#your au has been living rent free in my head since i found it

[pafsplayground]

Hi @sm-baby 's Carnival au has completely consumed my every waking thought so of course I had to do something with my tadc Sona sooooo

If you wanna win back the only person not actively trying to kill you, you gotta win some super rigged games

No cheating~

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[dbnightingale24]

Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart

A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story

~~

Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!

Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?

Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.

“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.

“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.

“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.

“When isn’t he?”

“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”

“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.

Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.

Everyone except Curtis.

You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.

She never did.

You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.

It never has and it never will. 

That was the first time you saw him.

You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you. 

It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.

They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself. 

At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference. 

“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.

“Clearly I do!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Edgar-”

“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”

“Edgar-”

“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”

“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.

“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.

After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.

“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.

“Having one what?”

“Child?”

“Fuck no!”

“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”

“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”

“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”

“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed

Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.

“Why don’t you believe in him?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.

“Y/N-”

“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”

Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time. 

Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together. 

“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”

“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”

“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”

“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”

“I’m not having another argument about this-”

“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re gonna be late. Go.”

You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.

“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”

“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.

“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”

“Edgar-”

“We’ll have a future, children, space-”

“I just want you! Please-”

“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him alive.

When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something. 

Everyone except you.

“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar. 

Sansa, who’s his regular girl. 

“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time. 

You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train, that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.

He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train. 

“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.

In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.

“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.

He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.

“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”

“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.

“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”

“Edgar made his choice-”

“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”

“That’s not true!”

You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.

No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you. 

He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.

With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.

However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.

Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.

A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”

“Could be you.”

“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”

Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”

Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”

“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”

“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”

You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.

“Never!”

“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”

Of all the fucking times to be turned on.

“Curtis-”

“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”

You push him off of you and glare at him.

“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”

“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”

“He trusted you!”

“That was his fault!”

There it is.

“So you admit it!”

“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”

“You’re monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”

His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.

“Bitch!”

You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.

“Get out!”

“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”

“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.

“HELP!”

“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.

Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.

“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”

“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”

You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.

Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.

“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.

“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”

“Curtis-”

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.

“O-oh! Curtis!”

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.

“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”

Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“You’re fucking soaked!”

“Stop-”

“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”

You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.

“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.

“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”

“Oh fuck!”

You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.

“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.

“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”

“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace. 

He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way. 

You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”

The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”

The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.

“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.

“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.

The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.

“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”

“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.

You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.

“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.

Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.

Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”

“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.

That’s new.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.

How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.

The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now. 

“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.

You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.

“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.

“Shit!”

He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”

He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck. 

“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”

You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck. 

“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.

You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.

It feels so fucking good.

“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, there it is!”

“Too much!”

“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic. 

The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.

“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.

Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.

You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”

Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.

You’ll want him again and again.

A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.

“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.

Well, you’ve fucking done it now. 

He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.

Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.

You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”

He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.

“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”

You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”

“Ngh!”

“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”

The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.

“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”

You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.

“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.

“DADDY!”

“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”

You lazily shake your head ‘no’.

“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.

That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.

“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.

You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.

You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.

“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.

Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.

You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.  

The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”

~~

“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.

You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.

“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”

Curtis.

All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”

“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.

You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.

“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.

It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.

You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?

‘I love you.’

There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?

“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.

  When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”

You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.

“What?”

“Please...just go away.”

“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”

“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”

“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are. 

Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.

“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.

It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”

You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?

Curtis’ P.O.V.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.

You wanted me all along.

It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him. 

You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much. 

Two fucking years.

Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.

I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.

“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.

Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.

“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted? 

Because you’re not a monster at all.

Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.

How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.

You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.

How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too. 

“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.

“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”

“Did you explain?”

“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”

He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”

“What now?”

“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”

“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”

He’s not wrong.

“Did you hurt her?”

“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”

“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.

I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.

“Will you stop with that shit?!”

“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.

“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.

He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”

“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”

I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.

“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.

I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know. 

“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.

“Yes sir.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.

In time, you’ll understand.

~~

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.

You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.

You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”

“You’re hungry-”

“What will you eat?”

“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.

You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”

“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”

He had a point there.

“Go on, take it,” he offered again.

“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”

“Y/N-”

You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”

He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”

You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.

God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone. 

Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.

The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.

As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.

All of this was your fault.

“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.

“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”

He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”

“Curtis-”

“Why have you been crying all day?”

You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.

“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”

“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”

“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”

“You can literally have whoever else you want-”

You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.

“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.

His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.

“You don’t-”

“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”

“Curtis...stop.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not love-”

“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”

For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.

He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”

“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”

“Curtis...”

“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”

Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him. 

“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”

You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that. 

“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”

You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.

He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”

You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.

Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.

“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him. 

He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.

“AH SHIT!”

He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”

You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”

“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.

Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.

“Please....please!”

His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”

He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.

You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”

Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.

Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.

“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”

Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.

“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”

He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.

“Aht!”

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.

You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.

“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”

“Always gonna be mine?”

“A-an-anything you w-want!”

He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”

Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”

You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”

The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Do you love me?”

The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”

He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.

You’re too tired to fight it.

“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.

~~

Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.

The very front of the train.

That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.

“I’m here,” he calls softly.

You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.

“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”

He’s not wrong about you being sore. 

“Nothing-”

Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.

“It doesn’t matter right now-”

“Curtis, what’s wrong?”

There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.

“That’s the problem right there.”

“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”

“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”

“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”

“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”

“It’s a simple yes or no question-”

“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”

“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”

“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”

“Curtis-”

“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”

You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”

“Just tell me!’

“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.

He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad. 

When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”

You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.

“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

“Curtis-”

“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.

You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.

“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”

Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together. 

You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”

“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.

“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”

He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”

Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, Curtis.” 

[evilwickedme]

This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴ'

Summary: When trouble in paradise ruins your otherwise perfect life, you find yourself fleeing in a rented car and heading off into the sunset. Stopping for a quick bite to eat along your journey in a dusty roadside diner, trouble finds you there too. And things quickly take a turn for the worse.

Notes: Around 11.4k words. This is a prequal to my first fic, Stripped Bare, but you don't have to read it for this one to make sense. Caleb remains turned and everyone lives AU.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, death, blood. Severen is NOT nice in this. He sees the reader as prey and treats her as such until right up at the end. He gets a little nicer. The reader does not like Severen in this, apart from mild flirting in the beginning, but all those feelings quickly go out the window due to regular Hooker clan antics. The reader goes through it in this. Violence such as biting at and aggressive hair pulling is committed against her, so please don't read if that is triggering to you.

Part II

You should have known it would have turned out this way. It was doomed from the start, feigned interest and superficial attraction embellished underneath plastic "I love you's" and planned kisses. What hurts you the most is how blind you were to it all. Force fed lies by everyone in your life, Sam, his father, your friends- hell even your own parents had told you that you were just making assumptions. Being paranoid.

That all of the late work nights, the impromptu business meetings, the abrupt hushed phone calls throughout the day. They were perfectly normal things. Nothing to be concerned about. "It's just business, muffin. " Your father had told you once, reading the morning paper while sipping coffee from a ceramic mug. " He has to make money for all those pretty dresses you wear somehow." 

God, you had been so stupid. You had let everyone blindfold you and muffle your ears because you were too afraid of the truth. Too scared to accept the fact that the man you have loved since you were nineteen had turned his back on you. He spat on your three-year long relationship like it was nothing. All for his secretary . . . And that cute blonde maid at his father's country club. 

You can't help glancing away from the cracked backroad to sneer at your left hand that clutches the steering wheel in a death grip. Your ring finger is now startlingly bare, no longer shackled by the thick band of yellow gold and the obnoxiously large sapphire diamond - a horrid caricature of princess Diana's engagement ring. Lack of originality is what it was.  And to think you had been so overjoyed when he had gotten down on one knee and proposed. But you do still feel some satisfaction to know that the ring is gone. Sold off in some greasy pawn shop off the street corner back in Scottsdale.  About 90 miles behind you. You technically didn't need the money. You had your own little stash of savings despite Sam's insistence that you didn't need to worry about such things. That he'd provide for you. Yeah, right. Initially you had been tempted to flush it down the toilet. The less petty side of you had even contemplated simply leaving it on the table next to his side of the bed. But then you had a thought- why give up all of that free money? It is technically your ring. It was bought with you in mind, right? You could at least get something out of it. 

And so that afternoon, you had found yourself standing behind the glass case of a pawn shop. Scanning the numerous arrays of items from the safety of the display case. Everything from antique pistols to frosted bracelets, passing the time while the man on the other side of the counter examined the ring you had proudly worn only a few hours ago, squinting at it through a loupe magnifying glass, delicately turning it this way and that. 

"I'll give you five thousand for it," he suddenly speaks, pulling your attention away from a velvet tray showcasing old war medals. You can't even contain the scoff that leaves you, all decorum and self-restrain completely ran thin after the night before. "That's nearly a twenty-thousand-dollar ring." You counter, eyebrows pinching with poorly disguised frustration. 

He chuckles with a loose shrug that telegraphs his opinion better than his words ever could. Not my problem, it had said. His stained dentures peeking out from behind his lips when he goes to bite in a horridly dry looking donut, flakes of the glaze chipping and falling onto his button up. 

"That's my price. Take it or leave it." 

As previously stated, you didn't technically need the money. You had your cheque book, but not all places took cheques. You had your bank card, but a lot of places outside of big, wealthy cities still didn't have the machines to even use them. You needed the cash. And despite the fact that the man is woefully skimming you on the price, five thousand is still five thousand. 

So, with a great amount of swallowed pride and defeat you managed to grit out a stiff: "Fine. I'll take it." 

And now you're driving down a desolate road, seated inside a rented Ford Escort, with long stretches of the vast desert on either side of you. It's a boxy little car that Sam would have absolutely turned his nose up at. Good. Both of the front windows are completely down, letting the warm summer air tunnel inside the cabin of the car and tussle your hair around. The radio is on full blast, with a random rock music blaring out the vehicle's speakers without care. You tried to find a steady station earlier but had quickly given up whenever the music would dip down low and speckle out into static every time you drove through a patch of slopping hills. It was gorgeous, you have to admit. The way the landscape shifted from soft creams and rich rusted oranges and browns, with saguaro cactuses looming across the expanse of the dry desert floor like tall watching figures. 

But what struck you the most was sunsets. The ones you got back in New York were often dull. Muted by layers of pollution and the glow of the city lights, blocked by the sheer scale of the skyscrapers that blocked out the sun. It couldn't compare to the sheer vibrancy that painted the sky out here. 

With the sun dipping low, just barely peeking over the horizon, splashing shocking shades of pink and gold across the faint blue. It was also a painful reminder that this was all temporary. That eventually your little joy ride would have to come to an end. You would have to return to New York and face reality. Listen to the barrage of questions and accusations that would no doubt be thrown your way like stones and rotten tomatoes. You couldn't wait for the disapproving glare your mother would give you. The disbelief and disappointment. The excuses from Sam and the arrogant satisfaction that would waft from his parents. They never liked you anyway. Luckily, you still had your own apartment. Thank God that past you had the foresight to keep it and drag your feet on it giving up. That at least means that you won't have to stay with your parents or burden one of your friends by laying up in their place. You're not sure if you could stomach that honestly. 

Up ahead you notice a glint of a red light shining in the growing dark from a muted outline. It takes a few more minutes for the building to take shape, but you're quick to recognize it as a quaint little diner. The first thing you notice when you pull into the gravel parking lot is that the roof is in shambles, the old tiles cockeyed and skewed looking like they might take off in a good storm, and a red neon 'open' sign flickers unsteadily from behind a window - the only thing that would let you know that the building isn't abandoned, if not for the couple of cars scattered about out front. And there's a random statue of a horse standing next the dusty glass entrance. It looks like someone tried to paint it brown some time ago, but the paint has begun to chip from years of enduring open weather, exposing the grey base underneath. 

It's . . . cute . . . in a rustic sort of way. But you could hardly care about the aesthetic. Your legs could use a stretch and you honestly haven't eaten much today apart from a hastily grabbed bag of potato chips the last time you were at a gas station. And you should have a decent amount of distance put between you and your fiancé - ex fiancé. 

The bell above the door chimes when you enter, announcing your arrival. But the first thing you notice is how empty it is. Not that you were expecting it to be packed full and brimming. The lighting is a tired gray tone, which does nothing to combat the cool tones of the white walls and you can hear the light fixtures buzzing with electricity, almost competing with a low energy country song playing in the background. You don't notice any staff, but you do spot an older couple - the only customers apart from yourself - sitting at the first booth to your right, the pair leaning conspiratorially over a collection of post cards spread over the tabletop. Old love birds probably here to see the Grand Canyon and Tombstone. You wonder how long they've been together. How they've managed to find love in someone over all the years.  "What do you think about this one, Curtis?" She's asking, tapping a glazed card with a manicured nail. "Do you think he'll like this one?" 

You turn away from the private exchange to perch yourself at the L shaped counter, sitting on the tearing and stiff vinyl of the stool cushion and notice a sheet of pale paper sticking out against the faint yellow of the counter. The bold letters atop proudly declare that it's the menu that you notice as the standard font from a computer and the page is laminated with thick strips of packing tape. The low effort does have you wondering if you might be risking the chance of food poisoning, but with the combination of a shitty few days and a rumbling stomach, you can hardly find the energy to care. 

Suddenly there's an exchange of yelling coming out from past the serving window that peers into the kitchen, making you pause in your examination of the menu. You can hardly make out the words thrown back and forth, but the tones are heated. It sounds like a man and a woman, and the latter is confirmed when a frazzled woman comes barreling out of the kitchen, leaving the swinging door to slam up against the bar, rattling the glass cake displays and napkin dispensers. And based on the name tag - Rachel it read - she seems to be the waitress. The man's voice must belong to the cook . . . or maybe the owner then. She looks mortified when she sees you, face flushing pink and you do your best to reassure her with a soft smile. 

" I'm so sorry you had to hear that, " she tries to laugh but it's strained and short and not at all convincing. 

"It's alright, " you replied with a light shrug. "I could hardly make out what was said. And I think the pair behind me are too engrossed in their post cards to notice." 

That seems to settle her a bit, shoulders relaxing. Her eyes notice the menu in your hands, and she nods her chin. " You see anything on there you'd like?" 

You glance back down on the back, going back down the quaint list available with a hum. "Just a cheeseburger with cheddar and a side of fries is fine. And a coke. "

She's quick to give you your drink before she leaves with your order, slipping back into the kitchen to deliver it personally. And you can't help but feel bad for sending her back into the hypothetical lion's den. You take a moment to breath and really focus on events of today. How you wound up in a dusty diner in the middle of nowhere after spending the first few days of your vacation alongside the country clubs pool in a sleek hot pink two-piece bikini, drinking mixed drinks and enjoying the sun while Sam spent his time playing golf with his father and new colleagues. 

And that's how you found him. After days of trying to get him to go out, to go on a date like a normal couple, and him deflecting, saying that he was busy with his father's business friends, you found him balls deep in the young housekeeper that you had seen pushing a maid cart down one of the halls a few days before. She was moaning in that exaggerated way that porn stars do. 

For a moment you all you did was stand there. You didn't know how to react, water soaking the carpet from your damp feet, still wet from your recent swim in the pool. And there was a nasty voice in your head telling you that it was your fault. That it was all of your paranoia and insecurities that had drew him away from you. That it had probably made you distant and cold and you were too caught up in your own fears to see the strain you had put on him and your relationship. 

But it wasn't your fault. You weren't crazy. You were right the entire time. All of those little glances that his assistant used to send him, the looks that would linger a bit too long. Like the time that you had showed up to his office to surprise him. You had known how stressed he was at his job, the workload pilling up with no end in sight and so you figured you'd pop in and see him. It was after hours but the guard knew you and let you in regardless. And when you were rounding around the corner of cubicles the door of his office had swung open and she had walked out, tugging at the edge of her skirt to smooth it out. And when she had saw you, her body visibly stiffening while she blurted out a quick hello, quickly followed by a hasty excuse for her rushed leaving. Something about being late for something. 

When you had entered Sam's office, he looked put together enough, except the first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie was on his desk. It was the first red flag that you had avoided, slipping on your rose-tinted glasses. And the worried phone calls to your mother did nothing but convince you that you were trying to make something out of nothing. "You're just nervous about the wedding, " she had said, " Sam is the best thing that's happened to you. Don't go and ruin this opportunity over some cold feet." 

