#I feel bad for the developers both because of the crunch and because the open world was probably a demand from above

[bisexualalistairtheirin]

I breathe a sigh of relief whenever I have to explore a small, contained area in DA:I and these often have the best segments in the whole experience (I just did the Lost Temple of Dirthamen and the Still Ruins, as an example) and like... I feel as though that is very indicative of what key feature of this game was the rotten apple that spoiled the bunch.

[prntrink]

The Two-Way Street: An II Character Discussion

With the end of Inanimate Insanity’s second season and the recent reveal that more is coming, I wanted to take the time to talk about an idea I’ve been brewing in my head for a little while now. Now that we’re free of the competition, the show is free to explore its characters more in depth. This means a lot for characters who have previously been shafted or simply unlucky enough to place low in the ranks of the show. While my focus today is on a fan-favorite, I feel as if they haven’t quite finished their arc yet.

Enter Yin-Yang.

Now, I really appreciate the strides Yin-Yang made in Inanimate Insanity Invitational, learning to work better together rather than constantly bicker. However, I can’t help but feel like their development is one-sided. After rewatching the entirety of the series twice now, I think I have my thoughts in order. While they do have an arc, it is more focused on Yang and his own arc of opening up and allowing himself to be more vulnerable, despite the multiple betrayals he’s faced with. Now, I do think this arc is important, but it leaves their character feeling incomplete. This feeling is only accentuated in their last episodes as a contestant, “Spring on the Breakfast” and “Blue Buried”. On both rewatches, I felt that the writers were setting something up for Yin-Yang, but ran out of time to explore the strain on their relationship. In the span of three episodes, Yin-Yang loses their mentor, is manipulated into spiraling, and seemingly resolves their conflict. Compared to the 14 episodes where Yin-Yang is featured, this feels like a total writing crunch.

When we last see Yin-Yang, at least in depth, he’s not exactly harmonious with himself. But this time, it’s not because of Yang, at least not intentionally. It’s because of Yin. 

But maybe that was the writer’s intention. Thus my idea. What if Yin and Yang are going to swap roles in the upcoming II content? Perhaps that wasn’t the end of Yin-Yang’s arc. Rather, it planted a seed. The seed of something that will bloom in whatever comes next.

What am I implying? Well, let’s look at what the symbol yin-yang means! Wikipedia notes Georges Oshawa’s The Unique Principle as saying yin-yang is “an opposite but interconnected, self-perpetuating cycle.” The two halves of yin and yang are designed to react to each other. One ebbs, the other flows. One rises, the other falls.

One improves, the other devolves.

Throughout season 3, we see signs of Yang becoming more capable of compromise and meaningful relationships, at least until Candle’s elimination. He’s more willing to work with Yin and open up about his feelings, even if in a non-direct way. However, we don’t see much development from Yin. The most we get is in “Pesty Besties”, when Yin admits to struggling to assert himself.

Yin: (...)I didn’t know how to put my foot down, and I yelled, and I’m bad. I can’t do anything without Yang.

Yin: (…)I didn’t know how good you were at being assertive. I’m glad you’re here for our balance!

While this is a step forward, I can’t help but feel this is a rather surface-level form of development, especially considering the archetype Yin fills: the nice one. I find that a lot of arcs involving nice characters involve them becoming more assertive. Hell, it can even be seen in II itself, with Suitcase’s arc in season 2 revolving around becoming more assertive. It feels repetitive. But maybe that’s the point. There’s something deeper than Yin needs to work on that he either doesn’t recognize or is unwilling to face. Maybe his arc is meant to move in opposition to Yang. While Yang becomes better, maybe Yin is supposed to get worse, or at least have his flaws become more prominent. After all, it’s easy to look like a saint when your other half is the devil.

 But one can argue that Yang is the worse half. Of course Yin would be harsher with him! His history alone has given Yin enough reason not to trust him, and I do agree with that! However, Yang’s arc throughout season 3 revolves around his relationship with Yin, with him even agreeing to treat Yin better, a promise he held by supporting Yin’s desire to become more assertive. Even with these improvements though, Yang is regularly spoken to like he’s a child.

