#who needs 7 stupid ass cringe ass forms anyway

[afterartist]

I love all versions of Godzilla and there definitely isn’t any version I hate

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids) 

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as: 

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Or

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

Or

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline. 

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass. 

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts. 

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. 

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate. 

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table. 

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved. 

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer. 

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...” 

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning. 

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels. 

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom. 

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out. 

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets. 

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock. 

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes. 

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

 “Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine. 

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother. 

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer. 

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang. 

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag. 

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol. 

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye. 

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs. 

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy. 

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.” 

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan. 

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere. 

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion. 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast. 

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?” 

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends. 

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music. 

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?” 

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself. 

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card. 

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection. 

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled. 

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention. 

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible. 

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was. 

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence. 

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned. 

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled. 

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit. 

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie. 

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine. 

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases. 

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request. 

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him. 

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused. 

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow. 

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body. 

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes. 

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe. 

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff. 

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

 Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile. 

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”  

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose. 

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed. 

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist. 

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells. 

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon. 

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side. 

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

[emy-loves-you]

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 2

Breakfast and Disney

Virgil decides to text Roman again. They have a fun argument over Disney movies.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and sex, vulgar language, and openly trans character

Chapter 1 | Masterlist | Chapter 3

Virgil woke up to a splitting headache. He immediately screwed his eyes shut, hands going to grip his hair. The lights were too bright, his throat was too dry, and he’s pretty sure there’s someone sleeping next to him. What the hell happened?

The memories hit him like a freight train. Arriving late to the party, meeting Mr. Sanders (“Call me Thomas,” he had said, flashing his perfect smile with his perfect teeth and perfect lips), and signing him up as a potential producer. Technically they had enough money and popularity to keep their band afloat without a producer, but to get such an influential man on their team was a dream come true. They got back to Janus’ house at around 2 AM, where they promptly got wasted. Virgil could still taste whatever expensive shit Janus had grabbed from the cellar. Speaking of Janus...

Virgil slowly opened his eyes, nearly hissing at the light shining through the giant windows. He looked over from his spot on the floor (how did he get there?) and found Janus and Remus cuddling together, a bottle of wine nestled between them. Remus was drooling, and Virgil noticed multiple hickeys along Janus’ throat. Virgil smiled as he got up. His two friends and essentially brothers had an odd relationship, but Virgil respected it. It was obvious that they were in love, but they didn’t want to put a label on it yet. They had offered for Virgil to join them, but he had declined. While Virgil did care for the other two deeply, he didn’t share the same spark that they did.

Virgil eventually found his way to the bathroom, quickly losing whatever remained in his stomach. He sat on the cold tile, waiting for the nausea to pass. He hadn’t drank that much in a long time. He should ask Janus if he can bring one of those bottles home. He’ll probably bitch for a few days (Janus liked to use alcohol as an excuse for Virgil to come over) but he’ll get over it.

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

Virgil grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket (why was he still wearing his jacket?) and turned off his 10 AM alarm. He almost always woke up before his alarm went off, but his anxiety made him use the alarm anyways. He quickly checked for any new messages, and noticed his rather lackluster response to Roman helping him yesterday. He helped me get through an anxiety attack, and all I had to say was ‘thank you?’ The least I could do is apologize. Before his hungover brain could remind him of how stupid of an idea that was, he had already sent a text.

V- (10:02 AM) Hey, I just wanted to apologize for last night. You ended up being right, my friend was just running late. I ended up having a pretty good time, all things considered. Thanks for helping me through that attack. It meant a lot to me. I was still a little disoriented last night so I wasn’t wanting to type much. Again, thank you for helping a stranger. You're a good guy, Princey.

Before Virgil could second-guess himself, he locked his phone and got up. He quickly took some painkillers and went to find some form of a healthy breakfast. Virgil had always been self-conscious of how he looked, so he tended to eat light and work out when possible. He ended up finding enough eggs and veggies to make a few omelets. Virgil decided to make his last, knowing that Remus and Janus would be awake before the first one was finished. Sure enough, as soon as the first omelet was ready to be flipped, Remus was skipping into the kitchen, dragging a disgruntled Janus behind him. How that man had any energy this early in the morning with a hangover was a mystery to Virgil. He quickly served Remus his omelet, who proceeded to pour an obscene amount of salt onto it. Virgil cringed as he turned to make Janus’ omelet. He tuned out their conversation until he heard his name.

“Well I think Virgil should sleep with him-”

Virgil whipped around so fast that he almost burned himself on the stove. “WHAT?!?”

Remus scoffed, twirling his fork between his fingers. “While Tomathy did seem pretty convinced last night, a little bit of extra persuasion never hurt anybody. While I would normally volunteer, I don’t think that man has ever seen a vagina, much less wants to fuck one. And he seemed to be afraid of Janny over here, so you’re it, pumpkin.”

Virgil blushed, turning back to omelet making. Janus sighed, “Remus, darling, I don’t believe that Mr. Sanders requires any more... incentive. However, if Virgil decided to pursue that type of relationship with him... I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Virgil let out a squeak, his face even redder as he gave Janus his food. Remus laughed. “What’s the matter, Veevee? Cat got your dick? Even if you don’t sleep with Mr. Business, you should still get around more! Sex is good for the soul.”

Virgil flipped him off, resulting in another chuckle. He turned back to make his own omelet. Sure, Virgil hadn’t been in a relationship since, well, ever, but that wasn’t his fault! He just hadn’t found the right person yet, that’s all! Besides, Virgil didn’t do one night stands. The idea of sleeping with a stranger left a knot in his stomach.

By the time Virgil sat down with his omelet, Remus was already done. He started bouncing around ideas for new songs, with Virgil or Janus occasionally adding their own ideas.

Bzzz

Virgil glanced at his phone, seeing that he had a response from Roman. He went to unlock his phone.

“Who’s that?”

Virgil jumped, staring face-to-face with Janus. He could see where Janus’ question was coming from, since before now Virgil only ever texted Janus and Remus. “Just a random guy that I accidentally texted last night. I didn’t really apologize well last night, so I texted him again earlier today.” Janus and Remus both smirked. "I swear to god, whatever you two are thinking, it's wrong."

Janus tilted his head, looking like an innocent little angel (innocent my ass). "Whatever would we be thinking about, Virgil?" He turned to look at Remus. "Is this why Virgil found the idea of sleeping with Mr. Sanders so scandalous?" Virgil groaned, hoping that his meal would distract him from the cackling idiots in front of him.

By the time Virgil (finally) got home, wine tucked under one arm, he had almost forgotten about Roman's text. He quickly checked it, almost snorting at what he saw.

R-(10:35 AM) What can I say except you're welcome! Seriously, it was no problem. I'm happy that you had a good time at the party. It was a pleasure to help, storm cloud.

Virgil was halfway through typing a response before he stopped. Technically he could leave the text as it is and move on like nothing happened. On the other hand, Roman seemed like a fun guy to talk to. Surely he would tell Virgil if he wanted to stop talking to him, right? He ended up sending the text anyways, wanting to see if Roman would respond.

V- (11:45 AM) Really, you're gonna start your text with a Moana reference? You really are a Disney Prince, aren't ya Princey? And what's with the 'storm cloud' anyway?

Virgil expected a lot of things. Roman could block his number. He could poke fun at Virgil's anxiety attack from last night. He could take forever to respond, just to ask Virgil to never text him again. What Virgil didn't expect, however, was for an immediate, yet passionate, response.

R- (11:46 AM) DISNEY IS A BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECE THAT WILL ALWAYS HOLD A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART.

R- (11:46 AM) Sorry, I got a little emotional I REALLY like Disney. And the reason I called you 'storm cloud' is because you didn't give me another name to call you, storm cloud. And I will take the Disney prince jab as a complement.

Virgil laughed, already typing out a response. He probably shouldn't be giving out his name to a near stranger, but he didn't think it would matter much. Virgil Storm was a nobody, a reject from the foster system. Sure, he was secretly singer/songwriter Anxiety, but Roman didn't need to know that.

V- (11:47 AM) Sorry, the name's Virgil, he/him pronouns. And I didn't mean it as a jab, Disney's got a place in my heart too.

R- (11:48 AM) REALLY!?!? WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE DISNEY MOVIE? DISNEY CLASSICS OR PIXAR? FAVORITE DISNEY PRINCESS? THESE ARE ALL VERY IMPORTANT

V- (11:48 AM) Um, okay. Nightmare Before Christmas, Classics, and does Elsa count as a Disney Princess?

R- (11:49 AM) Nope. Elsa is QUEEN. WE WILL NOT SLANDER SUCH A GODDESS!

V- (11:49 AM) Geez, let it go, Princey

R- (11:49 AM) N(ice) one

V- (11:49 AM) Then I've gotta go with Cinderella. She decided to make one slightly bad decision last her entire life, as opposed to other princesses making a decision that immediately through their lives away. Though that is what makes the movie interesting.

R- (11:50 AM) What do you mean?

V- (11:50 AM) Disney is known for being pure and innocent, but it contains tons of sinister undertones.

R- (11:50 AM) Not all of them!

V- (11:50 AM) Let's play a game then, we each pick a movie and describe the message that we believe the audience was supposed to receive.

R- (11:51 AM) Alrighty then, I'll go first. Cinderella: Believe in your dreams and, one day, they will come true.

V- (11:51 AM) Sure, just literally wait around your entire life, subjecting yourself to the cruelty of your ungrateful ignorant family members, until some MAGICAL fairy comes along to save you. Don't take action yourself. Not to mention man can't memorize the face of a woman they've been dancing around with for hours, they have to rely on the shoe, ergo men are idiots.

R- (11:52 AM) He was a very busy prince! He had a lot on his mind.

V- (11:52 AM) Fine, what do you think about Snow White?

R- (11:52 AM) Okay. So this time the message is to NOT do what the Princess did: Don't accept random fruit from strangers.

V- (11:53 AM) The bigger message is to just run away from your problems and become a housekeeper for 7 men. Not to mention a Prince comes out of nowhere and plants a kiss on a seemingly sleeping girl? I guess consent isn't really that important?

R- (11:54 AM) He thought she was DEAD! It was a farewell kiss!

R- (11:54 AM) Okay, how about Peter Pan. Don't let your childhood spirit ever die.

V- (11:55 AM) Also it's totally fine to believe a random stranger when they tell you to jump out a window after they've broken into your house. But I guess that's how your whole being would die.

R- (11:55 AM) COME ON! Can you REALLY look down so harshly on these movies?!?

V- (11:55 AM) I still like them! There's just some darker messages that we don't first see.

R- (11:56 AM) Bambi

V- (11:56 AM) Man is dangerous

R- (11:56 AM) Pocahontas

V- (11:56 AM) White man is dangerous

R- (11:56 AM) SLEEPING BEAUTY

V- (11:56 AM) Well now we’re back to the lack of consent with sleeping women

R- (11:56 AM) IT WAS TO LIFT A CURSE!!

V- (11:57 AM) Am I wrong?

R- (11:58 AM) …No, I suppose not. I guess there are darker aspects that I did not take into account. HOWEVER, that doesn’t mean that those movies are intending on teaching such… immoral lessons.

V- (11:58 AM) And I never said that they were. That’s just my interpretation of them. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

When 5 minutes passed with no response, Virgil deemed it the end of that conversation. He went to go take a shower (he still smelt like alcohol and vomit) and hopefully get some ideas for his next song. Maybe something about interpretations?

By the time Virgil was out of the shower and fully dressed, there was a new message on his phone. He went to check it and was surprised by what he saw.

R- (12:12 PM) Virgil, in the span of just 30 minutes, you have given me one of the most invigorating debates I have ever gone through. I would really like to have another one in the future. Would you like to join a group chat with me and my friends, Patton and Logan? I have a feeling that you would get along quite nicely. You are not obligated under any means, but I can see that we have the potential to be great friends. What d’ya say, storm cloud?

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Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!):

@bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess

[lethargic-caterpillar]

Cliffs (final)

Gender Neutral! Merperson x Gender Neutral! Reader

If you need some catching up: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

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The weather forecast is almost never right. When the 7-day prediction says it’s all sunny plus 25 from Monday to Sunday, it’s actually overcast with at least a few bouts of pissing rain. Though at times it can be sort of correct, it was better to plan outdoor activities to fit a day to day observation of the clouds. 

Today, the forecast predicts that it is to be very nice indeed. Sunshine all day with very little in terms of cloud cover, the rare kind of beach day that the little sea-side port town gets. Mostly it is chilly, the mornings full of mist from the harbour and the rest of the day a t-shirt and long pants temperature. But you want to take a chance.

Pulling on your colourful, itchy wool sweater just in case, that your wetsuit graciously protected you from, and packing bare essentials for a beach trip. You march right past your grandmother, who is sitting at the kitchen island.

“I will be back by supper,” you wave, yanking the duck shoes on quickly. Your mother, used to these trips by now, provides little commentary while your grandmother sips her tea a little more bitterly. She still isn’t sold on the cove being 100% safe.

It is safe, safe for you at least. In the beginning you were apprehensive, but now it feels like Idocrase won’t hurt you for all of the cheap thrift store necklaces in the world. You of course continue to buy them after the reaction to the first one. The jewelry pieces that followed after do not match their skins unique pattern, but they love them anyways.

Sea glass isn’t the only treasure you were given, you have a shoe box of old, tarnished rings, earrings, lenses from sunglasses, and the most common gift: fish hooks. These last ones you keep in a small plastic container for whenever you pull out the trinkets. They don’t smell the greatest and probably aren’t safe at all but it doesn’t feel right to throw them out. 

You’ve gotten a little bit bolder with your trips down to the rock beach. Not crouching down to touch your hands to the ground every time your feet slide against the loose rocks. Of course you aren’t stupid about sliding down or running, wouldn’t want another sprained wrist. Then your grandmother will really have a field day.

Covering your eyes against the bright sun reflected off the water, you don’t look up to see a figure perched on the rock off to the side. That is, until the singing starts. It’s wordless, or at least there are not any words that you can make out. It sounds… familiar and melancholy.

Nonsensically, your mind replays the video of a border collie in a watermelon costume. After a moment of adjusting to the light you look up at the figure, wondering why anybody is down here. The whole town avoids it like the plague, safe from even ass hat high school students. But with even a quick look you realise that this is no ordinary person. Or even a person at all necessarily, but your mer. 

Even after all of the time you’ve spent down in the small ring of tall cliffs, you’d never had the chance to see them above the water. The blue and brown mottled skin continues down their tail, black spots appear half way down though, gathering until the end of it, and their caudal fin is solid obsidian. 

Oddly, you realised just then that you weren’t being lured into the water, transfixed by your own interest only. You realised, also, that the song was a lullaby that you had taught them about a week ago. It was something you only vaguely remembered hearing from an old, Winnie the pooh mobile from the thrift store.

Smiling to yourself, you continue down the rock beach, placing your bag and sweater gently on a large flat rock. Being quiet proves to be a bit more difficult once you are near the water and you accidentally kick one of the smaller stones into the water. It hits with the tiniest sploosh in the world, but this is enough to startle Idocrase.

They scramble off the rock and none to gracefully flop into the water with a small shriek. The sound of their sharp nails on the dry rock makes you cringe a bit but you laugh at the sight. Your giggles die down as you spot their green eyes glaring at you from just behind the rock. 

“Come on,” you tease, placing your hands on your hips. “It’s a little bit funny.” Idocrase narrows their eyes a little bit more and they make a low grumbling.

Steeling yourself with a few deep breaths and a countdown from three, you waddle into the dark water. Goosebumps form on your thighs and arms immediately. “Coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold!” Your squealing dies down a bit after all the sensitive places are underwater and you know you’re close to the sudden drop off into deep water.

Bouncing on your toes, you plug your nose and think back to what your grandpa said when he took you boating. Just like a band-aid. Dunking yourself the rest of the way you shake out your hair. It feels nice to be under the waves again after so long without. 

Things had gotten so hectic during the summers, that you barely had any time to go down to the less populated day-use area. You used to swim just past the buoys, tread water for two minutes or so and then swim back. You’re barely under for more than a few seconds when hands clamp around your waist and hoist you back up.

Even with your hair in your eyes, you know who ‘saved’ you by the rapid clicking. Lifting up a section of the wet, tangled strands to see your mer, you’re met with Idocrase sticking their face up in yours. It’s a bit of a shock to see them so close to you without the board, one that you quickly get over.

You shove the rest of your hair away from your face and then place your hands on Idocrase’s shoulders, the cold skin feeling not quite right despite the many times you’ve come into direct contact with them.

“Hi,” you whisper, unsure of what to say now that you’ve taken the leap. They coo in response, smoothing out your hair more. They flick their tail, causing it to brush up against your leg and propel you both a little further out.

As soon as your feet leave the sand, Idocrase hums the lullaby. They pull you closer tentatively and you hook your arms under theirs, careful of the spikes on their spine. The necklace they wear is freezing against your fingers, just as the water is but you don’t want to get out just yet.

It’s silly and cheesy but in the moment you wish you could pause it, stay in the cove surrounded by cliffs forever.

---

The missing piece! The puzzle is now complete. I don’t know if anyone gets down to this point, but how does the exo community think of more platonic monster stories? Less heavily implied romance stuffs.

Writing is hard but sleeping more so: A Lethargic Caterpillar~

[moro-nokimi]

Chapter 6: January 6, 2011

Summary: All hell breaks loose.

AN: HERE WE GO LESBIANS THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER.  Okay, excitement aside, when Light screams and collapses, google search “Light Yagami confession italian” - first result on youtube is the one you want. Would also recommend google searching “Struts somebody new” after the January 22 pagebreak, but it isn’t mandatory. I just like to torture my readers. TWs: death of a loved one, suicide, burning. Ask to tag.

ffn.online

“How’s it going, Gevanni?” Rester asked.

“I haven’t been able to confirm the presence of a Shinigami for the past week. And Mikami’s still on his regular routine.”

“I think it’s safe now,” Near said.

“Huh?”

(Poor guy looked wiped the fuck out, no wonder he was a bit slow in the brain area.)