And then there you were last night. Him and the maid. She had screamed when she noticed you standing there, nearly kicking him with her foot and sending him off the bed. She was up faster than you could blink, snatching up her clothes and taking a linen sheet with her as makeshift cover, rambling apologies under her breath, saying that she didn't know as she slipped out of the room leaving you to numbly stand and stare at your naked fiancé. 

He had tried everything to get you to stay. A pathetic amount of 'I'm sorry's" streaming out of him. Claiming that it wasn't you it was him, it was stress from work, that he didn't mean to, that he'd never do it again. You had spent the night in a separate room, and you were gone in the morning without as so much as a note. 

The bell above the door chimes, too cheerful for its gritty environment, and you boredly look over your shoulder to see what other wayward soul has stumbled in. It's definitely an interesting band of characters to say the least, a family you'd assume. With a platinum haired woman ushering a young boy in by the shoulders who looks less than enthused about being guided to a booth on the left side of the diner, openly grumbling under his breath. They're closely followed by a lithe, stoic looking man who looked about as friendly as the mean dog that your old neighbors had chained out in front of their house. The one who would lunge at the fence and snarl whenever you'd walk past to get to the bus stop. The glare he had cast across the room felt like the blade of a cold knife running across your skin. And there was a young couple behind him, the young man's arm curled around the girl's shoulders while she tried to lean into him as they walked, whispering secretly to each other like they were the only people in left in the world. 

Young love. They'd be at each other's throats soon enough. Or maybe you're just bitter. 

And despite the clear dynamic between the group, the sense of family that comes from them you can't help but feel like you're looking at something odd. There's a faint chill that runs down your spine like some quiet subconscious part of you is trying to get you attention. You feel a bit of guilt gnaw at you. You had no right thinking about a random group of strangers like that. 

And you nearly look away but then a hand is catching ahold of the door before it can swing closed and someone else is stepping inside with the sound of jingling accompanying each step. It takes you a second to notice the spurs strapped to the heels of his scuffed cowboy boots. Your eyes continue to trail upwards, past the glinting silver of his belt buckles - two belts? - and up the expanse of his torso, taking in the black leather jacket, decorated with badges and medals and other little embellishments like the tiny metal longhorn heads that decorate the edges of the coats collar. There's a beaded necklace around his throat in a pattern of yellow, red, yellow, and black. And it reminds you of that little rhyme you heard a long time ago about how to tell if a snake is venomous or not. 

Red and black, safe for Jack. Red touching yellow, kill a fellow. 

You can't help but wonder if it applies to him as well. Then you get up to his face where an all too wide grin sits. Like a jack o' lantern, you muse. But despite the unsettling quality to his smile, you can't deny that he's an attractive man in a rough and wild sort of way. He looked like someone you'd see mentioned in a Rolling Stone publication or in a messy pop culture magazine discussing rockstars. 

" Looks like we struck gold again!" He hoots sarcastically, either completely unaware of the volume of his voice or simply not caring and you take note of the southern drawl that honeys his words. His eyes scan over the room, trailing over the older couple in the corner who have since looked up from their cards to squint at the man causing all the noise. He winks at them in a cheeky sort of way, completely shameless. "It's gonna be slim pickins' tonight!" 

Before you have time to evaluate that little remark, the waitress is pushing the kitchen door open, carrying a plate holding a burger and fries in one hand. It's either the sudden sound or the weight of your stare that has the stranger looking over in your direction and the hold of his eyes on you seems to siphon the air from your lungs. Blue, the thought rings across your mind, they're a stormy sort of blue. 

You turn away from him, like a scolded child who got caught doing something that they shouldn't have and focus down on your plate, the hollow pit of your stomach reminding you why you're even here. To eat, not to ogle at strange men. No matter how handsome they may be.  

"Well, they sure are a colorful little group, aren't they," Rachel whispered in an amused sort of way, watching as the family piles into the booth. With the mother, her son and the father filling up one side and the couple on the other. The cowboy straggles behind, instead opting to stay outside the table, leaning over it and propping himself up on both hands while the group discusses something amongst themselves. But you see a bit of unease flit across her face, and it gives you some pause. Surely, they couldn't be that much different from the other types of people that frequent this place. It makes you wonder if she felt what you had. The feeling that came with crossing paths with something dangerous. Like walking into the grocery store and seeing a bear ransacking the shelves. 

"I'm sure they aren't as bad as they look, " you encourage before biting into a fry. And she nods along like she's trying to amp herself up. " A customer's a customer. " She replies in a worn but robotic drone, like the words have been drilled into her head. Probably by management. And then she's dipping out from behind the counter leaving you to enjoy your meal by yourself. You nearly moan at the first bite of your burger. It's nothing show stopping. But it's good. Good enough to quell the empty rumbling in your gut with a couple of bites. 

"What's a sweet thing like you doin' in a shithole like this?" That sugary voice breaks out across the quiet. And it takes a moment for you to realize that the question is even addressed to you. And you're twisting around on the stool with a mouthful of food bulging from your cheeks while your mothers voice scolds you from the recesses of you mind for having such bad manners. You come face to with a chest covered in a worn white wife beater that's definitely seen better days and you're swallowing the bite of food as your gaze continues upwards until it locks with a set of piercing baby blues.  

The rockstar.

"I was hungry," you respond bluntly. Cut and dry. You figured that would have been enough to give him the hint that you weren't in the mood for idle chit chat or mindless flirting, but he doesn't remove himself from the way that he leans against the countertop, suspending his weight on a single elbow and cocking a hip. "Well, shit darlin' I've ate better slop from the inside of a jail cell," he chuckles at his own joke, and you honestly can't tell if the comment was a joke or not. Firstly, the food isn't even that bad. A bit greasy but not bad. Worse case you'd probably get a stomachache, which is pretty small in terms of how awful your past few days have been. 

"I'm sorry, are you trying to flirt with me?" you ask, huffing incredulously. "Because, if you are, most guys like to leave out the fact that they've been arrested. " 

He doesn't take offence to it like you'd expect, but instead little hiccups of laughter bubble up from his chest like it's the funniest thing he's heard in a while. " Oh, those? Just a coupla thievin' charges." He admitted airily, like he was talking about something casual. Like work or he was commenting on the weather. "Plus, that was years ago. " And he's waving a hand in the air, gesturing like it isn't important, and all you can do is watch him, smiling from disbelief - not amusement - while you rove over his features like they might be the answer to the oddness of the entire situation. 

"What is your plan exactly? " You ask, sipping from the straw of your coke without looking away from him. "I mean, you're here with who I assume is your family. Probably on vacation. So, what was the goal? That you were going to sweep me off my feet and we'd grind one out in the bathroom?" You shake your head. At one time you would have had more tact. You would have chosen your words carefully and danced around the topic. But not tonight. You look away to read the clock that hangs above the serving window, silently reading the minute and hour hand. 8:13 it told you. You should probably get a move on in a bit and find lodgings for the night. Hopefully the next town over won't be too far over, but everything is so spread out on the west coast, less compact and huddled than the east." Classy." You remark without any sense to cover your scorn. 

"Shit, girl what kinda John's are you used to? I was just tryin' to make a bit o' conversation," he laughs, combing a hand through his hair as he turns just a notch to look over at his family and Rachel is standing in front of their table, no doubt trying to get their order, but she looks tense and rattled. But then again. you've practically known her for five minutes and that seems to be her default state. "I ain't that bad, am I?" 

The group doesn't answer verbally instead chortling at the question like a pack of coyotes yipping at the joy of a successful hunt and it gives you the feeling that he might be worse. 

"You're about as welcomin' as shit on someone's doorstep, " the kid sneers, and you can't help but gawk at the language that comes out of his mouth and how openly he insults an adult and assumed relative. But what is even more surprising is the way that his mother doesn't make a move to scold him. Instead, it's the cowboy that speaks out, leaning forward like he might leap across the distance that separates them and throttle the kid, hissing out a strained " shut up, Homer before I tan yer hide," between his teeth and then he's turning his attention back to you, the irritated scowl that he wore was now gone in a flash, like a switch had been flipped he was smiling like the exchange hadn't happened. "Aw, shit darlin' - I've seemed to've left my manners at the door. The name's Severen," and he's extending his hand for you take. "Do I get a name to go with a pretty face?" 

You let go of the hold you have around your plastic soda glass to accept his hand, exchanging a firm shake. You really don't know why you're even entertaining this random stranger. Severen. An odd name if you've ever heard one. It defiantly fits the leather cowboy rockstar aesthetic he has going on. Sure, he seems a little shady, but he has a sort of magnetic charm that keeps you from tossing a few bills on the counter and leaving the diner all together. It also helps that he seems to be a complete one-eighty of Sam, who was all forced politeness and feigned confidence. His words always seemed a bit too rehearsed, like he was a part of a scripted play and was forced to do improve on the spot. He was always trying to sell something, even outside of the office. Whatever dominate personality was in the room he'd mold himself to imitate it like a chameleon. An old business trick he had told you. And maybe it was. It had certainly worked on you. The empty promises, the constant stream of expensive gifts, the vacations to private islands and resorts. They were all just pretty distractions to keep you blind to his awful personality. 

But this random stranger carries himself like time operates on his whim. Like he could tell the world to stop, and it'd quit breathing entirely until he gave it the okay. He was the kind of man that your mother warned you not to go near. The type you'd see hanging outside of seedy bars on the nights that you and your friends would sneak out of your homes to go wander around town, sipping from gas station slushies and gossiping near the old train tracks. And your mother was right to warn you all those years ago. Guys like him can be dangerous. Maybe it's all your bent out emotions getting the better of you, but you kind of like it. 

And truthfully, it feels a little validating to have a guy - especially one as attractive as he is to approach you and strike up a conversation. After Sam's betrayal and the menagerie of twisted and self-depreciating emotions that came with it, it feels good to know that you're still wanted. Even if the attention is coming from a random man in a lonely roadside diner that ultimately won't go anywhere. You've never been the type to entertain men. Granted it's mostly due to the fact that you and Sam had officially put a label on your relationship when you were twenty-one, so your experience with flirting and one-night stands are quite limited. But this wasn't something that was going to go anywhere. It was simply something to pass the time before you set off and head back out on the road. Two strangers sharing a conversating before going on with their lives. It was harmless. So, you tell him your name and he parrots it back like he's trying to memorize it and it shocks you how much you like the sound of it dressed under his voice, sweetened under his southern drawl. It's Texan you think. 

"A pretty name for a pretty lady." 

"You lay it on thick, don't you?" 

"Well, I've never been one to skim it when it comes to the truth. " He flashes that charming grin again, and you glance down at the fries and shuffle them around the plate to distract yourself from it. You hate the heated flutter that fills your stomach at the sight of it. "So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" You shoot back at him, not word for word but you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes that it amuses him, nonetheless. 

"About what you said, family vacation. Sightseeing and all that. " You nod along with him, thumbing at the straw of your drink while you meet the dark blue of his eyes. The conversation fizzles out. But not in an awkward or uncomfortable manner. It feels completely natural; the silence that falls over you both. And you just barely register the outside noise. The soft, idle chatter of the elderly couple, the hum of the old lights, the dull drone an energetic rock song, but then a sharp abrupt sound is breaking the spell that fell over you. The sound of someone clearing their throat. Not in the way you might do to dislodge something from your throat but in a way that demands attention and both you and Severen are looking back over to the booth where his family sits. It's the older man who fixes Severen with a stare. Firm and a little chastising. There's another quality to it that you can't make out and it has a cold shiver trickling down your spine. Severen doesn't verbally respond, but the exasperated look he gives the man seems to carry words of its own, the two of them seemingly having an entire conversation with only two heavy stares. It makes you feel awfully singled out. The shift from the flirty banter and light energy to a looming, heavy air happens so quickly that your brain is still struggling to comprehend it. It's like you've been foolishly stumbling about and have suddenly walked into a room that you shouldn't have, and then there's a cold nagging feeling that you need to get up from the stool and leave the building. But you don't. 

"We gotta get a move on now, Severen." His voice is resolute and fixed, holding no room for argument and despite the fact that his attention hasn't shifted from the man standing next to you, you feel just as affected by the piercing tone. You just so happen to glance down on the table, noticing the lack of drinks or appetizers on the counter and for some reason it flares up a little red flag in your brain. 

Severen sighs in an exaggerated way, like a kid who's been told they couldn't have something and then his attention returns to you, but it feels too stifling. The playful warmth that was once lighting up the blue is now gone. His eyes are sharp and burning with laser focus and you feel like a rabbit caught between a lethal maw. "Sorry to cut our time short darlin,' " he purrs out from an almost manic grin. " You've been a real treat." 

It's all a blur then, cuts of color and streaks of light, and you think that you can hear someone screaming, shrill and pained, but that can't be right, right? There's a white expanse above you, stained with water marks and muted from years of being exposed to cigarette smoke. It's all sluggish, like trying to focus when you're several drinks deep and seeing double, but there's a searing, overwhelming sting slicing throughout the column of your neck, and it grounds you somewhat. Enough to blink back the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Enough for you to realize that you're staring at the ceiling and that there's a rough, white knuckled grip threaded through your hair keeping your head tilted at an excruciating degree. And then you can feel a body pressed against yours, an arm cinched across your waist to hold you close. 

You can feel a damp heat pouring down your throat and underneath your shirt. Every bit helps you focus. But it's the throbbing ache that takes ahold of your mind and jostles the fog free, lifting the curtain to expose you to all the pain. The sting, the white-hot scorching burn of teeth embedded in the flesh of your neck. There's a tongue laving at the skin held between his jaw, working blood into his mouth. Blood. Your blood. He's biting you. He's fucking biting you! 

A freezing cold grips your heart. A terrified fluttering thing that seizes your limbs and keeps you frozen in place while your brain short-circuits between the conflicting commands of either fighting or remaining still in fear. In the midst of your panic some tiny shred of self-preservation takes ahold of you, and you reach into your front jean pocket with a shaking hand while the man continues to gulp at the red that flows from you, moaning around your neck. Your fingers quiver unsteadily, from the fear, the overflow of adrenaline, the blood loss that starts to mist the corners of your vision. But you continue your blind search until your fingertips curl around the set of keys in your pocket. Ignoring the other horrified cries that echo around the diner, the sharp clatter of glass breaking on the tiles, the squeal of someone's shoes slipping across the floor in a wild struggle you secure your grip on the keys and pull them from your pocket as quickly as possible without having them slip from your unsteady hold. 

Your sight blurs just a bit. From the tears or the blood loss you aren't sure and the rock song, despite the low volume being projected over the speakers is suddenly too load, drumming in your ears along with the erratic pulse of your heart and the gulping of the man latched to your neck. And your sluggish brain is suddenly grappling with the fact that you might die here. 

It's enough to still your shaky resolve, thumbing the key to direct the point of it forward like knife. It's small, the edge quite dull. You'd have to drive it in deep for it to do any damage. It won't kill him, but hopefully it will be enough to get him to let you go. 

You draw in a frail gasp, pulling a weak draw of air into your lungs to try and give yourself more focus around the panic that's currently fraying your nerves. Securing your grip around your sweaty palm you don't give yourself time to think, to second guess yourself that it may not work. You're drawing your arm back and striking forward, hoping that you manage to hit something of importance in your visionless jab. You're right in your aim, and the tiny strip of steel is burrowing deep into his side, wiggling your wrist to work it in deeper. 

There's a brief feeling of elation, of righteous satisfaction that courses through you when he jerks away from the crook of your neck with a startled yelp that tells you he's more surprised than injured. He practically pushes you away from himself, spitting out insults and curses. The shove sends you falling, your body too weak in your current state to keep you upright, lethargic and drained, and you land on your knees and the heels of your palms. The deep ache you feel from the impact is quickly shoved to the side, while you clumsily scramble back upright, shoes slipping in a puddle of a deep scarlet that you distantly register as blood.

You try not to look, to take in the carnage that taints the room. You try not to notice the young couple who now sit at the bar, sitting side by side while they both drink from Rachel's body like they're sharing a milkshake with their faces smeared red. You try not to see the elderly woman slumped at her booth with her neck sliced open cleanly; blood splattered across the little postcards that she had just been excitedly prattling about sending off to family or friends. And there's a blood trail dragging across the tiles and at the end of it is her husband. And the kid - Jesus even the kid is in on it, curled over her dead husband's body, latched onto his throat. 

