dean remarked, "but if anything, I think I should be the one helping you. I can manage getting cleaned up on my own, but that hot water ain't gonna feel nice on your burns." Looking down at your hands, which were still bandaged, you couldn't help but sigh. He was right. There were still plenty of things you could do with your hands despite the burns, but dealing with hot water, soap, and shampoo didn't exactly sound pleasant. Plus, if he was offering...

"I wouldn't say no to some help," you caved. Dean picked up both yours and his duffel bags with ease, gesturing for you to go ahead of him.

"Lead the way." As you made your way down the hallway, you chuckled.

"I'm starting to think maybe you're just trying to see me naked," you teased. You heard Dean snort softly behind you.

"Sweetheart, I'm always trying to see you naked." Casting a glance of mock disgust over your shoulder at him, you were met with a shit-eating grin.

"Dream on." When you turned into the bathroom, you were stricken by how different it looked in daylight. The wallpaper was peeling away from the baseboards, and the tile was chipped in different places. "You go first," you insisted. "I can wait." Dean lifted an eyebrow.

"You sure?" You nodded. "I don't mind." He rinsed away the film of dirt and dust along the rim and bottom of the bathtub before filling it about a third of the way full with hot water. "Dean?" you asked as he stripped down.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you a question?" The man climbed into the tub, careful to make sure that the water level was low enough not to touch the covering of his stitches.

"Shoot," he encouraged. Chewing on your lower lip nervously, you swallowed. Even though the two of you had put your problems to rest, you still had questions.

"I'm not asking out of jealousy or anything like that," you assured as you sat on the rim of the tub at his side. "I'm just curious." Dean paused, bar of soap in hand, and looked over at you with a slight frown.

"I'm gettin' kinda nervous here, sweetheart." You swallowed again.

"During those six years, how many other women were you... with?" He let out a breath through closed lips, allowing his cheeks to puff up.

"Ah, jeez, Y/N. I don't know," he sighed. Dean went quiet for a moment, and the only sound was the movement of water as he ran the bar of soap over his skin. "Seven?" he finally said. "Six? No, seven." Dean shook his head before he spoke again. "After I left, I was a mess. I thought I was never gonna see you again, so I was using sex as a distraction. First couple of months after Sam and I got that damn demon, I slept around for a while," he revealed. "Had four girls in different states that I sort of kept on standby. I know that doesn't sound very gentlemanly of me, but it was a mutual agreement. Whenever I was in town, we'd see each other, spend the night together, and I was gone the next morning." That had pretty much been the answer you were expecting.

"How long did that last?" Dean shrugged.

"Little over two years.”

"Wow." He nodded.

"Yeah, it was a good run. Not necessarily one of my best decisions in life, but you know." The two of you returned to your comfortable silence for a few more minutes, and you thought maybe that was the end of it. "After that, there was this woman named Lisa," he started again, surprising you. "She and I spent a good amount of time together, but... I don't know. It just didn't feel right." Still wet, Dean reached over to take your hand, but you didn't mind. He smiled sweetly at you. "Nothing felt right if it wasn't you." You felt your heart do a small flop in your chest, and you couldn't help but blush. That was exactly how you had felt all that time. It was good to know he had always felt the same. "After that, the last two were just one-night stands that I hadn't been expecting. How about you?" he asked as he stood, toweling off. "Any sexual encounters I should know about?" You had to laugh a bit. The way he said it made your sex life when he was gone far more interesting than it actually was.

"Just one," you replied. Dean looked over at you in surprise.

"Really?" he questioned. "A gorgeous woman like you?"

"His name was Matt," you continued. "He was very sweet, actually." As Dean reached for clean clothes, you stopped him. "Hold on," you ordered. "Let me take a look at those stitches first." He obeyed, holding still as he let you peel away the gauze. They seemed to be holding up quite nicely, and his skin wasn't red, swollen, or hot to the touch, all good signs. "They're not infected," you announced. "But I still want to keep an eye on them, okay?" Dean gave you a lazy salute as he drained the water from the tub before filling it again, fuller this time.

"Yes, ma'am. Bath's ready for you." You gave him a grateful smile as he bandaged himself back up with fresh gauze. Usually, you weren't a bath person, but right now, you didn't have much choice. Besides, anything was better than sitting around smelling like smoke for the rest of the day. "So, what happened with Matt?" Dean inquired. You pulled off your clothes and slid into the tub, sighing in relief as the hot water soaked into your skin.

"I think it was three years after you left that Matt and I met," you remembered. "He was in my graduating class, and I had heard at some point that he had a thing for me. Eventually, he asked me out, and I said yes. We dated for a while after that." You leaned your head back to soak your hair into the water, Dean kneeling behind you at the back of the tub.

"How long?"

"A year and a half." He let out a low whistle as he began to massage shampoo into your scalp. It had been a long time since you had thought of Matt. In fact, you couldn't remember the last time he had crossed your mind. "He wanted me to marry him." You felt Dean freeze behind you. "I couldn't, of course," you continued. "I thought I loved him the way he loved me. I really did. But when it came down to it-"

"You didn't," Dean finished.

"No," you said quietly. Turning to face him, you gave a watery smile. "I come with a bit more baggage than I used to." Dean shook his head, regret written all over his face.

"I think you can blame me for that, sweetheart." You silenced him with a look as you pressed your palm against his cheek.

"I don’t blame you," you reassured. "You were protecting me, I was just too blind to see it." Dean gave a humorless laugh.

"Y/N, you weren't blind. You only saw what I let you see." You were both quiet for a while after that, lost in your own thoughts. Being here with him after so long made you realize that life had almost passed you by. You had both grown and changed so much over the past six years, but somehow, you were still a perfect fit for each other.

"Dean?" He helped you rinse the shampoo from your hair.

"Sweetheart?" Recalling how poorly you had treated him upon his return, you had to push away your shame.

"I know I didn't give you the warmest welcome at first," you said tentatively, "but I'm really glad you're back." Dean placed his index finger under your chin, angling your face back so he could kiss you.

"I'm just glad you didn't let me bleed out on your doorstep." You burst into surprised laughter, making him grin. "Oh, come on, you know you thought about it."

"Wha- I did not!"

As you had been expecting, getting cleaned up made you feel a lot better. Finally, you didn't smell like smoke anymore, and you weren't caked with blood or soot. It had been nice to sit in a hot bath, and even better to take care of something simple. Dean's hand rested on the small of your back as the two of you quietly made your way downstairs, trying not to wake Sam. The tall man was already awake, though, typing away on his laptop. He raised his eyebrows as you approached.

"You're up early," he remarked. You shrugged, taking a look around the house. Much like the upstairs bathroom, it didn't look so hot in daylight.

"Couldn't get back to sleep. How are your lungs today?" Sam gave you a grateful smile.

"They're okay. Thanks, Y/N." A small wave of relief went through you. That was one less thing to worry about. You bobbed your head in the direction of his phone in his hand. "Watcha up to?" Sam let out a sigh and scratched the back of his head.

"Nothing useful, unfortunately," he replied. "Just looking through the stuff that we already know in case we missed anything." While you appreciated his effort, you suspected it was futile. You already knew her real name and the address of her home. What else was there to find? Besides, even if he did find anything, none of you were exactly ready to track her down and go in guns blazing. As much as you wanted to get this over with, you still needed a minute or two to catch your breath. Dean grunted his acknowledgment.

"No luck?" Wordlessly, Sam shook his head, earning a sigh from his older brother, but you weren't the least bit surprised.

"Research was a lot more efficient with a laptop, but..." He left his sentence open-ended, and you nodded. All three of you had left your laptops in the house, so they were long gone.

"Well," Dean started again, "Y/N and I were thinking about heading out to grab some grub. You comin' with, or what?" At the mention of food, he looked up from his screen eagerly. Dinner hadn't been your top priority last night, and you had to say, you were feeling pretty hungry yourself.

"Yeah." He stood and shoved his phone in his back pocket. "Just let me wash up and change, and I'll be ready." When Sam went upstairs, you were stricken by how quiet everything was. It was unsettling. Having worked in a hospital for so long, you used to crave the moments of silence like this. Now, you couldn't stand them. Dean touched your arm, and it was only then that you realized he had been watching you.

"You okay?" You nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I'm good. Sorry," you said softly. "I just keep getting lost in my head is all." It wasn't like you to space out so often. Usually, you were very grounded, and for the most part, didn't let your thoughts get the better of you. The only exception to that statement was the man standing at your side. But the two of you knew that already.

"You don't need to apologize for that," Dean demurred. "I know you've got a lot on your mind. You let me know if you want to get some of it off your chest, okay?" You tried to give him your most convincing smile, but you could tell that it didn't quite reach your eyes.

"Thanks. I've been trying to keep it together, but it isn't as easy as that."

"Hey, you don't have to explain it to me." Dean sat, patting the spot on the floor next to him, gesturing for you to join him. With a small snort, you slid down the wall, sitting.

"I've tried to turn it off, believe me, I have. But no matter what I do, I just can't seem to-" The words died on your lips as you went cross-legged, causing something in your front pocket to poke you in the thigh.

"Y/N?" Dean's voice sounded far away as he said your name.

Even before your fingers wrapped around it, you knew what it was. A few months ago, you had lost the key to your mom's house. You thought you had checked all of your jean pockets when you had been looking for it, but apparently not. Your throat went dry as you pulled the object from your pocket. You didn't want to look at it. Looking at it made everything real. For a few moments, you could only stare down at your closed fist. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, opening it to yourself. There, in the palm of your hand, was your key to your mother's house. Memories began to flood through your brain, no matter how hard you tried to pushed them away. Hot tears trailed down your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, clutching the key to your chest. You swallowed hard to get past the lump in your throat.

"My mom is dead." The weight of the four words rested heavily on your heart, and the already-stifling silence became suffocating. It was real. It wasn't something you could push away anymore, no matter how much you wanted to. It had been your plan to grieve after the witch was dead. Grief didn't wait. You opened your mouth to speak again, but only a choked sob came out instead. Dean pulled you into him, rubbing your back soothingly as you cried into his shirt. "I have no family." Taking you by the shoulders, Dean looked you in the eyes with equal parts concern and sternness.