“I want you to get your hands on the notebook again when you go to the gym tomorrow. And this time, take photographs of all the pages.”

“Photographs?” Rester repeated.

“Yes. I want to see for myself how the names are actually written. Most of Kira’s killings occur after midnight, but I want to find out if that’s because of Mikami’s clockwork life, or if he’s controlling the time of death. And if there are any rules to the way he writes the names down, if he has any habits… What does this notebook look like? Its appearance, front cover, back cover. I want to see all the small details with my own eyes.”

“All right.”

January 7 “So, what do you think, Near?” Rester asked.

“Gevanni has done well.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Rester sounded exasperated, and Naomi couldn’t hold in a snicker.

“Relax, Rester. This will all go more or less smoothly,” Naomi said.

“You sound convinced.”

Because if I die I see Raye again. And if I don’t, I get revenge. Either way, I’ll be at peace and I can move on.

“The handwriting on this matches Mikami’s handwriting on the investigation records he wrote as a prosecutor. This is definitely written by Mikami," Near said.

“Right.”

“Apart from Demegawa and the man on the train, everyone else’s name is written in after midnight. And only their names have been written down. A page per day. He stops killing people when the page is full. Yes, looks like I can put my plan into action.

“Commander Rester, get me Gevanni. … The photographs are very clear. We should be able to do it, then,” Near said.

“Right…?”

“But I was expecting the killer notebook to be much stranger, with some kind of magical power radiating from it. But it really is an ordinary notebook, just like Mello said.”

“Like he’d have a reason to lie when he came to HQ for an exchange?” Naomi pointed out.

“Still, you never know.”

“Either way, it still looks like a regular college notebook.”

“I can see that,” Naomi said.

“Anyways, the important thing is that your name isn’t written down in this, Gevanni,” Near said.

“Uh huh.”

“The notebook at the Japanese task force headquarters is under Mr Aizawa’s surveillance. So long as this notebook isn’t possessed by a Shinigami, I think it’s safe to say that you’re not being controlled by another Kira.”

“I told you that I’m fine. Do I look like I’m being controlled? If I was, I wouldn’t have been able to take those photographs in the first place,” Gevanni replied, distinctly peeved. Ah, I remember the days I’d be annoyed at a superior for supposed micromanagement.

“Just to be safe, please go down to the hospital to receive a complete physical exam to see if you’ve developed any illness.”

“Okay…”

“If you’re still alive 23 days after the first time you touched the notebook—on January 23rd—it means there was no Shinigami possessing the notebook when you touched it, and Mikami doesn’t know about you. And if there is no Shinigami, then there should be no problem with you tailing him, so after January 23rd, at the first possible opportunity, we’re going to settle this fight once and for all.

“Until then, we’ll concentrate on Light Yagami, Kiyomi Takada, and Teru Mikami—as we’ve been doing so far. But there’s one last thing we must do—every one of us, but especially you, Gevanni… I’m going to have to ask you to do something.”

⁂

Naomi exhaled and laid on her back. It was quickly approaching five in the morning, and she hadn’t slept since she woke up at six the previous day. Nausea was starting to set in. Whether it was from the sleep deprivation or the fact that she could only stomach liquid, only time would tell.

She stood and walked to the kitchen for what felt like the fifth time that day. Rester had went to sleep roughly an hour ago, and Gevanni had came in about 45 minutes ago. Stupidly enough, she was thinking about when Lidner would next come in.

Stupid.

Her and Lidner hadn’t seen much of each other since that spat and the fact that Lidner had the luck to come into that bodyguard job, but she managed to luck out—in its loosest form of use—and meet with Lidner.

“Listen, I really do want to say that I’m sorry for… bringing up your fiance like that,” Lidner said, cringing as she paused. “I definitely crossed a line and I’m sorry.”

Part of Naomi had wanted to say that she should fucking well be; there are plenty of things that are off limits and bringing up dead people close to you is one of them. Before she knew it, she was nodding. “I definitely shouldn’t have snapped at you as quickly as I did—even in having my grief prodded at like that.”

Lidner nodded. “It’s all right, I don’t blame you. Truce?”

They shook hands.

She was grateful to not have that to worry about, to say the least. The last thing she needed was to be perpetually kicking herself for spilling her guts to Lidner like that and reacting the way she did.

January 22 “It went well. I did everything you said.”

“Okay.” Vertebrae cracked in Near’s neck as he rotated it to get a closer look at his action figure. “Now, I want you to keep your eyes on Mikami as you’ve been doing, until the 24th. If you don’t notice anything different about Mikami by then, we’ll go head to head against L right away.”

Lidner walked in at midnight.

“Oh. You’re still here,” she said.

Naomi nodded. “Fortunately or not. I can’t sleep for the life of me.”

“Yeah, I feel you. Gevanni’s whiny ass is constantly talking about how screwed up his sleep schedule is, but I can’t say as I blame the man. Near gave me the rundown as to what was going on. Sounds exciting.” Lidner wiggled her toes as she stepped out of her heels. Naomi didn’t envy her.

“Agreed.” And here was the part that stuck in Naomi’s throat even as she rehearsed what she’d say. “Um, listen… if all doesn’t go well when we meet with L, I do want to say that I—”

Emotionally, it felt like Naomi had been hit in the chest with a sack of bricks. She didn’t feel it physically, thankfully, because that was always a sign that a panic attack was coming—and no one wanted to have a panic attack in front of a woman they were even remotely into.

She exhaled. “I’m going about this badly. I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time.”

“It’s all right. I think I’m overdue for having my time wasted by someone that’s not Kiyomi Takada.”

Naomi nodded, too wired to laugh however briefly. “I’m trying to say that I have f—” She winced. “I have fff—I like you a lot. A lot, a lot.”

“I would hope so. Having two coworkers at each others throats isn’t conducive to an environment like this one.” Lidner cleared her throat. “Lampshading aside, I…”

“I mean it’s fine if you don’t reciprocate I was just—” Naomi really regretted this now. Regret plus feeling like you’re replacing your dead fiance isn’t exactly conducive to coherency of a confession of romantic feelings of your coworker to said coworker.

“Hey! It’s all good. Truth be told, I like you that much too.”

Naomi exhaled. One thing out of her way. “But the thing is… I mean, I don’t want to presume or anything—”

“I don’t think you’d be presuming anything.” Lidner ran her tongue along her lower teeth. “If you’re talking about getting into a romantic relationship, I can say as I’m not ready for it.”

“Oh—Jesus, that’s a relief—I mean, I’m not either.” Naomi hit herself upside the head. “This is coming out badly.”

“It’s all good, I get what you’re trying to say. In the future, perhaps, but…”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s not a good idea. And working for Near in the middle of the most controversial case in the world is a full time job.”

“Agreed.”

In an unexpected reaction, Lidner leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Naomi’s cheek. She retreated down the hall. Naomi didn’t realize she was repressing tears until her entire head and neck began to ache.

January 25 “I think this plan’s going to work,” Rester said.

“Gevanni here.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve checked the notebook. It’s been one page per day, as always, for the past three days. Those who’ve been killed match with the names in the notebook as well. And there’s nothing different about Mikami.”

“I see…”

“Everything’s set,” Rester said.

“Yes.”

Near called L two and some change hours later. “L.”

“What is it, Near?” L asked.

“I want to meet you.”

“Uh huh…”

“There’s something I must show you that pertains to the Kira case.”

So is that how he’s phrasing things? But I suppose that’s better sounding than “I’m about to show your entire team who you are and completely destroy you and your reputation with them.”

“But if you think I’m Kira, right? Then you shouldn’t want to show your face to me.”

“Well, I can’t really show you anything unless I show my face. Showing my face will reveal something, of course, and then will bring the case to a close.”

“Very well. I want you to realize that you’re wrong.”

You have a lot of nerve to say that, don’t you? You know, that arrogance will be what brings you down.

And I can’t wait to watch it happen.

“There are several rules I must ask you to follow in order for us to meet.”

“Go ahead. You’re the one who suspects me of being Kira, so I’m sure you want to state which conditions we meet under. We don’t have any.”

“First of all, investigators from both sides are to be there. In other words, everyone who is looking for Kira will be there when we meet each other.”

“Why all of our investigators?”

“If you and I are to meet face to face, there ought to be witnesses. And even if I succeed in proving that you’re Kira, you could always take the extreme of strangling me.” Near’s brow furrowed as he added, “We’ve all been risking our lives to find Kira. if I prove Kira’s identity there, then everyone has the right—no, the responsibility—to attend. And by having everyone there, I want to make sure that any information about this meeting or my face doesn’t go public.” Near took a breath. “Everyone on this case will see what happens at this meeting—and after they see the outcome and the reality of the whole story, we’ll cooperate and decide what to do next.”

“Okay, I’m fine with that.”

Near moved his hand closer to the Misa figurine he made, hands splayed almost like an OK sign. “As I said before, there are five of us, including me. That’s everyone in the SPK. I’ll have Mr Mogi, who I’m keeping in my custody, accompany me there. I’ll release Amane before that—” and to demonstrate, he flicked the figurine, “and be sure not to tell her where we’ll be meeting.” The figurine rolled. “You can meet me after you make sure she’s actually been released. How does that sound?”

“Very well.”

Near began to stand. “Mr Aizawa will be able to tell you if the five people you see, plus Mr Mogi, are the real members of the SPK.”

“To me, it doesn’t really matter if the person who appears there is Near or not. You’ve just been stressing that point because you believe that I’m Kira, and that I won’t appear unless I know that you’re really going to come—right?”

Near paused, considering his actions.

What sort of attempted checkmate is this? You know this, the task force knows this, the rest of us know this. And the task force is—I assume—not largely full of idiots. And I’d think you’d have learned your lesson after the whole Lind L Tailor incident almost a decade ago.

“We’ve had many conversations like this in the past. Even if I don’t know your face, I’m sure I can figure out if it’s the real you once I talk to you in person. But I’ll make sure to have Aizawa tell me to double check.”

“I agree with that…”

I think, if I took a scalpel and some other tools to his skull, I’d find the gears turning in his head, Naomi thought.

“We have five investigators including me and Mogi. You’ll have to trust me on that. We’re a small group of people chasing Kira in a world like this, so I’d like to quickly settle this problem and cooperate with you and your team.”

“Very well…” Near settled into a position almost similar to her unprivate detective acquaintance in LA. “As for the place we’re going to meet, I’m thinking of one where the people inside can’t be seen from the outside.”

“You suspect me of being Kira, so it’s the natural thing to do.”

“I want it to be a place that can’t be seen even with telescopic lenses and whatnot, so I’d rather it had four walls and a roof.”

“Do you have some place in mind?"

“Daikoku Wharf. There’s an abandoned warehouse on the southeast side, called the yellow box. If that’s fine with you, I’ve taken the liberty of buying it. There’s nothing around it, and the place is empty as well. I’m sending you an image.”

Near smirked. “It’s not locked, so you can go and see it for yourself whenever you want to. And if you don’t like it, I can look for another place.” He smiled toothily. “And each of us can check for hidden cameras when we enter the building.”

“Do you have any other requirements to make sure that your face isn’t known to anyone outside of that warehouse?"

“Yes. I’d like to prohibit any communication equipment when you enter. That’s to ensure that nothing that goes on on the inside gets leaked. And to be sure that no one takes a photograph of me on their phone.”

Naomi held in laughter. What a nice callback to the incident with the girl on the train.

“No communication equipment. Okay.”

“I’d also like someone apart from L to bring the notebook from your headquarters.”

“Why do you need it?"

Near reached for a clay replica of the notebook. “Simple. If every one of you leaves the headquarters, no one will be left to guard the notebook. I promise you that I won’t try to take it from you. And I’ll refrain from touching it. If Mr Aizawa claims that the notebook you brought is the one from headquarters, I’ll believe it. But, again, please make sure that someone other than L is carrying it. Understood?”

“Very well, Near. But I can’t overlook the chances of you conspiring with someone on my side to steal the notebook. I won’t carry the notebook, but I’ll choose who carries it. Is that okay?”

“Yes. The only thing that’s left to settle is the date and time of our meeting.” Near got onto all fours.

“Of course…”

“How about three days from now, on the 28th at one PM?”

“Any time’s fine with us.”

“Remember, three days from now at three o’clock.”

“Yes.”

January 26 “Near, Mello kidnapped Takada,” Lidner relayed.

Near paused. “Lidner, have you been leaking information about our investigation to Mello?”

Lidner paused. “Yes… But I haven’t told him about Mikami.”

“If that’s the case, we should still be okay. But if Mello finds out about Mikami from Takada and seeks him out, this will all be a waste. I want you to find Takada—no. I want you to stop Mello at all costs.”

“But—”

Near’s tone brokered no argument: “Do it.”

“All right.”

Near called L.

A task force member said, “It’s Near. Maybe it’s his usual ‘I took the liberty of confining her’ routine.”

“L, I’m not the one who kidnapped Takada.”

“I see. Then that means… Mello.”

“Yes. I’ll be honest with you. The individual I have guarding Takada has told me so.”

“Near, don’t you have means of contacting him?”

“It’s no use. I can try to contact Mello, but he’ll never respond to me. He must plan on capturing Kira himself, using Takada as bait.” Near pouted and twirled around the microphone. “I didn’t want him interfering for the next three days, and I really do mean that.”

“Very well. I trust your words and I believe that you’re not collaborating with Mello.”

“I’m going to track them down with everything I’ve got.”

“I’ll do the same.”

⁂

“So, please keep your eyes on Mikami as long as possible, making sure to arrive at Daikoku Wharf by one PM on the 28th.” Everyone in the room minus Lidner gave acknowledgement.

The screen beeped. “It’s Lidner,” Rester said.

“Get her on the screen please.”

“Near.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I never thought that Mello would…”

“It’s okay.” Near moved down to eye level with his figurines. “Everything will be fine so long as Light Yagami goes through with our meeting as planned.”

He called L.

“L.”

“Yes?”

“Granted, we’ve had some distractions. But I want to confirm our meeting is staying where it was.”

“Of course.”

“As for our conditions—they’ll remain in place. Right?”

You’re practically daring him to say no, aren’t you, Naomi thought.

“Yes. I didn’t set any of the conditions anyways.”

“Then I’ll see you on the 28th.”

He hung up.

“Gevanni?”

“Yes?”

Near wiggled his L figurine on his finger. Naomi wanted to crawl out of her skin. “Will you make it?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Commander Rester, Lidner, Gevanni, Maki… Let’s put our best into this.”

Naomi nodded.

Relief and anxiety curled up in her chest and made their homes.

January 28 “I’m heading down with Mr Mogi and Amane in my car,” Lidner reported.

“Mikami went to work at the usual time. Nothing out of the ordinary," Gevanni reported.

“Start heading over there,” Near instructed.

“Will do.”

Near called the task force.

“Good morning, everyone.” He brought a knee up to his chest and rested his temple on it. “For starters, I’ve released Amane. You can call her if you’d like to check for yourself.”

“Near, please get Mogi on the line for me. In order for us to bring the notebook, we need a PIN number that only Mogi knows.”

“I’ll get him right away.” Near patched Mogi through to the rest of the task force.

"Near, I have the notebook right here. I’ll take it along with me,” Aizawa says.

“Are you sure about Mr Aizawa handing the notebook?” Near asked.

“I’ve decided that Aizawa would be the best choice.”

If Naomi could’ve, she would’ve glared at L. This was just plain irritating. The second his face got rubbed in the fact that the SPK was right all along, she could die happy.

“Thank you. See you at the warehouse, then.”

Naomi threw up a wave as Aizawa entered the warehouse. The plastic L mask still made her skin crawl.

And then the task force entered.

She could’ve sworn that she saw just a hint of recognition on Light Yagami’s face.

Hm.

“Those are definitely the SPK. Near’s the one with the mask.”

“Yes,” Mogi said. “I was with Near even before he put the mask on. It sure is him.”

“Whether the real Near is here or not is of no interest to me,” Yagami said.

Naomi clenched her jaw, biting back a retort of something like “you clearly haven’t learned your lesson from the Lind L Tailor incident.”

“Wait a minute,” a task force member said, “I don’t care who he accuses of being Kira. But that mask proves he’s only trying to protect only himself.”

“It would be kind of redundant to hide our faces, seeing as how all but one of us have been sighted by Takada before,” Naomi muttered.

“Matsuda, Near thinks I’m Kira. It can’t be helped,” Yagami said.

“He was talking so much about seeing you face to face. It’s not fair!”

Naomi was beginning to get a headache.

It was about to get worse.

“I’m telling you,” Yagami said, and that alone made Naomi want to claw at him and beat him to a pulp, “Near has his own ideas about what’s going on here, so it’s not going to help if we complain about it. Let’s get on with this.”

Near smirked thinly and touched the mask. “This mask is just insurance.”

He was in for it, no matter if he was taken into their custody.

“Insurance?” Matsuda repeated.

“I’m confident that both Kira and the person being ordered to do the killings—X Kira—don’t know my face. But there’s a possibility that everyone else’s face is known to these individuals in question.” He knocked down the figurines of the SPK. “Of course, this is all assuming that L is Kira. So, since the time and place for our meeting was decided upon three days ago, there’s a chance that everyone else’s name, excluding mine, may already be written down in the notebook to be killed.

“If that were to happen, only Kira and I would be left, and all Kira would have to do is write my name in the notebook that Mr Aizawa has with him right now. Though it’s my hypothesis that the Kira here doesn’t have the ability to kill just from looking at our faces.

“So, please give me an hour—no, 30 minutes—to be sure that no one else here is already marked to die by the notebook.”

“You’re waiting to see if we die?” Matsuda asked.

“That’s okay,” Yagami said. “We’ll let Near do as he likes. If not, we won’t be able to clear things up.” He turned to Near. “I believe that you’re the actual Near, and I care little about the face behind the mask. What I’d like to see is what you were going to show me pertaining to the Kira case.”

Near twirled a strand of hair. “That can only be revealed to you after I take my mask off.”

“You can’t show the evidence to us unless you take the mask off, but you’re not going to take it off? Aren’t you contradicting yourself?” Matsuda demanded.

“He means he’s going to take it off once he makes sure that everyone else remains alive,” Yagami clarified. Near confirmed as much.