The sound of Severen's angry cursing has all of their attention snapping over to you, and you feel like a wounded rabbit surrounded by a pack of rabid coyotes. 

Everything falls to a standstill like you're all collectively holding your breath, waiting to see who will make the next move. And it's you who does, bolting towards the exit, and you can hear them all collectively move after you, but you don't look back, not even when you hear someone shout out: "God dammit! Someone grab er!" 

You're barreling out past the door, and Severen's swearing has melted into a deranged string of laughter, and it follows you on your way out like a taunt, still ringing in your ears while you're crossing the stretch of the parking lot, running faster than you've ever ran in your life. Like you've got the hounds of hell at your heels. Your shoes slip in the gravel, still slick from the blood that had coated the tiled floor and it feels like you're running in a dream, no matter how much distance you cross you're still in place, every foot between you and your car expanding out into a mile, and you think that you might not make it. You feel the tips of someone's fingers brush against the nape of your neck, but you don't even know if it's real or if your brain is just playing tricks on you. You almost miss the handle of the vehicle when you skid to a halt, key already at the ready to slip into the lock, but it's slick with blood and your grip is lose, and you're praying to someone out there, some higher power, or even the universe to not let it slip.

And you can hear the sound of rushed footsteps running up on you and it has another pump of adrenalin shooting into your already overloaded body, and it feels like its frying you alive. And one of them is shouting, a light feminine voice chanting "get her! You have to get her!" with a great deal of panic. You don't let yourself look back up to the diner, no matter how much you want gage the distance between you and them. You can't stomach the thought of glancing up and seeing one of them standing directly in front of you, dripping with blood and gore and so you force yourself to focus on working the key into the slot and twisting the lock open, and you nearly sob with relief when you swing the door open and slip inside the car. 

You're peeling out of the parking lot before you can even fully register it, fumbling to slam the driver side door closed, tires spinning in the dirt and gravel while you wildly careen out of the lot and onto the road in an unsteady swerve. And there's an unsettled laughter bubbling from your chest, rupturing from it like a geyser in an uncontrollable fit even though all you really want to do is scream and cry instead, and the music blaring from the radio does little to dampen your current hysteria, but you can't be bothered to reach for the dial and turn it down. Trying your best to breathe so that you can place your attention on maintaining your grip on the steering wheel and getting the hell away from here as quickly as possible. You glance back in the rear-view mirror despite every cell in your body telling not to. You don't want to see them. But you do. Standing out in front of the diner as still as ghosts, faded into dimensionless dark figures from the red neon of the building projecting from behind them in a hellish glow, growing smaller and smaller until they fade into nothing, and the lights are but a tiny pinprick in the distance. 

It takes you a moment to register that you're heading back in the direction of Scottsdale, which is now an uncomfortable distance away and now you're cursing the broad expanse of the desert. How everything out here stretches out for lonely, horrid distances. Mile's gapping between towns and houses. But you should have more than enough fuel to get to the gas station that you had stopped at about an hour or so into your journey. You should be okay. You just have to make it there and hopefully they'll have a landline phone that works, and you can call the cops. But what if they don't? A despairing voice laments somewhere in your mind, what if they aren't even open? You have to force the thought away to keep yourself from spiraling. You glance back into the rear-view mirror expecting to see headlights of a car speeding towards you, but it's nothing but a vast empty darkness. They aren't coming after you. 

But their lack of chase does little to quell the fear and cold dread nestling inside your body, if anything it fuels the panic. It's suspicious, the way they just gave up once you got to your car. Surely, they had done this before, if the way that they had all walked in the diner with ease and promptly dispatched of all the patrons and employees with a horrifying air of calm was any indication. They did it like it was routine. Like it was normal. And perhaps it was. Maybe this was a normal thing for them, slaughtering the poor souls who cross their paths in obscene acts of violence. But this wasn't even the typical serial killer stuff you often hear about. Kidnappings and stabbings. They were drinking their blood. He was drinking your blood. It reminds you of all the times that your mother used to go off on worried tangents about all the supposed satanic cults that are apparently spreading throughout the country, poisoning the children through rock music and D & D of all things.  "I heard it on the news," she had said with a vehemence that you didn't have the energy to challenge anymore. You had never put much stock into it all. The obvious fear mongering that daily new papers and overzealous preachers on the FM radio pumped out in a constant drivel. It had always sounded like bullshit to you, but now that you're speeding down the highway with a massive gash in the side of your neck, shaped by a set of teeth, you're starting to think that maybe there is a shred of possibility to it. You can't help but brokenly giggle at the prospect of it, the insanity of it all. Attacked by a psychotic blood cult. You sound crazy. This entire situation is crazy. 

You reach up to touch the wound on the side of your neck, initially flinching at the tender sting. You should probably try to find something to clean it up with, one of your old bottles of water is probably lying around on the floor, tucked underneath some seat, but you can't stomach the thought of pulling over and parking the car long enough to find it. You don't have anything to dress the wound with but luckily it seems as though the bleeding has stopped despite the skin around it still being damp with recent blood. You pinpoint the inflamed edges of the bite with your fingertips, lightly brushing down the expanse of it so not to irritate it any further. It starts just a few inches beneath your ear and stops just short of meeting your shoulder. That's odd. It feels a whole lot thinner than you would expect and less gnarled. Especially considering that it was a grown man that took a bite out of you. It has you flipping the sun visor down and angling it down to properly investigate the damage in between careful glances at the road. 

It's difficult to make out from underneath the grimy red coating your neck, but you can see the torn strips of flesh glinting underneath the dim glow casted by the rectangular lights bordering each side of the visor mirror. Two narrow gashes that are nowhere near the size you had expected. The wound is strangely small, the angry indents left by his teeth are thin like they're a few days into the healing process and not just a few minutes old. It must have been the adrenaline making it seem worse than it was. But then again, this entire night feels like it isn't real. Like it's a dream -a nightmare that you'd wake up from at any moment. 

Images of the diner flash across your mind, the gore and violence. Rachel's lifeless eyes staring at you, jarringly blank and empty like a broken doll while the young couple fed from her wrist and neck. The red smearing the pale floor, the screaming and banging of pots and pans from the kitchen that had told you that one of them had gotten ahold of the cook somewhere in the back. And it sounded like he was trying to fight them off. And you had left him. You had left him behind without a second thought. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You had been so desperate to get out and save your own skin that you didn't even think about anyone else or the chance that they might be alive before you ran out.  But what were you supposed to? If you had stayed behind even a second longer, he would have killed you. You would have been dead-

A short metallic scrape sounds from the roof of your car. Sudden and jarring and abrupt enough for you to jump in your seat and nearly jerk the steering wheel from your shaky grip. A rattled breath leaves you while you glance up at the cloth ceiling like it'll help identify the cause of the sound, and you all you can do is hope that it's something like the wind even though the idea of it sounds completely stupid. But you can't let yourself think of the other possibilities right now. Not when you're still two seconds away from a panic attack while behind the wheel and doing 85 mph down the road. You should probably slow down some now that you've placed some distance between you and them, but you can't seem to move your foot from the gas pedal no matter how much common sense is telling you to. 

And then you hear it again. That harsh cutting noise is slashing through the air over the droning of the engine and Joan Jett's blaring vocals. Definitely not the wind. And there's a dull shuffling that follows after it, heavy and scuffed, almost like -

A large bang erupts from above like a gun shot and a panicked fleeting looks up reveals that there's a dent in the roof, dipping inwards like someone had punched it, and it douses you like cold water and floods your system with another hefty load of adrenaline. The realization that someone is on top of the car. But before you can do anything, the roof above you is bursting open with a shrill grotesque shriek, splitting as easily as tinfoil and a hand is blindly reaching down, frantically snatching at the open air with bloodied fingers. You can't help the scream that escapes your lungs, tearing your already raw throat from its volume. And your already sluggish brain stalls between the directions of either slamming on the breaks or swerving across the road in the hopes of shaking them off that you don't do anything other than try to remain in control of the vehicle and evade the hand trying to claw its way into your hair, its rings snagging on the strands. Rings. You remember the jewelry that Severen had worn on his right hand, how he had tapped his knuckles on the counter when you were talking.  He's the one on your car. That's why they didn't all bother chasing after you, because they already had you. He must have leapt on when you were speeding out of the parking lot, too rattled and busy panicking to notice him climbing up the roof. 

While you're busy grappling with the situation his hand successfully snatches at your roots, pulling painfully tight at your scalp. You cry out in pain, trying to keep your eyes on the long stretch of road and keep control of the wheel while you reach up to claw at his wrist with your own nails, but it does nothing to deter him. If anything, he grips your hair harder, and you know that you're going to have to stop. Maybe if you break hard enough, you'll be able to shake him free and you can run him over on while you're on your way out of this shithole. So, you remove your foot from the gas pedal in the hopes of slamming on the brakes, but then he's securing his hold on your scalp and harshly jerking your head back against the head rest. Even though it's a dull pain, it's enough to disorient you and then the tires are squealing with the acrid scent of burnt rubber tainting the air. 

From the angle he has your head held at you can't see out of the windshield, but you can catch glimpses of the world rushing past you out of your peripherals. Blurs of the desert floor and dried shrubbery rushing past, and the car is harshly jolting over what must be rocks and dips in the ground. 

Admits the chaos you're able to free yourself from his grip just in time to see the barbed wire fence that you're approaching at full speed. But it's far too late to anything, not even the brakes would help to lessen the blow and all you can do is watch as the front of the car hits a heavy wooden fence post, crumpling inwards from the impact. Then it all flashes black under a blaze of searing white hot heat, a steady throb traveling across your skull in steady pulses. You can't help but groan from the pain. You have to force your eyes open and blink away the blurriness that obscures the edges of your vision. You don't know if it's been seconds or hours after the crash, but a quick scan of the pitch-black night around you and the thick stream of smoke that pours from the grill and twists up into the air lets you know that it couldn't have been too long. 

Then you hear the shifting of feet above you, shuffling against the roof and every step is like a gunshot going off. Another nail in your coffin. It fills you with pure dread, but you're too weak- your brain too muddled to move. You watch as a pair of cowboy boots drop onto what's left of the hood, jostling the body of the car from the weight of it, the spurs jingling in a way that sounds light and cheery, like a set of mocking giggles. 

He's dipping over at the waist so that he can look at you, eyes twinkling with crazed mirth and wearing a bloody grin that's too wide. And then he fucking waves at you. You're still too dazed to get out and run, or cuss him out, or do anything, so you settle for pinning him down with a steady glare, hoping that it conveys all of your boiling hatred while you try and shove down the fear running rampant inside your chest. 

Then he's excitedly leaping from the hood and landing on the ground hollering into the air like he just got off a rollercoaster. It's horrifying, the blatant joy that he's exhibiting like the killing and the chase were the ultimate pleasure of life. And while he's celebrating, you're doing your best not vomit. From the head trauma or the sudden empty gnawing in the pit of your stomach you aren't sure. But nausea is swimming in your head and gut and you're blindly fumbling for the door latch. You need to get out, you need to vomit, you need to run. And all the while he's dancing in place, clearly riding some sort of adrenaline rush. "God damn, yer a wild cat!" He's hollering, practically skipping over to the driver side door. You whimper under your breath from the pain and the fear and pathetically try to crawl over the center console to get to the opposing seat, but you can hear the door being jerked open while he chuckles and snatches your ankle. 

"Get off of me!" You shout, kicking out in the hopes that it would deter him some. Of course, it doesn't. If anything, it seems to amuse him further, even when one of them lands and you strike him dead center in the chest. It doesn't get so much as a gasp of air from him, like there isn't any in his lungs. He still has that unsettling feral grin on his face.  "No can do, sugar. Shoulda thought about that before you went an' stabbed me." 

The wild fear is overshadowed for a moment, as short as it is. "You fucking bit me!" You snap back, like a child bickering but you're still to dazed and caught up in the moment to even register how fruitless and bizarre the exchange is.  

"But you smelt so good, " he croons in a sing-songy lilt, still pulling your wiggling body towards his, now gripping ahold of your hips. "You can't blame a man for wantin' a taste." And he's pulling you up by the shoulders completely unbothered by the way you try to claw and rip at his chest and the exposed skin of his throat. His eyes are lit up under the dull cast of the interior light, barring you completely to the wild nature that lurks inside them. 

His teeth are fully exposed behind that horrible grin, and it feels like he's going to try and eat you alive. And you think he is. Of course, he is. Here to finish the job and drain you dry. They were always going to get you. Your car- your only chance of escape is totaled. And even if you somehow managed to overpower him and kill him the group he had traveled with is still out there. No doubt counting the seconds for his return. And the second they realize he's not coming back they'll be coming for you. In this dead empty desert with no houses or towns for miles. You'd collapse from exhaustion before you manage to find help, or some random person finds you alongside the road. 

A sense of helplessness rushes over you. A reluctant defeat. And you look up at him like hundreds of others have probably done before you and ask the question that that you've always made fun of the heroines and victims of countless movies for asking: "Why are you doing this?" 

But you need some sense of closure at least. A reason for all of the violence and horror that you've endured tonight. You try and focus through your blurred vision to search both of his eyes like you might find something of substance in them. Two deep pools of a smothering blue. There isn't a shred of sympathy in them.  He's shushing you in a dramatic mocking sense of kindness, cradling your jaw in his hands like he cares. You try to remove your face from his hold, but he doesn't let you, following your retreating face and caging it between his calloused grip. "There ain't nothin' you coulda done. You were jus' at the wrong place at the wrong time." It's said so matter-of-factly it shreds the final bits of hope that you clung to. 

And then he's leaning closer, dropping an arm to nuzzle at the wound on your neck, ignoring how you hiss and jerk away from him, desperate to evade the sting of his teeth, but it never comes. You feel him go still underneath you, muscles seizing like he's been struck, and it also gives you pause letting you focus through your aching muddled head and pick up on the little puffs of breath bursting across your throat. Is he . . . sniffing you?

Your head is suddenly back in his hands and he's peering down at you, squinting in the dim light like he's searching for something and all you can do is force your drooping eyelids open to warily watch him, trying to ignore the persistent vacant throb in your gut. A series of emotions cross his face, bewilderment, anger, and lastly a frustrated sort of acceptance. "You gotta be shittin' me."  Then he's tearing away from you, leaving your body to weakly sag back up against the driver's seat while he stomps at the ground and swears. You think about trying to make a run for it while he's distracted and busy throwing a fit over . . . something, but when your place your feet on the ground and try to stand you're startled by how horribly they shake. A tremor runs up your body and has you falling right back down on your seat. The blood loss and your crashing adrenaline rush seems to be catching up to you, leaving your body nothing more than a useless painful quivering mess and you could cry but you'll be damned if you give this bastard the twisted satisfaction of seeing your tears. 

The sound of you trying to stand seems to remind him of your presence and he's twisting around to look at you. And the two of you pause in a strange sort of standoff. He briefly gazes back off into the night like he might find an answer somewhere out among the darkness and rolling hills before looking back to you with a dejected sigh. Then he's walking back towards you, lifting his wrist up to his mouth and biting into it without flinching. 

The sight of that alone has you trying to scramble back again, but he's on you before you can blink. "Oh, quit yer fussin'. " He chides while holding you close against his chest. 

"Wha-" you can't even get the question out before he's sliding a bloody wrist against your open mouth. You flinch away from it, smearing it across your cheek and he tuts disapprovingly like he isn't trying to force feed you his blood. "C'mon now, don' be difficult." 

You had fully intended to scold him, whip out some barbed quip to get some sense of having the upper hand, no matter how miniscule it was in the long run, but then a bit of his blood drops along your tongue, and your brain is wiped clean of any coherent thought. You don't know what compelled you to do it, honest to God.  But suddenly you're latching onto his arm like it's a lifeline and gulping down the thick red that pours from the open wound. A thick metallic gush coats your tongue and it's almost too much but he's cradling the back of your head to keep you fixed to his arm. Then notes of something salted and faintly sweet rises up from the coppery flavor and you're pulling it into your mouth like its melted sugar. And you think you can hear him murmur something to you, something like, "see it ain't so bad, is it?" but his voice is distant and far away like he's talking to you from under water. 