"Sweetheart, that's just not true," he said. He swiped a thumb over your cheekbone to chase away a tear. "I know you're hurting, but don't you for one second think you're alone in this. Sam and I may not be blood, but we're your family now." You sniffed heavily as he looked you in the eye. "And we're not goin' anywhere, okay? We're right here with you. Until the end." His words made you tear up again, and you found yourself squeezing the key in your hand even tighter.

"How do you do it?" you asked quietly. "How do you survive this?"

"You fight," Dean answered. "You let yourself heal, and you do every damn thing you can to make sure that you live another day." You nodded tearfully. "Hey." He chucked you gently under the chin. "You and I both know that's what your mom would want for you, right?" You blinked away a fresh round of tears. Your mom would definitely want that for you. She would be heartbroken if you just gave up because she was gone. From this day on, every battle you fought would be for her. Every blow you dodged, every punch you threw was for her. Determination replaced your grief as you nodded again.

"Right."

Thank you for reading! <3

There are only a few chapters left! Add yourself to the taglist while you still have the chance!

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Chapter 15 - Eye of the Hurricane

My Everythings:

@cole-winchester​ @alexwinchester23​ @1-am-made-of-stardust​ @thorukindig​ @fiftyshadesoffandom6783​ @hobby27​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @organicpurplepants​ @odysseyofasiren​ @defenderrosetyler​ @crystal-lilac​ @youshrimpdickfucknugget​

Only You:

@formulafun @greenarrowhead​

[wonjaekook]

Request: 63 and 84 from the writing prompts + Renjun if you have the time♥️♥️♥️♥️ 😊

63. “What do you mean? It’s exciting!”

84. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

A/N: !! thank you for requesting !! and, oops, I got a little carried away (drabbles are not supposed to be 2k words long,,)

Word Count: 2.0k

Genre: fluff, horror (?)

Warnings: kinda spooky ig? there’s ghosts lol

“No. No, no, no, a thousand times no.”

“Come on, Y/N. For me?” The puppy eyes and slight pout Renjun gives you has you making a pained face, like he’s shooting arrows straight into your heart, because that is basically what he’s doing. Huang Renjun is not the type to act cute and he is not the type to beg, so on the rare occasion that he tries to suck up to you to try to get you to do something you really don’t want to do, it hurts in the best way. Even as his girlfriend, you rarely see this side of him.

“Injun, it’ll be cold and dangerous and-”

“Please? It’s my birthday.”

“Not until the end of the month!”

“Y/N,” he says, straightening up and turning serious, “I’ll go alone if you don’t come with me.” “...I hate you.”

That’s how you find yourself walking up to what is supposedly a haunted house at midnight with Renjun. As the most superstitious person you’ve ever met, his excitement is on the complete opposite level of yours. He even managed to sneak away without his manager noticing.

“I hate this. I hate this so much,” you grumble to yourself, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“What do you mean? It’s exciting!” Renjun says, hopping the crumbling stone fence surrounding the creaking, decrepit building. He offers you a hand to help you over, but you ignore him, stubbornly climbing after him. As you get closer to the building, you shiver. Did the temperature drop a couple degrees, or is that just you? He stops in front of the door with you just behind him. He glances back. “Ready?”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you say. He offers you a sorry-but-not-sorry smile, extending his hand for you to take again, but you frown in response. With a sigh, he reaches out, opening the door. The door gives no resistance, opening with a quiet click before it glides open much too smoothly for an old, worn-down house. A type of resounding silence seems to come from the house, an empty blackness that bids you to step inside. All you can see from your position in the doorway is the outline of stairs, a hallway, and a few pieces of furniture farther in, almost indistinguishable in the dark. It feels wrong being here. However, before you can voice your concerns, Renjun is stepping inside and the door is starting to close behind him. Terrified out of your wits, you quickly follow him. The door shuts. Your breath fogs in the air, but you can barely see it because of how dark it is. Trying to shake off the bad feeling you have, you try to fill the void with your voice, but your question comes out far more timid than you had intended. “Did you at least bring flashlights?”

He digs around in the small bag he brought before producing two flashlights, handing you one. You flick it on as quickly as possible, revealing that the room is covered in dust and cobwebs. To your relief, you don’t see any live spiders because of the season, but spiders are also the least of your worries right now. “Alright,” Renjun says, seeming much too unbothered by the situation, “let’s explore.”

“Why are you so relaxed? Aren’t you the one who believes in ghosts?” You trail after him, watching for floorboards that could trip you up and noting the peeling wallpaper. The flashlight you have in your hand doesn’t illuminate nearly as much as you would have liked.

“That’s exactly why! I’ve never experienced ghost activity for myself, so I wanted to go somewhere that’s confirmed haunted.” He stops, turning towards you. “I heard… that a burglar broke into this house and suffocated the man who lived here. I’ll spare you more details. But! Then, too stricken by grief, the wife killed herself. Both of their spirits supposedly wander the building to this day.” On an ordinary day, you would’ve scoffed at his story. Now, the combined atmosphere of the house and the way he looks far too certain at the tale’s truth makes you bite your tongue and shiver. He turns around, continuing to walk.

“So, are we… looking for one of these ghosts, then?”

“Yeah, or both if we’re lucky.”

Suddenly, from behind Renjun, there’s a clattering sound from deeper in the house and you jump, instantly moving forward to cling to his arm. You ignore the smug look he gives you, opting to just squeeze his hand tightly. “That doesn’t sound so lucky to me,” you whisper. The air is too still.

“It’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go look.” Your boyfriend’s hand in yours is the only thing keeping you grounded right now, a piece of warmth in the cold, scary house. You walk forward slowly, only moving at all because Renjun is pulling you.

“I’ll never understand why you didn’t bring Chenle or Jaemin or, hell, even Mark, instead of me,” you whisper, worried about disturbing the air around you.

He frowns, glancing back at you. “Because I like you more than any of them? You wouldn’t catch me holding any of their hands right now.” Despite yourself, you find your cheeks heating up at his comment. You know that’s his way of showing affection - and you couldn’t love it more. You’ve found that even the smallest things about him fill you to the brim with adoration, even in this dark, terrifying house. Just as you’re about to make a comment back, the hallway you’re in comes to an end and you see what used to be a living room of sorts, old couches, chairs, and a table spread throughout. There are stacks of boxes here and there, as if someone was only half done with packing up the room before they left. On one wall, there’s a fireplace and a painting of a man and woman together hanging above the mantle. Layers of paint are barely clinging to the canvas in places and the color is faded from years of disrepair, giving it an eerie look. Renjun approaches it, trying to get a better look, and you follow, one hand still in his and the other firmly grasping your flashlight, standing next to one of the two couches that rests perpendicular to the fireplace. “Wow,” Renjun breathes, staring at the painting, “that must be them. They were so young.”

“Yeah. That’s… kind of sad.” For the second time since entering the house, the feeling of crippling fear leaves you entirely. You imagine a cleaner, brighter house, with sunlight coming in through windows that are now firmly shuttered. There’s a young man and woman unloading boxes into their new house, where they’re to spend their lives together. They’re laughing and smiling, holding hands much like you and Renjun are right now. You blink and the image is gone and you’re just looking up at an old, peeling painting in a dark room that no light has touched for a long while. “Renjun,” you say, “I think we should leave.”

“I want to look around just a little more, I-” He starts, also tearing his gaze away from the painting and beginning to turn around. You feel him stiffen next to you, so you turn around as well. There, in the next room over, is a glowing man. At least, he seems to be glowing, as his clothes and what skin you can see of his appearance is a chalky white. A sack of some sort covers his head and there’s a baseball bat in his hand, all that same white.

Your heart practically stops in your chest. You wish you hadn’t come here. You wish-

Renjun takes a step forward, in the direction of the ghost. You barely have time to think before you feel a hand on your ankle, trying to pull you to the ground. Whipping your head around, you meet eyes with a woman, that same glowing white, her hand wrapped around your ankle. In her eyes, you see your death. Her ghostly nails dig into your skin, drawing blood, and you yank your ankle out of her grasp, screaming and stumbling into Renjun. “Renjun, run!”

When he sees what you see and the beads of blood starting to form around your ankle, the grip he has on your hand gets impossibly tight and he starts to move, backtracking towards the hallway you had come from, pushing you to run in front of him. You run faster than you had ever run in your life down that long, dark hallway, your blood rushing in your ears, until you and Renjun are ramming straight into something in the parlor you had entered the building through. You both fall, screaming as you do, and shutting your eyes tight.

You realize your throat isn’t being torn out and your limbs are all still intact, so you cautiously open your eyes, seeing that a third body is on the floor with you. Renjun seems to do the same thing at the same time as you and he sits up, looking at the person. “Mark-hyung?”

Mark is on the floor with you, cursing under his breath. “What the hell? Why are you guys running?”

“I… there… we…” You try to say, but you just can’t find the words, your heart practically beating out of your throat. Mark slowly stands up.

“Why are you here?” Renjun asks, starting to get up. You press a hand to your chest, wanting to just curl up and cry, so he offers you a hand. You take it, getting to your feet. You glance behind you, unsure if anything is following you.

“Our manager is looking for Haechan and, apparently, I’m in charge of finding him. He told me he was coming here to “mess with some idiots” yesterday, but I didn’t expect you guys to be here. A haunted house is a little bit of a weird place to have a date.” The new information slowly sinks in and the pieces start to connect. You and Renjun meet eyes before looking back down the hallway. “What?” Mark asks.

A moment later, you hear some very familiar laughter. The three of you fall silent as the sound gets closer until, finally, Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Chenle step out from the hallway and into your flashlight beams. Jaemin is covered in what, at a closer look, seems to be white body paint, and he has a painted baseball bat and sack of some sort in his hands.

“Would you say we got you guys?” Donghyuck says, way too proud of how successful his prank was.

Renjun responds before you can. “I’m going to murder all of you.”

“Please don’t kill me, it was their idea!” Chenle says in quick Chinese to Renjun, who just crosses his arms.

“Hey, you can’t get out of this by speaking Chinese!” Jaemin says, nudging Chenle a little too hard to be considered gentle.

As the boys bicker, Mark just looking on in confusion, your adrenaline starts to slow down, making you realize that your ankle is throbbing. Looking down, little drops of blood are dripping down your skin and into your sock, dying the material red. Reaching down, you wipe at the blood, wincing when it hurts even more. The boys start to quiet down, so you look up, furrowing your brows at them. “Which of you guys grabbed my ankle? It really hurts.”