You sure seem agitated, seeing as how you can’t keep Near’s stipulations straight, Naomi thought.

“It’s been more than 30 minutes—and nothing’s happened.”

“Of course,” Yagami said. “That’s because Kira isn’t here.”

Near took off the rubber band. “Very well. It seems you’re all safe. I’ll go ahead and take off the mask.”

He smirked immediately.

“Okay, so now that you’ve taken the mask off, what are you going to show us?”

“Don’t rush him,” a task force member chided.

“I’m sorry,” Near said, “but you’re going to have to wait again.”

“Again?! What are we waiting for?”

“Excuse me, do you think this is a massive waste of time or something?” Naomi asked. “If you want to prove that your leader isn’t Kira so badly, shut up and wait.”

She didn’t typically have such a short fuse or snap at people so easily. But she was face to face with the one who killed her fiance; and as much as she’d like to get this out of the way and take him into custody already, the fact that he’d have his face rubbed in the SPK’s being right would feel a little bit better than if they took him into custody without much of an explanation. And it’d help out if they could make the task force see reason.

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

Key word being if.

“Enough,” Yagami said.

“We’re waiting for the one who’ll solve everything to arrive,” Near said. He exhaled. “I assure you that this person will come. So we must wait. This building is completely sealed. The only way to look inside is to open that door right there. Therefore, this person will come through that door, or try to peek through it.”

“Who’s going to come…? This meeting was kept a secret from everyone except those who are here right now.”

“That’s right. So the person coming is X-Kira, Kira’s most loyal follower, who learned about our location from none other than Kira himself.” He paused. “Mr Aizawa. You kept an eye on L even after Takada died, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then X-Kira will come. Kira used Takada to contact X-Kira.

“The night we decided when and where to meet, L met Takada, and Takada relayed the information to X-Kira. I am completely sure of this. But Mello’s kidnapping of Takada was a surprise to L and I. With Takada dead, L could no longer contact X-Kira and was unable to call his plan off.” He knocked down the Takada figurine. Near tilted his head. “Actually, it would’ve been meaningless for him to call everything off. The thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind because he didn’t want to interfere with his plan or mind.”

And Matsuda and his co-worker immediately launched into contrarianism:

“Why do you assume L is Kira?”

“Yeah, if a third party is really going to show up here, isn’t it more likely that you’re the one behind it all?”

Ah, this is familiar. I almost feel like I’m 27 again and watching the NPA and L squabble. Maybe without all the signs of aging. Thank God for retinol and sunscreen.

“No, because the person we’re waiting for is the person currently in charge of carrying out Kira’s judgements. So, obviously, this person is coming under Kira’s orders.”

“Hey, wait a minute. If this person is the one doing the killings, you also mean they’re bringing the notebook too?”

“Yes, this person will bring the notebook for sure. And then, after looking at my face, will write down my name.” Near mimed this scenario with the figurines of X-Kira/Mikami and himself.

“So you’re going to prove that this person is Kira’s henchman by being killed?!”

“No, rather by having him try to kill me. There was a similar stunt that was pulled when L was investigating the Yotsuba Group.”

“Wait a minute,” Aizawa said.

“Yes?”

“If X-Kira is going to kill you, then they’d need to kill everyone here, since we all know about the notebook.”

“That’s right. It would be the perfect victory for Kira, not to mention the sole reason Kira agreed to this meeting in the first place.”

“I… I don’t get it,” Matsuda said. “What are you meaning? The third party is going to bring the notebook here to kill us?”

“And you’re asking us to stand here and watch?” Ide asked.

“That’s right,” Near said calmly.

“That’s ridiculous! Then you’ll be playing into Kira’s hands. We’re going to lose no matter what we do.”

“No. We’ll win. If you all do as I say, we’ll win without a doubt. So, if X-Kira enters through that door, I want you all to let him in. And if that door opens, however slightly, I want you all to pretend not to notice.”

Aizawa wrestled with himself. “You’re making it sound like you’re Kira. You’re the one who proposed the idea that we meet here, and now you’re asking for us to let our names be written down in the notebook. It’s only natural for us to think that. But… I’ll do as you say.”

“I’m with Aizawa,” Mogi said. Matsuda muttered dissent.

“He’s already here,” Near said. Naomi's headache was getting considerably worse.

Yeah, that’s one way to make them listen, she thought.

They stood in silence for roughly a half minute.

“I can’t just watch!” Matsuda snapped, bringing a revolver out of his jacket’s inner pocket.

“Don’t move!” Rester snapped, lining Matsuda up with his sights. Gevanni followed suit.

“Are you kidding me?” Matsuda exclaimed.

Naomi whistled. “Sorry, Near. First of all, don’t point your guns unless you intend to fire, Rester and Gevanni." (To this, Gevanni glowered and lowered his after Rester did.) "Second of all, what did Near say? Pretend that nothing is happening.”

“You expect me just to sit there while our names are being written?”

“I’m sorry, I thought I said ‘pretend nothing is happening’!” She put her hands on her hips and glared.

“Enough!” Near said. “I said that you won’t die. Please be still. Everyone relax, please.” He took a breath. “Even if our names are being written down, we won’t die. Kira’s identity will finally be revealed.”

“How can you be so sure?” Aizawa asked.

Near held up the miniature notebook he made. “I’ve tampered with the notebook. We managed to get it into our possession and replaced the pages. The person behind the door—the one in charge of the actual killing—has been filling up one page every day, so I just calculated which page would correspond with today’s date, and replaced all the subsequent pages.”

“Replaced?”

“You actually got a hold of it?”

“The person writing the names down outside will eventually look inside to see if we’ve all died. At which point we’ll seize him, and the individual whose name isn’t written down in the notebook will inevitably be Kira.”

Aizawa agreed, while his coworker was borderline speechless.

“To the one outside,” Yagami said, “did you write the names down in the notebook?”

“I did,” X-Kira answered, almost reverent.

“That’s strange,” Near said, half to his thighs. “Why would he reply in earnest, yes I did when you asked him if he wrote the names down?”

“Who knows?” Yagami replied. “Maybe he’s honest, or is confident for some reason. It may be that he knows your plan.”

Naomi barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“Teru Mikami, why don’t you come in here?” Near ventured.

There was a pause.

“Teru Mikami, right?” Yagami said, looking smugger by the second. “Stop hiding and come inside.”

Still no Mikami.

“Teru Mikami, I know that you’re in charge of carrying out Kira’s killings right now. You’ve already written the names down, so there’s nothing to be afraid of. Please come in. Or did Kira order you not to?”

“Your wish is my command, God,” Mikami said, his expression almost malicious in his devotion.

Naomi almost recoiled in horror.

“How many seconds has it been since you wrote the first name down?” Yagami asked.

“35… 36… 37… 38… 39…”

“I win, Near,” Yagami said.

That sure is one way to dig your own grave, Naomi thought.

“40!”

Still, Naomi clenched her fists and waited for the pain Raye must’ve felt in his chest.

“We… We’re not dead! It’s been a minute and we’re not dead!”

“I’ve been telling you that no one would die,” Near said.

Naomi traded a glance with Lidner. Even the SPK didn’t have a hundred percent faith in this plan.

“Why? Why won’t they die?!” Mikami said. “G-God—I did everything you told me!”

Near signalled Rester and Gevanni to take Mikami into custody.

“The notebook, Gevanni,” Near said. He held up the notebook once Gevanni brought it over. “See for yourselves.”

The task force took in every word.

“The first five names are unmistakably the real names of the SPK members. And the only one missing from this list is Light Yagami. The first nail in the casket was Mikami calling you God, and the other was that he said he did as you told him to.” He brought the notebook down. “This proves it.”

“This is a trap! Near set this whole thing up to frame me! It’s impossible that no one’s dead after their names have been written in the notebook!” Yagami screamed.

Near tilted his head to the side. “But I told you no one would die because I replaced the pages.”

“That’s—this is a setup. I don’t know this guy!”

Mikami wailed and sagged.

Aizawa approached Yagami and put a hand on his shoulder. “Light, it’s too late. Near wins. Just a second ago, you declared that you won. That’s as good a confession as any.”

Matsuda repeated Yagami’s given name and sank to his knees. “Why…?”

Mogi broke ranks and brought out his handcuffs. Yagami ran, slipping and faceplanting, then leaned against the warehouse wall.

“This is it,” Near said. “You lose. You claimed your victory a second ago. And to tell you the truth, you might have won and I’d have lost if it weren’t for one thing. You had Mikami use the fake notebook and had him carry it around in front of us so we’d believe it was the real thing. You even went so far as to suspect that I would replace the pages of the fake notebook, so that I wouldn’t die even if my name was written in it. Things turned out exactly as you expected, and we replaced the pages in the fake notebook.

“That was the plan I had in mind as well. I replaced the pages of the notebook that happened to be a fake, and you had Mikami bring the real notebook out for the first time to kill all of us. And that was your plan. But when I said that I replaced the pages in the notebook, I meant the real one as well. Meaning that I tampered with both the fake and real notebooks. I replaced only a part of the fake notebook, and I replaced the pages of the real notebook completely.” To demonstrate, he pulled the replica notebook from the Mikami figurine, revealing a FAKE label across the back.

Near brought out the real notebook from under his shirt. “This is the real notebook. Gevanni did it overnight. Whether he was able to replace all of it or not was the key to this plan. He did replace a part of the fake notebook with ease, but it was quite difficult to make a forged copy of the real one. Gevanni promised me, however, that it could be done.

“He used the same pen Mikami used, copied Mikami’s handwriting to perfection, and even made a perfect copy of the cover in addition to the interior pages. And since I’d touched the notebook beforehand, I could see the Shinigami from the moment you entered this warehouse. Nice to meet you, Mr Shinigami. I’m Near.”

Hair stood up on the back of Naomi’s neck.

“Ryuk… until today, I always believed that Shinigami had skulls for faces and carried sickles. … I looked through this notebook and found some pages that were clipped out. Can it be that people die even if you write names on pages that have been cut out? … Even pieces are effective… I’m sure there must have been many uses for that. I can’t even begin to think of how many people were killed and deceived because of that.”

“I almost died with that method. My fiance, the busjacker,” Naomi said. “Others, I assume.”

Yagami’s face lit with recognition.

“Raye Penber…”

She nodded, throwing a thin and outright malicious smile to him. “The one and only.”

“That’s one hell of an indictment,” Rester said. (He wasn’t the only one surprised; Gevanni was gaping and Lidner’s eyes were wide.)

“That anecdote just proves something that the previous L knew. Light Yagami, you are Kira.”

Yagami stood in silence, calculating.

“You’re wrong,” Near said, holding his Mello figurine. “I owe this to Mello. I’m sure you understand what I mean by that.” He flipped the notebook’s pages. “Look at the page I just turned to. This is the fake notebook we created, but it’s exactly the same as the real one. The first line of the page on the left…”

Kiyomi Takada. Suicide; burns to death by setting fire to everything around her, including what she wrote. January 26th, 2:33 PM.

Yagami and Mikami stared at each other. “If Takada was in a situation like that, then it’s my job to…,” Mikami said.

“That’s right. When Mello kidnapped Takada, Mikami took out the real notebook—the one he had hidden in a safe deposit box at the bank… and wrote Takada’s name down.”

“After Takada’s kidnapping was announced on the news, Mikami broke from his schedule. October 25th was a Sunday, so he went on the 26th. But all other previous months he’d went to the bank on the 25th. Mikami rarely breaks from his habits, so it immediately stood out to me. I entered the bank and saw Mikami go into the safe deposit room. This was the first time I’d seen him concerned if someone was following him,” Gevanni explained.

“Mikami lives a completely fixed life, but suddenly broke from his routine as Takada was kidnapped. I wonder how much can be explained away, if at all. Going to the bank for two days in a row… I’ll be honest, I only thought about the possibility of the notebook being a fake after Gevanni told me of this. Though, come to think of it, we should’ve suspected that when he took a picture of a man harassing a woman on a train before supposedly writing his name down, and when he talked to himself about the Shinigami not appearing to him. The fact that we found out so quickly about Mikami actually worked against us.

“But until then, we were completely tricked by you, Takada, and Mikami, and had replaced the pages in the fake book. So we’d have lost if I hadn’t found out. When Mello kidnapped Takada, you were no longer able to get into contact with Mikami. But Mikami still made his move for you, to perfection in his role as Kira’s stand-in. His overt adoration, sense of responsibility and attention to detail, and his intelligence worked against him at this time.

“It wasn’t difficult for us to sneak into the safe deposit room to crack it. It was an old fashioned safe at a local bank. And since you allowed us to look through Mikami’s bag when he was at the gym, we already had made copies of all his keys and cards.”

“It was easy. Once I got inside, there was a notebook with Takada’s name written in it,” Gevanni added.

“And an idiot would figure out everything from there.” Near added, “This is very interesting. In the fake notebook, the one we replaced the pages of first, one page was filled in with names every day, but the real one jumps from November 25th to January 26th, when Takada’s name was written down. So that means you, Light Yagami, had Mikami walk around with a fake notebook starting two months in advance to trick us.

“Before January 26th, the time of death wasn’t specified, same as in the fake notebook. But after Takada’s name was written in it, all the judgements for January 26th were set to the early hours of the 27th, and the judgements for the 27th were set for the early hours of the 28th.

“In the fake notebook that Mikami made, Takada’s name is probably written down exactly like this, but the rest of the page is only names and no written down conditions for their death. So that means that when Mikami wrote Takada’s name in the real notebook on the 26th, he also wrote the names of those people who were to be ‘brought to justice’ on the 26th and 27th.

“Mikami could’ve killed the people using the scraps from the notebook, but if he wrote on them in his house, assuming we’d have installed a camera, we might have found out about the fake notebook and the fact that you can kill people with just a scrap of it.

“In order to make Mikami’s notebook look real, you probably cut the pages out and handed them to Takada and had her actually do all the killings. All Mikami had to do was send a list of people to be killed via cell phone or computer and delete the data.

“For the deaths on the 26th and 27th, you might have had him send a list of people to Takada after she was kidnapped, but just in case, Mikami wrote those names down too when he wrote Takada’s name. As for the 28th, today’s killings would be at your leisure, since it would’ve been after you killed us.

“So, though it’s nothing I would’ve taken notice of under normal circumstances, if you look closely, there aren’t any killings of new criminals on the 26th or 27th. And that’s because Mikami wasn’t allowed to take out the notebook until today. And according to your plan, that shouldn’t have happened no matter what.

“And thought I don’t know who was first, this means that you killed Takada too. Since the scraps of the notebook can be used to kill people, it’s hard to believe you wouldn’t have had one on you. Because you killed her too, the announcement of Takada’s death was reported on the news quickly, and since Mikami also knew of her death, you wouldn’t have assumed that Mikami made a move on his own.” Near dropped the notebook. “Too bad. When Mello kidnapped Takada, Mikami wrote her name down in the real notebook too.”

Mikami and Yagami stared at each other again.

“For both you and me…,” Near began, “having Mikami write down our names on the page on the right was the plan. We had to do that. If not, we wouldn’t have been able to capture Mikami, get the notebook from him, or take a look at the notebook. Whether the page on the left was filled with names or not, it had to be the page on the right. And you tried to kill us by having us replace the pages of a fake notebook and having Mikami bring the real one here, but we went a step beyond you by having Mikami bring a fake version of the notebook. It’s a lot harder to find out that the notebook has been switched if you replace the whole notebook rather than just a part of it.

“Of course, this is in large part due to Rester and Gevanni’s efforts in duplicating the notebook in a day. But the biggest thanks goes to the one who created this situation. Mello.”

Lidner suddenly looked very sad. She looked askance. “Mello may have known about it. I told Mello that Near was talking about bringing an end to this case with his own hands. But now that I think of it, he…” She stopped, frowning. “After a long silence, he just said then I guess I’m going to have to do it, and hung up.”

She sighed. “At first, I thought he only meant that he was going to bring an end to the case before Near. But if Mello hadn’t made his move, then we would’ve…”

You’re telling me I owe my life to a corpse? Naomi thought.

“The fact that we replaced the pages in the notebook, and that notebook happened to be a face, I find it hard to believe that Mello thought that far ahead. But, I’m sure that he was always trying to get ahead of me. And that’s not all—even if he didn’t surpass me…” Near wet his lip. “Even if he didn’t…”

Rester traded looks with Gevanni, who traded looks with Naomi, who traded looks with Lidner, who traded looks with Rester.

“Mello always said that he was going to be number one, and that he was going to be better than me and L. But I always knew I would never be able to surpass L. It could be that I lack attention span and he lacked impulse control. And even thought we couldn’t surpass the one we admired on our own—together, we can stand with L. Together we can surpass L. And now, we’re facing Kira, whom L could find no proof against, the very Kira who L was defeated by, and facing him with solid evidence before his own eyes.”

Near let that sink in.

He kept the puppets up.

“Let’s try to see you talk your way out of this one.”

Yagami screamed, high pitched. All the klaxons in Naomi’s brain fired, telling her to get the hell out of there, because something was deeply wrong.

Yagami began to shake.

And he began to laugh.

Against all her primal instincts, Naomi stayed.

He cackled for a good half minute.

Every muscle in Naomi’s body tensed. Every hair stood on end.

“That’s right,” he said, staggering to stand, “I am Kira.”

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 7

Catch up here AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

I fell asleep last night thinking about Emma. The night had been simple and easy. I really did feel a little like a teenager holding hands with her. This may sound stupid or incredibly naive, but it was innocent. Dating at thirty-five is anything but innocent. It's littered with land mines you have to tip toe around and hope you don’t get something you need blown off. No wonder most people hate dating, but last night was good.

I woke up with a raging hard on. I'd been in the middle of a dream where I was inside Emma, pushed up over her with her nails digging into my biceps. All and all not the worst way to wake up. I let my imagination finish the dream while my hand relieved the ache under the sheets. Oh, FYI, in my fantasy she finished first.

My phone went off again and I came to the unfortunate realization that a text from my mother had interrupted my erotic dream. I cringed and shook it off. Mom had made breakfast. I checked the time. A little before eight. I hadn't been in bed five hours. This was going to be a long day. I hoped she’d found the coffee maker yesterday.