That strange hollow pinch inside of your gut is back. It's like hunger almost, but it's also leagues away from any hunger you've ever felt. It feels like a sharp rabid thing is lose in your stomach, all teeth and claws, scratching at you from the inside, begging for you to give it more. And the flow of blood the pours freely from his wrist suddenly isn't enough. And you're pulling away from him with as much strength as you can muster, successfully standing on your feet and snatching at the clothes on his chest for a completely different reason now. You catch the surprise in his eyes, the little puff of disbelieving laughter that leaves him when he lets you roughly nudge his head to the side and place you mouth on his throat, running the sensitive tip of your tongue along the rough texture of his five-o clock shadow. Just keeping the edges of your teeth there. But you can smell the blood underneath his skin and the wild, gnawing hunger inside of you demands to be fed and then you're sinking them in deep. His skin breaks underneath the pressure and the thick red fills your mouth like nectar. The flow of it is much stronger here, gushing across your tongue beautifully. You almost moan from the elation you feel, the stabbing pain muting out in pale distant throbs and the shaking in your arms and legs dies down. 

He groans and grips your hips tightly and whether it's from discomfort or not you don't know. And you don't care. You can hardly think at all, left adrift under the pull the blood that steadily pours down your throat, and if it weren't for the sudden burst of sound to tether you, you might would have floated away under it.  Somewhere in the distance a pack coyotes howls and yips rise up like a delighted strip of laughter, the wind rustles over the desert floor like a wane breath, and far past the horizon something warm and primordial rumbles, but it's still hard to focus on over the sound of your own feverish gulping. Even though the foreign, wild hunger has since died down, you don't want to stop. You want to stay here forever and drink and drink and drink. 

You're being pulled back from his neck before you can register it, pitifully whining at the loss of his blood. It takes you a few moments to come to, the annoying steady tapping of his hand on your cheek helping to rouse you from your drunken stupor. And the grin on his face is too cocky and smug for your taste and something about the look in his eyes tells you that you've just done something irreversible. That you've sealed your fate and won't be able look back. It takes a minute for your slow-moving syrupy thoughts to catch up. The realization of what you've done hits you with the subtly of a charging bull and your entire body runs cold. He must see the change in you because he's lurching forward and snatching you before you can run off with your newfound strength. "Hold on now, " he's laughing. The bastard is laughing. " I mean, shit the way you were sucking on me, I thought I'd be seein' the big man upstairs soon!" 

"Get your hands off of me!" You snarl. Because it had worked so well for you last time, but you don't care. You're angry, you're betrayed. But you can't blame anyone else but yourself and that's what terrifies you the most. 

"I can't do that now. It's gonna be you and me sweetpea! " He practically sings." For a good long while." 

You can't even form a sentence to ask him why. Why he suddenly has an interest in you, why he fed you his blood, why you wanted his blood. It all fades from the tip of your tongue before you can form the words, and then he's lifting you up like a bag of dog food and tossing you over his shoulder despite your protest. "Oh, hush now. " He scolds you lightly with a few pats on your rear and you try to knee him in the stomach but he's quick to catch the wayward limb. He walks past the totaled Ford, still smoking and crumpled against the fence post and heads off towards the road, whistling jovially as he goes with an arm secured around your waist to keep you held down in place. All while you limply hang from his shoulder, distantly watching the asphalt pass underneath his boots, and the way that the rowels of his spurs slightly rotate between their shanks with each step. You can't help but wonder what your family will think when you never come back home. When a cop or some person on their way into the nearest town spots your crumpled up car on the side of the road or whatever is left of the diner and reports you as a missing person. Or dead. 

Will they look for you? You think about your father sitting at the dining room table, awake too early and drinking a mug full of coffee so black that it'll make your lips twists up like you ate something sour and your mother sitting in front of the TV every night to watch her reruns while she picks out a new novel for her book club- which is really just an excuse to gossip and complain about the neighbors. 

You may never be a part of that again. You may never see them again. And a heavy lump is inside your throat threatening to push tears up. Even Sam and his cheating and his sweet, dimpled smile and his constant prattle about business sales - you'd take it all back in a heartbeat. You'd take the pain and the lying and the hurt but instead you're here. Tossed over some psychopath's shoulder. 

"Calvary's here!" He suddenly cheers, breaking you from your spiral. You have to prop a hand on his lower back suspend yourself up enough to look back over your shoulder, but it gives enough leverage to make out a pair of headlights piercing the through the darkness ahead. The sight of it has a lump of dread forming in the pit of your stomach, heavy and unforgiving. And Severen seems to sense your unease, because he's working a hand up the back of your thigh in what he seems to think are soothing stokes. " Yer gonna be alright, the family is gonna love ya!" 

And some helpless part of you still stupid enough to cling onto hope wants to cry out, to beg him to let you go. To pretend that this entire night never happened. But you know its fruitless. You're in too deep now. You were as soon as they stepped into that diner. Whatever happened now you'd just have to hope that you make it out alive. But maybe you wouldn't want to. 

"Shit sugar, me and you might have some fun after all!" 

[ambigirl]

Why are girls so different!? Part 1

Notice: this is an au for Wind breaker characters

Characters: Haruka Sakura, Tachibana Kotoha, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Kiryu Mitsuki, Akihiko Nirei, Kaji Ren, Toma Hiiragi, Taiga Tsugeura, Tsubakino Tstsuku

Ship: Kotoha x Sakura

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why are girls so different?"

This question has been living in his head rent free for days. It isn't like he had encountered many girls in his life! As a matter of fact, in all his life, girls had been avoiding him. It may be because of his aggressive attitude, or may be because of his heterochromia weird appearance.

But recently, a girl has entered his life. She doesn't seem to be scared of him. In fact, she stared into his eyes, face to face, and said his appearance is awesome! He felt something in his heart that wasn't familiar, so for avoiding it, he snapped and yelled. But she didn't seem scared of his attitude, too! What a weird girl...

All of this fun started from the time he met her, and now, he's in front of the mirror, weirdly caring about his appearance. He had his comb in his hands and was trying some new hairstyle that makes him look better. Suddenly, he snapped out of imagination and found himself with his hair looking like Umemiya Hajime, his senpai in school.

"Huh!?"

He felt weird, why is he trying to change his appearance!? He tried to find the answer from what he remembered from yesterday:

~ He was walking in the street with his hands full. The first year's patrol finished just half an hour ago, so, after saying goodbye to his classmates and a little chit-chat with Suo and Nirei, he met with people he helped during the patrol. For some reason, people has started to call him "captain Sakura". The sound of "captain Sakura, take this" "captain Sakura, take that" was filling the area. Sakura couldn't stop blushing, thinking about how popular he has become. He both like and hate being the centre of attention.

"This town is full of weirdos" he thought.

Suddenly, someone passed by him that caughthis eyes. His eyes widened by the sight of shiny brown threads dancing in the air.

"Ko..."

He stopped himself, remembering how embarrassing it is to call her by her name. It loks like she was in hurry, and her face was sweaty. The weather was kinda chilly, so he couldn't understand why she was sweating this much. He took a big step and caught her hand.

"Oi"

She turned back with a big gasp. But then, her eyes sparkled.

"Sakura! What a relief, you scared me."

He grabbed his things in one hand, then opened his hand in front of her face.

"Let me carry your stuff"

She smiled and said: "are you sure!? Your own stuff seems heavy, but mine aren't"

"J-just give them to me already" he blushed. "A man wouldn't let a woman carry things when he's around."

Mitsuki taught him that. He never thought he'd use this on her, of all people.

Kotoha smiled and handed over all the things that was carrying.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to trouble you."

"It's nothing."

She looked her back real quick, kinda nervously.

"Uhhh, Sakura, I'm happy that I've seen you! You're a life saver." She gave him a big smile.

"Can you... please... go somewhere with me tomorrow!?" She said it while trying to open the cafe.

"Where!?"

"Well, I wanna go shopping, and since I have a lot of things to buy, they're going to be heavy for sure. I wanted to ask Nii... I mean, Umemiya, but he's really busy."

He put all the eggs on the cabinet and said: "well, ok. What time!?"

"How about 10 a.m?"

"it's ok". He sat on the chair. "Can I have omelette rice?"

Kotoha giggled. "Ok ok. Wait a little". ~

Sakura came back to present, suddenly remembering it's 9:45.

"Gah, I wish my hair wasn't 2 coloured. I look weird with any hair style!"

He left the comb on his futon and ran outside. He didn't want to be late for...

He stopped and grabbed his head between his arms. "Stop thinking about date, this isn't a date, you're just gonna help her, that's it". Would someone as mature as her even think about dating someone like him!? This question popped into his mind, causing a pain in his heart. "Well, that hurts."

Kotoha was standing in front of cafe, with a long white and green dress. This was the first time Sakura had seen Kotoha with a dress! "She looks so pretty!" He couldn't resist this idea in his mind. "I should tell her, I think."

"Hi."

Kotoha gave him a smile. "Hello Sakura."

Sakura couldn't open his mouth to say "this dress suits you so much" or "you look pretty". It was so embarrassing that thinking about it made him blush wildly.

"Y-y-you have changed your appearance". He said it while trying to look away.

"Oh, you mean this dress!? Yes. I... like wearing these kind of dresses, but wearing them when I'm alone makes me feel uncomfortable." She blushed saying that, with an uncomfortable face.

"Why? It looks pretty on you!"

Suddenly, he understood that he let that slip his mouth, tried to fix it.

"I-I-I-I mean..."

But Kotoha seemed kinda sad. "Thank you, but when there isn't a man around, other men try to harass, especially when I'm wearing these beautiful dresses."

Sakura couldn't stop himself from feeling sad. She seemed really upset about it. Sakura could remember the first time they met, there were a group of boys surrounding her, trying to drag her with themselves.

"Well, now I'm here, so don't worry about anything and enjoy wearing this dress"

Sakura said it by instinct, with a blushing face. Kotoha looked at him with surprise, but then, she smiled. "Thank you, I really appreciate it." She grabbed his arm as they were entering the mall.

Sakura looked at Kotoha's face, blushing about her grabbing his arm, but saw Kotoha with a shiny face and eyes full of sparkles, with a tiny blush on her chick.

"Let's Go!!!" Her voice was full of excitement.

Sakura never had seen someone being this happy about shopping! "Why are girls always look so happy while shopping!?" Well, according to what he knows, guys mostly think shopping is a pain in the ass, and don't do it till it's completely necessary, but girls!!! He heard that girls love going into shopping malls and not coming out for hours!!!

Sakura took a long breath. "Haaaahhhh, I hope God save me from a long shop!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I wished we could've went back and eat your omelette rice instead of eating ramen here" Sakura said it with a pout. Kotoha gave him a small laugh.

"We're out, so why not enjoying a meal outside of what we usually eat!?"

"I-I like trying new things!!! But... I like food at your cafe more... kinda"

Kotoha gave a very kind smile. "I'm happy to hear that!" (Her face in my mind: 😄)

Sakura put the chopsticks into his mouth angrily. He couldn't help but think Kotoha is angry at him. For 3 or 4 hours straight, she was putting on different kind of dresses and showing them to Sakura.

"Does it look good on me!?"

And Sakura, while couldn't help his dropped jaw could just say: "Yes! You look absolutely beautiful."

He feels like because he kept saying that, Kotoha is upset with him. She even said: "Are you saying it like this so we can finish our shopping sooner!?"

And Sakura answer it with "No, I mean everything I say."

Sakura wished he could give his vision to Kotoha, so he could see how stunning she is with the dresses she wear!

"Do guys look this different with some outfit change!?" In his opinion, guys don't look beautiful in any clothes, they can just look cooler and cooler. And it's not like if they change their t-shirt with another t-shirt, their appearance look cooler! But when Kotoha changed her t-shirt with another cloth that was strange to Sakura, her appearance went from stunning to absolutely stunning! And Sakura's jaw dropped on the floor by witnessing that!

"I'll pay the bill." Sakura said that with a pout. Kotoha stopped eating and looked at Sakura.

"Really!? How!? Do you have enough money!?"

"O-of course I have! I've been paid for doing some small things in town by elder people."

He - was - lying!

Yesterday, Hiiragi came in front of his home, after some talk they had about things they do in school, Hiiragi said: "Kotoha-chan told me she's taking you with her for shopping, is that right!?"

"Y-yes"

"Then, have this."

He gave Sakura some money. Sakura was blushing surprisingly.

"What is it for!?"

"For tomorrow. If you two went to a restaurant to eat something, or if there were small payments like taking taxi or buying something, do it with this. It's not that much, but it should be ok for the little time you two are going to spend together." Hiiragi looked at Sakura who looked struggled, and smiled. "I'm not doing it for you, I want Kotoha-chan to have a good time, and I know she'll have a good time if you don't get embarrassed in front of her." He sighed and turn his back. "We men have different world view about everything with women, and now, you're going to experience it yourself, and not with anyone, but with someone I consider my little sister, so, just have fun and don't worry about anything, your big brother have both of you guy's back!"

He waved at Sakura and disappeared in the darkness.

"Hiiragi, thank you." Sakura thought that with a smile.

Outside of restaurant, there was a game with some prizes. And the biggest prize was a big pink bear!

"Tch, who is that idiot to give money to get a big bear!?" Sakura thought, then turned around to see if her shopping is finished or not, just to face Kotoha with an excited face of her that sparkles were flying around her!

"Eh!? Eeeeeehhhhhh!? She's excited just for a big bear toy!?"

"Do you want it!?" Sakura said it with surprised face.

Kotoha turned around with puppy eyes. "C-can I please try!?"

Sakura felt his chest was empty for some seconds. "Eh!? Where's my heart!? I feel like I'm about to die!"

What's her deal!? "Ugggghhhhhh"

"It's f-fine, let's try it." HOW COULD HE SAY NO TO THOSE EYES!? DAMN IT!

Kotoha paid for the game. It was a simple game: throw the ball to some kind of animals. If you could take down the lion, you could get the big bear. Kotoha could throw it, but it didn't take it down.

"Aaaawwwwww". She seemed so sad.

"Don't worry, beautiful young girl, you can have one of these smaller items." The man said.

"Hold on, let me try once, too!"

Sakura grabbed the ball and throw it with every strength he had. The ball hit the lion and make a hole in both lion and the decorations behind it.

"What did you do!?" The man seems so angry.

"I'm sorry for that." He gave the remaining money he had to the man. "Can we take the big bear now!?"

The man threw hand angrily. "You can take whatever ... you want!"

Sakura got angry because of the curse he said. "Calm down Sakura, calm down. Remember you promised Kotoha and Hiiragi to not fight."

He picked the bear and went to Kotoha. "Is this the one you wanted!?" He asked.

"Yes! Yes! Can I carry it myself!?"

"Yes, here you go."

Sakura hand the big bear over to Kotoha, and she get it with a happy smile.

"Why are girls so different!? How can a girl smile this bright and suddenly becomes the centre of the world!? How can the world vanish and only she stays with such a beautiful smile!?" Sakura couldn't stop the thoughts popping into his mind.

"Sakura. Thank you for getting me this. Now, I wanna share my happiness with you."

She stands on her toes and gave Sakura a cheek kiss! He got frozen, he couldn't even remember how to breathe! He tried to imprison the shout that was coming from the bottom of his heart, and gulp down all "What was that for" words that were coming up his throat. She was hugging the bear very happily and he didn't want to ruin her mood.

Walking out of mall, they saw Tsubaki on patrol.

"Tsubakiiiiii-chaaaaaaa-"

While Kotoha tried to get Tsubaki's attention, Sakura ran to him while shouting "just a minute, I have to tell something to him".

He grabbed Tsubaki's arm and dragged him a little further.

Note: I'll write a part 2 for it, this one got too long and we're still in the middle of story ;-;

Note 2: according to official English editors of manga, the mangaka announced that Tsubaki's official pronounce is he/him.

Note 3: other characters will show up, too ;-;

[zepskies]

Okay, now that I was able to go through the list, time for some questions! From your ask game, how about #7, #12, #15, and #25? And I didn't see it on there but is there a character/genre you never expected to like writing for but ended up enjoying it? 🤔

I love it I love it! Thanks, Michelle! I sent you a few too.~ 💓💓 So people know, this is still from the End of Year Asks.