It’s also notable that later in the same episode, when Yang creates a mountain of soda cans, he lists respect as one of his demands.

Yang: Dinosaurs! Explosions! And respect!

While one could dismiss this as a petulant demand among other sillier demands, I think this is a small choice made to uncover a deeper desire of Yang’s. Also note how he’s standing on a tower of soda cans. Earlier in the episode, he says this:

Yang: They don’t want us in their team leader club because we’re not nearly as tall as them!

After this complaint, Yang’s gripe is compounded by OJ’s response to him clearly moping.

OJ: Wanna go press the button?

(Note: this quote is said with the tone one would use when talking to a child, made more blatant by OJ saying this to a clearly upset Yang.)

When Yang is atop his tower, this exchange happens:

Yang: I demand you finally take me seriously, shorties!

OJ: This was every day, back at the hotel. I didn't listen to him then... I refuse to now.

Again, this could be dismissed as a gag poking fun at Yang, but his wording, compared with later evidence, makes me feel like Yang could have a legitimate complaint that he’s only able to express through “immature” means. Chances are, he lashes out because it’s the only way he can make the others listen to him.

Throughout the series, we see plenty of Yang’s flaws. He’s impulsive, temperamental, violent, self-absorbed, et cetera, et cetera. However, we’ve seen throughout season three Yang’s attempts at improving. Yes, he’s still flawed, but we see more sympathetic characteristics. He’s passionate, assertive, confident, and while he denies this, shockingly vulnerable and trusting.

So, knowing what we know about the philosophy of Yin-Yang, it would only be natural for Yin to experience the opposite. We already see seeds of this in Blue Buried.

But Yin is the good half, isn’t his job to be good? Wouldn’t him having bad qualities defeat his purpose?

Yes, but that’s the point! In Taoism, neither Yin nor Yang are pure. The dots in their forms are meant to represent this. There’s yin in yang, darkness in light, good in evil. Additionally, in the finale, the contestants are free to grow beyond the stereotypes they were coded to be. This doesn’t automatically mean that everyone will change for the better.

Back on topic, in Blue Buried, Yin accuses Yang of murdering Blueberry based on a valid, but poorly-worded, question.

Yang: Uh, just one question-- what if you... WERE... the murderer?

Yin: Yang, is there something you'd like to share with the class?

Considering Yang’s past, this is a reasonable conclusion to make, at least on the surface, but let’s look a bit deeper. Firstly, if Yang did kill Blueberry, wouldn’t Yin know? Sure, Yang could have used mindful positioning to take control and leave Yin in the dark, but Yin never brings up any evidence that he could’ve done this. He doesn’t mention losing control, blacking out, or even having a moment of forgetfulness. The only discussion we see between them is Yin lashing out at Yang and accusing him of being selfish.

Yin: You know what Yang? Normally I’d complain about you embarrassing me with your insensitive remarks.

Yang: Okay, be normal then, loser.

Yin: But I’m not going to. Because I’m done.

Yang: Done? What do you mean done?

Yin: We were making real progress with mindful positioning, but ever since Candle switched alliances, it’s been all Yang all the time! No wonder Goo doesn’t see us as a unit anymore!

Goo: Oh, I wasn't trying to imply that I-

Yang: You think I’m the murderer, don’t you?

Yin: Of course I don’t think that. I KNOW IT!

Secondly, after accusing Yang, Yin makes no attempt to find other clues. We only make the initial accusation, then submit that as his final vote in the final verdict, even intimidating Goo into agreeing with him.

Yin: It's Yang.

Walkie-Talkie: What makes you say that?

Yin: It’s Yang. Pretty open and shut case. Right Goo?

Goo: I’m scared what would happen if I didn’t agree so yes!

Note that this accusation happens with no evidence from Yin, even when pressed for his reasoning. Yes, Yang has a reputation, but the reaction shown in the episode shows the rest of the cast being clearly confused. Some of them have even seen what Yang is capable of, and they still seem questioning towards Yin’s accusation.