They look at each other, appearing just as confused as you. “We didn’t grab you? We just did this stuff.” Jaemin raises the items in his hand and the other two nod in agreement.

“Then, who was…”

From deeper in the house, a woman’s tortured shriek rises in the air, the sound resonating deep in your bones. Renjun’s first instinct is to grab your hand again and pull you closer.

“Huang Renjun, you owe me the best present ever when it’s my birthday,” you whisper, shrinking next to him.

None of you spend much longer in that house.

[cantdwellonanyofit]

I Don’t Think Enough Before I Say Too Much - Ch 5.

"Gene was once again a fool. Snafu had given so much during the war. Softened around the edges. Always trying to reach out and offer Gene comfort in his own confusing ways. Gene thought Snafu was patronizing him rather than loving him."

Dedication: To Stolperzunge, who always has a big beautiful brain that I adore :)

The French translations are in the notes at the below link, if you’re interested.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770078/chapters/71480088

The rest of the house was identical to the rooms Gene had already seen. Barren, no sign of a loving life anywhere. Gene could visualize where pictures used to be hung. The empty spots now illuminated in contrast to the sunlight burned wallpaper around them. He wondered who’d removed the pictures, and if this was how Shelton learned to bury his emotions. To move on with his life when others never could’ve managed. Snafu just concealed it, and every reminder of it, until it never happened. Gene wished he possessed that skill. It would’ve been a relief to tuck every memory of the war away. Up on the highest shelf, so the memories could only be retrieved with a ladder. Gene lived his horrors every day. Like a cloak, they clung to his shoulders and left him feeling overheated.

“This is my room,” Snafu motioned for Gene to step inside the doorway. Gene had been carrying all his bags again. He carefully set them down in a corner of the room. He then turned and looked around. Greedily taking in every inch of his surroundings. Hoping for a sign of who Snafu had been before the war. He spotted a bookshelf, but the shelves mostly contained manuals or catalogs. How to fix cars, appliances, home improvement, the best cars, or guns. Gene grabbed a copy of, ‘Motor Repair and Overhauling,’ by ‘Newnes’ and flipped through it. Snafu came up beside him, eyes cast sideways. Watching Gene, trying to read him.

“Did-“ Gene hesitated, “Did you remove all the pictures, or did someone else?” Gene wasn’t sure whether he’d reached his quota on touchy subjects.

“What would I need ‘em for?” Snafu sounded confused. As if memories meant nothing. As if once someone was gone, they disappeared forever. As if it was just your duty to get rid of the final pieces of who someone had been, and what they’d meant to you. Gene pondered if he’d given Snafu a physical gift during the war if Snafu would’ve simply left that on the train too. Set it down neatly on Gene’s lap, so it would become Gene’s sole burden forever. Gene couldn’t help but feel maddened by Snafu’s ability to rid himself of sentimentality.

“You don’t care at all? It doesn’t bother you to be here? In all of this?” Gene could hear the tension in his voice as he gestured to the room. How could Snafu stand it? Gene’s mind was fracturing in his own home, and there was nothing but love surrounding him every day.

“Just because you think I should be wallowing in sadness doesn’t mean that’s how things gotta be. People are different, Gene.”

“It’s not normal.” Gene retorted.

“When the fuck ‘ave I ever been normal?” Snafu laughed, then sobered. “Why’s it so damn important to you that I can’t stand it here? Or that I can’t move on?” Snafu crossed his arms. Gene was stepping too far into territory he didn’t belong. Baiting the dog to bite him.

“If one morning I just disappeared and went back to Mobile, would you throw everything I left behind in the trash? Or would you follow me?” Gene mimed Snafu and crossed his arms as well. He could block himself off too, he thought.

“Why would’ya just leave and go back to Mobile? I wouldn’t follow you. Obviously, you didn’t want to be here in the first place then. Or with me. Chasin’ you wouldn’t fix that.” Snafu’s face contorted in confusion for the second time that day. Perhaps the fourth time since they’d reunited. As if Gene had asked Snafu if pigs could ever be a valid method of long-distance transportation.

“Jesus christ, Merriell.” Gene threw his hands up, “You’re fuckin’ insufferable sometimes.”

“Why are you pickin’ fights with me ‘cause there aren’t pictures on the wall? Or for some nonsense scenario where you leave to prove some kinda point?” Snafu grabbed Gene’s shoulders, forcing Gene to look into his eyes. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem, Shelton. Do you have any feelings at all? Are you just fuckin’ empty in there?” Gene poked his finger at Snafu’s chest, then his head. Gene knew he was being an asshole. He was letting his insecurity get the best of him, and it was ugly. But he couldn’t stop. Snafu could walk right out of Gene’s life at any moment, and Gene would be inconsolable. Meanwhile, Snafu would just shrug, go to work, then return home for a nice dinner. “You’re just gonna leave me again when it suits you. When you feel like being done with this. And you’re never gonna look back, wonder if you fucked up, or what could’ve been. I don’t fuckin’ get you. I thought I did, but I don’t.” Gene’s voice was elevated beyond a necessary level. It felt as though the anger inside of him was overwhelming. Growing until it tore at his seams and split him open. He had so much of it, and no idea what to do with it now that the war was over. Snafu just stared blankly back at Gene, huffed a sigh, then started to walk out of the room. Gene grabbed his arm, “Don’t fucking walking away from me when I’m talking to you.”

Snafu whirled on his heels to face Gene again, easily removing his arm from Gene’s grip, “Do you just carry around the collar of that dog you lost? Hang it on your fuckin’ wall and cry about it every night? You do what you gotta do, Eugene. You grieve, and you fuckin’ move on. And no one can tell you if you’re doing it right or wrong because it’s yours to deal with. You, of all fuckin’ people, with your big fuckin’ brain, and all your feelings should get that.” Snafu was speaking so calmly it was almost unnerving. His eyes were intense. Emotionally resonating all the words he held close to his chest. Gene would’ve been afraid of Snafu if he’d been anyone else, or if Gene had still been his old self. If he hadn’t already lived with Snafu through their worst. Screamed at him in the middle of a war. Snafu had taken his fingers and tapped them on Gene’s forehead when he’d chastised him about his ‘big fuckin’ brain.’ Gene could still feel the ghost of his fingers. Maybe Gene was fucking crazy. For all Gene’s overthinking, he hadn’t really thought about it like that. All he thought about was the neon warning signs telling him Snafu was going to leave him if Gene put his guard down.

“I won’t make it without you. And you’re so good at leaving,” Gene lowered his tone, “I can’t fucking stand it.”

Snafu abruptly grabbed Gene’s jaw. Snafu’s thumb and index finger shaped a ‘V’ on his chin. The hold was firm, but not bruising. The rest of Snafu’s fingers splayed against Gene’s neck at his pulse. Gene wondered if Snafu could feel his heart thumping. Beating with the desperation to keep Snafu here with him as Gene continued to do nothing but push him away.

“Eugene Sledge, you’re the one that’s fuckin’ infuriatin’…” Snafu trailed off. His accent thickened as his anger possessed him. “Putain de merde, Eugene, sors-toi la tête du cul. I’m not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere. You gotta let that shit go, or you’re gonna drive us both insane.”

Gene jerked his chin out of Snafu’s grasp, “I don’t know what you said, but I have a strong feeling I should be pissed about it.” Gene gazed into Snafu’s eyes. The spark of anger was replaced by determination. Gene knew Snafu was, in his own confusing way, trying to get Gene to understand what he meant, how he felt. Gene just didn’t feel like giving up so easily. Waking up on the train and realizing Snafu was gone haunted him. He knew he wasn’t so different from Snafu. They both took something they loved and knifed it repeatedly to protect themselves. Gene just couldn’t agree to disagree. Not if it meant making it easier for Snafu to tuck away what he did, and potentially do it again. Gene didn’t just hold a grudge, he nurtured it.

Snafu grabbed Gene’s chin again and softly shook Gene’s head back and forth, “Gonna shake some fuckin’ sense into you. I like how feisty you are, but would prefer if ya’ just kept it in the sex, hein? I can’t predict the future, and neither can you. So please, can we get through one fuckin’ day without fightin’ about it? You think I took you home with me so I could just leave and give you the house? I fuckin’ live here, Eugene. Where am I gonna go? You thinkin’ I’ll just leave in the middle of the night? Go sleep at the bus station for the rest of my life to avoid you?”

Gene couldn’t help but laugh. “It wouldn’t surprise me, honestly,”

Snafu sent his eyes heavenward and held them there. Praying to a God he didn’t believe in to give him the strength not to throw Gene out the window, Gene assumed. “I’m just scared,” Gene added. “I can’t love you the way I want to. I can’t take you home. I can’t hold your hand in public. I have no idea what I’m doing. And moreover, I worry you’re going to get sick of this. Sick of me. What’s going to stop you when you’ve already done it once?”

“Well you certainly ain’t makin’ me want to put a ring on your finger actin’ like an asshole all the time,” Snafu released Gene’s jaw. “Trust me. I’m your partner, not your enemy. You keep seein’ me as the enemy, you’re gonna get us both killed. Let’s start over. Fuckin’ forget before and be here now.”

“I can’t fuckin’ do that like you can,” Gene didn’t know how to make Snafu understand. Gene couldn’t pretend the past didn’t exist.

“What good is torturing yourself about it? You’re just gonna make it come true. You’re gonna wish your fears into reality, Eugene.” Gene had to admit he was pretty good at that. He wished so badly to go to war. Thought it would make him a man. Thought it would make him feel powerful. Instead, it crushed any possibility of ever knowing himself. War didn’t make you a man, or powerful. It stripped everything from you until you had nothing left. Like his father said. If Gene really thought about it, he was angry at Snafu for being able to decide and then not dwell on it. Snafu had decided to go to war. Decided to leave Gene on the train. Decided to forego searching for him. And he just kept going. Every decision Gene made weighed heavy on his heart and mind.

“You’re right,” Gene finally said.

“I know I’m fuckin’ right. I’m always right. Now put your shit away and let’s knock this bullshit off.” Snafu gestured to the dresser as he spoke. “Make sure ya’ mix your clothes up really good with mine so I can’t pack before I leave you forever tonight.”

Gene laughed, “Fuck you, Shelton. Can you please just say you’re sorry?”