#7. Comfort character to create for

It's changed over the years depending on my fixations, but right now (and for the past 2 years), it's definitely Dean freakin' Winchester.

#12. A concept you’d like to develop next year

Oof, how much time you got? 🤣

I have a few WIPs that are already drafted and in the editing phases for next year -- including all of my remaining fics for @jacklesversebingo. (Jacklesverse Bingo24 Masterlist here!)

More specifically, I have plans to write sequel fics for the following series:

Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader): Their son's first birthday, with a flashback to their wedding day.

Unravel Me (Soldier Boy x POC!Reader): The prequel series to Lost in Translation, in which Ben meets the reader (afro Latina).

Every Second Counts (Russell Shaw x Reader): Can Russell make good on his promise to "get out" and start his brewery? (AKA: his past comes knocking, and might just put the reader in danger. Diving deeper into the Shaw family history too.)

Take Me Home (Beau Arlen x Reader): Because YOU, Michelle, put the idea of Beau and the reader from this series getting married into my head, and I feel like it would be a fun and somewhat angsty road to get there lol. 😂

#15. An area of your art you feel you improved on

Oooh now this one really made me think.

I feel like other people who've been reading my work for a while might be able to give me better insight into this, but I do feel like I've gotten better at balancing the angst and tension of a story with romantic fluff and humor, witty banter, etc.

You can't have the lighthearted romance without the heavier notes of the keyboard, know what I mean? lol

But too much angst isn't all that fun for me either. So something I've learned in studying screenwriting is how to try and build up to those high-tension, dramatic moments, but also have the payoff and catharsis of hurt/comfort and sweet fluff. Ebbs and flows.

#25. A scene or image that lives rent-free in your head

Veeery interesting. Of my own writing or someone else's? Recently I've had scenes from Outlander (Dean Winchester x OFC | Western AU) replaying in my head, probably because I've been editing each part over and over. 😂

But also in reading Polaris by @waynes-multiverse, there's a scene where the reader has just found out that Randy (her husband) is actually alive...but she's already been in a loving relationship with Beau for a while now. This bit of description from Chapter 9 has filtered in and out of my head ever since I read it because it was so damn brilliant:

The cool, breezy autumn air whipped you across your face, a sharp, frigid sting in your lungs that burned right through to your heart. Each breath you desperately clutched was a fight for life. Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth. You crouched down on the parking lot asphalt, head heavy in your shaking hands. “Hey, hey, just breathe…” Beau’s deep voice and warm hand on your back were a short-lived comfort before the first sob broke through you.

Bonus Question: Is there a character/genre you never expected to like writing for but ended up enjoying it? 🤔

That's an awesome question. I think I could have a few different answers for this, but Soldier Boy very much took me by surprise. We've talked about this before, but when I watched season 3, the first thing I thought of with his character was, How could he be redeemed?

And Break Me Down was born. 🤣 It was also my first ever enemies to lovers fic, though I didn't consciously realize that when I started developing the series. Of course, you know what happened after that. It's become a whole damn universe of fics. 😅💚

Another example would be Boaz Priestly from 10 Inch Hero. I NEVER thought I would write for that character, but after rewatching the movie last year, he was just too adorable -- and different from any role Jensen has played. I ended up writing a couple of fics for him, not knowing if I was getting his character write (like Soldier Boy lmao). But I so enjoyed writing to his quirks and writing a reader character that I thought could match him. 💜

Thank you SO much for these questions, Michelle!! And Happy New Year! I hope you like the questions I picked out for you. 😘

[kinnporsche]

hello again! yes, i am indeed posting yet another kinn & porsche fic rec. these fuckers are living in my head rent-free, truly. you guys know the drill by now—like the others, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to share my love and appreciation)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love, because we are simply beyond blessed to have such an abundance of talented writers in this fandom! [part 7/?]

— what a tangled web we weave by fortunehasgivenup – explicit / 80.7k words

After the betrayal of his first husband, King Anakinn Theerapanyakul vows to never love again. Once a week, he takes a new husband, a young man who will not live to see another dawn.

Porsche Kittisawat has spent the years since the death of his parents living under the shaky generosity of his uncle, running errands in Thee’s brothel. Anything to protect Chay, his younger brother.

When a nobleman comes to find a young man to adopt and marry off to the king in place of his own son, Thee chooses Chay.

Faced with an outcome that he refuses to contemplate, Porsche steps in and takes Chay’s place. He only has one request for the king—to be allowed to tell his brother one last bedtime story.

(Or: An AU based on the story of Scheherazade.)

— his kingdom to keep by bleakyblues – explicit / 51.8k words (wip)

And for each piece he keeps, there is a piece he has to sell. Because when you deal with the Devil, you only barter with your soul.

(Or: What happens after Porsche is handed over the ring and the power that goes with it.)

— after ever after by thelaziestmotherfucker – mature / 43.6k words (wip)

“Porsche,” she whispered one night as he laid down with his head in her lap. His eyes were so puffy they felt like they were swollen shut. His nose was runny and his lips felt dry. He couldn’t cry anymore that night. He looked up into her loving eyes as she said, “you must never tell anyone of your gift.”

Porsche’s body tensed up at the command. He knew why she asked it, but little could she fathom that Porsche would be left forever isolated with this secret. He would only be able to hope that no one found out.

She passed away in her bed two days later. Porsche had only just turned thirteen.

— how i know you by nuwildcat – explicit / 31.2k words

The looming shadow of the Dragon Throne has long been on Porsche’s mind. The empire has swept closer and closer to his lands, snatching up smaller kingdoms and grinding them under its boots, all at the hand of one man:

Prince Kinn.

Now that army is on Porsche’s doorstep, and he has a choice to make. He can’t fight off the army, but he can protect his country if he consents to become Kinn’s.

For his kingdom, for his people, Porsche will sacrifice anything, but the real question is, what does he have to gain?

— trials & tribulations by rainbowcolored7 – explicit / 26.3k words

In which Kinn is a renowned lawyer for TK & Associates, as well as a certified bastard, and Porsche is his new assistant who isn’t sure whether he’ll scald him with hot coffee or fuck him before he decides to quit.

— a perpetual unscattering by concernedlily – explicit / 31.4k words

“Where did you say he came from?”

“Pissing in bottles behind a cocktail bar,” Kinn said. “But Pa gave him to me, so I’m stuck with him.” To a visibly furious Porsche he said, “You don’t know the minor family? Never come across any of them before?”

“How would I know the fucking minor family?” Porsche snapped.

— she’s god and i’ve found her by yeetlegay – explicit / 8.4k words

“I—” Porsche’s voice cracks. Her eyes, now that they’re open, can’t seem to look away from Kinn, wandering from her face to her torso, the shirt half-unbuttoned to expose her breasts, suit jacket tossed somewhere on the floor nearby. Her gaze is molten, greedy, when she meets Kinn’s eyes again. “What would you give me?” she asks.

Kinn isn’t prepared for that, or for the effect it has on her, the instinct it unlocks. She moves without thinking. Tugs Porsche’s hips down to meet hers. Brings her mouth close enough to feel her breath, to taste the soft gasp she lets out.

Kinn whispers the word, lips not quite brushing hers. “Anything.”

— running from the daylight by ahdriking – explicit / 7.9k words

“It will be fine,” Kinn snaps, suddenly sitting upright. “I have perfect control.”

Porsche snorts. “No alpha has perfect control. Not in rut.”

Kinn looks at him sharply. “You think me a beast?” He snarls. “That I’ll hump the nearest thing that moves, like some kind of animal?”

“I don’t know,” Porsche shoots back. “But seeing as the nearest moving thing is me, you can understand my concern.”

(Or: Stuck in the forest, handcuffed together, Kinn goes into rut.)

— and seek to mend by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 7.3k words

Porsche is thinking about something that’s been niggling at him for a while, and he thinks, yes. He can probably bring it up now. “I was just thinking,” he starts, wondering how Kinn will react. “Just wondering…”

“Yeah?” Kinn doesn’t stop running his hand up and down Porsche’s back in slow, soothing motions.

Porsche clears his throat, then says, as nonchalantly as he can manage, “Have you ever been fucked?”

— if you leave it ‘til later, you lose by mslunita – explicit / 6.9k words

Kinn’s night at the sex club he frequents is ruined when a rich newcomer takes everyone’s attention. The bartender is pretty hot, but there’s no way he’d go home with Kinn... right?

(Or: Porsche is a bartender at a sex club and Kinn wants him.)

— haunt me when you’re not around by butterflylungs – explicit / 6.3k words

He turns his head back around and he comes to a sudden stop, so fast he almost trips face first into the gun pointed at him. Fear explodes in his chest before Porsche shoves it down, because he can’t afford to be scared. Because Kinn, standing in front of him right now, would smell the fear and jump on it.

“Got you,” Kinn says, finger on the trigger.

— i see nobody, nobody but you by kurtstiel – explicit / 6.3k words

“What’s the matter?” Porsche breathes. “Are you afraid Vegas would be a better kisser than you? Fuck me better than you?”

Kinn goes completely still. He draws back slowly; a cold, detached kind of anger on his face, like he’s transcended rage completely. The part of Porsche that should be frightened has been replaced by the overwhelming, empty ache between his legs.

Porsche gazes at him, knowing he’s about to get exactly what he wants. “You don’t have any kind of claim on me. I don’t belong to you.”

(Or: Kinn catches Porsche arriving home on Vegas’ motorcycle in Episode 5.)

— our little remedy by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 5.8k words

Porsche hesitates.

Kinn snorts, grabbing a fresh towel off the rack behind him. “You let me shoot an apple off your head, but this is too scary? Get over here. I’ll do it myself.”

— home is not a place by thewayside – explicit / 4.2k words

Somewhere between Kinn arriving at Porsche’s and everything going to hell, they have each other.

(Or: Set during Episode 12 after Kinn & Porsche go back to the alleyway behind Hum Bar where they first met.)

— you’ve got to beg to be proud by starstrung – explicit / 2.4k words

Kinn and Porsche have a rule. Their work may take them to dangerous places. They might have to make hard decisions, be threatening, be charming, or a deadly mixture of the two.

They always come home to each other.

[pasteltraitor]

Hey, I just came across your AT swap au drawings, with kid Simon and the Ice Prince. I'm not sure how long ago you made those drawings or if you're still into AT, but I wanted to say that I really loved what you wrote and drew! Your take on the swapped characters seems really sweet and I'm already daydreaming about Ice Prince adopting-by-force Simon, only to get Gunter as well as part of the package deal. It seems really fun and I'm glad I found your post.

thanks for the kind words!! it doesn't feel that long ago since i drew them! in October...(it is now almost December where does the time go alas) I'm still into adventure time but i just haven't finished watching the series bcus i don't want to have no more adventure time to watch DDD: but alas all good things must come to an end so i should probably bite the bullet sometime.

I'm so glad you've enjoyed my au drawings and i do plan on drawing more. but life has been busy and I've been very tired lately )): but they have not left my mind i assure you, ice prince, simon and gunter still live rent free in my head lol

thank you so much for this ask it really made my day! <3<3 here's a little doodle i made just for u

[silent-silver-slip]

…okay I finished it (the sea never dies) and read a select few au of aus…I feel like tornado ran through me and I love it so much. The resolution was tied up so well and it’s so good. Toru, when I get my hands on you you WILL have love and happiness and peace on this earth OR I SWEAR TO GOD! I’m being overran by working a lot so I haven’t really digested it yet but FUCK gives me hope that if we grit our teeth it will be better

I want you to know "Gives me hope that if we grit our teeth it will be better" has been living in my head rent free ever since you sent through this ask. I've been staring at it, loving it, doing my best to live it.

That, and the fact I've been too busy grinning at this ask whenever I see it, is why it's taken me forever and a day to actually get around to responding.

I'm thrilled to hear you enjoyed the series! It definitely still holds a special place in my heart. And I am still very proud of how everything resolved!! Like I do think it worked out rather well, for the plot and for the characters, which is ultimately what most endings try to do (except for tragedies, but that's a different story).

Toru fully deserves all the peace and happiness and you can BET that his family are going to make sure he gets it. He'll live a long life, and a happy one I think.

I hope you managed to get some sort of break from working, though I do very much know how it goes! I'm knee-deep in work shifts at the moment, though thankfully the break will come soon as the new year kicks over. In the meantime, however, I leave you with this fun little excerpt that's definitely not from an original story possibly based on the sea never dies

“This is about the fact I got injured, isn’t it?” Toru asks. There’s a bandage around his thigh, still—though hidden beneath his clothes. Nel had found him in the hospital when he was being discharged, however, and had walked beside him as he limped each slow step back home. “It was an avoidable injury,” Nel says, voice sharp enough to cut. She’s right, too. It was an avoidable injury. If Toru had been sharper, been more wary, been waiting for it—then he would have avoided it. But that’s not the kind of life Toru thinks he could live. He can’t expect everyone to turn on him with a blade in their hand. He can’t spend each day holding his breath waiting for the betrayal. He can’t watch everyone and wait for them to turn on him. He can’t do it. He just can’t. And- And maybe one day that will change. Maybe one day he’ll be more wary. Maybe one day he’ll look at a stranger and expect the worst from them. Maybe one day he won’t be so foolishly hopeful. Not today though. Not tomorrow either, Toru hopes. “I just-” Nel cuts herself off with a sharp exhale. “You go around and expect no one to hurt you. There’s no way that can end in any other way but pain.” Nel’s right, and she’s wrong. Their lives as mages are dangerous, but- “I think,” Toru says slowly, thoughtfully, “there’s a difference between expecting no one to hurt you and… just living your life waiting for it. Being a mage means that we’re always going to run into an enemy, and sure sometimes our allies will be friends and sometimes we’ll only have enemies. But—you can’t live your whole life without trusting someone.” “There’s a difference to trusting someone and being willing to trust anyone. People aren’t kind, Toru. They’re not nice. Not to strangers.” It’s this that has always divided them, Toru thinks. Not in a bad way. It’s good that they can hold opposing views, and good that they can be friends despite their different beliefs. Still, some part of him wants him to try and explain, wants to iron out the differences, wants to remind Nel that people can be good, too. “I mean maybe, but maybe not. I think, more than anything else, people are people really. Good, bad, indifferent. They’re all just words. Sure, maybe the next mage I’ll come across will draw their sword, but maybe they’ll just wave as we pass on by. There’s no knowing what the future holds for us Nellie, and it could be such a gorgeous thing.”

[jacksonscouts]

Gather round, Scouts!

Let's meet @roselees, our Scout Spotlight winner! Feel free to say hello or give reactions in the comments. Now without further ado...😊

1. What was your first introduction to TLOU?

Is this when I confess I'm a relatively new fan? 🙈 I first played the game in about 2021 when I was looking on the PS Plus catalogue for something to play, and I've been hooked ever since!

Finding out there was a show was just an added bonus, even if streaming it here isn't super accessible. I wasn't necessarily the biggest fan of games in this genre so it was an accident I stumbled across it, but I'm very glad I did.

2. What would Joel's favorite girl scout cookie be?

3. What TLOU moment lives rent-free in your head?

None.. he's on Atkins ✋️.. my terrible show reference aside, in terms of an actual answer, I'm not from the States so my knowledge of girl-scout cookies is limited to pop culture but after a bit of googling:

I think he'd be kinda basic.. he's probably a thin-mints kind of guy. Whatever Sarah would buy, he'd probably sneak one when she went to bed, in typical dad fashion.

4. Any special talents?

Tess' goodbye in the game was an especially poignant moment because I went into it completely blind - I hadn't had any spoilers and had no idea what was coming. I'm a big fan of exploring different types of relationship and connections within media and so I really loved how they managed to essentially canonize how important Tess and Joel were to one another in that final scene without having either of them out and out /say/ it.

Something about the way in which their relationship is so clearly this unspoken bond built up over the years was really beautifully done and it really does occupy so much space it should be paying rent

And for the show - I'll keep it quick here because I've rambled enough - but definitely the scene where they first arrive in Jackson. I'm also a sucker for found family and I adore how it leans into that trope as well as showing the first instance of Ellie struggling with that new dynamic; it's the first real moment in canon where she goes from being a FEDRA orphanage kid to realising she could have a real home somewhere and all that entails.