I returned mom’s text, got dressed, and drug my ass into the kitchen. She and my step dad were tucked in at the table and there was a place with a cup of coffee waiting for me. I kissed mom's cheek and sat down, “You're the best. This smells delicious.” French toast and bacon. I heard my trainer's voice inside my head telling me to get to the gym.  I'd be home and back at it bright and early tomorrow morning. A couple of off days weren't going to ruin me.

“How was your date?”

I looked over the steam from my coffee cup at my step dad. I took a sip, “Good. We went to this place on the river and ended up talking until they closed.”

“You going to see her again?”

“Yeah, I'd like too. I dropped her off pretty late. I'll text her in a little while.”

While we ate we talked about the things mom wanted me to do today. The cable people were coming so first on my list was getting the TV's hung on the walls and ready to go. We tested out sound bars by dragging a Blu-ray player around. We laughed remembering how bulky VCR tapes were and now entire movie collections could be contained on hard drive no bigger than two of them. Once the TV's were squared away I started hauling boxes from the garage to the room they belonged in. Apparently the boxes had arrived before the furniture and they didn't want boxes in the way while they figured out room arrangements. Mom also felt less overwhelmed with a few boxes at a time to unpack. She could move from room to room doing a little at a time and have things slowly take shape.

I took a couple of boxes with kitchen supplies to the pool house and got the TV hooked up down there. A look at the clock told me it was a little after eleven. Surely Emma was awake by now. I'll text. Then if she's still sleeping she can ignore.

I smiled when my phone went off and her name flashed on the screen. “Hey, Seb. I'm driving, so I can't text. I didn't want you to think I was ignoring you.”

“I'm glad I didn't wake you up.”

“I did sleep in a little.”

“I didn't. Mom had doing shit before eight.”

“Ouch, sorry.”

I scrubbed my hand through my hair. “Worth it. What are you up to today?”  My subtle plan was to see if she was busy then find where I could insert myself. Normally I'm more direct, but I don't know anything to do here. Makes it hard to suggest a date.

“Right now I'm on the way to the gym.”

I jumped on it, “Can I come?”

“You want to go to the gym?”

I could hear the suppressed laughter in her voice. “While I was eating breakfast, I heard my trainer's voice in my head saying get to the gym; french toast may taste good, but how will it look on your abs.”

She laughed out loud this time, “I thought only women imagined where the food was going. I'm positive I should just lick Reese Cups and stick them to my thighs.”

My thoughts went dirty and I fought not to say something about eating Reese Cups off her thighs. “A trip to the gym would quiet his voice. Plus, I'd get to see you.”

“Yeah, I'd like that. I'll text you the gym address. I'll wait for you in the lobby.”

She'd like to see me too. Thought brought to you by my inner teenager who is giggling like an idiot. I don't want to work out and call it the end. “Are you doing anything after? I was thinking I'd bring something to change into and we can hang out.” I laughed, “I don't know what to ask you to do. I just want to do something.”

“Sure, we'll figure out something.”

“Good. I'll see you in a few minutes, Emma.”

“See you soon.”

Yes! 

I need a shower. Doesn't make sense before working out. I lifted up my arm and sniffed. Eh, not offensive. More deodorant anyway. I dumped my clothes out of my bag onto the bed. Shoved shower stuff and something to wear back in. Her text came and I was out the door.

Found the gym easy enough. Realized I don't know what kind of car she drives. Fingers crossed she's here or I can just stand in the lobby looking like an idiot. I walked in and scanned the area. There she is. She looks . . . exactly how she looked when I met her in the grocery. I started laughing.

Emma looked at me like I was crazy then joined in the laughing. “What's so funny?”

“You were coming from the gym yesterday.” I waved my hand down her body. “You were dressed the same.”

She nodded, “I'm here most days. Sunday is my rest day.”

I took her hand as we walked to the desk, “I have lighter days. Not really rest days.”

She signed me in, talking a second to the girl behind the desk before we headed down the hall past the locker rooms. She looked at me and cringed, “I'm feeling pretty intimidated.”

“Why?”

“Self conscious. I imagine your work out is very different than mine. I probably have horrible form.”

“Your form looks pretty damn good to me.” I pressed my lips together and nodded while leaned back to check her out. She laughed and shoved me. Great response. “I promise not to correct anything unless you’re going to hurt yourself.”

She shook her head, “Oh hell no! Make yourself useful. Tell what I'm doing wrong.”

I'm sure my work outs are very different than hers too. Today I'm not working out at the intensity my trainer pushes. Completely different situation. I want to spend time with her more than I want the strength training. “Where do you usually start?”

She pointed to a room on the right, “Bike for twenty minutes.”

I clapped my hands, “Sounds good. Let's go.”

[astromechs]

Starmora 7: to shut them up :)

soo, this… escalated beyond just the prompt a little bit, and ended up on a whole journey into space tinder (thanks, james gunn’s twitter), and…. i don’t know. special shoutout to @lareina1917, who requested someone write about this, and to @julies-andrews and @peterjsonquills for some of the ideas that made this possible.

(and since i got this prompt a couple of times, i’m definitely gonna write another one for it! you know that this is definitely their schtick)

also on ao3 here!

(and keep sending me ships + prompts from this list here!)

“I have found a new way to make friends,” Mantis says over her bowl of soup at dinner, blurting it out kind of out of the blue like she does most things.

“That’s great, Mantis,” Peter tells her from across the table, and he means it. He doesn’t know the specifics of most of her life, because he hasn’t asked and, frankly, he doesn’t want to (there’s just, you know, too much about Ego and everything else that he’d just rather not think about for his own freaking peace of mind), but it’s obvious that it’d been totally lonely, and they’re all the first thing she’s had that have ever remotely resembled friends, and –

Yeah. Friends are great. Really great.

Encouraged, Mantis bobs her head enthusiastically in a nod, and then does it again, and then again. “Yes. It is called Kynd-ler.”

The soup from his spoonful is already, like, inside his mouth, and he swallows down the whole thing at once and coughs.

So, yeah, not to state the obvious, but he hasn’t thought about Kynd-ler in a while – had actually kind of forgotten about it, right up until about this exact second, honestly. There’s been the whole Guardians of the Galaxy thing, the whole… new kind of serious relationship forming with the greatest person in the universe thing, and it hits him, right now, like a whole ten tons of bricks, that there’s some stuff that’s still out there that he definitely doesn’t want to be out there. That’s….

Shit.

He clears his throat quietly, and swallows. Gets another spoonful of soup, and swallows that, too. This’ll totally just blow over if he just smiles and nods and doesn’t say anything about it so he can go and get rid of the evidence later, right?

He should know by now that these things never go the way he wants them to.

“Ain’t that the place for the freaky people?” Rocket asks over the rim of the mug he’s holding. “Like, the people who wanna get freaky? I don’t think you wanna be there unless you want some freaky friends.”

Mantis scoffs. “How can it be freaky if Peter is on there?” It’s super earnest, the way she takes up for him in pretty much every situation, and usually, he’s flattered, definitely flattered, but right now? Right now he just wants her to stop talking and never say another word ever again. He gestures wildly in her direction, mouths a no no no – to no avail. “But I do not understand, Peter. Why do you want people to think you are bad? You are a very good person.”

And that’s when Peter just lets his forehead collide with the table, because he doesn’t want to look at anything, and there’s just nowhere else for it to go.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He hears Rocket slap the mug down onto the table, and figures that his next move is to swipe the datapad out of Mantis’s hands and peer down at the screen, judging by the way Mantis protests. “‘Badass legendary outlaw.’ Quill, you should know better than to try to sell yourself with false advertising. That’s never worked out well for anybody.” A pause before the inevitable worst comes (as Peter cringes against the table): “‘Swipe right if you wanna know how bad I can be.’”

Then, like a total asshole, Rocket doubles over in a fit of laughter, and Peter looks up for a second to find that it’s with the whole tears coming out of his eyes routine and everything.

“Who’s bad?” Drax asks as he pokes his head out from the galley, pot in one hand and knife in the other. “I will cut them with this knife.”

“No, no, no. This –” Rocket just gestures, still laughing too hard to get any more actual words out. And about two seconds after Drax comes over, he’s also laughing, practically loud enough to shake the whole goddamn ship. And then Mantis starts laughing just because Rocket and Drax are, and then in the commotion there’s an “I am Groot?” as Groot climbs up on the table to get a better look at what everyone’s laughing at, never wanting to be excluded from anything, and –

“Where’d you get that picture from, Quill? Up your ass?”

There’s a whole other round of laughter that could about double shake the ship, and that’s when Peter decides he’s had enough. Not even bothering to look behind him (honestly, he’d rather not know any other reactions from this), he stands up from his chair and stalks down the corridor to his quarters in a huff – yeah, like a child, sure, but what else was he going to do, sit there and listen to that? Be the butt of their stupid joke for the whole night?

He loves having this family in his life, he really does, but at the moment? He kind of hates them.

—-

It’s about five, maybe ten minutes later (he hasn’t kept track very well) when he hears footsteps come through the doorway of the bedroom, and then feels part of the bed sink down beside him. He doesn’t have to look – which he doesn’t, occupying himself with pulling threads from the blanket under him – to know that it’s Gamora.

She doesn’t say anything to him at first, and in that silence, he can still hear everyone else laughing off down the corridor. God, how long is it going to be before he lives this down? Weeks? A month? More than that? Knowing Rocket, it’s probably going to be literal forever, and he’s not looking forward to the next days he has to face with this hanging over him. He’ll just have to, what, eat by himself for the foreseeable future? Avoid especially Rocket at all costs?

Gamora’s voice, totally dry in tone, cuts into his thoughts and stops these half-assed plans in their tracks. “I just want to know why I haven’t seen it.”

He looks up from his mindless project with the blanket threads and at her. “Seen what?”

“How bad you can be.”

Okay, so. That really nice thought he’d had for about two seconds that maybe he could totally avoid it in here is now thoroughly, five-hundred percent, obliterated. He lets out a long breath, and drops his eyes down for a moment before looking back up again. “Look, Gamora, this is from before I even met you. You know what I did – met people, hooked up, got out before the next morning, that whole thing. Honestly, trust me, I haven’t looked at it or even thought about it in….”

Wait.

“Wait.” He squints a little, focusing on her face really hard, and there it is, that not-even-half-a-smile that wouldn’t be noticeable to pretty much anyone else, but he knows means: “You’re totally laughing at me, too.” And, yep, he’s rewarded with an actual obvious smile for his absolutely genius detective work, the kind that lights up her whole face. Which he loves, and he could look at all day if she let him, except: “That’s rude, that’s seriously rude, I’d never laugh at you if our situations were reversed, do you know how embarrassed I was in –”

He’ll never be able to finish that thought, because that’s when her lips find his and he, frankly, couldn’t give a single shit about anything else. It’s a tried and true tactic of hers to get him to shut up, and he totally knows it, but he keeps letting it happen because – well, why wouldn’t he? As far as he’s concerned, this could happen twenty times an hour, and he’d be completely fine.

“You should delete it, though,” she tells him as she pulls away a moment later. “That picture isn’t flattering.”

Ouch. “Hey, I worked hard on that picture. It was super cool.” By the way she raises her brow at him, it’s obvious that she doesn’t agree, and nothing he says will ever convince her otherwise. “But yeah, you’re right, it’s gotta be gone. First thing in the morning.” He lets the blanket threads slip from his fingers, uses those fingers instead to brush some strands of hair away from her face. “I don’t even need it anymore, anyway. Not when I’ve got the actual greatest person in the universe here, and she can kiss me anytime she wants.”

“Hm,” Gamora hums noncommittally, lips pressed together. “Get rid of that terrible picture, and I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, was it really that bad? I mean, I totally got the best angle, and it’s a cool pose that makes me look super awesome, and –”

He definitely doesn’t mind when he finds himself cut off for the second time.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2540 Chapter: 4/7 Summary:  An accident at work leaves Tobirama blinded while his eyes are bandaged to heal from some rather nasty burns. Too busy with his own job to play the role of caretaker, wife too pregnant to place the burden on her, Hashirama calls upon his best friend Madara to stay with them and help Tobirama out in anyway he can. Madara isn’t exactly thrilled to play babysitter but he can see an opportunity when one comes along; this may be the chance he’s always waited for.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 4

Getting ready for the day ahead of him was filled with patterns so ingrained that Tobirama didn’t bother to question some of them until someone else did. Things like why he even bothered to slip his phone in his pocket when he knew full well the smooth touchscreen would be useless to him.

Sitting and listening to the tinny sound of his ringer, he felt he could understand a lot better now why so many people at work glared whenever his phone rang. That was, without a doubt, the single most annoying sound he had ever been forced to sit through without being able to do something about it. He could remember picking that tone because it was the most likely to cut through the fog of concentration while he was working but now when there was nothing else for him to do but sit and listen? If he knew where it had landed after he’d thrown it Tobirama knew he would only throw it again and hope for a more spectacular landing.

“For the love of fuck!” Madara's footsteps were almost welcome as they stormed in to the room. “Pick up your fucking phone, Senju!”

“I can’t, you asshole.”

Dead silence followed for perhaps two full seconds until it was broken by another tinny ring.

“Oh. Right. Do you want me to accept the call for you?”

“Anything to get whoever that is to stop calling.” Considering the tenacity of the caller, Tobirama was pretty sure he knew who it was. His guess was confirmed when Madara snorted from over by where his desk would be.

“It’s Izuna. Should have known. Here – what do you want, you little shit?”

Muffled laughter played back and Tobirama couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his best friend’s voice. “So it’s true! Old Tobes must be in trouble if you’re answering his phone for him. Give me to him! I want to see his stupid face!”

“Ugh. Here you go, Senju. It’s a video call so if you really want to frustrate him then keep it pointed at a wall.”

Angry chittering told him where the phone was without having to ask and Tobirama was still smiling reluctantly as he reached out with both hands for Madara to slip the device between them. He did consider facing it towards the wall but he didn’t really want to drive away any possible form of entertainment that would last longer than it took to fail at meditation again. So he offered Madara a grateful hum and did his best to situate the phone screen so it was pointed at his face

“You look like you got attacked by a mummy,” Izuna told him.

“Thanks, you look great too.”

“You can’t see me, you dumb fuck.”

“And it’s the best look I’ve ever seen on you.” Tobirama grinned wider, already feeling better about his situation than he had in days.

Izuna called him all sorts of names, smooth voice turned shrill with offence, but eventually he calmed down enough to speak like a normal human being once more. “One of your buddies at the lab emailed me and he sounded really freaked out, blah blah blah, emergency contact. I just called to see if you melted your whole face off or something.”

“Just retinal burns. And maybe a few on my skin. Nothing that won’t heal.”

“Aw, look at you being all brave!” Izuna’s voice snickered.

Tobirama resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the motion would be neither comfortable nor visible. “You know damn well that if you hadn’t trekked off to who-knows-where on this stupid ‘finding yourself’ journey you’d have been right there in the bed next to mine weeping about losing your own sight too.”

“I think I’ve pulled your ass out of the fire enough times, I’ve earned the right to laugh at you from afar.”

“Fair enough.” And it was. Rivals from the day they met, best friends shortly thereafter, Izuna had covered for him without question countless times when his enthusiasm for science outweighed his common sense.

“So what’s my brother doing there? Did Hashirama call him over to babysit while he’s at work or something?”

“Or something,” Tobirama growled. “He called your brother over to stay with us for two stupid weeks. I tried to tell him I was just fine as long as I can call Mito for help but he’s had her on bed rest for almost a month already.”

Even without being able to see him Tobirama knew Izuna would be cringing. “Crap. How are you holding up with that?”

He took a moment to think about it for a moment, shifting the phone in his hand until he remembered that Izuna was on video call and the movement was probably making him sick. Just for good measure he gave it a good shake and gave a quick smile when he heard the man screaming for him to stop.

“I guess it’s been fine so far. Did you know he talks to himself while he works?”

“Yeah.” Izuna made a sound that was either an imitation of a dying whale or an unholy combination of sigh and groan. “Coding is an absolute bitch. I don’t know where he gets the patience for it. But he loves it, don’t let his grumbling tell you any different. He can lose himself in those dumb ass strings of letters the way you lose yourself in testing a new theory.”

Tobirama frowned. “Huh.” He wasn’t really sure what to do with that information or with the fact that the mental image of Madara poring over his computer with a little frown of concentration was somehow endearing. Best to just ignore it.

“So that’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say about your babysitter?”

“I don’t know. He’s a good cook? He thought ‘help me get to the bathroom’ meant he had to hold my dick for me while I take a piss?” Tobirama regretted mentioning that as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

After reluctantly entertaining his friend with stories of the single most embarrassing moment in his entire life, Tobirama made a point of turning the conversation around and asking how things were going on Izuna’s end. They caught up on all the places he had seen, all the people he had met, trouble he had found himself in and how he managed to escape it. Life hadn’t been quite the same since school ended when Izuna realized he had no idea what he actually wanted to do with his life and decided to solve this problem by packing a bag and setting off to see the world. Their long stupid phone calls were always long and stupid but it was a lifeline to a more normal existence where neither of them ever had to admit that they missed the other.

They talked for so long that Madara popped his head back in to the room to inform Tobirama that lunch was ready, startling him in to dropping the phone over the edge of his bed. Izuna screamed at the carpet until Madara shuffled in to pick him up and growl something under his breath.

“Want me to hang up on him?” he asked.

“Please,” Tobirama nodded. Then he raised his voice and added, “I was tired of talking to him anyway!”

“Bitch little blind boy!” Izuna’s voice called back, infused with as much love and care as had ever existed between them. His words were followed with the distinct blipping tone that said Madara must have ended the call as he’d threatened to without so much as a word of goodbye.

The sound of something being set down on his desk came almost in time with the sound of Madara clearing his throat before he asked, “Are you coming down for lunch?”

“Yeah,” Tobirama murmured. He waffled indecisively for a moment before setting his pride side in favor of curiosity. “Help me down the stairs?”

“Uh, sure.” Madara sounded surprised by the request and with good reason. The majority of his offers to help had been met so far with a scowl and Tobirama’s insistence that he could manage just fine – usually followed by an embarrassing failure to do whatever he’d been trying to accomplish for himself and a frosty silence when Madara had to help him anyway.