“You know I’m sorry, I don’t feel like this is gonna fix anything. It’s a wa—” Snafu glanced at Gene’s face, which must’ve mirrored Gene’s growing agitation.

Snafu sighed. “Alright, I’m sorry. But listen here. You listenin’ good?” Snafu paused until Gene nodded his head in confirmation. “I won’t keep sayin’ it, Eugene. People make mistakes. You can’t hold it like a gun to my head. S’not fair.”

Gene grabbed Snafu’s hand and pulled him forward until their lips met. Gene gently put his hands on either side of Snafu’s face. After several long moments, he released Snafu and stepped back to look at him.

“You still love me?” Gene asked.

“Less, but yeah,” Snafu said then laughed when Gene scoffed and dropped his hands from Snafu’s face. “I do, Eugene, I love you. Now please fuckin’ relax. Just for one evening. One hour. Twenty minutes.”

Gene lifted one shoulder in a shrug, then turned and got to work throwing his clothes in with Snafu’s. As he opened a drawer and categorized the clothing within, Gene threw his clothes in to match. Shirts, pants, shorts, and socks. It felt oddly domestic. He imagined him and Snafu doing this forever. Laundry, cooking, cleaning…Then Gene realized he didn’t know how to do any of those things. He wondered how much burden he could place on Snafu before he threw Gene and his clothes outside. He guessed he would find out.

“I don’t know how to cook,” Gene blurted out.

Snafu raised an eyebrow and tried to hide his smirk. “Well that’s the final straw then, get the fuck out’ma house.”

“I’m serious, Merriell. I’m not much good at any of this.” Gene threw the last of his clothes in the last drawer then closed it.

Snafu approached and grabbed Gene’s hands. “Listen to me, Hey,” Snafu shook Gene’s hands until he focused on him, “Ma boule d’angoisse, je m’en sacre. I don’t give a shit. I didn’t ask you here so you could take care of me. I’ve been doing that just fine on my own.”

Gene reached up and slid his fingers through Snafu’s curls. “Well, you just estimate how long it’ll be until you’re sick of taking care of me because I might die if you don’t.” Gene meant it as a joke, but he knew there was truth in it.

Snafu slid his eyes closed as Gene gently massaged his scalp, taking his time raking his fingers through each curl, “Eugene, ma ‘tite jolie fleur, je vais m’occuper de toi, je te protégerai et t’aimerais toujours.. Pour toujours et à jamais. Okay?”

“I guess?” Gene responded, laughing. “You could be telling me to go fuck myself for all I know.”

“Something like that,” Snafu responded. “You ever had Pompano en Papillote?”

“Is that a sexual term?” Gene raised an eyebrow. Snafu laughed harder than Gene had expected. It was infectious, and Gene found himself laughing as well.

“Fuckin’ christ, Gene, it’s a dinner. Fish, Shrimp…”

Gene shrugged, Mobile Alabama wasn’t exactly known for its seafood, so Gene’s experience with it was limited to vacations.

Snafu patted the side of Gene’s face, then turned and walked away. “Well, you’re gonna try it then. Gonna make you a nice dinner as a thank you for such an excellent welcome home blowjob.”

Gene laughed, “So that’s it then? It’s settled? You’ll take care of me and I’ll pay you in blowjobs?”

Snafu stopped, twisted his slender torso to look at Gene, “I told you ‘bout that big fuckin’ beautiful brain of yours. You’re a fuckin’ genius. That’s absolutely the arrangement from now’on, I’ll draft up a contract later. Now that I’m your boss, you can get used to calling me Mr. Shelton.”

Gene was shaking his head. He playfully pushed at Snafu until Snafu had no choice but to turn back around. “Get out,” Gene pushed him out the door. Gene was fascinated by how he and Snafu could go from loving each other and joking around, to fighting just as intensely. It didn’t seem as if they were capable of regular emotions. For better or worse.

Gene grabbed his papers and pen out of one of the shopping bags and took them with him downstairs. He set them on the desk that was positioned in the corner of the living room. He could hear Snafu in the kitchen getting pots and pans out of the cupboards. Gene lingered in the living room. Sat on the couch to see what it felt like. Fluffed the pillows. Continued to imagine a young Merriell living here. Tried to imagine Merriell sitting on the couch with his father. Listening to the radio like Gene did with his father. Tried to imagine what Snafu’s parents must’ve looked like. He couldn’t figure out why it was so important to envision Snafu with his family. Perhaps Gene wanted to believe he and Snafu had similar childhoods. They were such different people. It concerned Gene how, now that the war was over, he and Snafu would realize how different they were. How this was never going to work. Eventually, Gene eased up off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. Snafu had his hands submerged in a bowl. Gene moved until he was behind Snafu, then wrapped his arms around Snafu’s middle. Snafu was so neatly slender Gene speculated whether he could wrap his arms around him twice. Snafu hummed in appreciation, eased back into Gene’s embrace for a moment, then resumed swirling shrimp in the water.

“If you want to eat sometime today, you’re gonna have to let me go,” Snafu teased.

Gene groaned in protest then released Snafu, moving instead to press his palm to Snafu’s back. Gene momentarily rubbed slow circles, then backed off. “I’m happy to be here with you. Even though, I’m doing a really terrible job at showing it.”

A smirk played at Snafu’s lips, “We started off great. We just gotta keep to that and we’ll be fine.” Snafu was ripping the tails off the shrimp as he talked, throwing the shells into a metal container.  

“I’d prefer it if we could get along even when we’re not having sex,” Gene’s mouth was a thin line, expressing his judgement and displeasure through his pursed lips. His ‘go to’ face when he didn’t much like what was going on.

Snafu laughed at him, “Calme-toi, ma boule d’angiosse. I’m just jokin’. We’ll be alright, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“What does that mean? Pool.. duh….” Gene tried to sound out what he’d heard but gave up. Snafu didn’t immediately answer, and instead decided to smirk awfully at him. So, Gene tried to grab for some shrimp to help with dinner. Snafu slapped his hand away. Gene immediately nursed his hand. Feigned shock. Earning another beautiful laugh out of Snafu. Gene had seen Snafu’s smile and heard his laugh during the war. Gene fondly recalled De L’eau’s ‘incident’ and smiled to himself at the memory. However, this was different. Snafu openly laughing for him felt like a secret. This was Snafu with his barricades down in his own home. Smiling and laughing just for Gene. He’d treasure it. The way Snafu opened his mouth to let his boisterous laugh erupt from his chest. Or when Snafu’s teeth remained at rest on his bottom lip as he chuckled. Gene hoarded every moment. Every feature.

“What the hell are ya’ laughin’ at now?” Snafu smiled at Gene as he dumped the water out of the bowl, holding the shrimp in place over the sink. Gene was momentarily mesmerized by Snafu’s hands. How he could fit his thick fingers neatly over the pile of shrimp. “Hello?” Snafu added. Gene, surprised, glanced up. He hadn’t realized he zoned out.

“De L’eau,” Gene answered. “Was thinking about Bloody Nose Ridge,” Gene smiled.

Snafu laughed in response. Gene was in love. He was so desperately in love. “Tell me what you said in French earlier. Don’t distract me.”

“You’re distractin’ yourself, I ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. Calme-toi is easy, it means calm down. Ma boule d’angoisse….” Snafu hesitated. Gene pursed his lips as he assumed the phrase meant something crude. “Worrywart,” Snafu finished. “Literally, it would mean ball of anguish,” Snafu glanced over at Gene.

“Do you think ill of me?” Gene finally asked.

“No, baby.” Snafu answered. It was so intimate Gene instantly looked away and blushed. “You like that, don’t’ya?” Snafu was grinning again. “You really like that, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Gene answered honestly. “It makes me feel like a child, but also there’s something about it. Can’t put my finger on it.”

“I know what it is, but I’ll wait for you to figure it out.” Snafu had moved on to chopping onions. He used his arm to wipe his eyes briefly before he continued cutting.

“Tell me,” Gene said. He was interested in Snafu’s thoughts on it. Especially since Gene felt too conflicted to pull the meaning out for himself.

“You’ve been pissed off at me enough the last two days.” Snafu said.

Gene tilted his head, “Out with it. I won’t get mad.”

“Famous last words, but alright. You like being babied. Maybe pampered is a better word.”

Gene scoffed immediately, and Snafu raised his eyes to look at Gene’s face. Paused his cutting, “Said you wouldn’t get mad. S’your own fault now. You don’t even know it, but you like it. Just let it be. Is what it is. No shame in it. I like pampering you.”

Gene’s brow furrowed. He thought about it. He liked it when Snafu watched over him. Protected him. But Gene would do the same for Snafu. Did Snafu like being called baby? Being pampered? Gene couldn’t imagine Snafu would know how to receive praise or pampering. Perhaps this was yet another difference between them. Gene was a pampered, privileged, and silver spoon-fed child. And Snafu was a hardened and self-made disadvantaged man. How were they ever going to make this work long-term?

“I can see your brain working. You know we ain’t gotta be the same person to love each other?” Snafu was placing fish filets in aluminum foil as he spoke. “That’s what makes it fun, you know? We can teach each other.” It was so sentimental Gene didn’t have a response. Snafu wouldn’t look at him, changed the subject abruptly. “My grandmother used to make this all the time.” Gene still didn’t have a response. He was so pleased to hear something about pre-war Snafu he just nodded. “I’d help. ‘Cause I was always getting’ in the middle of stuff. I had to be involved in everything. Imagine that, hein? Me bein’ a little busybody? Unheard of.” Gene was so afraid he’d ruin the moment. Afraid if he breathed too loudly, Snafu would stop talking. So, he held his breath. Praying for Snafu to keep going.

“So anyway,” Snafu threw an astronomical amount of butter in a saucepan, tossed in the onions, tested the milk’s smell before adding it, and, Jesus Christ, so much Cayenne pepper. Gene wanted to protest. He knew the spiciest food he ever tried was gumbo. Which he’d only had the chance to eat when his family ventured to the Gulf Shores during the summer. He didn’t want to shatter the moment, so he kept his lips sealed.  