Even when Blueberry himself reveals that he set up his own murder, Yin doesn’t address that he was wrong.

Yang: I told you it wasn’t me.

Yin: So everything’s still all about you, huh?

Yang: I DESERVE TO BE ABLE TO CLEAR MY NAME!

Yin: “I?” “My?” So self-absorbed!

Instead, when Yang brings up that he was wrong, Yin deflects him, bringing up his selfishness again, despite it not being relevant to Yang’s point. Even when he tries bringing the topic back around, Yin deflects again. They’re only interrupted by noticing Blueberry implying he’s going to eliminate Cabby, a common ally.

This isn’t even the first time Yin pulls something like this. Back during A Kick in the Right Direction, after Yin eats Dough, this exchange happens.

Yang: Yin ate him!

Yin: You can’t be serious!

Yang: It couldn’t have been me, I’m gluten free!

Yin: Okay, I ate him. I was starving!

Yin backs down fast, but it can’t be ignored how his first instinct was to deflect blame, albeit in a less direct way. However, pairing this interaction with Yin’s behavior in Blue Buried, I can’t help but notice a concerning pattern. It shows that Yin is willing to scapegoat Yang, even when he has no evidence or knows Yang didn’t do anything.

Furthermore, the way Yin talks about Yang, particularly in season two, feels like he views Yang as a burden to bear rather than a complimentary half.

Yin: If I was not attached to Yang, I wouldn’t do anything wrong!

Yin: I can’t [stand Yang], but we need to be together! Someone has to control his anger!

Pair this with how Yang talks about being freed from Yin in the same episode.

Yang: You can’t tell me what to do! I’m independent now! I’m doing this challenge my way!

Yang: Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I control my feelings now.

Now, what does that spell for the future? While in the end of the episode, Yin says they had a personal victory, this always rang hollow to me. It feels more like they pushed the argument out of the way to try and help Cabby. But what if this was a purposeful choice? What if the rift between the two hasn’t been fixed, but had a bandage put over it to be taken care of later?

When Yang is separated from Yin, one line always catches my attention.

Yang: Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I control my feelings now.

Now, I find this interesting because throughout the series, Yang is very vocal about his feelings.Especially in season two, Yin doesn’t often say that Yang can’t feel things, letting him butt in when they speak. However, I did notice something else. He appears to hold physical control of the body.

While Yang is vocal about wanting to do certain things, he doesn’t seem to act on these urges often, instead resorting to just arguing with Yin about it. The instances where he does gain control, however, appear to be whenever he catches Yin off guard or is misleading him. For example…

Yang kicking the ball at their own goal (S2E5)

Yin’s response implies that Yin was not aware that they were kicking at their own goal, or was under the impression that Yang was misled.

Yang eating the pizza (S2E4)

Arguably Yang taking full control, as Yin should have been able to tell what he was about to do.

Yang picking up the bike to destroy the TV (S3E9)

Presumably, Yin allows this action, as he’s shown being more upset than Yang moments before.

Yang doesn’t know how to move Yin’s leg (S3E8)

If they’re conjoined and share the ability to move their body, shouldn’t Yang have known that Yin can’t move that leg very well?

Despite wanting to move in different directions, Yang is only able to move them to the left after punching Yin and presumably distracting him (S2E1)

Both their eyes were closed in this scene, so they may have both been disoriented

Pairing this with Yang’s demands to be respected, this is more of a minor point, but I felt it should be brought up regardless.

Now, don’t get me wrong.I don’t think Yin is evil or anything. I think that wouldn’t be a good direction for his character. What I do think is that Yin-Yang’s character arc is very unbalanced, and that it would be interesting to see Yin move in inverse to Yang. I think it would be interesting to see Yin at his worst, and for the two to reach a point of balance that involves participation from both parties. After all, connection is a two-way street.

——

Please forgive me if this is shitty, for one I’m trapped on iPad Hell and can’t format very well. Additionally, I just really wanted to get this out. I apologize if none of this makes sense, I tend to do better in chats haha…but thank you for reading!