Clinging to anyone other than Hashirama felt weird but Tobirama did notice that he felt oddly safer with one arm hooked around Madara than he did clinging to the banister. Where the banister was solid and immovable it had the disadvantage of not being able to reach out and stop him when his feet went out too far. There was also the fact that a solid warm arm felt much nicer under his fingers, not exactly ripped since he’d never seen Madara work out a day in his life but still well-muscled and sturdier than expected.

Actually Tobirama sort of hated how much he didn’t want to let go when they reached the first floor. If ever there was a sign that he desperately needed to get back in to the dating scene it would be the act of subtly feeling up Madara, of all people, and actually enjoying it.

“It’s just onigiri for lunch, did you want to eat in the kitchen or the living room?” The question snapped him out of his thoughts and provided a very welcome distraction.

“Living room. Wait, is Mito around?”

“She took her food out on to the back deck.”

“Excellent, then she’s not around to yell at me. Lunch in the living room.”

Tobirama slowly started to grin until Madara’s voice dryly informed him, “Truly you live right on the edge.”

“Shut up, Uchiha,” he grumbled, turning away and heading in the opposite direction to get himself situated in his favorite armchair.

When Madara came back from the kitchen he shuffled each step on the carpet and Tobirama held both hands out in the direction of the noise, happily receiving the plate that settled carefully on to them. He barely listened to his companion telling him there were four onigiri in a square around the plate before he had settled it in his lap and snatched up the first one he could get a grip on, suddenly ravenous now that he had food right in front of him.

Until he was halfway through his third onigiri Tobirama didn’t pay much attention to anything else, too focused on shoveling food down his throat and wondering why he hadn’t eaten more at breakfast. When he finally slowed down enough to prevent himself from getting indigestion, however, he noticed a distinct lack of mumbling or typing. Either Madara was staring at him or the man was reading something. Whatever the case, it was odd for him to be so quiet and Tobirama felt all but compelled to fill the silence.

“Does he ever call you too?” he asked. The long pause before he got an answer almost made him worry he had somehow hit a sore spot but Madara dispelled the idea quickly enough.

“Sometimes, yeah. If it’s been a while since he checked in last then I call him just to make sure he’s not lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Or breaking in to another brothel.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Madara sounded exhausted just remembering that fiasco. “He’s been a selfish little prick his entire life; I can’t imagine what possessed him to suddenly go hero mode for a brothel full of girls who didn’t even want to be rescued!”

Tobirama nearly choked on his rice laughing. “He is a selfish little prick, isn’t he?”

Actually it surprised him that Madara could admit that to someone else. To each other’s faces they were as volatile and argumentative as any other pair of siblings in the world but when speaking to anyone else Madara had a habit of taking the whole protective big brother thing to an entirely new level, refusing to allow so much as a single bad word spoken about his precious little Izuna. It wasn’t quite the way Hashirama pouted and cried at anyone who said something mean about Tobirama and everyone knew Izuna certainly did not return the protective favor. Selfish indeed, he had no problem letting people bad mouth his older sibling.  

“I should have known he still called you too,” Madara said when they had both stopped snickering.

“You jealous, Uchiha?”

“Not really.” Oddly enough, he even managed to sound like he meant that. “Izuna will call who he wants when he wants and there’s not much I can do about it. As long as he’s still healthy and happy out there there’s not much I want to do about it. He’ll settle down somewhere eventually.”

“I suppose.” Tobirama furrowed his brows and stared off in to the nothingness around him.

Madara wasn’t someone he would have ever cast in the supportive role. That was more the kind of thing he would have accused Hashirama of – or even himself in some small shades before their younger brothers passed away. It took a great deal of effort to turn his mind away from making some sort of cheesy joke about how not being able to see had really opened his eyes to the man across the room. Being temporarily blind did not mean he had also temporarily lost his taste for proper good humor.

“He hasn’t called in a few weeks though,” Madara distracted him just in time. “I imagine he’s got a lot of things he tells you that he wouldn’t tell me about. Care to gossip?”

“To make fun of Izuna? I can always lower myself to gossiping for that.” Tobirama smirked and ignored the little flash of triumph at knowing he’d made Madara laugh.

Over an hour later he surprised himself with the grudging admission that he was having just as much fun talking to Madara as he usually did with Izuna, a high honor considering Izuna was such a prominent name on his very short list of actual friends. Not that such a title spared him from the full brunt of Tobirama’s acerbic nature. It was startling to realize that Madara, whom he’d always thought of as a thoughtless oaf with little to no sense of humor, appreciated his wit as much or more than Izuna did. Their conversation dared to border on pleasant and held his attention just enough that he completely missed the sounds of Mito wandering through the room several times.

She made sure to tell him later – several months after the fact – that the open expression of joy on his face had been easy to read even with the bandages covering his eyes and added smugly that Madara seemed almost captivated by the sight each time he smiled. At the time, however, all Tobirama knew was the blank nothingness around him and the sound of Madara's laughter pulling him in until the hours of the day almost seemed to melt away from them unnoticed.

Quite like the warmth building in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling that he gave little thought to beyond pushing it aside to concentrate better as he continued to listen to Madara speak.

[jamesbucksiclebarnes]

Rating: Mature

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

Tag List: @crossbowking

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: To Love the Unlovable.

By the time I’d come back inside, Merle had destroyed the entire collection of mattresses on the first floor. He’d made it partway through the second floor, too, though someone had stopped him before he could ruin them all. I didn’t doubt Rick had likely found him, rummaging through the thin foam within the stained mattress cover for whatever source of substance he could use to take a brain-vacation. Whatever had transpired between them, Merle was no longer in the cellblock. Rick looked troubled, sitting upon one of the metal tables with Hershel, staring blankly out toward the upper window. I wondered if he were rethinking his decision.

Probably not.

When I walked past him, his gaze flicked to me and the creased in his forehead smoothed out. I met his gaze evenly as I passed, giving him a slight nod before walking past him into the corridor of cells. He could take whatever he wanted from that exchange. I didn’t care. It wasn’t as if I had accepted the likelihood I would be back with the Governor before nightfall. I didn’t. In fact, the thought of it made me almost physically ill. But I wouldn’t put these people at risk for my own sense of comfort. Not like I had for so many others beneath Philip’s reign.

Searching for Merle became more of a chore than I’d been prepared for. I passed Carol in the cellblock corridor. She gave me a pensive look, stopping mid-step and opening her mouth as if to say something before snapping it shut, having thought twice about whatever it was she’d been about to voice.

“You seen Merle?” I asked her. It was the first thing I’d ever said to her directly. She looked slightly troubled by the question.

“Yes,” Carol answered. “He’s down there.” She thrust a thumb in the direction she’d been walking from, thin lips pursed into a frown. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I don’t,” I responded with a snorted chuckle. “He’s a lot easier to deal with when he knows you won’t take his shit.”

She gave a non-comital hum, watching me as I walked past her, toward where she had gestured.

“For the record,” I called over my shoulder. “Don’t hold back when it comes to him. He’ll see right through you, anyway.”

She didn’t respond, but I knew she’d understood what I’d meant. I didn’t need to look behind me to know she was watching me walk away.

The sound of Merle’s voice is what lead me to him, down the series of steps and into one of the machine rooms beneath the cellblock. He wasn’t alone when I arrived, standing silently enough that neither of the Dixon brothers within the room noticed me at first.

“He ain’t got the stomach for it,” Merle was saying plainly, seemingly amused. “He’s gonna buckle. You know that, right?”

Daryl nodded, slight though it was, to indicate his agreement. “If he does, he does.”

“You want him to?” Merle asked. He spotted me, then, standing at the bottom of the staircase, though made no mention of my presence to his little brother, who had his back to me.

I could see how tense his shoulders were and guessed he was likely quite uncomfortable with this conversation. As if he were toeing some kind of line even he was unsure of. As if he were still undecided upon whether his need for his brother’s approval outweighed the place he’d found and the man he had become without him.

After a moment, Daryl responded with a shrug. “Whatever he says goes.”

Merle coughed out a harsh, humourless laugh. “Man. Jacques, you wanna come in here and find out if my little brothers still got a set of balls? I mean, are they even attached anymore – and if they are, do they even belong to you?”

Daryl jerked his head to the side, looking at me over his shoulder. He barely kept his eyes on me for more than a millisecond before turning away, cheeks red.

Merle snorted again. “You used to call people like that sheep. What happened to you?”

“What happened with you and Glenn and Maggie?” Daryl snapped back.

I felt my own shoulders tense at that question, jaw clenching as the memory played itself back over and over again in my mind. Merle’s eyes turned to me as he chewed his lip.

Daryl stepped sideways, blocking off his older brother’s line of sight to me. “I ain’t askin’ her, I’m askin’ you.”

“I’ve done worse,” Merle answered.

I cringed.

“You need to grow up,” Daryl spat, his voice harsh and low. “Things are different now.”

At that, Merle snorted, taking a step to the side in order to gesture at me around his brother’s form. “Grabbing up those little love birds weren’t just me, little brother. She’s just as guilty as I am but ain’t none of you looking at her like she’s the damn devil.”

That was because they didn’t know better. Merle, they’d had a series of bad experiences with. Me? I was just some girl that had come to her senses and was trying to do right by them. They knew too little about me to look at me the way some back at Woodbury did. And I hoped it remained that way.

“What’s that about, huh? Do I gotta get myself a nice set of tits and a tight ass before I get any respect?”

I reached out to the open toolbox sitting atop the shelf in the wall to my left, grabbed a loose screw, and threw it at him over Daryl’s shoulder. The metal struck him in the forehead, and he stumbled back a step, lifting his hands to his face with a curse.

“God damn it, woman!” he yelled.

“Watch your mouth, asshole,” I growled.

He looked at me through the gaps in his fingers, glaring. I just looked evenly back at him, brow raised, daring him to say something else.

Daryl glanced over at me, silently watching, waiting to see which one of us broke first.

It was, unsurprisingly, Merle. He looked away, dropping his hands with a grumbled huff. “Ya’ll are just doin’ the same damn thing we did, anyway,” he stated, looking back to his brother. “Snatchin’ someone up and delivering them to the Governor.”

Ah. So, he didn’t know. Rick hadn’t told him the whole story. I wasn’t surprised, of course. Daryl had made the point quite obvious that Merle wouldn’t go along with the plan if he knew I was at risk, too. I could tell he was concerned that I was about to tell him. The way Daryl partially turned his head to look at me out of the corner of his eye, the hair hanging over his forehead obscuring the look from his brother’s view, told me as much.

I didn’t say anything. There was too much of a likelihood that Merle would lose his shit if he knew, and none of us here, in this room, needed that.

“It’s different,” I said softly after a moment of silence. “Rick thinks it’s the only way. That we can’t win this fight.”

“And he’d be damn right,” Merle answered. “If we didn’t have you.”

I gave him a pointed look, warning him to watch his wording. He knew I didn’t intend on informing these people that I used to literally murder people for a living. We both had the same inkling none of them would take that knowledge too well.

“Don’t give me that fucking look, woman,” Merle hissed. “I’m right and you know it. Why the hell am I going? What we should be doin’ is sending you. Get you nice and close to him so you can do your thing.”

Daryl turned to the side in order to look between me and his brother, one thin brow slightly raised.

“You tell Rick that strategy?” I asked tensely.

Merle scoffed and tossed his metal hand out in a wild gesture. “You think I’m stupid?”

“That a trick question?”

“Shut up,” he growled. “I’m just sayin’. Why bother sending him Michonne, like it’ll make some kind of difference? We all know he ain’t gonna stop just ‘cause we asked nicely.” Merle looked to his brother, pursing his lips and shaking his head. “Maybe you and your friends need people like me and Jacques around, huh?” he mused. “Do their dirty work for ‘em. Be the bad guys. How’s that hit you?”

Daryl just looked back at him, a miserable look in his eye as he watched the man he called brother standing before him, prepared to be the villain everyone already saw him as. After a moment, the younger Dixon let out a sigh and said, in a soft voice that almost tore my heart from my chest, “I just want my brother back.”

I felt my expression soften and my throat tighten a little. When my gaze slid across to Merle, I forced myself to take a deep breath. His expression was almost as miserable as Daryl’s, though I could see the moment he shut himself off, put up that wall between his mysterious inner workings and his outside persona.

“Damn it, man. Get out of here.”

He waved his brother off, turning away from him and continuing with his mission to rummage through the entire prison block, looking for crystal.

Daryl stood there for a moment, watching his brother’s back with a sad frown before he realised, I was watching him. Once his eyes locked onto mine, he straightened his slouched shoulders and took a deep breath, wiping the sorrowful expression from his face.

Without another word, he turned away and climbed back up those stairs, every step weighted by the world atop his shoulders.

I watched him go silently, my own mirrored sadness beginning to boil, simmering until it had morphed into anger. Once I was sure the younger Dixon was out of range, I whirled on Merle. He had straightened, having also watched his brother leave, and caught sight of my hardened expression. The way his eyes widened would have made me laugh under any other circumstance. He turned instantly, making a run to hide behind one of the machines in the centre of the room. I chased after him, just missing getting a grip on his shirt by a centimetre.

“Get back here!” I yelled, following him through the gap between the machines.

He ducked behind another one just before I could reach him. “No! You’re gonna hit me!”

“Damn right I’m gonna hit you!”

We continued this stupid dance for another minute, while Merle tried to multitask between running from me and trying to explain himself.

“It ain’t like I’m gonna change!” he called from behind the green mechanical monstrosity to my left. “No point givin’ him hope!”

“You can say that without being a dick about it!” I called. “And stop bringing me into it!”

He poked his head out from behind the machine. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d just do what you damn do!”

“I’m not going after him on my own,” I snapped, leaping forward and trying to get a hold onto the sparse hairs on his head.

He ducked back behind the machine before I could, running around to the other side of it as I chased behind him. “Why the hell not?”

“Because Rick –“ I paused mid-step. “Because Rick hasn’t asked me to.”

“You’re kiddin’ me,” Merle groaned, stepping out from the machines. “You’re just jumpin’ from one damn master to another.”  

“Fuck off,” I hissed. “It’s more than that and you know it.”

“You don’t want Officer Friendly finding out your dirty little secret, that it?” Merle asked patronizingly.

“Mostly, yeah,” I admitted, though my tone was harsh. “What the hell does it matter, anyway? You know Woodbury will suspect me if he’s killed like that. How would that help us, huh? Do you think Martinez would look the other way because it’s me? Or do you think that’ll spur him into taking vengeance into his own damn hands?”

Merle let out a long breath before turning and thrusting his fist into the green metal side of the machine by his left.

“Sending in Michonne won’t help, either.” I lifted a hand to rub my face, looking to the sky in exhaustion. “Doesn’t matter what Rick thinks. Phil only made the terms to deliver us to him to make things easier for himself when he finally decides to lay waste to this place.”

Merle went silent and still. I didn’t notice for a few moments, too busy trying to calm myself, to let my shoulders relax as I breathed in and out through my nose. This entire thing was starting to stress me out.

When he spoke next, his voice was different. Softer, almost unguarded. The tonal shift surprised me so much, my attention snapped directly to him so fast I almost broke my damn neck.

“Promise me somethin’,” he said.

My face went blank as I gave him an even stare. “You know I can’t do that.”

“The hell you can’t,” he responded, taking a step toward me. “You just won’t.”

“I’m not like you. I make a promise, I have to keep it,” I answered.

“You sayin’ I don’t?” he asked, shifting slightly back into that aggressive tone of his.

“No. You know what I’m saying.”

Merle had no idea what I was. I’d never told him, never planned on it for the obvious reason of possible immediate annihilation. But he knew something. Though he’d never outright asked, as if voicing the question would make it all-too real, I’d given him enough information to go off without actually saying anything that would enable him to put a decent picture together.

Enhanced senses, inability to lie, the way I was bound to my word…

He knew enough. Enough to know better than to ask me for a promise.

“Just one thing,” he pressed, pushing off the machinery he’d been leaning on to stand in front of me, closer than he usually dared. “Please?”

I blinked up at him, my entire body jerking in surprise. “Did you just say “please”?”

He looked down at me without answering.

I found myself stuck on repeat. “Did you just, completely unironically, say the word “please” to me?”

“Syn…”

And now he was calling me by my first name? What the hell was going on? I looked up at him, at the earnest expression on his otherwise harsh face, and felt something odd settle at the pit of my stomach. It was an unease, an instinctual feeling of wrongness, as if, somewhere deep down, I knew something about this interaction wasn’t… right.

After a moment, I licked my lips and swallowed back against the strange sharp sensation in my throat. “Okay,” I breathed. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Promise me you’ll look after my brother,” he said. There was no scorn beneath the words, no condescending smirk or smug little grin. It was a true, honest request.

This entire thing was too weird. “Merle…” I began, tilting my head to regard him, to really look at him. “What are you going to do?”

He sniffed and straightened, plastering on a grin that I don’t think even he believed as he opened his arms and made a face. “What make you think I’m gonna do anything? I’m offended you’d even ask.”

“Do not lie to me, Merle Dixon,” I hissed, reaching up to grab the neckline of his wifebeater and pulling him close to me.

The startled look in his eye faded quickly, replaced by that same odd look he’d had a moment earlier. Fear? No. Something else, something more. Resignation?

He was going to do something stupid. I just knew it. But what?

“You said you’d promise,” he said, his voice low, barely louder than a whisper.

I stiffened slightly. He was right. I had.

With my lip curled up over my teeth in a snarl, I said, “I promise to do my best to look after your brother.”

That irritatingly pleasant pang of magic shot through my body, signalling the solidification of that promise into my very core.

With a growl that was more animalistic than human, I shoved Merle backwards. He stumbled a step, slightly put off by the strength of it, reaching out to catch himself with his good hand on the corner of the machines.

“Thank you,” he said.

Every cell in my body felt as if it were on fire with the force of my anger in that moment. How dare he force me into that! Whatever the reality of his knowledge about me, he knew I wouldn’t be able to break that promise. Knew it just as well as he knew I could hear him calling out my name, even as I passed through the gate and back into the cellblock.