“So, I’d help, and my grandmother would instruct me. I liked the distraction. You gotta be really focused when you cook. Can’t be lettin’ your mind run away from you. So, I learned to enjoy it as a distraction. S’nice.” Snafu finished. Gene was so pleased he could cry. Snafu enjoyed cooking, and Gene had no idea. Gene had no clue who this man really was. Any piece of information was fuel for Gene to piece together the puzzle that was Snafu. Gene nodded again. Refused to tarnish this moment with words. “You keep holdin’ your breath like that you’gonna pass out.” Snafu added.

Gene let out a whoosh of a breath and smiled. “Sorry--,” He couldn’t think of how to explain what this moment felt like. So, he just remained quiet. Snafu threw all the ingredients together in the aluminum foil, covered it, and threw it in the oven.

As soon as the oven door was closed, he grabbed Gene by the hips and backed him up until he was flush against the white cabinets. Snafu kissed Gene briefly, then wrapped his arms around him. Swinging Gene gently from side-to-side. Gene smiled against Snafu’s neck.

This was why he came all the way from Alabama. This right here. Snafu had given Gene just a little taste of who he’d been. Gene could tell it made Snafu uncomfortable as he was doing it. Shoulders stiff, avoiding eye contact. But he did it for Gene. He’d said they could be different and make it work. Gene’s heart grabbed onto that concept and hugged it tenderly. Gene was once again a fool. Snafu had given so much during the war. Softened around the edges. Always trying to reach out and offer Gene comfort in his own confusing ways. Gene thought Snafu was patronizing him rather than loving him. Snafu’s affection was so different from Gene’s own. Where Gene could speak for hours about how he felt and what he wanted, Snafu could listen carefully. Holding his intense gaze on you and making a silent promise to be right there with you. Snafu could surrender to tenderness by sliding up next to you and forcing words out of his mouth he otherwise would never say. Just for you. Only for you.

Gene again raked his fingers through Snafu’s curls. Gene’s eyes poured over Snafu’s features. The widened space between his eyebrows, his sharp sunken eyes, wider nose, the way his ears jutted forward accentuating his thin cheekbones, the curve to his jaw, his plump upper lip, the gentle dip in his chin. Gene loved him. Gene loved him so much he felt high. Gene started over again from Snafu’s curls down to his chin. His eyes eagerly documenting each detail. Snafu seemed to be doing the same to Gene. Then Snafu brusquely kissed him and left to check on the food.

“It can’t be done already?” Gene inquired.

Snafu smiled, “Only takes ten minutes.”

“We did not just stare at each other for ten minutes.” Gene hastily responded. To which, Snafu laughed at him. Intoxicating.

“Close, maybe eight.” Snafu said. Gene shook his head. They were both deranged.

Shortly thereafter, the food was finished. Gene pestered Snafu, asking him where all the cutlery, cups, and plates were so he could set the table. He could at least manage that much. Cups there, knives, forks, and spoons there. He was an honest to goodness housewife. Gene laughed to himself. Snafu eyed him from the kitchen. Gene brought the plates over to Snafu one by one then set them on the table after Snafu deposited food on them. Gene stood awkwardly, not sure what to next. Snafu entered the room and pulled out Gene’s chair for him. Gene bowed purposefully low, then sat.

“Just wanted a good look at your ass before dinner,” Snafu added, ensuring any romanticism died. Gene rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He hesitated, preparing his taste buds for the first bite. Gene wondered if he’d blow steam out his mouth and ears.

“S’matter?” Snafu asked. He’d already started eating. Gene didn’t want Snafu to think he didn’t appreciate the meal, so he immediately took a bite.

It was good. It was so good. “Fuck,” Gene said, hand positioned in front of his mouth to cover it from view. “Jesus Christ.” Gene continued his slew of profanity. Snafu stared at him with a bemused expression.

“You have the same reaction to my cooking as our sex. I’ll take that as a high compliment.” Snafu said.

Gene laughed after he finished swallowing his bite. “Shit, Merriell, you’re a real chef.”

At the compliment, Snafu averted his gaze. But he held a private smile. Gene was unused to seeing Snafu as bashful. Gene intensely wanted to repeat it all the time as a result. Gene’s grin grew on his face, he had an idea. “So good, baby,” he said. Snafu’s blush was immediate. He tried to hide it by turning his head, but even against Snafu’s summer darkened complexion the reddened hue was unmistakable. Gene was thrilled. “Oh shit?” Gene said, proud of his accomplishment.

“Shut the fuck up,” Snafu immediately answered. The hue spread across Snafu’s face. Gene’s grin grew impossibly bigger.

“Baby….” Gene reached out and rubbed the back of his hand against Snafu’s cheek. Snafu tilted his head as if the touch burned him, smacking at Gene’s hand.

“Fuck off, I said,” Snafu tried to sound intimidating, but Gene’s smile was so wide his eyes were nearly closed. He took a triumphant bite of his food. Gene wasn’t going to let this go for nothing. He privately stored it away for later use. They resumed their usual silence as they ate. Settling into their rhythm. It was only evening two and they had a system. Snafu was right, they could teach each other quite easily. Gene felt hope. It was so rare for him. He cradled it. Feeling unashamed of his innocence for the first time in a while. Maybe, if he was dedicated, Gene could learn how to love himself as he simultaneously learned how to love Merriell. He adjusted his foot under the table until it rested against Snafu’s. Gene let the intimacy he felt for Snafu fill him. Turning it inward. This could work, he thought. This could be beautiful.

They finished dinner, and Gene stacked the plates and cutlery then took them into the kitchen. He set them in the sink, and immediately started cleaning up. Snafu passed by him several times as he grabbed cookware and set it on the counter beside the sink. Every time he passed, he kissed Gene on the cheek. Once the final item was set down, Snafu stood beside Gene. Leaning until Snafu was continuously kissing Gene’s cheek. Gene laughed and tried to shrug him off since both of his hands were in soapy water. Snafu continued kissing Gene’s cheek, ignoring him, then brought his hands up to Gene’s side and quickly used his fingertips to grip and tickle him. Gene shrieked, “Knock it off, you’re gonna make me break everything.” He squeaked out, shifting his hips away until he was leaning to keep his hands in the water. Snafu chuckled and kept tickling him. Gene was mewling, his knees buckled. “Please!” He all but screeched out.

Snafu laughed and kissed the junction between Gene’s neck and shoulder. Gene turned around, took his soapy wet hands, wiped them across Snafu’s shirt, kissed him, then returned to the dishes.

Snafu moved his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Then, nodded his head. Apparently agreeing to act on a decision he’d made mentally, he quickly dunked his hand in the water and smeared it across Gene’s face in one movement. “You…--” Gene glared as soap clung to the tip of his nose.

“You started it, mon chouchou. Don’t start what you can’t finish.” Snafu smacked Gene’s ass and left the room. Snafu went to the radio and turned it on, Blues promptly rang out through the house. Gene finished up the dishes, dried his face on the dish towel, then snapped the towel against Snafu’s ass and handed it to him.

“No idea what you do with laundry.” Snafu threw it on the floor. “Merriell!” Gene was laughing as he snatched it back up off the floor and handed it back to Snafu. Snafu laughed, disappeared briefly back into the kitchen. He returned towel-less, so Gene assumed the laundry must be built off the kitchen. He looked at Snafu expectantly, “So, where’s the laundry room?”

“It’s called the kitchen, and there’s a laundry sink in there. Dolly tub is in the pantry. You just hand wash it. We ain’t fancy ‘round here.” Snafu answered.

Gene felt embarrassed. He didn’t even fathom that possibility. His privilege seeped out in ways he’d never even considered. “Got it, sorry…darlin’.” Gene added the term of endearment, trying it out on his tongue.

It earned him a smile from Snafu. “S’okay. Don’t sweat it. I’m gonna have to quit my job so I can teach you a thing or two.” Gene also hadn’t even considered that Snafu was going to have to work. Not just to support himself, but to support Gene too. He felt like such a burden. He needed to get his shit together, and soon. Snafu must’ve noticed Gene’s smile dropped. “Don’t-- ah fuck, don’t overthink it. It was a joke. Stop right now,” Snafu gently tapped on Gene’s forehead, “You in there, hello, stop it.”

Gene laughed despite himself as Snafu continued tapping. He grabbed Snafu’s finger and held it.

“I need to get a job,” he said, matter of fact. “Or something.” Gene reasoned.

“First let’s just worry about not setting the house, or yourself, on fire while I’m gone. Don’t worry about it. I-“ Snafu stopped.

“What?” Gene immediately pressed him.

Snafu continued to stare blankly at him.

“What?” Gene insisted.

“I can get money. If we need. I got.. stuff tucked away.” Gene stared at Snafu, confused, then it hit him. Jap gold. Gene didn’t know whether he'd prefer Snafu make a profit off them, or continue to keep them as souvenirs. Both felt horrible. Wrong. Dehumanizing. Gene wanted to argue with Snafu about it, but the damage had already been done. From the moment Sledge watched Snafu cut the teeth out of the Jap’s mouth, it had been done. There was no use arguing now.

“Absolutely not. No. Never.” Gene said, sternly.

Snafu put his hands up in surrender, “I’m just telling you.”

“I wish you hadn’t.” Gene abruptly ended the conversation by walking towards the stairs.

Snafu shut the radio off, and quickly followed Gene. “Gene, hey, hey!” He grabbed Gene and manhandled him until he was staring at Snafu on the stairs. “You knew I had it. What did you expect?”

Gene didn’t know. Snafu was so gentle with him. So caring. He hated the mirage being washed away by those damn teeth. It was true, Gene already knew Snafu had done unspeakable things during the war. Snafu only had himself to blame for Gene even being mortified about it. Gene had been moments away from doing the exact same thing. He calmed down as he thought through his position on the topic. “I can’t believe the things we did.” Gene finished in a whisper.

“It’s done now. We’ll never be those people again.” Gene again wished he could throw away memories and feelings like Snafu could. Gene would always be the person he had been during the war. It was a part of him now. The only solace was Snafu had kept Gene from becoming unsavable. Unrepairable.

“Thank you.” Gene said. Snafu looked confused. “For saving me.” He finished.

Then Gene continued up the steps. Snafu stayed standing on the stairs, even as Gene went into Snafu’s room and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste. Gene wandered the hallway until he found the bathroom and ducked in. Snafu eventually joined him, and they washed up in silence. Both stripping out of most of their clothes. After Snafu finished brushing his teeth, he gently kissed Gene’s cheek again. So intimate.