I love how you can see that on her face when they get there and she's clearly awestruck by the most mundane things, yet is obviously also struggling with Tommy being effectively this newfound obstacle because she has no idea how his presence is going to shake up the - already turbulent - dynamic she's developing with Joel. Safe to say I have an awful lot of thoughts about those two scenes LMAO

I wouldn't say I'm a super talented person all things considered but I am quite proud of my writing! I've been in fandom spaces for a long time but it's only in recent years I've really been happy with the quality of the work I'm putting out there; it's just for fun, but - as most fic authors on here can vouch for - I put a lot of time and energy into making the plot and the characters tick ❤️ I'm also a historian, which isn't necessarily a talent but something I'm equally passionate about!

5. Would you like to promote anything?

I wouldn't mind promoting my ao3 to anyone whose interested in reading some more TLOU fics - I'm roselees over there too. I currently have an ongoing canon-divergence AU where Tess, Joel and Tommy raise baby Ellie (who they discover at the same time as the Fireflies is in fact still immune in this timeline) and I have several others in the works: a Sarah!lives AU, a part one rewrite following the original idea for the game wherein Tess is the antagonist, and some Jackson!Joel and Ellie shenanigans.

I'd also 100% recommend that if you're a part of the LGBT community or just otherwise an enthusiastic ally, if you want to check out the @tloupride blog run by me and @consultingzoologist, for the whole of pride month we've been reblogging posts that relate to the queer community and TLOU, as well as providing prompts for people to submit their own fanart and fics! We're hoping to keep the blog up as an archive of LGBT pride within the fandom so if you're interested, be sure to check it out ❤️

[emilyssky]

Chapter 4: City Lights And Past Lives.

PAIRING: Lee Know! X fem!reader

GENRE(S): college au, smut, angst

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and abuse, depression, self harm, eating disorders etc.. mentions of blood, swearing, smoking, smut [ dirty talk, oral; giving and receiving, chocking, spanking, praising, degradation, pet names, sometimes Minho is a dick :)

SUMMARY: "Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?"  

"What?"

"You said; Always leave people a little better than you found them" he looked at the floor with a small smile for a few seconds and then his eyes found mine. "You really annoyed me when we first met. I envied your optimism and excitement for life. But each time I saw you, I felt a certain thrill. You made me angry, you made me laugh., you made me feel everything. Something about you made me feel a little more alive each time. I know I fucked up and I know I'm an asshole but I'm also brutally in love with you."    

Minho's POV:

1 year ago.

I solved my phone back in my pocket, choosing to ignore Jisung's messages. I know I'm probably being a dick right now, but he's used to it and he understands. That's one of the things I like about him. He doesn't ask much, he simply knows. He knows when he has to push me and when he has to let me push myself. I take another puff of the remaining bits of my cigarette and throw it on the ground. I lift my hood, trying to protect the sides of my face from the cold, but I keep shivering. My brain is so numb right now that the physical pain is the only thing that I can feel. On days like this, I honestly miss being 16 and getting my ass kicked by my dad, cause at least then the pain in my body was stronger than the voices in my head. As the years went by I found other ways though. As much as I hated him, I got addicted to the pain. I used it as my own personal punishment. The self-loath that he caused me made me crave it. I found similar pain in things like drugs and alcohol and started getting off by inflicting pain on others. Girls I would use and dump, friends I would treat like shit, people that would try to help me that I would lie to. I did anything to remind myself that I had power. That I wasn't the scared little boy he would beat the shit out of. I wasn't someone who was only capable of kneeling and taking beatings. I was strong. I was in control. I wasn't the one in pain.

I didn't wanna deal with anything. Or anyone. And I know that running away from you're problems is not doing shit. I know that I have to go back and deal with this but right now, I just want the world to be quiet. I want everything to go away for a few minutes so that I can have some space to fucking breathe. I jog up the stairs that lead to the roof. I've been coming here whenever I wanted to just get away for a little. This place was already at the top of my 'fuck everything, I wanna be alone' list, but since that night, I've been coming here kinda hoping to see her again. I know that that's not actually what I want. I can't deal with another confrontation, but I want the silence that came with her. It was like all my walls were replaced with mirrors and as she talked my mind backed off more and more, leaving me completely alone, listening. I was listening. For the first time, someone didn't force me to talk about anything or explain myself. All I had to do was sit and listen to her comforting me. Reminding me that; it's going to be okay. After that night, her words lived in my head rent-free. You know how most people have a song that, whenever everything goes to shit, they just put their headphones on and simply listen to it, and for these 3-4 minutes everything else fades away. That's how I kept her in my mind. Like a comfort song that I've been having on repeat ever since then. I force my legs to climb the last flight of stairs, finally reaching the top. I tilt my head a bit, looking at the half-open door with confusion. It's almost 4 in the morning. I place my hand on the door handle, and just as I'm about to pull it even more open, a figure flashes through the small gap of the open door. I move my head further into the door's opening, narrowing my eyes, trying to spot the person again, but the moon being the only source of light, doesn't help. They step into my line of vision again. The long hair makes me realise that it's a girl. She extends her foot and lifts herself up in a fouetté,  which I instantly recognise. Her turns are surprisingly clean. Her body keeps moving around the roof, occasionally leaving my limited line of vision. Her back is facing me, not allowing me to see her face. I stand there behind the door, completely magnetised by her dance. She must be a student here. I lean a bit forward trying to catch a glimpse of her face as she jumps and turns. She bends her back backwards, her head and hands handing beautifully and I freeze. I realise that the huge amount of weed that I've smoked hasn't made me completely numb after all cause I swear I just felt my heart skipping a beat. Her eyes are closed as she stays in position, rolling her head and hands to the music that's probably coming from the Air-pods that are now visible in her ears. Her face twitches with emotion and my hold on the door tightens. It's her. Questions, questions, questions. So many questions run through my head. So many emotions overwhelm me. Fuck, I must be so too high right now. I've thought about her way more than I like to admit. Now she stands here, in front of me. And I don't move, I stay hidden behind the door, watching her dance with tears on her face. I don't wanna talk to her. I don't wanna know her name or why she's crying. I just wanna watch her. And the more I do the more my heart tightens cause the memories that she awakes hurt. She dances so much like Mia, that it's ridiculous, I swear I see her face at some point. I know that I only hurt myself more by sitting here and watching her but I'm completely mesmerised by the way she moves. She's the perfect combination of uncontrollable passion and technique. She's using so much power in such a tender and light way, that I'm jealous. I miss dancing like that. I miss the emotional freedom that I felt whenever I danced. I let myself slide down the side of the wall soundlessly, and rest my head against it. There she is again. My little mirror.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Y/n's POV: The next few days went by in a blur. Wake up, go to class, come home, practice, and go to sleep. Every day is basically the same but I'm not really bothered by it, routine is good, I like having a routine. It's safe. It doesn't make me anxious and everything is scheduled. Dance has been hard though. Correction after correction, my annoyance grew. I was making no progress.

.

.

.

"I don't know y/n. Isn't it a bit short?" Emma is standing in front of the mirror, tugging her tight blue dress down, unsuccessfully.

"Em, you look fucking amazing. Blue is the perfect colour for blondes, and you're boobs look incredible." I praise her in an attempt to boost her almost nonexistent confidence as I put my hoops on. "Seungmin is going to be hard from the minute you walk in, bet" I stand beside her in the mirror, taking a look at myself. We look completely different. She's wearing a blue strapless dress with white heels that make her almost as tall as I am. Her long blonde hair falls in loose curls down her bare back and her light makeup looks almost flawless. On the other hand, I'm wearing leather pants that are tight around my waist but a bit baggier around my thighs and a simple strapless black top. I've straightened my naturally curly hair and kept my makeup the same as every time with black eyeliner and a dark red colour on my lips.

"You're one to talk." She bumps her hip to mine "You're hot as hell"

"Stop" I roll my eyes, smiling at her.

"Is Chan picking us up?" She asks as she fills her purse with makeup and other stuff.

"Um no, Hyunjin's picking us up." I grab my jacket and walk to the living room. Emma follows shortly.

"Great, are they going to text you when-"

My phone interrupts her and we smile at each other. Hyunjin's name flashes across the screen. Wow, he's actually on time, that's a first. I answer and put him on speaker.

"We're here bitches." Hyunjin yells.

"We'll be down in five." I say and hang up.

"Let's go." Emma says with excitement and we walk out the door.

Felix rolls down his window from the passenger's seat and lets out a loud whistle. "Damn." He yells.

"Hello ladies," Hyunjin says as we enter the car.

"Hey," I say. "You're exactly on time. I'm proud of you.."

"Okay, you're both hot" Hyunjin comments as he drives off.

"You sound surprised. " Emma says and I giggle.

"You know what I mean" Hyunjin's eyes are focused on the road as he speaks.

"Is Jisoo not coming?" I ask.

"No, Seungmin only invited us, and since I don't really know them that long I didn't wanna push it and ask to bring someone else. Plus, we're not 'together ' together anyway." he shrugs.

"Come on now, you've been seeing each other for like, a year and you're completely obsessed with her." They've been fucking around for so long but even though they never made it official, we all know that they have feelings for each other.

"I'm not, shut up" Hyunjin tries to contain his smile.

After a few minutes, we pull to an apartment complex.

"It's not far from our apartment. " Emma comments as walks to the door.

"We could stay over at your place if we get too wasted and none of us can drive. It's like 10 minutes away." Hyunjin says.

"Sure, we'll probably have an extra bed anyway 'cause Em will hopefully not come home tonight."  I wrap my hand around her shoulders.

"If you're anything like that in front of him, I'll physically hurt you." She attempts to threaten me but both me and the boys just laugh.

The music can be heard from down the hall, and we had to ring the bell at least 5 times before a guy opened the door.

"Hi" he smiles at us.

"Hi, Jeongin" Emma gives him a quick hug. The guys simply nod at him and follow Emma inside the apartment.

"Hi, I'm y/n" I shake his hand.

"I know, Chan told me you were coming. It's nice to meet you, I'm Jeongin" He has a nice smile. He's tall, with dark hair, brown eyes, and perfect eyebrows. He looks like he could be a model.

I take a step to his left, inside."Is Chan here?" I lean into him a bit cause it's so crowded in here that I could easily get lost.

"Yeah, I think he's in the kitchen." He says, closing the door. Emma, Hyunjin, and Felix have already disappeared. There are more people than I was expecting, Emma made it sound like it was a private party, but there are at least 60 people here.

"The kitchen.." I trail off as I look through the crowd, trying to find it. I hear him laugh from behind me.

"Come with me" He touches my back lightly before moving in front of me, guiding me to the kitchen. I instantly spot Chan's blond hair. He's with Changbin and some other people pouring shots.

"Hi" I go up to him from behind and he instantly smiles when he sees it's me. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are flushed.

"Oh my god, heyyyyy" He pulls me into a hug and I giggle.

"Are you drunk already?" I love drunk Chan. He hardly drinks that much but when he does he's one of the funniest people ever.

"Tipsy," he corrects me pointing a finger at me "Tipsy is the right word dear"

He pours two more shots and he gives one to me and one to Jeongin who's still standing beside me.

"Let's get it" Changbin yells and we all drown our shots. . . .

.

.

The energy in this house is crazy and at this point, everyone is pretty much drunk, including me and I'm loving it. I found myself dancing on tables, playing games, chatting with people, and actually smiling. For a moment I felt like my old self again and I wanted to keep that feeling for as long as I possibly can. So I drank more and danced more until the thoughts in my head about what I should and shouldn't do were gone. Currently, Emma and Seungmin are nowhere to be found, Felix has been following Hyunjin's drunk ass around cause he has thrown up 2 times already, Chan is playing beer pong with Changbin and some other girls and I'm dancing with Jisung and Jeongin. Turns out Jisung is a really good dancing partner and has been filling up Hyunjin's spot all night. Well, I did threaten him not to leave my side. Jeonjin is also a really nice guy, super funny, and easy to be around. Even if I don't wanna admit it, my eyes have been searching for Minho ever since I got here but he's nowhere to be found. I know I shouldn't really care, he hasn't been particularly nice to me but that doesn't really stop my growing curiosity about him. The temperature in the room is incredibly hot. My hair is sticking to my back and I feel like my whole face is on fire, the amount of alcohol that I've consumed doesn't really help. My breaths are getting shorter and sharper as I push my body to move to the music between Jisung and Jeongin. The minute I feel my stomach turning I knew I had to slow down for a bit. I needed air.

"I'm going to get some air, I'm sweating so fucking much." I yell over the music to both of them. Jeongin pulls me closer to him by my elbow.

"Do you want me to take you?" He says to my ear. Jeongin has been my guide through the house the entire night. He's taken me to his room to leave my stuff, and to the bathroom, and he showed me around the kitchen and the rest of the bedrooms. Emma was right, this place is huge.

"No, I got this one." I reassure him. I make my way upstairs and walk down the hall, to the last room, where we left our stuff. I remember that there was a small balcony and when I open the door, I'm happy to see that I remembered correctly. I carefully pull open the small balcony door oven and step out, letting the cool air hit my skin. My ears are ringing from the loud music, my eyes can't really focus on anything and my mind is a blur, unable to think about anything. In this moment I find myself smiling, cause in this moment everything is silent. The apartment is pretty high up, giving the guys access to an incredible view. I notice a small flight of stairs to my left. I look at them curiously, before slowly walking up, my drunken state not making it easy for me. When I reached the top, I looked around only to realise that I'm on a small rooftop. My eyes light up at the sight and a giggle escapes me. Rooftops make me happy. I wish our apartment had one.

"Okay, now who's stalking who?" A low voice says and my head snaps to the left. Minho's sitting on the floor with a cigarette between his lips. There he is. Has he been up here this whole time?

"I didn't even know you were here." I protest, taking a step forwards but stumbling a bit on my own feet.

Minho let out a low raspy laugh. "How come every time we meet on a rooftop you're always drunk? " He snorts "Is that like a thing? Whenever you get drunk you search for a rooftop?"

I keep my eyes on the sky in front of me. "I like rooftops," I smile as I begin to walk aimlessly around. "Something about being so high, no walls around me, a clear view of the sky, makes me feel like I'm on top of the world, it calms me down." I grab the railing and take a look downwards to see how far up are we.

"Get away from the railing, you're drunk." Minho's voice comes out louder than before. I look at him over my back. He's now standing, his cigarette rests between his fingers and his eyes are set on my figure.

Interesting.

I turn around, resting my back on the trailing, my hands still gripping it tightly.

Deja vu.

"Or what?" I giggle and lean backward just a bit more. He takes a quick step forward, his free hand extended towards me.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking around, get away." His tone is demanding and his eyes are hard, jaw set. My drunk mind finds his face funny.

"You're funny." I smile at him. He takes a few more steps, carefully.

"I'm not joking." His voice gets low again.

My eyes spark with excitement. "Oops" I lean back furthermore, but his hand comes around my waist pulling me away.

"Do you wanna die?" He says, staring down at me. I know he's half joking but my mouth opens before my mind can think.

"That would be a good way to go." I half smile.

His eyebrows draw together "What?"

"I mean it would be easier right?" I tilt my head at him "It wouldn't be entirely my fault. She got drunk and she fell off the roof sound better than anything else that would make me look weak right?" His face is unreadable, or maybe shocked I can't really tell. He drops his hand from my waist but doesn't say a word. "But either way, I'm weak right Minho?" I say, waving my hands. He clears his throat and looks away from my eyes.

"That's not what I meant I-"

"Cut the bullshit, I know what you meant." A sudden wave of emotions runs through me and I raise my voice slightly. "But let's get one thing straight, you don't know anything." I move closer to him. "You don't know anything about me or what happened. You're so quick to judge me and call me weak and stupid but you don't know shit."His expression changes slightly. A flash of emotion in his eyes that wasn't there before, he opens his mouth and then closes it again. His lips turn into a line and then he exhales loudly.

"It's not like that. I was just trying to help."He finally says.

"I don't need your help Minho. I don't want your fucking pity." I say through my teeth.

His eyebrows furrowed at my words. "I don't pity you y/n" He grabs my hand and without realising it I flinch lightly. He takes a sharp breath, his eyes widening only for a second before he drops his grip on my hand and turns around. He starts walking back and forth, hands on his head, through his hair, over his face, and finally set on his waist.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" I begin to apologise.