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31831680

Karkat stays asleep until about twenty minutes from the point where you were going to wake him up anyway. He's not nearly as deep as he was yesterday, though; you keep catching half-formed thoughts from him, and when you absently put your hand down on the center console and find his hand already there, he laces his fingers through yours as soon as you brush against him.

Which is fine. You can drive with one hand. You can definitely do that.

When his hand tightens on yours you have to glance over, so you get to see the expression of mingled exasperation and affection on his face. Then he mutters, "Kankri, you can't just—" and opens his eyes, and it's replaced by mild confusion. "Uh."

"You have a nice dream, Karkat?" You squeeze his hand as you ask that, and have to bite your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot when he automatically returns the pressure. "Dreaming about an old boyfriend?"

"Oh fuck no." Karkat snorts out a laugh, tipping his head back and swiping at his hair. "Just my brother—and he'd spend a couple hours explaining why that comment wasn't funny." The grin he flashes at you has sharp teeth, and you know he's doing that on purpose. "It is funny."

"Can't believe a demon would lecture me on morality."

He shrugs. "Well, you'd call him an angel."

"Huh." What, one of you were adopted?

"No. I mean, I guess we could've been, but the fucking genetics are pretty clear even if he went one way and I went the other."

"But a demon and an angel—"

"Dave, do you want to know a secret?" When you nod and glance at him again Karkat grins. He looks so damn pleased with himself. "There's exactly one difference between angels and demons."

If you try and give me a theology lesson I'll kick your ass, 'kat.

"In your dreams, fucker. Does that mean you're not guessing what it is?"

Of course you know what it is. Bro's only told you a couple hundred times. "Demons are descended from the heretic angels who—"

"Nope."

"What?"

"It's fucking aesthetics." When you just stare at the road and try to figure out what the fuck he's talking about, Karkat elaborates. "Kankri and I are both affiliated with the same element—"

"What element?"

"Blood."

"That's not an element."

"It's a composite element. Water, metal—"

"Metal's not an element either."

He huffs and shakes his head at you, claws pricking your hand just the slightest bit. "Water, metal, which is a fucking subcategory of earth, and spirit. Are you going to argue with me about spirit not being one of the elements too?"

"Everybody I know always called it life, but nah, spirit makes more sense. So you're a blood elemental."

"Elementals can only be affiliated with the pure forms, so...no. Plus they're extinct, except for a couple really fucking old ones. I'm a hybrid of a couple different pure elementals, plus whatever else my ancestors thought it was a good idea to fuck—beings like me are almost as common as you humans."

"And your brother—Kankri?" You wait for his nod before you continue. "Kankri's an angel. Which I don't get."

"The only difference between an angel and a demon is our appearance. My true form—"

You can't help but shiver, not from the memory of him but from the memory of your dying brother in his arms. "I saw it."

Are you okay?

"Fine. I'm fine." Thinking about shit.

"Don't do that. And you didn't see my true form, trust me. It's a hell of a lot more demonic that I was going to let you see when you were already hurt and scared to fucking death."

"Isn't any way you look demonic, technically?"

You grin at Karkat's irritated huff. "Shut the fuck up." But he does...something. You don't get how it works, exactly, but for a second you see a sketchy image superimposed over your vision: a figure whose hair is somehow both blood and flames, eyes dripping red lines down his face, huge batlike wings flexing slowly behind him.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Karkat frees his hand from yours so he can get ahold of the steering wheel right before you would've let the truck drift out of your lane. "Exactly. Couldn't have you having that reaction or worse, could I?"

"...yeah." Maybe when I'm driving wasn't the best choice of times either, asshat.

"We're still alive and in one piece so it seems okay to me." He smiles innocently at you and lets go of the wheel, letting you put both hands on it again. "Anyway. That's what I'd look like, if I let my true form front. But Kankri, he'd look like a fucking angel, not the biblically accurate ones—"

"Do those actually exist?" The question slips out even though you didn't mean to ask it. You don't know whether you want a yes or a no, but whichever one it is you desperately want to know. Let him prove the whole god thing one way or another.

Except he shrugs. Of course he does. "I don't fucking know, Dave; aren't you hunters the ones who do the religion shit?"

"Some of us."

"...ah." He got a lot out of those three words, you realize. And you have to grin, because you know that he did from one understanding sound. "Kankri has wings too, but they're, you know. Feathery. Halo instead of horns, but then again I have a halo too if you look—"

"Wait, seriously?" Fuck but I want to see it. Maybe touch it.

He starts laughing at that, covering his face with his hands. "Holy fuck, Dave, don't say that to anyone other than me, alright?"

"What?"

"It's a euphemism. Asking to play with someone's halo, that's an invitation to fuck."

"...shit." Your face immediately heats up and you don't dare look over at him. Even though you're trying to keep your thoughts to yourself, you know Karkat's probably getting your panic-filled litany of I fucked up I fucked up I fucked upperfectly clearly. "I, uh..."

"You didn't fuck up, calm down." He pats your shoulder, one quick touch that's gone before you can fixate on it. "It's just words. Like, I've slept with you three times, that doesn't mean we did anything else."

Even if it sounds like it, you think, gritting your teeth to keep yourself from cringing at what it does sound like. "Do me a favor? Don't put it like that. Fucks me up, right now."

"Sorry." He thinks a wave of apology at you to go with the word, and holds out his hand to you, waiting for you to take it. It's a moment before you can do that. "...that's your turnoff, by the way."

"Shit!"

Amazingly, you somehow manage to make the turn without causing a collision. It's kind of a near thing, though, and you're pretty sure that there's a couple of drivers who're absolutely pissed at you now. By the time you get over the unpleasant jolt of adrenalin from that, Karkat's pointing out the driveway you need to pull into.

What the hell am I doing? you ask yourself. Which is a stupid question—you knowwhat you're doing, this isn't even anything hard or dangerous, nothing you should worry about, but fuck. You're still finding it a little hard to breathe normally as you fumble with your seatbelt.

"Dave." Karkat leans over and slips his hand down to hit the button, holding the belt down until you look at him. "It's going to be fine, I swear."

"Yeah." You lean forward and let your forehead rest on the steering wheel, drumming your fingers against the dashboard. "Dude, I'm bringing a fucking demon into a hunters' safehouse; what could go wrong?"

"Do you want me to disappear for a while, instead of coming in with you?"

Fuck no. "...Rose promised me Dirk and the others wouldn't fuck with you, I just..." I'm a fucking anxious idiot, is all.

"Shush." Karkat pulls at your shoulder until you raise your head and see that he's frowning at you. "You're not the one who gets to call yourself an idiot."

"What about if it's true?"

"Then I'll call you an idiot. C'mon, let's go see your cousin." Karkat opens his door, but waits for you to reach for yours before he slides out of the truck.

Halfway to the door you feel a telltale tickle in the back of your mind and grab his arm, pulling him to a stop before he can pass through the spot you did. "There's a barrier—"

"I see it." He tilts his head, eyes going lighter red than you're used to seeing them, and puts his hand out tentatively. If anything happens, you're ready to jerk him back and leave, despite how much you do want to see Dirk and the others.

Nothing does happen. Karkat feels around for a second, glances at you, then shrugs and keeps walking.

There's a doorbell. After you just stare at it for a full minute, Karkat rings it, then steps back from the door. He doesn't reach for your hand, and no way are youreaching for his hand, but damn if you don't wish he was touching you right now.

John opens the door. You were a little bit afraid that you wouldn't remember his face even though it's only been—what, three years? No, a little more than three and a half—but that's one thing you didn't have to worry on. He's taller than you now (goddamnit), black frames on his glasses instead of blue like you remember, but otherwise he looks pretty much the same.

He stares at you for a second, then grins brightly—and his smile is exactly the same—turns his head to yell over his shoulder, "Hey, Dave's here!" and takes one step forward to wrap you up in a tight hug.

Oh, shit. Shit. Instead of reciprocating, you just fucking freeze. Your breath catches, your hands fold into fists at your sides, and you try really fucking hard to not think about the fact that four years ago you would've given pretty much anything for a hug from this guy. Back when he called shit gay and you had a fucking crush, before Bro really started training you, before...before...

"Jesus, John, don't squash him to death." Dirk. That's Dirk. He puts a hand on John's shoulder and pulls him back from you, and you barely keep yourself from sighing in relief as you relax a little. John already looks a little bit concerned; you don't need to make that worse.

"Hey, Dirk." You think the grin you give him is steady. You're pretty sure it is. "We made it."

"Yeah." Your cousin's changed a little more than John. Most of it is how much longer his dark gold hair is—enough that he's got it back in a ponytail, nothing like how Bro wore his—and a new set of tangled scars that just barely peek over the neckline of his shirt. He gives you a minute to look, then grins back and opens his arms.

Him, you can hug. He's family. And you do hug him, maybe not as tightly as John did you, but still pretty damn tight. By the time you pull back, you're grateful for your shades—your eyes are stinging like hell.

Karkat nudges questioningly at your mind, and you nod and reach back to put a hand on his shoulder and pull him forward. "This is, uh." Fuck, you're really close to crying right now. "This is Karkat. Dirk, John—where's—"

"Jake's inside; he was in the middle of something," Dirk answers before you can finish asking. He pulls John back out of the doorway, ignoring the whine that provokes. "C'mon in, I know he wants to see both of you."

Karkat has to push you before you can actually get yourself to move. As soon as you step through the door he's next to you again, taking your hand and squeezing it. Are you okay? he asks silently.

Hey, I made it through John jumping on me, I can handle everything, right?

From his soft growl, Karkat's very aware that you're dodging the question. It makes you tense up again, for fear that either John or Dirk is going to take the sound the wrong way.

Dirk doesn't show any sign of having heard at all, although you know he must have. John looks confused for a second, then grins at Karkat. "Dirk said you saved Dave's life?"

You want to wince. Shit, did I tell him that or did Karkat?

Karkat's hand tightens on yours for a second. All I told him was the truth. "I don't know if that's right. I mean, this wasn't an immediate about-to-fucking-die thing—"

"If I know Bro, you saved his life," Dirk cuts in. "...and thank you. For doing that."

Karkat's head tilts again, as he studies Dirk. "I don't think a hunter's ever thanked me for killing one of their own before." Don't say that, man, don't admit it...

But Dirk just shrugs, spreading his hands. "Well. Usually, people like that don't become hunters, they end up dead or in prison. Think of it as an argument against keeping shit like this as a family business." He focuses on you, instead of Karkat, and gives you a reassuring smile. "Dave, seriously. You can relax; I'm not going to avenge that asshole or whatever you're thinking."

"I'd like to see you try," Karkat mumbles, and looks surprised when John laughs.

"C'mon, if you guys fight then I'm gonna have to play peacemaker and calm Dave down, don't make me do that." He rolls his eyes dramatically, stretching up to wrap his arms around Dirk's shoulders. "And I'm not the one who's good at being the go-between."

"Don't let him lie to you, he does just fine." Dirk smiles and pats John's hands, then extricates himself with a deft twist. "Wouldn't be much of a fight, anyway. He'd knock me out, Jake would come and get upset, when I woke up I'd have a headache and get scolded by both of you at once—"

"Again."

"Yes, John, we all already know I only date guys who're willing to tell me exactly how and when I've fucked up—"

"Wait, what?" That can't possibly be right. "You're, uh...dating John? Or Jake?"

Dirk nods, but clarifies, "And."

"...what?"

"Jake and John." He shrugs a bit. "It works."

There are several things you want to say. What comes out is, "John, you asshole. You told me you were straight." Probably not the most relevant point right now.

Karkat makes a strangled choking sound as he tries not to laugh.

John and Dirk don't even try not to.

And after a second you have to grin at yourself too.

[ofnifflersandkings]

Media Naranja IV

A/n: Longer chapter, but I’m super happy with the way it turned out and this’ll probably be the last part so i went all in.

Previous Part: http://ofnifflersandkings.tumblr.com/post/163150824192/media-naranja-iii

•

Connor flinched a little when he heard the volume of his door closing, but simply shrugged it off as he threw his coat and bag onto thefloor, promptly flopping onto his bed and groaning into the pillows. He felt pretty bad about just leaving you at the library, but decided that it was best to collect his thoughts.

Connor sat up on his bed, his gaze fell on his laptop and he debated on talking to Jared and Evan and get their intake on the whole ordeal.

The three of them all shared a couple classes, and they had mutual ideas of who the other was, besides that one English project sort of forced them to all get along with one another and form their small friend group.

They weren’t close friends. But still, the two of them had a funny way of talking to each other that amused Connor, so they all would talk online more than in person.

“God dammit,” Connor mumbled, fetching his computer from his desk and sitting up on his bed.

He booted up the computer and pulled up chat and stared at yesterday’s conversation.It took him a solid five minutes before actually figuring out what the hell he was gonna write

Connor: Listen, I need opinions on something.

Only seconds after hitting enter Connor felt the overwhelming desire to cringe, this was going to be the most awkward conversation of his life.

Evan: Sure, what happend?

Jared: oh my god, are we all about to have a moment??

Connor rolled his eyes, Jared was probably his least favorite of the two, but he certainly had the better sense of humor.

Connor: hilarious, seriously though, i need help on this one.

So, he told them what all happened at the library down to the part where he ran away. Connor saw the annotations that both of them were typing and rubbed his forehead, all of this emotion bullshit was giving him a major headache.

Evan: That’s a lot of information, but I’m sure we can help you with it.

Jared: hoLY SHIT CONNOR MURPHY IS JEALOUS!

Jealous?

Now that didn’t sound right.

Connor was a lot of things, but jealous? Never.

Besides,what was there to be jealous of? You and him were friends and nothing more.

So, then why did it hurt so much to think about?

He shook his head and promptly carried on the conversation.

Connor: Absolutely not.

Jared: Bullshit, literally everything about that story points to jealousy, just let it happen man.

Evan: Well hold on, it coud be something else? Maybe it’s just because you don’t like this Tony guy.

Jared: nobody even knows who tony fucking is, why would that explanation make any sense, hansen?

Jared: You’re jealous and I’ll prove it, because word on the web is that (Y/n) and Tony went on a date tonight at the one bookshop next to the coffeehouse. It’s a total hipster’s wet dream but there are pictures and everything.

Connor reread the message a few times, his brain was taking bit longer to actually process what he was reading on the screen.

Connor: Well fine, why should I give a damn who she goes out with, it’s not like i care or anything. It’s whatever.

Connor made a small ‘hmph’ noise as he leanded against the headboard of his bed, he could feel the disappointment and minor anger getting to him the more he thought about it.

And at first, he really, honestly, and truthfully thought he could end it there and leave it at that.

But before he knew what was happening, his hands were harshly typing away on his keyboard.

Connor: i mean what the fuck does she see in him anyways? the dude looks like a discount Harry fucking Potter they’ve literally never spoken in person i hang out with her all the time and this is the first I’ve heard of any stupid fucking tony

Evan: I think you should calm down a little.

Connor barely even looked at the responses, because all of this pent up anger had been released and he was certifiably pissed.

Connor: the two of them were chatting up a. storm at the library and the dick even made her laugh like ten times but whatever i honestly couldnt care less so what if the ass doesn’t deserve her or care about her like i do. i’m perfectly Fine.

Evan: holy shit

Jared: um…okay.

Evan: I mean really, wow.

Connor looked back at what he had written, and immediately wanted to toss his computer out of his window before throwing it into the deepest depths of the ocean.

Something didn’t add up though.

Jared wasn’t particularly close to you, and he didn’t know Tony.

Connor: Hold on, how do you known they’re together?

Jared: oh yeah, i don’t.

Jared: I was just pulling on your dick because you were being a bitch about your big ole crush on (Y/n), only wanted you to own up to it. But then you just went oFF.

Connor blinked, admitting his feelings to himself was something he was never able or wanted to do. Maybe it was because you were his first real friend, and the idea of putting that at risk for some petty schoolgirl crush was something he didn’t want to do.

But looking back on it now, this was clearly something a lot deeper than that.

Doesn’t mean he wants to admit it.

Connor: Right, well uh, I’m gonna sleep on it.

He closed his laptop amd set it aside, situation himself so he could look up at his ceiling and think.

Connor Murphy liked you.

A lot.

That part was obvious.

He indulged himself a little, allowing his subconscious imagine what it would be like if the two of you got together. Honestly, it wouldn’t be much different. You and him were already so close, it practically felt like a romantic relationship.

Connor just couldn’t wrap his arms around you, or hold your hand whenever he wanted to, or kiss you.

But he’s getting ahead of himself.

Connor got worried.

•

Another hour passed and stilll not a thing.

But he was cool about it, it’s not like he was waiting on you to answer him.

What a fucking lie.

The boy was checking phone nearly every five minutes regardless of his ringer being on and at the highest volume.

Connor carried it with him everywhere checking to see if you had answered. His phone was practically glued to his hands, it went with him while he brushed his teeth, talking to the boys, or pacing around the room as he stared at the messenger

He was a mess.

•

I mean what the hell kind of teenager doesn’t have their phone on them 24/7? He even knew that you had least 15 ebooks downloaded onto your phone.

Another hour and nothing, dejected and a little hurt, Connor left his phone on the kitchen table to go outside and kick at some of the pile of leaves that had gathered in the backyard to get out his frustration.

Ten minutes and scattered leaves all over the place, Cynthia showed up at the back door. “Connor! Your photo went off!” She called, holding the phone out to him.

Connor nearly ran his mom over when he ran past her, snatching the phone out of her hands.

“Thanks, love you, I’ll be in m room!” Connor said, far too quickly for her to understand.

Once he was alone, Connor looked down at the screen and got the biggest smile on his when we saw you had finally replied.

(Y/n): Sorry, I was reading. But I can meet you in 10??

Connor managed to reply, put on his jacket, and tell his mom where he was going in the matter of minutes before he was out the door.

•

You were already there whenever Connor came sprinting down the walking path, you smiled at his unkempt hair and the way the curls went absolutely everywhere.

Jared had told you Connor only started letting grow out over the summer, but you had a hard time imagining him without his long hair.

You had grown fond of it.

“There you are,” You said, giving him a smile when he came up to you.

Connor gave you a breathless laugh, and you could see how rosy his cheeks had gotten from both the exercise and the cold.