Gene was again struck by the man he had known in Japan versus the man he grew to know in Peking. The man he was getting to know here in Louisiana. Gene needed to learn to let go of the war. Let go of Snafu, and remember it was Merriell Shelton he lived with. Snafu was a man who Shelton wished to bury. For Gene’s sake. So, for Merriell’s sake, Gene would to let Snafu die. Merriell had been right, it wasn’t fair for Gene to continue torturing Shelton for who he had been during the most awful time in his life. Gene imagined how he'd feel if Merriell did that to him. If he reminded Gene of every time Gene lost his temper at a boot. Lost his temper with Shelton. Gene remembered taking out his pistol, taking aim, and shooting Japs. Gene had screamed at Mac afterwards. Pissed that Mac had any semblance of decency to want to save the Japs from being shot by a minor weapon, and suffering through death.

Gene tried to imagine being dragged through that every day by Merriell, who was supposed to love him. Gene was so filled with remorse; he’d hurried into the bedroom where Shelton was and hugged him. This time, Merriell instantly responded. Hugging Gene tightly to him.

“I’m sorry, Merriell. I’ve been a real bitch,” Gene rubbed his hands along Shelton’s back.

A laugh burst out of Shelton at Gene’s words. Merriell gently grabbed the back of Gene’s head and held him, rocking him. “S’okay, mon p’tit loup,” Shelton responded.

“What?” Gene asked, after stifling a yawn. He had no idea what time it was, but it had been dark for quite a while.

Snafu chuckled, “Loup is wolf. P’tit loup, lil’ wolf.”

Gene smiled, “That’s cute. I like that. I love you,” he kissed Merriell. “I’m going to work on being better. I promise. How do you say I promise in French?”

“I love you too. Je promets is I promise.”

Gene tried to repeat it, but it sounded wrong in his mouth. More like “Jay pro-may” rather than how Shelton had said it. Shelton laughed at him and repeated the phrase more slowly for Gene.

“I can’t make that sound with my throat,” Gene insisted.

“You can make all kinds’a other sounds with that lovely throat of yours. I’m not too bothered if you can’t make that one.” Snafu continued smiling.

Gene rolled his eyes and stifled another more intense yawn. Merriell moved Gene until they were lying down. Gene was exhausted after all the traveling and excitement of the past couple days. Once they were both on their backs under the sheets, Gene threw a leg over Shelton and settled against his side. Shelton put his arm around Gene and kissed his forehead. Strained his neck and planted another kiss on the bridge of Gene’s nose. Then gently rubbed his finger along the bridge of Gene’s nose until Gene’s eyes drooped closed. Until the last thing Gene remembered was Shelton whispering, “Je t’aime.”

[emotionalgirl101]

Question | Chapter 5

Words: 2,046

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: So the fact that I wrote the last one quickly kinda cursed me. I saw Stray Kids in Melbourne on February 21st. It was, without exaggeration, one of the best experiences in my life. Many firsts, like flying interstate alone, going to a concert alone, first Kpop concert, first hi-touch, etc. I met the most amazing people that adopted me and I’m so grateful! STAY is truly the nicest fandom🥰 and SWERVED👏🏻SO👏🏻FREAKING👏🏻HARD👏🏻 - Im honestly still in denial. This is dedicated to all my STAYs from the SKZ Aus page and my online STAY mutuals x

P.s. Eunwoo as in Pristin Eunwoo~~ I promise these chapters are necessary!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

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

You just could not escape these boys. It was like an omen of some kind. Good or bad, you weren’t sure, but the fact you didn’t go a day in the week without seeing one of your best friend’s roommates seemed like less of a coincidence. After seeing Chan on Monday and Woojin on Tuesday, you had only expected to see one person you knew today; Eunwoo.

You guys had become friends around the same time you had met Minho. The only difference was the class you met in and the fact that Eunwoo actually knew what was going on more than half the time. Lucky you so happened to sit next to her that first day. You learnt after a project you decided to collaborate on that you had accidentally become best friends. You were more than satisfied. A year down the track, and you learnt that Eunwoo and Minho were all you needed.

Eunwoo had decided to coax you out of your apartment for several reasons, the main one being that you needed to by Rena’s birthday present. You had met Eunwoo’s group of friends only a month or so down the line. You loved Rena, but you were practically inseparable from Eunwoo.

You were dressed, but barely awake, when you heard a knock at the door. You sacrificed breakfast in order to get another 10 minutes sleep. Something Eunwoo had anticipated, holding a coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other, when you answered the door. You could smell the fresh chocolate croissant from the door way.

“Good morning!” She eagerly cheered. She alternated lifting her hands slightly, left than right, indicating you to make your choice. Food won. You could always grab something to drink later in the day. Side stepping to let her in, Eunwoo strutted into your apartment, feeling as comfortable as she did in her own home. 

You were a little jealous of how well put together she always managed to look. Makeup flawless, hair as smooth as silk, and a consistently bright demeanour, She was wearing a cropped, long sleeve tee. The black stripes horizontal, to synch in her waist. She paired it with a black skater skirt, and a tan winter coat. Her hair was in loose curls and the blonde strands still carrying a peach hue. A loose beret adorned her head. Black heeled boots and a designer bag dangling from the crook of her arm.

You close the door and head to the the kitchen counter. Eunwoo was already a step ahead of you. The unravel the package ungracefully, mumbling a ‘thank you’ after you take your first bite. She just giggled at you. “Welcome!~”

“Okay, first things first. Game plan.” Eunwoo was a master at shopping for gifts, the shopping part at least. She was just as indecisive and doubtful in her choices as you were. She brought out a folded receipt, her list on the back of it. You leaned into one another, mapping out your day. “Hit theses three places first. If no luck, we can go to this cute store on the second floor. Then, stop for coffee and a catch up at this cafe. Then continue to these to.” She barely breathed when running through the schedule. 

“And if all else fails?” You turned to her, an eyebrow slightly raised. You smile at each other. A cluster of giggles escape between the two of you after you say ‘gift card’ in unison.

-

You had been to the first three stores without success. The first store had some nice statement pieces, but nothing that you unanimously felt Rena would choose on her own. The second store was a completely different vibe. You found too many things you thought she would like, but it was wrong for factors like having an odd detail that wouldn’t suit her, or a colour that wouldn’t match her skin tone, or she had something similar, if not identical.

Store 3 wasn’t clothing. Eunwoo had misinterpreted the name, and it ended up being a kids store. You would’ve loved to see the reaction of on-lookers. The confusion on your faces, the short look exchanged, and the laughter would’ve been a sight. They’d think you were delusional, which was definitely possible at this stage. You had spent hours that you didn’t necessarily want to spare.

“Okay, so the fourth place is closed.” Eunwoo deadpanned as you reached the foot of the entrance. “Figures.” You sighed. Eunwoo turned to you, a twinkle returning to her chocolate eyes. “Coffee?” You smiled in hand with a repeat of ‘coffee’ to confirm.

You walked to the coffee shop after reaching the bottom level of the shopping centre. Eunwoo opened the door after exclaiming how cute she found the pastel themed café. She lead the way to a quaint table against the far window, with a small pot plant centrepiece attracting her attention. She offered to order drinks for the both of you, previously deciding to share a slice of cake in the way to your current location. 

You fished out your phone, which lacked any notifications to your irritation. You settled with scrolling through your newsfeed. You felt a waiter walk past you, almost, but then backtrack. You weren’t interested in looking up, guessing whoever it was had found something interesting going on on the other side of the glass beside you.

“Y/n?” The figure voiced. Now you had to look up. To your delighted surprised, your eyes met the soft smile of Hyunjin. “How’s it going?” His face changed to a genuine smile, quickly taking Eunwoo’s abandon seat. You were too happy to talk to the boy. He seemed so bright and bubbly the other night. From what you remembered, at least. “Really good, actually. The week off and hangover free.” You beamed, before returning the question in the younger’s direction. 

“Yeah, really good.” Nodding once with enthusiasm, and leaning back into the chair as he continued. “Working every so often. You should’ve seen Felix after you left. It was hilarious.” At the words, the glint in his eye and the tone of his voice both changed to convey mischief. Felix had slept through practically the whole day, to your knowledge. He was still passed out from the night when you left that afternoon. “I’m guessing he remembered nothing? He didn’t do anything bad, anyway, though.”

Hyunjin smirked at your words, elbows return to the table, and an ever so slightly hushed voice hummed out the following words. “But he didn’t know that.” You cottoned on immediately. “What did you tell him?” You were leaning back, arms folded and ears perked.

Hyunjin feigned hurt at such an accusation, a pout replacing his smirk. “Me? I did nothing… “It was Jeongin and Seungmin, wasn’t it?” He smiled. You had your answer. “That poor boy…” You ran a hand through your hair, trailing off as if you were pulling away your words with the fingers laced in your strands. Almost as quickly, you snapped back to Hyunjin’s gaze, mirroring his posture on the table. “Tell me everything.” You cheekily beamed.

The excitement at divulging the information was failed to be hidden in Hyunjin’s body language. “Okay, so first Jeongin told him that he broke Changbin’s headphones.” 

“Oooh..” You could just feel the pain of the thought as if it was a hit in the stomach. “He would’ve felt so guilty…” Realisation then washed over you, Hyunjin regaining your attention. “You said ‘firstly’. What else did you con him in to thinking?”

“Seungmin asked if he remembered meeting you. He nodded, but you should’ve seen the colour drain from his face.” You mumbled an ‘uh oh’ at the fact you were somehow wrapped up in all this without even being present at the time. “Seungmin said he admitted he found you attractive and proceeded to try to find an excuse to kiss you.” Shaking your head, “How did he take that?”

“He. Was. Mortified.” Hyunjin had no ounce of sympathy in his voice, a cheeky grin still painted on his rosy lips. “He told him he managed to kiss your cheek when you went to bed.” You were confused at where he was going with this. “That’s not so bad.”

“Until Jeongin told him that Minho planned to murder him in his sleep until Chan stopped him. He avoided Minho for two days!” You both burst out laughing. “Oh, yeah, because Minho would’ve been at work when Felix woke up…” The genius of the Maknae dawning on you. 

“That’s not even the best part.” Hyunjin continued. You’re brows indicated your confusion. “Minho had no clue what was going on. So he had no clue why every time he tried to talk to Felix, Felix ran away or found an excuse to leave the room.” You both laughed. You could picture that cute, confused expression on Minho’s face without trouble. You had seen it so many times, even having it as your wallpaper on your phone at one point.