"Stop," His tone is sharp. He shakes his head. "You're- You're pissing me off."

Pissing him off? "What did I even do?" I honestly ask, frustrated.

"Why are you apologising?" He spins around. I stare at him, no words are coming out of my mouth. I simply stare at him. My chest feels heavy all of a sudden and my eyes fall to the ground.

"What happened to you?" His eyes are searching my face. "I remember a year ago, I met a girl on a rooftop. I was just sitting there when she stumbled through the door, wasted. She was smiling and she talked about life, kindness, and shit. Her eyes were wild and her voice loud and powerful. Her presence was so incredibly bright and I hated it. It pissed me off. It pissed me off because she was everything that I wasn't. The way she viewed the world and the way she talked about people and life made me jealous. I was jealous of her light. It reminded me of a lot of things I missed. I hated it." My eyes can't keep eye contact with him as he speaks. My stomach is a knot, my heart is beating fast, and my head is spinning.

He remembers me.

"Now here we are," He waves his hand around. "A year later, on a rooftop and you're once again drunk. But you're different. And I don't know why, but it makes me mad." My eyes are glued to the ground. My whole body is tensed and I feel more exposed than I should.

"You were right" I finally find my words.

"About what?"

"I'm weak," I nod several times. "And stupid. And I don't have the courage to say to anyone that I was in a shitty relationship. That I was weak enough to be manipulated and lied to and treated like shit. None knows about my childhood or my past in general. I'm scared that everyone would look at me differently. I'm scared that everyone will judge me. Like I did to my mom." I confess. "I promised myself that I would be stronger than she was. Braver and smarter," I laugh. "But of course, I met a guy in my first year of college and I thought I could fix him. I wanted to help him, so I stayed. I made excuses every time something would happen. And he played me. " My eyes begin to burn, desperately holding back the tears. Minho's gaze is hard. From the way he's looking at me, I can tell that he wasn't expecting me to share that much.

"I'm sorry," I sniff and try to look anywhere else. "I tend to overshare when I drink." I laugh awkwardly.

"Was he hitting you?" His question makes me freeze. This is a question I wished I would never hear anyone ask me. It sounds almost unreal.

"In the beginning, it wasn't so bad. Not enough for me to realise I guess. But he did at some point, yes. " My voice falters. "He would get mad often. He would yell. He would throw things, a lot of times dangerously close to me. At times I would try to calm him down, but he would push me, not caring to look where I would land. It wasn't like he was beating me up, we were fighting all the time. It was pushing around, slamming into walls, choking, throwing things. It was the type of beatings that in my mind I could justify cause I wasn't exactly innocent. If I had slapped him and then he had pushed me against the wall and choked me until I begged him to stop, I couldn't blame him completely cause I was the one who had started it. In the beginning, it was sort of exciting, the fighting and the toxicity gave me the kind of rush that made me go back, wanting more. But things started to change and the realization of the situation hit me as hard as the first time he actually slapped me. I would fight, I would yell at him but at some point I became mentally drained and I couldn't really fight back." The words come out of my mouth without me even thinking about them. Like a secret, I was dying to finally say out loud. "Even during sex he was-"

"That's enough" Minho looks at me, disgusted almost. He shakes his head and turns his gaze to the night sky.

"He had a hard childhood. His father treated him like shit. His mother passed away when he was young-" His laugh cuts me off as he turns to look at me.

"I'm not defending him," I whisper." I-I..." I take a deep breath. " I left him. It turns out I was a joke to him. He was supposed to fuck me and move on to the next girl. He had made bets with his friends and I was so naive that I fell right into his little game. The day I found out was the day he lost it and he ended up choking me. When it got to the point that I couldn't really breathe, he snapped back to reality but it was too late. I left him that day"

Minho shakes his head once again, smiling at the ground. His hands are crossed.

"The day we met, I caught him having sex with a blonde bitch at a frat party," I giggle. His eyes shoot up at mine. I drop to the ground and bring my knees to my chest. "And you know what's the saddest part?" I look up at him and smile a little. "I don't even miss him. I feel anger and pain whenever I look at him. I miss who I was before him. I'm mad at him for making me feel this weak and I'm more mad at myself for letting him." I honestly say. "I didn't realize it at the time but now looking back, I can see that the more I stayed, the more pieces of myself I was losing. Until it was too late. Now I feel like everything was taken away from me. All that I built myself to be, came crumbling down after him." I let out a breath of relief. I've been keeping all this inside for so long, never having the courage to say anything out loud. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe I'm too emotional right now. Either way, even if he doesn't really care about anything I said, even if doesn't even like me, the feeling of this huge weight finally lifting off of my shoulder is incredible. He takes a seat beside me. His shoulder brushes mine. He smells like vanilla and cigarettes. He doesn't look at me but I keep studying him. His jawline is sharper than a knife and his nose is perfectly straight. His eyelashes are probably longer than mine and the curve of his lips looks almost fake. His side profile is close to perfection.

"The urge to go find him and just beat the shit out of him is so strong right now." He exhales.

"Why? You have already expressed how much you don't like me and how I piss you off, many times." I giggle at his statement.

"Yeah but people like him piss me off more. " He says. I don't replay, instead, I rest my head on my knees and stare at him. His eyes are still looking forward. " And it's not that I don't like you."

"How did you know?"

"You told me about it the first time I saw you and I've seen it happening too many times." He says. I don't speak. I can't think of anything to say and I don't wanna overstep any boundaries by asking questions. "My father was abusive too," He breaks the silence. "He was an alcoholic. A piece of shit. It was only my mother at first but as the years went by he became violent towards me and my sister. I would fight him off as much as I could, but it would never end well. I remember begging my mother to leave him. 'I love him,' she would say. 'He said he won't do it again' "

He smiles at himself. "I was 17 and my sister 18 at the time. My dad came home drunk as usual. Me and Mia were in our room when we heard the sound of glass shattering. I rushed down the stairs and found a guy that I'd never seen before on top of my mother. He had his hands around her neck, choking her. Another guy was standing next to them, with a lamp in his hand and my dad laying on the floor." He clears his throat. "Um, long story short, he owed them a lot of money, and when he couldn't pay they came to find him. I did everything I could to protect my mother and sister but I was just a kid, I couldn't do much but I gave my sister enough time to call the police. My dad along with them ended up in jail." He finally turns to look at me. The emotion in his eyes is noticeable, for once. "It was supposed to end there." He continues. "We were finally free." A pause. "Until my sister started dating this guy."

I can feel my heart tighten, knowing where this is going.

"He was okay. Everything seemed okay, she looked happy so I didn't give it too much thought. They were dating for almost 2 years when they moved together. That's when shit started happening. We were dancing together ever since we were little so both of us decided to study dance naturally. We were practicing together every day so it wasn't easy for her to hide her body. Random bruises on her arms and legs started appearing, her mood started to change, she started skipping classes, and not going out with her friends." He shakes his head almost as if he's trying to shake the images out of his head. "She was this bright person, such a joy to be around. Always smiling." He smiled in such a sad way that my chest tightened. "When she came to practice one day with a bruise on her face, I put two and two together and completely lost it. I beat the shit out of him." He laughs a bitter laugh."She, of course, protected him. She pulled me away, and I yelled at her. I couldn't understand but I saw it in her eyes. She looked at me the way my mother looked at me whenever I would tell her to leave my dad." A pause "She was supposed to be better," His voice tightened, his tone a little louder. "I didn't understand. I still don't," He breathes. "I didn't speak to her for days, until one day she knocked at my door, late at night, crying hysterically." He takes a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled. "Turns out she was pregnant with that bastard's baby." He says and I suck a breath. He stays quiet, the silence makes what he said sink in more and more and I feel my heart break at his story.

"I was going to kill him." He looked at me. His face holds no expression but his eyes are swimming with emotions of all kinds. "For real, I was going to end him but she told me she left. She choose the baby over him and she left." I stare at him. That's all I can do honestly. What can I possibly say to him right now? His pain is all too familiar to mine. And I know that there's not much I can say.

"I understand," My voice comes out a bit louder than a whisper. " I understand.  I was supposed to be better too." I offer him a small smile.

He opens his mouth to say something but Jeongin bursts through the door before he has the chance to.

"Oh my god, there you are" He releases a breath, his hand over his heart. "You've been gone for over half an hour." I rise to my feet.

"I'm sorry." I apologise "I wasn't feeling that well. I think I drank too much." I quickly mask my face with a smile.

"You think?" He smirks and I push lightly at him.

"Smoke break?" He looks at Minho and I turn to look back at him as well. Any emotion that was there, has left Minho's face. His expression is entirely natural. Like our talk never happened.

"Yeah." He takes a lighter out of his pocket and lights again the cigarette that I forgot he was holding.

"You should come down, the party is crazy. " Jeongin says, excited and clearly drunk as well.

The corners of Minho's mouth lift a bit ."I'll be there in a few minutes." He reassures him and lets his eyes trail to me for a few seconds before focusing on his cigarette. Jeongin nods, grabs my hand, and leads me down the stairs and back into the room.

"Oh, by the way, Hyunjin has been throwing up nonstop and Felix is panicking."

"What?" I yell.

"Yep." Jeongin's mouth turns into a thin line. He leads me towards the bathroom, where I see Hyunjin with his head on the toilet and Felix leaning against the door frame, his fingers resting at the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

"I left you for less than an hour." I run to Hyunjin's side. I sit down beside him, brushing some hair out of his face. His eyes are closed, head resting on top of his hand.

"Babysitting Hyunjin feels like my full-time job at this point." Felix jokes, frustration written in his voice.

"You can go back down, I'll take it from here."

He hesitates. "You sure?"

"Yes Felix, go have fun. I'll find him a place to sleep and I'll be down in a few." I reassure him.

"Alright, if anything happens come and get me." He says and basically runs down the stairs.

"Hyunjin? Are you awake?" I say lightly. No respond.

"We can put him in my bedroom if you want. " Jeongin scratches the back of his neck.

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure" He shrugs and helps me lift Hyunjin. We walk just a few steps down the hall, into a bedroom, and gently drop Hyunjin on the bed. I scan the room, searching for a trashcan. I spot one under the desk, I place it beside the bed just in case he throws up again and turn him to his side before lowering the lights a bit.

"I'll come and check on him in a few. " I say as we make our way out of the room and down the stairs. The party is still going strong. I force myself to forget about Minho and what we talked about, by throwing myself back on the dance floor. The music gets louder and we get drunker. I lost count of the number of shots I've done, All I know is that I'm having a fucking great time. My body is on fire and my mind is numb. Unable to think, or panic. I move freely, I'm not thinking, I let the music guide my body and I let the alcohol take over my head. I spot chan coming out of the kitchen.

"Channie" I run to him, stumbling over my own feet. Thankfully, he catches me in his arms.

"Wow, you're really drunk." He laughs, helping me find my balance. I wrap my hands around his neck, refusing to let go.

"I've missed you so much" I slur.

"Okay, I know where this is going, and I don't want you to cry in front of everyone. How about we get you home?" His hand rests on my waist, as he leads me to the living room. Seungmin is sitting on the couch with Emma straddling his lap. They're making out as if their life depends on it. On the other couch, I spot Jisung and Minho talking.

"Em" Chan yells over the music, trying to get her attention. Her head snaps in our direction, breaking the kiss.

"She's drunk isn't she?" She sighs, a smile playing on her lips. I try to move away from Chan's grip but he won't let me

"I'm not drunk," I point my finger at her, trying to focus my eyes "I'm wasted." I smile.

Everyone laughs. Well, everyone except Minho.

"Okay, maybe we should get going." She climbs off of Seungmin's lap. "Where's Hyunjin?"

"Yeah, about that.." Chan trails off.

"He's blacked out drunk in Jeongin's room" Felix and Jeongin appear beside me, red cups in their hands.

"Jeongin," I squeal, as I break free from Chan's grip and run towards jeongin. "Let's dance." I attempt to grab his hand and drag him to the dance floor, but he sneaks a hand around my waist pulling me back, my back slamming into his front. I giggle.

"Nope," He laughs. "You've done enough dancing" I cross my hands and pout like a child. Felix laughs at my reaction.

" I haven't seen y/n drunk in so long, I've forgotten how funny she gets" he pats my head.

"I've not drunk Felix" I sigh dramatically, still in Jeongin's grip.

"I'm wasted," Chan and Emma say at the same time and everyone bursts into laughter. Everyone except Minho, again. I turn to look at him, and he's already looking at me. He's sitting on the couch, legs spread wide open, a red cup in his hand, and his head resting on the back of the couch. His free hand plays with his bottom lip and his eyes are focused on my figure, not moving. Not gonna lie, he looks hot. Minho is undeniably handsome. Something about his whole presence is attractive....until he opens his mouth. He can be a total ass. But right now he's not talking, he's simply staring at me, and he looks hot doing it.

"Wait, so if Hyunjin can't drive us back, how are we going to get home?" Emma's question breaks me from my thoughts.

"I can't drive, I've been drinking a lot" Felix giggles. His blonde hair is a mess and his cheeks look like they're on fire.

"I can drive." My hand goes up.

"No" jeongin brings my hand back down. I roll my eyes and rest my head against his chest. From the corner of my eyes, I see Minho lean forward. He places his elbows on his knees, the red cup now hanging from his hand between his legs. His eyes burn the side of my head.

"I can drive you," Jisung offers. "I've only been drinking water, all night"

"Yayyyy" I throw my hands in the air. Jisung flashes me a smile.

"Okay," Emma says and turns to Chan. "Please help me drag Hyunjin's drunk ass to the car." She stands from the couch and turns to Felix. "I'll grab all of our stuff, just take Y/n and Jisung to the car." She points a finger at him, her voice slow and loud as if she's explaining something to a child. Felix nods and takes me by the arm.

"I like them bossy." Seungmin wipes his lips with the back of his hand as his eyes follow Emma's back.

Jisung gets up from his spot beside Minho.

"Do you want me to come?" Minho looks up at him.

"No, I'll manage" He pats his back and Minho just nods.

"Okay then," He rubs his hands together. "Let's go kid." He says to me, placing a hand on my lower back, guiding me through the sweaty bodies, while Felix leads the way. Emma and Chan arrive at the car a few minutes after us, holding a very grumpy, half-asleep Hyunjin. Emma unlocks the car and gets into the passenger's seat while me, Hyunjin, and Felix get in the back. Hyunjin immediately lays his head on my lap, closing his eyes once again. Chan appears at my window.

"Text me when you guys get home, okay?" He says to Emma.

"Sure thing dad." She smiles at him.

"Goodnight Channie" I wave at him as Jisung starts the car.

"Bye." He waves back. I rest my head on the back of the seat, letting the cool air hit my face as my fingers run through Hyunjin's long blonde hair. Silence fills the car and my eyes begin to close until finally, sleep takes over me.

[feerz]

omg i would love to hear about your arena tour jesus x judas headcanons. like i actually need to hear about their relationship 🙏🏻

OOOO you just activated the brain worms, im so normal about them (lies), this might get long :)

so in my mind, nothing happened between them in the canon version. Both of them are pinning HARD but neither is willing to act on it, plus they both think it could not work out (judas because he thinks he might hurt jesus with his temper etc, and jesus because he knows his destiny and that he wont be here for much longer)

jesus didn't know it would specifically be judas who would betray him when they first met; he just knew it would be one of his disciples. However like a few months/a year later he finally found out and was absolutely devastated

despite this they were very close throughout the years, but a couple of months before the events of the show, Jesus started avoiding Judas with no explanation, and they started arguing often; as his doom came closer, Judas became a constant reminder of it, and jesus just couldn't bear it (that got whumpy quick huh)

on a lighter note, in the fix-it au that lives in my head rent-free judas stops jesus from going through with the plan and they retire from the ministry and start a life together (Ruined Ambitions style)

judas is gay and knew it since he was a teen, and jesus is maybe bi (im still thinking about what his relationship with mary is) and is either transmasc or cis, depending on how im feeling lol

they both switch, but jesus is absolutely the little spoon, and is very snuggly in general

judas is quite protective, esp in the au

also has jealousy issues that he has to work on

they both have sleep issues and this led to them bonding when they would see each other outside at night; in the au, they finally start communicating properly, while laying in bed together

Judas nicknames him 'Jay', Jesus sometimes calls him 'Jude'

Judas fell first and fell HARD

physical touch and quality time are both their love languages

on the one hand jesus really hates judas smoking habit and tries to get him to quit, but on the other hand the smoke brings him comfort since it reminds him of judas

I have so many thoughts about them tbh, could probably go on and on. But i feel like this has been long enough 😅

[mymaleficaria]

mthedm ---> mymaleficaria

Hi gang! I've had this blog since high school, but somewhere in college it fell into disuse and disrepair. I've been itching to get back on here, as a space on the internet that's not...ya know *gestures at the Twitter-sized elephant in the room*. But I also wanted to go in with a fresh coat of paint and reintroduce myself to y'all, maybe even make some new friends (or enemies. That could be hot.) A lot has changed!