Speaking of which, you noticed that his jacket was far too thin for the kind of weather that was happening right now. Winter was on the horizon so the temperatures kept getting colder by the day.

“Hey, come here,” You said, beckoning him with your hand until he was standing right in front of you. “That jacket isn’t gonna do you any good, take this.”

Connor saw that you were beginning to take off your thick wool scarf and his hands went out to stop you before he stopped himself and awkwardly shoved him into his pockets.

“N-No, no, don’t do that, keep it.”

“Stop trying to act all tough and just take the scarf,” You ordered him sternly. “I don’t need you whining to me when you get a cold.”

He expected you to hand the scarf to him, so picture his surprised look when your hands gently went around his neck to put it on for him.

He could feel the coldness of your skin when your fingers softly brushed against the base of his neck and it made him involuntarily shiver at the sensation. Your perfume still lingered in the material of the scarf and he was suddenly completely wrapped in the feeling of you. It overloaded his senses amd he felt heat crawl up on his cheeks.

"Thank you,” Connor said, coughing to cover up how flustered he was.

You smiled before backing away from him. “So, what did you summon me here for?”

Oh, yeah.

Connor sighed, momentarily forgetting what he was doing. “I wanted to tell you something important.”

“Go on then, I’m all yours.”

He looked at you for a moment, his brain suddenly coming to a blank about what he had rehearsed saying to you. The words were meant in a nonchalant way, but it made his head go in a million different directions.

So much for the plan.

Connor’s hands fumbled together as he trie to figure out how to word his feelings without sounding like a total idiot. “I uh, I totally understand if you don’t feel the same..,” He trailed off, eyes looking up at you for a minute before a minuscule smile formed on his face. “But it would be really nice if you did.”

He settled his gaze on you again and instantly regretted everything once he saw the soft expression on your face. Did he sound stupid and that was some kind of look of pity.

“Of course I feel the same, stupid.” You said, wondering how he missed all the signs you had been giving him.

“Seriously?” Connor asked, feeling a smile grow whenever he saw you nod. “Well that’s good.”

Shut up you sound stupid

There was a short moment of silence before he spoke up again. “You know, your hands are really cold, give ‘em here,” Connor said, taking your both hands in his and tucking them under the scarf. “Better?“

“Better.” You replied, looking up at him to see him smile.

Connor examined your features up close, all the small freckles down the bridge of your nose and little imperfections one could only see if they were really looking at you.

You noticed him subconsciously leaning in towards you, your noses barely brushing against each other. You retracted your hands from him, on to place them around his neck as you leaned up to kiss him.

His hands reacted by wrapping his hands around you, resting them on your shoulder blades before pulling you closer.

Borh of your lips were chapped, and there was little movement from either of you, but it was warm and sweet and it just felt right.

Connor had every intention on keeping you there for awhile but you pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes, though he still had you tucked into his arms.

Connor took the opportunity to place a tender kiss on your cheek before letting you make your call.

Oh, yeah.

Connor Murphy liked kissing you.

A lot.

[scaplivingtogether]

Seven Crimes and Punishments- Living Together: Father and Daughter

Chapter 7

Father and Daughter

The sky was getting dark, turning into a nice shade of gray and the keyhole shaped sun was going behind the trees, indicating that it's sundown, just then a yellow speck of light appeared in the sky and started to fly down to the flat's doorstep, the speck then formed into Lucifer with a cardboard box filled with food. The demon placed the food on the patio ground and starts ringing the doorbell, the person who answered the door was Behemo, holding a riding crop.

"Hello, little Marie." Behemo teased.

"I'm not little, Barisol! And it's Lucifer now!" He...or she stomped on the patio. "Look, Held wants you back a half-hour ago."

"It's that late?" Behemo looks at the clock on the wall and saw that it was a quarter to Six in the evening. "Oh my, I didn't realized that I've been here that long."

"What are you doing in here anyways?" She looks inside.

"Oh just giving the trouble maker from earlier what for." He said wiggling his eyebrows. He then heard footsteps coming down from the attic, the demon looked and saw that it was Gallerian without his cloak and Kayo, finally finished with punishing the Duke. "...Please don't tell Held what I did here." Behemo said to the demon with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Oooooook? Anyways I got the food the sinners wanted as a make-up from this afternoon." She picks up the box.

"Oh right, that gluttonous animal was whining about it."

"I heard that, you drag queen!" Banica yelled.

"Is that Lucifer?" Allen said at the door.

"Yes, "HE" brought supper."

"Thank you." Allen takes the box, he then saw Lucifer stick her hand out.

"I believe payment is an order?" Lucifer said while brushing her fore and middle finger together up and down against her thumb.

"Nemesis, get the money." Nemesis went up stairs, possibly to the men's room.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Gallerian yelled out but was held back by Margarita and Riliane. "YOU GUYS ARE FASCISTS! UGLY, STUPID, RUDE, FASCISTS! FASCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTS!"

Soon enough, Nemesis came down from upstairs with the money in toll. "Here you go." Nemesis gave the money to Lucifer, the demon counted the money and found that she dug 300 evs from Gallerian's safe.

"That would do, come Behemo." She flew out.

"Well everyone, I bid thee farewell, pleasure making acquaintances with you all." He left.

"You fascists bitches!" Gallerian was on his knees as he whined after having his money spirited away.

"Ahhh shut up, Old man." Riliane told off the Judge with irritation in her voice. "You have more money than what you need to do with it."

"I need it for Michelle."

"I thought it was our vessels." Margarita squeaked.

"That too."

"Pfft, Greedy bastard." Nemesis sneered as she rolled her eyes.

"Ok ok enough said, your all hungry and cranky so let's untie the Duke and eat to our hearts content." Allen said while bringing the box to the dining room, Gallerian got up and went with Kayo to the attic to untie him, Sateriasis was tide in a hogtie position while hang from the ceiling in the attic with red rope, he seemed to have received many slaps to the face and a pair of eastern scissors lodged into the right side of his head. Kayo proceeded to untie the rope from the ceiling, causing Sateriasis to fall to the floor.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh." He groaned.

"Learned your lesson yet?" Gallerian said.

"Uh-huh."

"Alright." He untied the rope on the Duke's back, he then tried to stand up. "Stand up like a normal person." He did, "Come on you it's supper time."

"Oh food's here?" He asked tilting his head with half-lidded eyes.

"Yes?"

"Oh joy." His face looked dreamy, even his voice sounded dreamy.

~Downstairs, Dining Room~

Allen set out the plates on the table and started to open the box, it contained food from Mukoku: white rice, pork, sweet and sour chicken, chow mein noodles, shrimp egg rolls, little fortune cookies, steamed vegetables, and a bottle of Jakokunese Sake, it smelled delicious.

"Ooooh that looks good." Riliane said as she brought a pitcher of water, she then saw Banica who was eyeing on the food Lucifer brought over. "Down woman."

"Awww." Banica pouted, soon enough the others arrived and sat at the table, Nemesis and Gallerian fought over a chair.

"HEY!" Allen slapped his hands together at them, forcing one of them to sit in another chair next to Margarita, Allen also took notice in Sateriasis's dazed expression, "What's wrong with him?"

"I think me, Gallerian, and Behemo made him into a Masochist." Kayo said.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Riliane rolled her eyes.

"What's a masochist?" Margarita asked as she passed the rice to Nemesis.

"Not at the dinner table." Nemesis said. "I'll tell you later though." Once she passed the food to Kayo, Nemesis started snapping her fingers at him, nothing happened, then Kayo pulled her scissors out of his head thus bringing out of the daze.

"What just happened?" Sateriasis asked, he seemed to be back to normal.

"You looked like you we're in a daze." Banica said as she got some pork on her noodles.

"Well that's new."

"I'm sitting right here about to lose my appetite." Gallerian said as he broke his chop sticks apart, he started to sound sluggish.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell then let's not just sit here with our tummies rumbling, everybody dig in." Margarita said.

"Oh don't mind if I do, Marchioness." Banica grabs the chop sticks.

"AFTER...we say grace." Allen said. "I thought we can try clearing our minds a bit since you want to be with your loved ones in the heavenly yard, now everyone hold hands." Talk about awkward, but since they're hungry they have no choice, they took each other's hands and closed their eyes. "Dear Levia, we give our thanks and ask for your blessings for the meal we're about to partake in, Amen."

"Amen."

"NOM NOM NOM!" Banica then processed to stuff her face in chicken and rice.

"Have some manners lady geez." Riliane said in disgust as she is about to grab a sake bottle.

"Don't drink that." Kayo said as she snatched it away. "It's rice wine, your too young for it."

"But I was old one time, plus were all spirits now."

"I'm sorry your majesty, but you're still underage here, and drinking at such a young age is something I won't allow." Unaware that Gallerian sneaked the bottle, poured himself a glass of sake, and gulped it down.

"Thank you Kayo." Allen said.

"You know Kayo, I never give my underage harem alcohol until they're eighteen." Sateriasis said.

"Disgusting, yet responsible." Margarita replied.

"*Hic* I-I-I don't see da problem here." Gallerian slurred as he took another gulp before pouring himself another glass. "This sssake is not at all bad *hic*." His face was all flushed.

"Hey! Dad! Stop! Don't drink that!" Nemesis tried taking the bottle, but he snatch it.

"You c-c-can't hafe it! *hic* yer only *hic* a minor!" Gallerian slurred again as Banica sneakily poured some into her glass from his hand.

"I'm physically nineteen here, dumb-ass, we're not in Levianta."

"How did you get drunk that fast? you only took two small glasses?" Sateriasis exclaimed in surprise.

"He's a lightweight drinker, I know it and he knows it, he never goes to drinking socials as a result. I don't even understand why he would choose this time to drink now?" Nemesis said, eating chow mein.

"*Hic* Because *hic* because *hic* because I'm the king of Marlon, that's why *hic*." He took another gulp, unaware that the glass is empty.

"No you aren't." Margarita said, holding her giggles.

"Yes I am! I g-got blue hair! *hic* It's a royal birthright! *hic* Sh-sh-show respect for da king!" He belches, Margarita waves her hand in front of her nose to brush the smell of his breath away.

"That's it." Nemesis got out of her seat and went to where her father is. "Come on Dummy, your laying down until you sober up." Nemesis dragged him out of his chair by the collar of his shirt.

"Eh!?" He exclaimed as he was dragged out of the room.

"Aww, but he was hilarious." Sateriasis sighed.

"Totally. *hic*" Banica said with a flushed face while holding the now empty sake bottle, "And Galley was right, this sake is delicious!...hurk." Just then Banica stood up..."BUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!" Banica let out a huge burp that even cracked the empty sake bottle she was holding. "Excuse me *Hic*." She left everyone completely stunned by her loud belch.

~One hour later, In the Living Room~

Gallerian was laying on the couch next to Nemesis while wearing an ice pack on his head, he has just sobered up from the sake he consumed.

"Uuuuuugh, my head." He groaned. "I'm never drinking again."

"Serves you right, you light weight." Nemesis said while reading a book. "Can you remember?"

"I got to the table...Sateriasis became a masochist...I started eating...I saw sake...and that's it."

She patted his head. "Close enough."

"Whatev-...Uh...Ne-Nemesis, bucket! Hurk! Now!" Nemesis put her book face down so she won't lose her place, grabbed a bucket, and gave it to her Father, Gallerian ran to another room and did his business there. "BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH!" After a minute or two, Gallerian sluggishly came back through the door, Nemesis cringed from what she heard as Gallerian laid back down, "Do you have a mint?"

"No, get it yourself, I'm reading." She continued reading, unaware of her father glaring, he kicked her book out of her hand, losing her place that she's reading. Enraged by this outcome, she tackled her father and the two started brawling again, Allen happened to have stood by the door for a bit now.

"Ugh, I swear to Levia these two are gonna make me wish I was under the guillotine right now." Allen groaned in frustration while rubbing his eyes with his fingers, as if having a headache. "How can I stop them?"

"Watch this." Riliane said, she walked in and yelled: "HEY! STOP THIS TOMFOOLERY OR I'LL HAVE YOU BOTH BEHEADED!" In a loud, deep, masculine voice, it scared the two silent, they sat back on the couch as quick as a flash.

"Thanks, Sister."

"No problem."

"Look you two, I'm getting very annoyed by you two bickering like a pair of siblings."

"SHE/HE STARTED IT!" They pointed at each other.

"SHUT UP! I have had it with you two acting like this everyday 24/7 so you left no choice but to use "this" method until you two learn how to get along."

"Oh, and what's that boy?" Gallerian sneered.

click

"EH!?" in a blink of an eye, Allen used a pair of long handcuffs on them and cuffed Nemesis's right hand with Gallerian's left.

"Starting now, you two are gonna wear these cuffs until you guys learn how to love each other like a real father and daughter should! NOW STAY THAT WAY!" Allen stormed off up stairs, they can hear the door slam shut. The two were silent over what just occurred.

"...It's gonna be awkward to use the restroom eh?" Riliane said, popping from behind the couch.

"Your not helping kid." Nemesis said pulling her chains.

"This is just great, I'm stuck with a fascist hussy." Gallerian said as he pulled back.

"I was eradicating hell, you judicial mutt!" She pulled back.

"By blowing up the world? Oh how heroic." He sarcastically replied and pulled.

"I was stuck with Be-Beelzebub wh-who annoyed the heck outta me *hic* how d-do you think I feel? *hic*" Banica slurred.

"No one asked you." Nemesis sneered, Banica raspberries her. "Ugh! This is too much for me, I'm going outside." She walked up to the door, but stopped when she felt a tugged, her Father was still sitting down. "Oh right.' She tried pulling him but he wouldn't budge. "DAAAAD!"

"I'm not going anywhere." They began tugging on the chain.

"I wanna walk!" She pulled.

"And I wanna lay here!" He pulled back.

"I don't think the chain thing is working out at all." Margarita said while the two bicker.

"Me too." Kayo said as she watches them.

"Hey look, Michelle!" Nemesis said pointing.

"Michelle!?" He exclaimed excitedly but was then pulled to the ground.

"I win."

"You cheated!"

"Don't care, I'm walking." She began to drag him the handcuff outside.

"You're right, this isn't working out." Kayo said.

~Later, outside the flat~

Nemesis was taking a walk outside the flat with Gallerian getting dragged from behind, the sky is already popping stars above them despite being in a box, and the keyhole in the sky is now colored white. Nemesis was then held back. "Hm? Huh?" Gallerian was laying face down on the ground, much to her surprise.

"Nemesis, we've been out for a half-hour, and my feet are getting tired." He whined while laying down.

"I'm getting fresh air, isn't that the Elphegortian dream?"

"NemesiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS!" He growled.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine." She lightly kicked him to get up. "Stupid bastard ruining my evening walk."

"WHAT!?"

"Did I stutter? You heard what I said."

"Whatever."

~In the bedroom~

Nemesis sighed irritably while sitting next to Gallerian's bed. Gallerian was laying on his bed counting the money he was able to save, normally this was to make him smile but now he just wasn't in the spirit, he put his money away the safe and laid down on his side. Nemesis who had been sitting next to him took notice.

"You haven't even finished counting your money." For once, she sounded concerned despite her father's avarice.

"I just don't feel like it now." He sighed.

"That's new, normally you keep yourself occupied through money."

"I know, but i'm just...in a bad mood..."

"Bad mood? Is it because of what happened today at that Academy?" She asked him. Gallerian didn't say a thing, but instead began shivering. After a long silence, he got up and began walking out of the room. "What are you doing?" She was then tugged from the handcuffs that binds them.

"There's three cartons of Ice Cream and a bottle of Yatski Lopera wine I saw earlier." He pulls her up by the arm.

"Oof! Don't drink Dad, you're a lightweight."

"I don't care." He goes out of the room with Nemesis being dragged behind.

~45 minutes later~

Gallerian was knocked out, snoring loudly, and hugging the now empty bowl of ice cream with a spoon in hand, there was some residue of wine in the bowl, indicating that he has poured wine into the bowl of ice cream, sitting on the table are three half empty cartons of Ice Cream consisting of Mint Chocolate, Strawberry, and Rocky Road. His face was flushed from the alcohol and the area around his lips was covered in Ice cream. Nemesis was just sitting there, bored, and her face slightly red, possibly from drinking the wine her Father consumed. Just then, Riliane walked by and found the two sinners like this, she was stunned by the state Gallerian was in.

"Don't ask, this is what I'm currently dealing with at the moment." Nemesis said, Riliane quietly nodded and walked out of the room backwards, Nemesis sighed as she looked at the half empty bottle of Yatski Lopera wine. She drank straight from the bottle and shivered due to it's strong flavor of both the sweetness from the Trauben Fruit and the bitterness of the alcohol.

but then felt like the wine has taken a toll on her. She slapped the back of her Father's head. "Dad!"

"Huh?" Gallerian sluggishly got up.

"I'm going to the bathroom, now come on!" She pulled him up and dragged him out with her, but before Gallerian grabbed a carton of Rocky Road Ice Cream.

~Upstairs~

Gallerian was sitting on the floor in front of the door, still eating the Rocky Road he grabbed earlier.

"H-h-h-how long d-does it take for you to use the restwooom? NOM." He slurred.

"I'll be out in a minute!"

"Are y-you on your p-period again?"

"Shut up!"

"I'm jus' asking NOM." Soon enough Nemesis opened the door, causing Gallerian to fall backwards. "OOF!"

"Heh heh heh." She walks over him and drags him, leaving the Rocky Road behind.

"My Rocky Roooooooad." He pathetically groaned.

~Back in the Living Room~

"Three letter word! guess what I am!" Margarita said as she starts making weird poses.

"Ummm a rat!" Kayo said.

"A dinosaur! ow." Banica exclaimed, she seemed to have suffered a hangover from the sake.

"That's eight letters, it doesn't count." Sateriasis said. "A cat? is it a cat?"

"A dog!." Riliane said, Margarita pointed at the princess while touching her own nose, indicating that she won a point. "I'm good at charades." Riliane said with pride.

"My turn, Nemesis said." She got up, but she couldn't move with Gallerian sitting down eating a carton of Mint Chocolate ice cream and drinking more wine. "Get your ass up! I can't play if you sit."