“That’s perfect.” You mused. “Did Felix figure out it was all fake?” Hyunjin snickered at your words. “This morning, yeah.” You were practically in tears. Part of you felt bad for the kid, but the opportunity was too perfect to waste. “Go maknaes!” You cheered.

“Alrighty. It was good to chat, but I probably should go check on Jeongin. He’s probably broken the coffee machine or something.” He stood from the chair. “Wait. Jeongin works here, too? I thought he didn’t have a job.” You were trying to put two and two together when Hyunjin put you out of your misery. “He only just got the job. He started today, and I’m having to mentor him.” A playful eye roll following his words.

“Sucks being the smart one, doesn’t it?” You smirked at him. “You bet.” A light chuckle followed. “Want me to tell him you’re here?” He offered, but an idea had bloomed in your mind, so you let him in on your plan. “Don’t say anything. Just send him over with our order and I’ll hide my face til he comes over. It’s the one ordered by the girl in the striped shirt.” Hyunjin followed the gesture of your finger, turning back to you, smiling. “As you wish.” He winked. He was gone.

Eunwoo returned with a slice of chocolate cheese cake and a raised eyebrow. “Was the barista trying to pick you up, or something?” You couldn’t contain your laugh at the distain she held in her voice. “Okay, I guess he’s cute.” She sighed and sinked into her seat. The plate took its home on the wooden table, and you each grabbed a small fork to start devouring it. “So?” Eunwoo prided at you, before shovelling the sliver into her mouth. Her eyes looking at you expectantly.

You giggled again, hand covering your mouth so it at least looked like you had some sort of table manners. “He’s Minho’s roommate, Hyunjin. I went over the other night and met them all. One of the guys got drunk and forgot everything, so they tricked him into believing he did all this stuff.” Eunwoo nodded, but you weren’t able to tell if it was from enjoying the food or if she was satisfied with your story. She swallowed. “Fair enough.” The weird expression returned to her face, as she notice you digging at your shared slice with the fork in your left hand. “And why are you covering your face?”

You smiled cheekily, which got Eunwoo’s full attention. “The youngest roommate just got a job here, and he doesn’t know I’m here, so we came up with a plan to surprise him.” Eunwoo gave a small smile at that. “That’s cute.” Her head snapped up and to your right as you both heard foot steps approaching. With a quick look back at you, she winked, and let her eyes settle back on the nervous boy carrying a tray of drinks in his hands.

“One iced coffee?” Jeongin’s voice was slightly shaky. He was masking his nerves well. Eunwoo tentatively raised her hand as he place her order in front of her. Without another word, he placed the second drink in front of you. Then his eyes flickered to your face.

“Noona?” He couldn’t hide the surprise on his face as his jaw fell slack. You chuckled a bit and asked, “How’s your first day going?” He regained his composure, beaming down at you. “Good! Did Hyunjin hyung see you? He didn’t tell me you were here.” You and Eunwoo burst into giggles, glancing from the boy and back to each other. “She asked him not to.” Eunwoo looked at you, leaning on the table and her chin resting in the palm of her hand. It didn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin from across the café. “He told me about the prank you guys pulled on Felix.” He smiled cheekily, “What do you think?” He waited for your answer in anticipation. “I just wish I could’ve played along”. Eunwoo rolled her eyes at your antics, but you knew she’d want in on it, too. After all, she loved surprising people.

>>

[huphilpuffs]

between the lines

summary: Dan’s failing his English class, so Phil is enlisted to tutor him. University AU. word count: 3350 rating: g warnings: none a/n: Written for @phanfictionhoe for @phandomficfests holiday exchange! I hope you like it! And big thanks to @insectbah for beta’ing.

ao3 link

“Hey Dan?”

He looks up, hands hovering halfway to his backpack. The only good part about English class so far is that he doesn’t have a textbook to carry around with him.

“Yes, sir?”

His tutor smiles, kind.

All the staff here seem too kind. Dan kind of wishes they were scary. That would make it easier to hate them.

“Do you have a class now?”

Dan swallows. “No, sir.”

“Can we talk for a moment, then?”

He lifts his hands from his bag. Walking into his tutorial today had already been dreadful. The heavy feeling he’d been carrying in his chest since a few days ago comes back. He settles back into his seat, listening to every other student leave the room with rustling papers and loud footsteps.

The doors at the uni are too heavy. They always fall closed with a loud thud.

His tutor comes towards him only after the last student’s left. Nathan, he told them to call him during the first tutorial. Calling people with actual PhDs by their first name still feels foreign on Dan’s tongue, though.

He sits down across from Dan, still smiling.

“I’m sure you saw your grade on the first essay,” he says.

Dan swallows. The pressure in his chest is worse. “Uh, yeah.”

Nathan nods. “As you know, a 36% is a failing grade.”

“I know,” says Dan. “Am I–”

He cuts himself off. Asking if he’s in trouble sounds stupid. He’s supposed to be an adult now.

Supposedly.

Nathan shakes his head. “No, you’re okay. There’ll be opportunities to bring your grade up,” he says. “Actually, the professor is working with the university to help students who are struggling. We’re trying to match students up with student tutors. Are you interested?”

He isn’t, not really. But Dan nods anyway.

Nathan smiles, again. “Okay. I’ll email you once I know the details, okay?”

Dan just nods dumbly, slumped back in his seat.

“You’re free to go,” says Nathan.

“Oh,” says Dan. He stumbles to his feet, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and rushes out the door.

He has almost an hour left before his metaphysics lecture.

And he really needs coffee.

---

He gets the email with the details on a Tuesday.

A few hours later, he gets another email from a guy called Phil that’s a little less formal, a little more nerdy. It’s almost enough to put Dan at ease.

He reads it sitting in his ethics tutorial, waiting for the class to start.

Hello,

My name’s Phil and I’m going to be your tutor for ENGL10021. I’m a third year student doing English Language and Linguistics, by the way. I’ll be on campus tonight if you want to meet up. Let me know!

Phil ^.^

---

His brain feels numb when he leaves the tutorial.

Ethics is confusing. His brain is all muddled. There’s an essay coming up and the thought of it has his breaths coming quicker, tighter, a little too desperate. Dan clutches the straps of his bag and rushes down the stairs, almost stumbling over his own feet.

He needs more coffee.

Not that it fixes anything.

Dan ends up at Starbucks, one near campus that’s always too full. Someone pulls the door open. Dan rushes in before it falls closed. He feels jittery. His heart’s beating too fast.

He takes two steps into the store before realizing he’s not paying attention.

“Fucking shit. ”

Dan blinks. He’s standing still, suddenly, and there’s a boy standing in front of him, staring with wide eyes. His shirt is stained, wet and sticking to his skin.

It takes Dan a moment to realize he’s drenched in the shit, too.

“Fuck,” he repeats. “Watch where you’re fucking going, why don’t you?”

“I–” says the boy. He looks almost defensive, but it fades into something softer. “Sorry, I will. You should, too, though.”

Bitterness flares, angry, in Dan’s chest, but he doesn’t argue. The boy lingers there for a moment. He has black hair, cutting across his forehead in a fringe that mirrors Dan’s, and his eyes are still just a little too wide.

“I, uh, have a lecture,” the boy blurts. His coffee — iced, thankfully — is half empty, the plastic lid hanging off the straw, but he doesn’t bother to fix it before leaving.

Dan leaves without getting coffee.

---

His leg is bouncing when he sits down at the library.

The floor, Green 2 because it’s the only social one in the main library, is full of people chatting with their friends and Dan feels stupid, sitting at a table by himself. He didn’t even have time to go back to his room to pick up his English books.

He should have gotten coffee before coming, he thinks. It’s the only thing keeping him going by this point.

“Dan?”

He jumps, swivels in his chair and–

“Fuck, please don’t say you’re Phil.”

The boy standing there offers half a smile. “Sorry to disappoint?”

Dan’s leg starts bouncing again. His chest feels too tight. He tries to remember the topics for his ethics essay to distract himself, but all that does is make his breaths come faster, his mind go a little more hazy around the edges. He doesn’t want to think about philosophy.

Uni’s making him not want to think about anything.

“Hey, you okay?” says Phil.

He forces his eyes open. Phil’s sitting across from him now, his bag on the table. There’s a coffee-coloured stain on his shirt.

Dan helped put it there.

“I can’t fail this fucking class,” he says. “You can’t let me fail.”

Phil frowns. “Why would I let you fail?”

Dan shrugs, motioning vaguely towards Phil’s chest. He’s still not breathing properly.

“Oh, this?” Phil’s smile quirks wider, happier, a little more crooked. “It’s nothing. I’ll get my mum to wash it tonight and it’ll be fine.”

He sounds so genuine that Dan manages to stop jittering for a moment.

“Now, tell me about yourself?” says Phil. “What are you studying?”

Dan manages half a smile back. “Philosophy,” he says. “Since English clearly isn’t my strong suit.”

Phil laughs, and the tightness in Dan’s chest starts to fade.

---

“Did you get a chance to meet your tutor?” asks Nathan after the next tutorial.

Dan’s hand is hovering on the doorknob. Everyone else has already left, and part of him wonders why he didn’t rush out of his seat to avoid this conversation. He turns around, smiling.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you for arranging it.”

“Of course,” says Nathan. “Do you think he’ll be able to help you?”

His smile grows a little more genuine, then. He tries not to think of Phil telling him about the time he forgot to study for his first exam because he was too busy binge-watching Buffy for the too-manieth time. Dan had told him, in turn, about the time he forgot to study for A-levels because of Mortal Kombat.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Nathan just nods, and doesn’t say another word as Dan slips out the door.

---

“So I looked at your essay,” says Phil as he sits down at their next meeting.

He booked a room in the English department this time, one with big windows open into the hallway that make Dan want to squirm in his seat every time someone walks by. Not that it matters what the English profs think of him. He’s probably never going to come back after he’s done this course.

“And?”

Phil smiles. He drops Dan’s essay, annotated in red ink, onto the table between them and his backpack onto the floor. There’s a little Yoshi plushie hanging off the handle.

Seeing it eases just a bit of Dan’s anxiety.

“I think you overanalyze.”