Wait, why do I follow you?

Statistically, you followed me because of Wolf 359! I was big into podcasts back in the day, WTNV, Wolf 359, all those. I also wrote some Wolf 359 fics and was semi-active on the discord. Still fondly remember the show and might reblog fanart once in awhile, but it's not the direction this blog's going to go, so feel free to unfollow if what up I'm to now isn't your jam.

What's this blog about now?

Wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy? Frankly, I'm ADHD as fuck, so that'll vary by the day, but I have a few fandoms (do we still say fandoms in the year of our lord 2023???) that I've been into lately.

Dimension 20: I started watching D20 a little less than a year ago, and it entirely took over my life. It's just a series that's so robustly funny, wonderfully told, and never fails to make me smile. I'm especially fond of ACOC and Fantasy High.

Dracula Daily: I'm in this shit for the long haul! I think Lucy and Mina should kiss, but that's neither here nor there.

Game of Thrones/HotD: This show ended in a trash fire, but it literally lives in my head rent free. The political intrigue, the drama. Ugh. I'm a targ girlie through and through, so I've been eating up HotD, though it's nowhere near as good imo. Am also currently reading the 1st ASOIAF book.

YA lit/Whatever I'm reading/watching: I've read almost 50 books this year so far, and am frankly, insane. Bonus points for queer reads! Not many people to talk about books to irl, so might ramble about them on here instead. Also watch a lot of random TV drama and some anime.

Writing: I'm a fanfic writer, and a fiction writer in general, so I'll post stuff about writing--complaints, story snippets, link to my fics, etc! Headcanons and all will be found here. I've also copyedited before, which is like writing but if you get even more nitpicky about it.

Personal/Whatever the hell I feel like/My D&D Games: Life happens and sometimes you want to scream into the void. Ramblings, jokes, whatever. I transed my gender in the past few years and sometimes I'm mad about it! I also just graduated college! Madness! I play a lot of TTRPGs, and I'm usually on brainrot for one of my characters at any given time.

Why's your new username that?

One of my favorite book series is The Scholomance by Naomi Novik, and in the series, Maleficaria are the horrifying monsters that threaten to kill the students every day, and what is tumblr if not a place full of vile, evil beings? Plus, it means you all can call me Mal.

Anything else?

Nope! Other than to feel free to drop me a line and say hello, especially if you want to scream about D20. I'm p alone in this brainrot irl, so I'm pretty much always down to talk about the Bad Kids... especially Adaine and Fabian. I'm also always down to take fic suggestions in my asks! This show genuinely lifts me up when I'm down, so sharing it with people is one of my favorite things.

My fics (shortlist):

In Sweetness, There is Violence: Angsty ACOC one-shot about if Ruby had made a different choice in the finale. Obligatory Caramelinda Caramelinda-ing.

the words i speak are wildfires: A HOTD one-shot I intended to be smut, that ended up instead being more like a romantic sapphic moment of healing between Alicent and Rhaenyra. What can I say? I like childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

Stay Stellar: An unfinished (and, very likely, discontinued) 15-chapter high school AU for Wolf 359 that I wrote with an old friend. Featuring some truly crazy shenanigans, a lot of embarrassing Kepcobi moments, and a surprising amount of theatre.

[darkpersonapeace]

20 questions for writers

I was tagged by my other half @wingsofescape for this and it sounds fun! (thank you babe, you made my shitty day a little better)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

28 (I had to open my ao3 and check because, oh boy, since when I write that much?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

274,269 (just found out there is a thing call "Statistics" so I don't have to count them one by one, ao3 is awesome)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly FMA! Very much Ed and Winry in different worlds but also, some cannon because FMA lives in my heart and mind, rent free, since I first watched fifteen years ago. I also wrote 2 fica for Arcane and 1 fic for The Witcher (but this one was a birthday gift)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

resting on a knife, you heavy souls - 793 kudos (Arcane)

it's called home - 312 kudos (FMA)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to! I used to answer all of them and I love love comments and discuss about fics, but since last year I am emotionally unable to reply to the amazing comments I get! Maybe someday I'll return replying comments, but right now, I am loving to write the stories and just enjoy this bit.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think it's mercy, my love, or I'll crumble (FMA) because it's the only time I wrote a bittersweet/angst with no happy ending story.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happiest ending? Pretty much all my fics, but if I'd to choose one, I'd say it's you drew stars around my scars because it ends with one of the best kissing scenes I ever wrote and:

Edward smirks, the light reaching his eyes. 

"I think that’s okay," He links their fingers and stares at her, his eyes shining, like the young man he has always been. "My heart has always been yours, anyway." 

or maybe war tangles the strings that binds us because there's is ANGST in there but in the end, they kind of end up together:

"You said prophecies always come to life. And the prophecy said Ed — the heir of the sun — would conquer the moon." 

Pianko hums and looks ahead. He follows her eyesight again and sees, like a secret spectator, the palpable love in front of them. 

Old Granny smiles again when Edward holds her granddaughter's hand, his fingers traveling against her cheek while Winry smiles the happiest smile Pinako has ever seen.

Pinako smiles wisely. "I think he already has." 

OR it's my canon au where Ed is a stay at home dad who ends up (unnoticed) adopting a young girl to teach her alchemy in keep your little heart warm:

"I saw you talking before, you are an alchemist, right?" The man says, pointing at Edward. "And a teacher?" 

Edward frowns for a moment, before staring at Amelia. She just raises her brows, challenging him to answer for real this time – he never does, he jests, dodges the question, leaves them talking about, but never an answer – but he just smiles, fondly at her. 

Edward takes a step closer, rubbing Amelia's head in the same fatherly way he does since she was ten. "Nah, I'm just a stay at home dad." 

So, yeah. Maybe all of them?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Hmmm, sometimes. I deleted all the comments but I did receive like two or three angry comments but it was very clear they were sexist and just stupid, so I ignore them.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh, boy. Oh, BOY. DO I WRITE SMUT? so so, hear me out: it wasn't my plan to write that MUCH SMUT in my life, but as it turns out, here we are. I do very much write smut. A lot of it. Almost filthy smut, some may say.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope, never did and don't think I will.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Ah... I don't think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I translate my all the time because English is not my first language lol

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Mentally? All the time. @woahpip and @wingsofescape are the greatest writers in this place and they always help my write stuff.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Oh, boy. Definitely Edward and Winry, but I do have some others that I will never write about.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

The bodyguard au prequel! I wrote ten pages of that already, I'd love to finish but I don't think I will.

16. What are your writing strengths?

None? ASDABSBJHJH kidding, okay. Maybe write from the heart? I try to make my characters, in any universe, as human as possible. More than once I find myself rethinking dialogues because "no no, that person wouldn't answer like that, that's too fast". And perhaps the ability to write smut in a tender way? I focus more on what the characters are feeling than on the act itself.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

No matter how much I try, I'll never portray exactly what I want in my stories because language is a huge barrier. I understand English and I can write but I don't feel English, it's different. And grammar mistakes? Only writing when my brain wants to? Idk, there's a bunch.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

LMAAAAAO, read the other answers, sometimes it's very easy! Sometimes it sucks because I don't feel the other language like I can feel mine (Babel Tower, I fucking hate you)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

FMA <3

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Oh, boy. Canon FMA Brotherhood, I'd say you drew stars around my scars. Alternative Universe? Right now, the bodyguard au, welcome to my cage, little lover

this was so FUN! <3 I'm tagging here @woahpip, @emmagency and anyone who wants to!

[ladyzerodark]

So just to keep it clear, most of these ships are from crossover aus.  The most used AU is the one I call Rent Free, a mass crossover au that takes the term "Lives in your head rent free" quite literally. (Kinda, they still need to pay rent).  If I mention World's End, that's the setting of Rent Free.

May split this into two posts depending on how long this is.

Also I'm going to just focus on the relationships with EACH OTHER for now.  If there's any other interest, I can delve into their relationships with other people in each other's lives, much like how I did with Sans and Cinder in a previous post.

Anyway.

Let's start with Soren X Durant

Originally, these two were just going to be friends.

While Soren is much goofier and laidback compared to Durant, I found their attitudes meshing pretty well while coming up with ideas for them.  It took a while for them to actually be officially friends, since Durant takes a while to warm up to folks and Soren can be... a lot.

The two met through becoming Guards for World's End's council.  It annoys Durant, at first, because he doesn't fully trust Soren yet (not after finding out about Viren being his father).  But, the way he sees it, his lord, Euden, and Soren's lords, Ezran and Callum, are friends and the two have vouched for the knight, so he can't be all bad.

After some training together and seeing how much his wolves love Soren, Durant begrudgingly accepted Soren's constant offers of friendship (he wore him down lol).  The two of them ended up being partners for the most part, working together during shifts.

Their relationship became more than platonic when I start imagining them as (obviously) roommates.  Soren would wake up Durant by literally bouncing on his bed, Durant would let his wolves snuggle with Soren.  They ended up being more affectionate with each other and just kind of evolved from there.  No big fanfare, just two dudes realizing "Huh.  We're good togther.  Let's try it."

The two have more of that vibe of stereotypical "bromance" and Soren is definitely the more affectionate of the two when it comes to PDA.  While Durant is very quiet in his affection, he's very protective of his partner and will defend Soren with his life.

As far as how this idea came to be, it's mostly the case of: I was into both Dragon Prince and Dragalia at the same time.  Out of most of these, the development just kinda happened.  Like I said before, their personalities meshed for me when having them interact despite being so different.

~

Figures that the next 2nd highest pairs had a fire emblem character in there lol. I'll start with Titania and King Hassan.

Before Rent Free, I was doing a mass mobile game crossover, where the player (my character Dark), was able to summon folks from different mobile games to combat a virus called the "Mad Moon".  Nothing came of it, but it is something like Rent Free's predecessor.

Titania has a very complicated relationship with the concept of death.  It took many people she cared for and loved.  She didn't fear it for herself, but feared it for others.  Being summoned to Askr has been a bit of a relief, as the summoner did everything they could to keep her loved ones safe when she could not.

Meeting the man known as the King Hassan was alarming at first.  For a moment she thought she was staring the grim reaper in the eyes.  It was only when her summoner introduced the two of them that she noticed something about this reaper.

The blue lights, his eyes, were shining with something akin to affection for her summoner, his master, as he called her.

She could tell he was trustworthy.

As the two were considered seasoned warriors, both Titania and King Hassan (affectionately dubbeed Grampa Hassan by the younger assassins) would train the younger fighters and help improve their skills.  Over the course of time, they ended up growing close as allies, though Hassan was clearly drawing a line between them, something that Titania didn't mind.  She knew enough assassins to understand why he did such a thing.

The Old Man of the Mountain himself respected the red haired paladin, watching as she trained future fighters and continued to grow.  He noticed how she didn't mind the aura of death around him, how she could easily tell how much he cared about his master.  In all fairness, he could see the affection she had for his master, her summoner, as well.

He could tell that she would not easily betray them.

Their protectiveness of those they cared for only drew them closer.  An unspoken bond between protectors formed.  The two seek out each other's company, feeling at peace with someone who understands them.

While this isn't the most romantic ships, that wasn't really my intention.  It could very well be romantic, but it would be subtle.  Like for the longest time you see these two just hanging out, then one day Hassan happens to kiss her hand and you're like "WAIT WHAT THE HECK".  I don't think there would be any sexual stuff between the two, the closest to physical affection they'd get would be a hug.

~

Now for Ced and Lloyd.

This ship is relatively new for me, but I still have thoughts about them.  Should also note that while this COULD work for series!Lloyd, I'm kinda basing this off Movie!Lloyd.

Here's my thought process behind them being good fits: both boys have very tense relationships with their fathers, are associated with the color green, have ancestors that are considered insanely powerful, and they are part of some kind of resistance force.  They surprisingly have a lot in common, even with their desire to help everyone.

The relationship might be a bit rocky; Ced has a tendency to hyperfocus on things and ignore others, while not meaning to. Lloyd has to deal with his own depression and fears of being abandoned for what his father had done.  They'd need to have clear communication for the relationship to work, but that would take time and a lot of therapy on both ends.

As far as how they'd meet, it'd definitely be in a school setting.  Lloyd happens to be walking to class with his friends and sees Ced performing magic with an outdoor class and being in complete awe of his abilities.  Similarly, Ced happens to see Lloyd use spinjutsu and immediately grows fascinated by the power. What starts as a "hey I want to learn how you're able to do that" relationship would build into a friendship, which would develope into something more later on.

Again, I'm still very much working out the details of their relationship.

~

Since we're on a fire emblem kick, let's jump to Underswap Sans and Ephraim!

This pair came from a Three Houses Crossover AU that I just vaguely posted about on my art blog but never really got around to writing it. I'm going off memory for most of the bits about the AU, so keep that in mind.

Underswap Sans, whom I'll call Blue for the sake of simplicity, was the son of a merchant in the Golden Deer country (I wasn't gonna use the original countries but I never got around to naming the others) and Ephraim was a noble from (I believe) the Blue Lion House.  The two trained together and became good friends through it.

Ephraim, the attractive fellow he is, gets a lot of attention from everyone in the student body, but he grew attached to Blue and decided to focus on his friend when he didn't want to deal with the flirting of everyone else.  Blue himself knew he felt something insanely strong for his friend, but these two have no idea that they do actually have crushes.

In the Rent Free AU, similar to Durant and Soren, the two meet as members of the Guard and start out as friends.  Blue is the first to get a crush on him, finding Ephraim's dedication to protecting others admirable.  During a sparring match, Ephraim realizes his own growing crush on Blue. Though similar to the FE3H au, it takes them a while to admit it.

~

TIME FOR THE FATE POLYCULE

Ok, so this one is one of my favorites.

The predecessor of Rent Free is where this started, but also happened around the time that RWBY was focusing on Qrow improving himself and making friends.  And then... well that was the end for Clover.

In the predcessor, Qrow came to the world around the time Clover passed, so his emotions were extremely fresh (as was my growing animosity towards Ironwood, but that's something else entirely).  Before he arrived, Verica, of Dragalia Lost, had made friends with with Kibera, of King's Raid, which surprised a lot of people, as Kibera hates the concept of fate and Verica lives by it.  The two of them had much longer to get to know each other and, despite their personality differences, they somehow managed to get the relationship to work.

Seeing Qrow in pain due to his perceived "fate" to be alone, the two decided to help him through it (and by decided, I mean Verica told Kibera they were helping and Kibera couldn't say no to her). Verica offered words of comfort, some physical affection if needed; while Kibera provided a place to get Qrow's more violent feelings out.

The two of tthem grew to be important parts of Qrow's life, a type of support he didn't have before.  They didn't care if he was unlucky or if he didn't want to be close to anyone; they cared about him.

Kibera and Verica were the ones to ask if Qrow would be interested in a relationship with them.  They'd both fallen for him but wanted to make sure he was okay with having more then one partner.  He gave himself some time to think but in the end, he agreed to give it a try.

When Winter joined the team, Qrow was happy to see her again.  The two of them had an on and off relationship and wanted to introduce her to his new partners, whom he had discussed adding her into the polycule, if she was okay with it.  They had agreed, however, that making friends with her came first.  Winter bonded with Verica the strongest and the two spend the most time together when not with the boys as well.

Rent Free is pretty similar, in that Qrow is brought in first before they add Winter, though she and Qrow didn't have an on off relationship.

~

And with that, I am done with this main post.  I am tired lol Lemme know if you want me to get more specific with any of these