"Do not want."

"Fine." She stood there next to Gallerian. "Ok, six letter word." She does her poses.

"A-a-re yer stupid? th-th-that has six letters." Gallerian snorted, but then let out a high-pitched squeal when Nemesis kicked his "little friend" hard, falling to the ground as a result.

"Ooooooh, that's gonna hurt." Banica said.

"Karma for today." Sateriasis sassed.

"Now you ruined it Dad, I'm ou-OOF...Dammit, keep forgetting about the cuffs." She watched as her dad recovers from the blow and tries standing up, he was having a hard time standing straight due to the alcohol.

"Like I said before: the handcuffs was not a good idea, it just makes it worse for the both of you." Margarita said. "I don't see how it supposed to make you bond if you two don't want to see eye to eye."

"Maybe I'll get that little brat to talk." Sateriasis suggested.

"Nooo no you've done enough trouble for one day Sati, it's my turn now." Riliane said standing. "Besides he's my brother, I'll get him." She marched upstairs.

"Good because Dad's being a whiny butthead doing nothing but whining, sleeping, drinking, and eating his feelings non-stop for the past hour, He even can't count his money." Nemesis said while lightly kicking her father's father's shin.

"Stop it." He moved away, but then he covered his mouth, indicating that he's gonna vomit again. "HURK!" He stumbled out of the room with Nemesis close behind.

"Oh god no no no no no NO NOOO!" Nemesis started to panic as she doesn't want to see her father vomit.

"BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEGH!"

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!"

"Oh heavens." Sateriasis said in both disgust and concern, the other sinners sat there extremely worried. Gallerian and Nemesis then returned to the living room, with Gallerian still feeling sick while Nemesis had a look of horror on her face, Gallerian sat on the couch. Banica gave him a bottle of water and he took it willingly.

"Are you ok, Gallerian-San?" Kayo asked as she stitched someone's pants.

"...Am I ok?" His speech seems to have straightened up a little. "No, I am not ok. Me and the word "ok" had parted ways a long time ago, Sudou. I am in a bloody state of misery."

"Well that doesn't seem like the Gallerian we know." Gallerian then had let out a sigh, it had shown signs of irritation. Soon enough, he snapped.

"HE'S DEAD THAT'S WHY!" Gallerian yelled suddenly throwing a bottle of water at her.

"Whoa!" She dodged.

"Gallerian!" Margarita yelled at him irritably."

"SHUT IT, BLANKENHEIM! HE'S ****ING DEAD! HE'S BEEN BURNED TO DEATH IN HIS ****ING SLEEP!"

"Do you kissed your mother with that mouth?" Sateriasis said in disgust over the use of a filthy curse word and how he's acting around the girls.

"Yeah, Galley! And you should be ashamed of yourself acting this way in front of these two."

"HA! EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, MS. "CANNIBALIZE-YOUR-BOYFRIEND"!" Now he's gone too far.

"How dare you menti-" Banica was gonna say something but was stopped by Sateriasis, he was shaking his head at her to not start with him.

"Forget it, dear. It's the alcohol talking." Sateriasis said. Just then Riliane arrived down stairs.

"Well? What did Allen say?" Nemesis asked, finally having enough of her Father's drunken rage.

"Iiiiiiii couldn't get him to talk." Riliane said, sheepishly."

"Why?" Kayo asked.

"He's not in his room, he's not even home."

Hearing this, it was the last straw for Nemesis, she clenched her fist and yelled: "THAT'S JUST GREAT! NOW THE KID LEFT US BECAUSE YOU WERE BEING A PRICK, DAD!"

"ME? YOU'RE THE WITCH WHO KILLED MY WIFE AND HANDICAPPED MY DAUGHTER!"

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT!?"

"WHY DON'T YOU BOTH SHUT UP!" Riliane yelled. "Your senseless bickering is what drove my brother off, you stupid idiots! Now come here!" She then grabbed the two by the ears and starts dragging them off into the closet.

"Owowowowowowowowowowow!" They both exclaimed.

Riliane threw them in the closet and locked the door, "You may come out when you two learn to shut your big mouths!" She looked at the other four. "You wanna join them?" they shook their heads in fear and left.

~In the Closet~

They're sitting on the floor in the closet. "Now this is just perfect! Allen's gone, Riliane's tormenting us, and now I'm stuck with a bastard like you!"

"Would you shut up?"

"What about you?" The two began strangling each other's throats in an attempt to choke the other to death, however it was not meant to be, for they slowly began to stop upon realizing that they're just spirits in the afterlife, so killing each other is now off limits to them. They let go of each other and began taking in some air, they turned around and sat back to back from one another. "Ass hat." Nemesis sighed in irritation.

"Bitch." Gallerian followed the same suit. They stayed silent, not looking at each other in the eye.

~One Hour Later~

Nemesis was beginning to feel tired, she kept trying to keep her eyes open until she finally nodded off to sleep, after a long while however..."Uuuuuuugh, my heaaad." She woke back up when she heard her father groaning, Nemesis looked back and saw Gallerian rubbing his temples with his fingers, his hangover has now taken it's toll on him. After a few minutes of him groaning, she finally spoke.

"You've been acting weird today ever since we got back from Capriccio Academy, binge eating and drinking, oversleeping, lashing out, and you stopped counting your money. Is something troubling you?" She asked.

Gallerian hanged his head low before answering "...Yes."

"Oh?"

"But I don't wanna talk about it."

"Dad, just tell me."

"Fine...*sighs* it's your Mother."

"All that over her?" She said.

"Yeah, for years we've worked together as partners of the courthouse, and later in search of the vessels of sins. Usually we fought physically and verbally but nevertheless she was one of the only friends I have...I loved her, though I had considered her as just a friend despite her pleas of wanting to settle down with her after I can get Michelle to walk again." He sounded like he was gonna laugh, but then he started to sound melancholy,"...However, during the Civil war, she left me for dead along with the Vessels of sins, then you murdered me. I felt betrayed and used...and learning that your Mother, Ma, was an HER of all things was the last straw for me. The way I am now was all because of her...Now all I want is to make amends with my family after what I've done behind the scenes."

"Heh, That makes sense." She snorted, "Can't say I blame you for being manipulated by a witch like her because I felt the same way...no, I've experienced it in a similar fashion, now we're even."

"Eh?"

"You may not like what you'll hear if I told you, Dad."

"Hey, you're the one who got me to talk, now's not the time for being a hypocrite."

"Fiiiine...she and I were pretty close y'see? I was happy being taken under her wing since the day I was born...until she left me...locked up in our house to go insane by Hansel and Gretel."

"...WHAT!?"

"Ah, so she hasn't told you? Wanting to keep her "favorite toy" without spilling the beans about me...I don't remember the full detail on why she abandoned me, but one thing's for sure is that she had left me for dead, I became emotionally broken, I've forgotten what smiles or tears were like...just wrath...I began to delude myself that she was gone because she was a busy playwright, but that was false..." Gallerian was completely shocked by this revelation, he had hated Nemesis for what she did to his family and killing him, he knew Ma can be a witch at times, and he was known to be uncaring to anyone's well being no matter the crime, age, race, and sex. Just as long as he has his money...but after discovering what Ma did to him and Nemesis? That can never be forgiven, especially if it leads to Nemesis going on a berserk rampage and destroying the world. Nemesis started to feel him shiver and hear him sniffle, she turned and saw that he was trying to hold back his sobs. "Come on, don't cry on me."

"...That traitor."

"You were greedy from the start."

"I know...but that's not it...*sniff*...All my life...*sobs* I THOUGHT I WAS HAPPY WITH WHAT I'VE GOT! AND EVERYONE WHO WAS CALLED "MY FRIEND" BETRAYS ME FOR THEIR SELFISH GAIN!" He screamed as tears streamed out.

"YOU'RE NO BETTER EITHER DAD!" Nemesis yelled at his face. "YOU USED ME AND THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU JUST TO GET RID OF YOUR ENEMIES AND TO GET THOSE STUPID VESSELS!, INCLUDING MY LOVER OF ALL PEOPLE! HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL!?...But you never cared." Gallerian covered his eyes as she silently watched him sobbing, a minute or so, she can't help but hug him tight, something she should've done for a long time ever since they met, even if he's corrupted, he hugged her back as he cried on her shoulder...why he's letting it all out now was probably from the wine, but she can't help but feel sorry for him nevertheless, Nemesis felt a tear rolling down her own eye. "Just to be clear, Dad: I still won't forgive you for what you done to everyone...nothing changes."

"*Sob* I know..."

"*Sniff*" They heard someone sniffing outside the door.

"Who's there?" Nemesis asked, the person who unlocked the door was Allen Avadonia himself. "You?"

"*Sniff*...My apologies for what I did earlier, I was just frustrated with you two constantly bickering that I had to take a small leave of absence, I returned because I realized the handcuffs doesn't work on anyone like I thought it would."

"*Sniffed* Then why are you crying?" Gallerian asked wiping his tears.

"You laugh if I told you Judge, so don't push it." He was rubbing his eyes.

"...You listened to us didn't you?" Nemesis asked.

"...Yeah, it's a weakness of mine from childhood."

"Fair enough." They existed the closet and Allen began to unlock the handcuffs, after doing so Margarita gave Nemesis a huge hug to make her feel better.

"I'm sorry...for what I said earlier...Kayo, Margarita, Banica." Gallerian apologized to the women he insulted earlier, the didn't say a thing, but instead smiled as a form of forgiveness. Sateriasis gave Gallerian a gentle pat on the back.

"Well everyone, it's been a long and very stressful day, so we might as well get some sleep, hopefully we'll all feel better in the morning." Allen said while wiping his eyes.

"Good idea." Kayo said. They all headed upstairs to get ready for bed, except for Margarita who cannot sleep and stays in the living room, she turned off the main light in the living room. Hopefully their first day in the box will be all but a forgotten memory.

END CHAPTER

[atroopofechoesband-blog]

Band-on-Band Action:  Indian Handcrafts vs. A Troop of Echoes

Here’s the fifth entry in a series of interviews with artists and musicians we enjoy and respect.  In these “double interviews,” bands ask each other a series of three questions.  No agendas, no awkward plugs, no corporate bullshit.  

Today, we’re dishing with Indian Handcrafts, purveyors of righteous Canadian stoner metal.  We learned of these from guys a publicist we worked with back in 2015, who also represented Indian Handcrafts and all of their Sargent House labelmates.  These dudes absolutely shred, and were a blast to catch up with...

Indian Handcrafts:  Stoner rock personified.

Dan (A Troop of Echoes):  You guys write some pretty gnarly songs packed with good choices.  Are there any specific moments or decisions in any of your songs that you’re super proud of?  Bonus question:  Are there any moments or decisions that you still cringe at?  We definitely have a few of those…

Dan (Indian Handcrafts):  I think the things that I am most proud of would be the things that weren't done by us but the contributions from others.  We've had the good fortune to have our influences professionally and personally involved in the production and performances on some of our songs such as the Swamp Child EP which featured Buzz from the Melvins and Bruce Lee which had both Coady Willis and Dale Crover of Big Business and the Melvins playing.  Another in particular is Degenerate Case,  which has vocal parts contributed by a lot of family and friends, including my co-pilot’s (I hate the term partner) band, The Rip Nancies, and both Brandyn’s son and my two kids.  As far as cringe-worthy material, I am an over criticizer when it comes to our stuff.  I see nothing but the zits and wiry hairs in odd places...

“Emotionally charged” music.  “Emotionally charged” people.  Dan from A Troop of Echoes, photo courtesy of  Freddie Ross. 

Dan (Indian Handcrafts): Your music is emotionally charged.  What were the influences that fused together to form A Troop Of Echoes?  Are you folks a fan of movie soundtracks? If so, what would be some to check out??

Pete (A Troop of Echoes): Thanks! We've sort of morphed a few times over the years, so we accumulated a caravan of influences along the way. In the beginning it was bands we grew up around, like Lightning Bolt and The Slip (this really sweet kind-of post-rock band that split up; two of them moved to Montreal and started The Barr Brothers). We've also been into classic jazz and modern sorta-jazz groups like The Bad Plus. And as kids we grew up listening to Zeppelin, Hendrix, that kinda thing. With our most recent record, the weird thing is that it ended up reflecting our influences even though we were making a conscious effort to just sound like ourselves. And what ended up coming through was the sound of a bunch of bands we listened to like seven years before this record was made. I don't even think we knew they were influencing us at the time. We'd be recording our practices and listening back to what was coming out and it was like "Whoa. Trail of Dead." I'm personally really into the Neverending Story soundtrack, because as a kid it made me feel like I owned a magical dragon.

Dan (A Troop of Echoes): This is stupid but I really liked the Gone in 60 Seconds soundtrack for some reason.  Also, Star Wars.  Obviously the full score is incredible, but it got even more drilled into my head while playing Jedi Knight on my computer for hours and hours.

Nick (A Troop of Echoes):  Two rando soundtracks for me: I Heart Huckabees and There Will Be Blood. Oh, and definitely Kill Bill, and anything by John Carpenter

Harry (A Troop of Echoes):  Two soundtracks from me, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Blade Runner.

The A-game, hand-delivered by Indian Handcrafts.  

Pete (A Troop of Echoes): Yeah, like Dan said, killer songs, guys!  We love your stuff.  When it comes time to take it out on the road, how do you make sure that you’re “bringing your A-game” to every show? Especially considering how “involved” your songs are - you guys don’t really have the luxury of just getting up on stage and strumming a few boring chords.  Do you have any bands you’ve thought of during your career as role models in terms of how kick-ass a live show should be?

Dan (Indian Handcrafts):  Thanx!!  When going out for shows it's like anything else:  practice, practice, and work your ass off.  Bands I have admired the most and looked at as inspirational from a work ethic point of view are without a doubt KISS and the Melvins.  Whether a club or arena you absolutely have to give it your best.  If someone paid to see you perform you shouldn't rip them off.

Who needs vocals when you have one or more saxophones?  Photo credit:  Freddie Ross.  

Dan (Indian Handcrafts):  Have there been any obstacles in being an instrumental band?  As someone who loves instrumental music, I’ve never actually played it.

Harry (A Troop of Echoes):  When we were first starting out, I think we had a lot of difficulty with it.  It seems silly to say this now, but around 2005 the umbrella term of "post-rock" wasn't really in the mainstream yet. We'd be playing shows and you could see the look on the audience’s faces as they realized two songs into the set that one of us wasn't going to start singing. I'm reminded of a friend's party we played at very early on.  We overheard someone saying, and I quote, "Why would I want to listen to music without singing?"  That doesn't happen very often anymore, be it that times have changed or that people seem to know what they're getting into more with us. 

There were a few things we’ve experimented with over the years to try to make successful instrumental rock songs.  When we were first writing material, we would try to jam a lot of different ideas into a short amount of time. Part of this was to just keep the audience locked on us and not have them wander off to the bar. The other part was just what we were listening to at the time. We'd fit 7 or 8 different ideas into a piece of music and try to have this kinetic, relentless rhythm bowl you over. We might have gotten in our heads a bit that since most people weren't keen on instrumental music that we had to grab their attention anyway we could. But over time we saw that we just couldn't keep doing that without having the song itself suffer. We took some time and figured out that we would have to get out of the way of a song, that it's better to have two or three ideas and have those make as much impact as possible rather than throw in everything and the kitchen sink.

Gettin’ Crafty with Brandyn&Daniel.

Dan (A Troop of Echoes): You guys are a 2-piece, but your sound is absolutely fucking massive.  What are some of the techniques you guys use to sculpt that sound?  Things like panning, arrangements, looping/layering, reverb/delay, multitracking, etc.?  How much of that transfers over between the studio and the stage?  Or do you have to take a totally different approach in each environment?

Dan (Indian Handcrafts):  We've actually just became a three piece as of last Saturday!  But before that, in the studio I used a lot of doubling on my main guitar parts and a lot of overdubs to create a wall of sound.  When it comes to live, I have always thought of it much the same as The Who did: the album is the album and live is live.  They’re totally different beasts.  

A Troop of Echoes with Freddie Ross, whose photography was used as the album art on The Longest Year on Record.  

Dan (Indian Handcrafts):  I love the cover of the new album.  I have my own ideas as to what it represents as far as the album sounds and feels.  What does it represent coming from you guys?

Nick (A Troop of Echoes):  Man, I'm a little drunk and my answer is getting kind of deep and emotional...

I don’t think there was ever some unified vision as to what the cover represents. We just genuinely enjoy Freddie’s work. It’s compelling and the pieces we picked in particular feel like a perfect complement to the record. They’re emotionally evocative without feeling heavy or manipulative, which is something we’ve always strived for in our music. As to what the art represents, I find it all bound up in my feelings about making the record.

The theme and color of the images suggest a sort of reverie for youth, or an ending of youth and a transitioning into another phase of life, which parallels our lives in the band pretty uncannily. I don’t think we could have realized the entire thought at the time because we were so focused on putting the album out, promoting it, and touring on it, but looking back on it now, The Longest Year On Record was a swan song for us in a lot of ways, and the images have accumulated that deeper meaning for me over time. Maybe I’m just an old fart now, but I feel unimaginably lucky to have been on the ride that was this band.

Gettin the feels over here boys.  

Harry:  All the feels...Somebody's cuttin' onions in here.  

We’ll take any excuse we can to repost this photo...

Dan (Indian Handcrafts):  Finally how do you guys find balancing life and music?  Do any of you have day jobs, kids etc?

Dan (A Troop of Echoes):  Nick, Pete, and Harry all went to school for music, and have actually been lucky (and dedicated!) enough to have built careers in music or sound-related fields.  Nick just started a guitar school, Pete has been teaching woodwind lessons up in Toronto, and Harry is working in a voiceover studio up in Boston.  I’m kind of the odd one out, I just got my Ph.D. in lunar geology, and am going to be starting a job at NASA this summer.  

None of us have kids, but we’re all in long-term, committed relationships with pretty wonderful people.  We’re really grateful to them for their support of our weird musical dreams!  Its not easy being with someone who’s always tied up touring or recording, but they’ve always got our backs.  

Indian Handcrafts is a rad band with rad songs.  Go check them out!