“That’s what Nathan said, too,” says Dan. “I, uh, don’t really know what it means.”

Phil chuckles, but it doesn’t seem mocking. “It is kinda vague, huh?”

Dan nods. He reaches forward, grabbing the essay to read some of the notes Phil made, written in messier handwriting around Nathan’s.

“You’re a philosophy major, right?” says Phil.

He hums. “Yup.”

“That could explain it.”

“Oy!” Dan looks up. Phil’s leaning forward in his seat, grinning. “Is that a jab at my major?”

Phil lifts his hands, hitting himself in the forehead as he does, swiping his fringe away from his eyes. He laughs, and his tongue pokes out between his teeth, and something goes tight in Dan’s chest.

He tries not to think about it too much.

“Not at all,” says Phil. “Or maybe a little. I don’t know. You just seem like someone prone to overthinking things. But that’s not a bad thing.”

He seems sincere. Dan can’t bring himself to be upset about it.

His finger drifts along the edge of his essay as he looks back down.

“Fine, then tell me about this overanalyzing thing.”

---

By their fifth session, Dan knows more about Phil.

He knows about his schedule, which leaves his Tuesday afternoons free at the same time as Dan’s are and usually has them booking their meetings then. He knows he plays Mario games, like Dan does, and grew up playing something called Bubble Bobble that had Dan teasing him about being old.

Phil’s favourite type of book is horror, Dan had learned last week, after wondering if it was the type of story they were analyzing that made the class so hard.

“I couldn’t have done lit,” Phil had said. “All the character-driven plots would have driven me insane.”

Dan had bit at his lip, offered a grin. “I like them,” he’d said. “Even if I over-analyze them.”

Phil had nudged their feet together under the table, back at the library that time. “That’s why philosophy’s perfect for you,” he’d said, smiling.

He’s smiling again today, over the edge of his syntax textbook, as Dan highlights passages in a short story called The Yellow Wallpaper they were asked to read. Dan has to force himself to stare at the text instead of the way Phil’s eyes seem to shine in the too-bright light of the English Department.

Dan drops the highlighter when he’s finished reading. Phil’s textbook is already closed and resting on his lap when he looks up.

“You did well,” he says.

“You haven’t even looked over my work,” says Dan.

“I saw what you were doing.” There’s a hint of laughter in Phil’s eyes as he says it. He leans over the table, closer to Dan, and tugs the text towards him. “What’d you think of the ending?”

Dan groans, letting his body collapse onto the table. “Now you’re just asking me to overanalyze.”

Phil laughs, warm and happy, and knocks their knees together under the table. They’re sitting closer today.

That’s another thing that’s changed over the past few weeks.

“Unless you come up with a true conspiracy theory,” he says, “I really don’t think you can overanalyze this ending. It’s pretty abstract.”

“Pretty? It doesn’t even make sense.”

He glares at the story, groans, and presses his head into his elbow to ignore it, just for a moment.

Then Phil’s hand is settling on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You don’t have to write an essay on this one, remember?” he says. “You just have to understand it enough for a quiz.”

Dan smiles even though Phil can’t see it.

Phil’s hand stays on his shoulder until Dan lifts his head and gets back to work.

---

Their sixth meeting is back in the library.

Phil shows up with his backpack on his shoulders and two cups of coffee in his hands. He sets one, the one with Dan’s name scribbled across the side, in front of Dan, grinning.

“Do you like caramel macchiatos?”

Dan reaches for it. The cup is warm against his palm, the drink too hot when he takes a sip, but Dan smiles at the sweetness anyway. Of his drink, and, he realizes a moment after the feeling settles in his chest, of Phil, too.

“Yeah,” he says. “I like them.”

Phil’s smile only widens.

He takes the seat next to Dan, humming around a sip of his own drink as their knees brush together under the table.

“Good,” he says. “It’s getting chilly outside, you have to take care of yourself.”

Dan nods, presses his leg back against Phil’s. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” says Phil. “Besides, I have, uh, YouTube money to spend.”

His cheeks go a little pink, and Dan knows he should be taking out his essay outline to have Phil help him look it over, but he doesn’t want to. Not when Phil’s scratching at the black ink scribbled on the side of his cup with the tip of his fingernail, staring at the tabletop. Not when his leg is still pressed against Dan’s.

“You do YouTube?”

Phil’s chuckle is quiet, almost embarrassed. “Just a bit. It doesn’t actually make me enough money for Starbucks, but it’s fun,” he says.

“I do too,” says Dan, and Phil looks up, eyes wide. “Not enough to make any money, but it’s, uh fun. Yeah.”

“That’s awesome.” Phil’s smile has spread across his whole face again. “What kind of videos do you make? Would I like them?”

“Um, how do you feel about self deprecating humour and attempts at self-analysis?”

His gaze flits over Dan’s fringe, over his hoodie. “Let me guess, you went through an emo phase, too?”

“I’m not sure if I resent or appreciate your use of the past tense,” says Dan.

Phil laughs so much his tongue sticks out between his teeth and his shoulder presses against Dan’s.

Dan has to try very hard not to let warmth bubble up in his chest again, without coffee to blame this time.

---

They meet up at Starbucks the eighth time.

Dan has another caramel macchiato in his hands, his final essay laid out across the table between them. Phil has a croissant that has his fingers a little buttery, so he smudges oil on the paper whenever he points out an error. He picks it apart and pops bites into his mouth, grinning around them as Dan marks the recommendations in red pen.

“There’s not much to correct this time,” says Phil.

He still has a little bit of food in his mouth. Dan thinks he should probably be more disgusted than he is.

“I already corrected most of it,” he says, smiling to hide the warmth he feels in his cheeks.

Phil shrugs. “Still, you’re learning how to write for English instead of Philosophy,” he says. “It’s getting easier, isn’t it?”

The corner of his mouth is quirked up, his smile crooked. Dan doesn’t realize he’s drawn a slash of red ink across the page until Phil’s eyes crinkle with a quiet giggle.

“End of the semester getting to you?”

His foot nudges Dan’s. He blames how small the two-person Starbucks tables are, wedged into a corner like this with their long legs. It doesn’t keep his chest from going warm, though. He’s grown used to that, when Phil says something nice and he feels his whole body react to it.

“A bit,” says Dan. “It’s not even done yet. We’re just getting a break then it continues.”

“With exams,” says Phil. His nose crinkles, and Dan’s stomach goes tight. “It’s pretty much a study break.”

“I’m just gonna procrastinate studying until the last day, I already know it.”

Phil’s smile softens then. He takes another bite of his croissant, swallowing it with a sip of coffee, letting the silence linger. Dan takes a sip of his drink to fill it, to ignore the way his heart is suddenly pounding for no reason whatsoever.

“Maybe I could remind you to study?” says Phil. His cheeks have gone pink. He’s fidgeting over the table so much Dan’s fairly certain he’s going to tear his bread to shreds. “You know, if you give me your number.”

Dan wants to quip that they’d probably get too distracted talking to actually study, but his throat goes tight before he can. He hands over his phone, and tries not to let Phil see his smile.

Tries not to admit he’ll miss this, once his English class is over.

Phil texts him, and grins when Dan’s phone vibrates on the tabletop. He doesn’t go to grab it at first, but Phil keeps staring at him, all wide eyes and expectation.

Dan can’t help but smile when he reads the messages.

Hi it’s Phil ^.^ I was thinking we should meet up after your exam

if you want I mean

no pressure

He grins as he types back: ill text u when i get out

Phil clicks his tongue. “Grammar, Dan. You’ll never get your grade up like this.”

Dan’s laugh rumbles as they both set their phones down to finish their drinks, to look over the rest of Dan’s paper.

Their legs are still brushing under the table.

---

They text over winter break.

There’s a conversation on the train about whether all the snow is melting as he gets further south. And another where Phil asks about his childhood bedroom, for whatever reason. Dan sends him a picture of Bangy just so he can sit down on the sofa and imagine the way Phil’s eyes gleam when he’s happy.

He gets a message on Christmas morning that comes with a picture of Phil in his pyjamas, hugging a gift box to his chest.

Dan smiles so wide his mum asks who he’s texting in the lilted voice that makes his cheeks burn red. He hopes Phil can’t tell in the photo he sends back.

They do talk about schoolwork, sometimes, in timed study sessions. Dan’s pretty sure he’s too distracted to remember anything about Parfit or Kant or Plato, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he needs to catch up on studying, alone late at night, and not when Phil admits studying together is a little distracting, too.

One time, Phil makes a comment about how they’ll need to play their new games together sometime.

Another, Dan insinuates that Phil will see his room back at uni, and Phil doesn’t protest.

And there’s a text on New Years, at midnight, that makes Dan’s whole body go warm and giddy, just a little bit of alcohol in his stomach and a lot of thoughts he probably shouldn’t have in his head.

He’s dreading finals when break ends, but he smiles the whole train ride home.

---

They meet up outside Starbucks after the final.

Or, well, between Starbucks and the lecture hall when Dan wrote the test, because Phil’s walking towards him, bag slung over one shoulders, bobble hat on his head.

Dan’s steps are bouncy. His shoulders feel light, his bag filled with only his wallet and pencil case, a whole semester of work falling away. He doesn’t mean to when he reaches out, wraps an arm around Phil’s shoulders, but Phil’s arm curls at his waist and he’s pretty sure it’s okay.

Phil’s grinning. His cheeks are rosy, the tip of his nose red with winter cold. Dan smoothes a bare hand across his cheek. His heart is racing with the knowledge that he can, that Phil isn’t flinching away.

And he kisses him, soft and warm and grateful.

Phil kisses back.

His whole body feels warm when he pulls away, even as the wind sweeps under his jacket. His cheeks, he knows, are bright red. So are Phil’s, though.

“Shit,” says Dan.

“What?”

“Didn’t mean to do that.”

The corner of Phil’s mouth quirks, eyes falling to the ground between them. His blush blooms up his cheeks, pinkening the tips of his ears more than the cold already had. Dan’s not sure if it’s intentional or caused by nerves when Phil squeezes his hip.

“I’m glad you did,” says Phil. His voice is shaky. He draws away slowly, tucking his hands into his pockets and tilting his head so the bobble on his hat flops to the side. “Still want coffee?”

“As long as you’re not going to tutor me again.”

Phil laughs and leads the way to Starbucks.