[cerosin-bis]

might I ask for a handful of just random cod trivia ..

and/or ! just your thoughts on the games and reboots, if you’re comfy w that?

I feel like you always have some random notes or tags about weird trivia in the game but obviously this isn’t specific At All so feel free to just ignore this if it’s weird sjdndjhd

Hi! no this isn't weird 🥺 I think what gives this impression is "just" that I played most of said games a lot and got interested in the lore that's not necessarily accessible to people who, big quotation marks, are superficially in the fandom. as in people who aren't interested in multiplayer or secondary gamemodes, let alone lore and are more focused on the main cast or one particular mp character (such as könig)

This got VERY long so, my rambles and opinions about the Modern Warfare games and their reboots below.

I played mw2 and mw3's campaigns in 2010-2013. I wasn't playing multiplayer at the time, I started it with BO4 in 2018. But I fell hard into MW's multiplayer with the first reboot, mw19, in early 2020.

Just so that my words have a bit of "the player's weight": I have around 900 hours on mw19, 400 on MWII and I believe 200-300 on MWIII.

Regarding campaigns: Call of duty is Call of duty. It's literally funded by the US army. it's blatant propaganda, and I expect no less when I run a campaign. With that being said, what I expect from a CoD campaign is either being over-the-top and extra (like the original trilogy and in some ways MWIII specifically), or rooted in reality and wanna be serious like mw19. This is minding the blatant history 'rewriting' it's doing (eg. chemical attacks in syria, highway of death mission). My honest opinion on it is that the reboots don't know what they want and it's especially visible in MWII. In my opinion, the original games nailed that "american action movie" feel that the reboots kinda lost by instead veering towards something overlapping with real-life maybe a bit too much while still wanting to include crazy shit. Like, I don't think it's a balance that can work. I do like that we had more character development with MWII and it felt fun to play (in that regard I have no complaints, and I even liked the semi-open missions that a lot of ppl disliked), but it feels a bit less like call of duty. I'll be curious to see what direction they take for the next MW game, but I sure hope IW get their shit together and have a clear direction.

Transitioning to multiplayer with that. This feeling that the MW games are now an amalgamation of things sewn together hastily started with the Warzone fusion and the BOCW implementation. It became especially visible in multiplayer with the addition of crossover bundles, providing less and less "mil-sim" skins, and it was obvious that by MWIII IW would step away and let other developers (treyarch, SHG, which are both turned more towards arcade gameplay) take over the multiplayer development. Which is kinda insane: MW was always Infinity Ward's flasgship initially.

In my opinion the MW multiplayer started feeling different (in my eyes, falling off) for 3 reasons:

Catering to a younger playerbase, notably the "tiktok crowd": younger gamers want games that are incredibly fast-paced (mirroring their use of social media and those yknow "adhd videos") and like extremely flashy skins. Therefore, they'll spend money to get them. I'm not saying this to say "it's bad!" it's just an observation

The absolute success of mobile games and fortnite-like collaborations. This is mostly due to the current way people "consume" social media and games, with everything being quick and instant and fleeting. The sheer impact that these two things have had on video games as a whole is absolutely insane: they started adding microtransactions in games because it started on mobile & they realised that if you let people buy skins with real money w the press of a button, spendings increase tenfold. Same goes with the battle pass model: it's incredibly lucrative.

Crunch, changes of leadership, writers and artists probably being allowed less communication and therefore focus; and, in MWIII's case, the arrival of AI giving us some tasteless slop in cosmetics. That they sell. For real money.

I've said it countless time but I really regret mw19 multiplayer's artistic and narrative direction. It had a story that's completely absent from MWII where characters are just empty shells with a few lines of marvel-like, mary-sue grade bios. Where's the cohesive story? Where are the outwardly morally grey or flawed characters, the sub-squads, the interaction lines, the bundles that made sense with the characters' backstories?...

Long story short, I don't know if the MW series will ever go back to what made it MW. I hope so, but seeing how between 2020 and 2024 the multiplayer entirely lost its soul & the campaigns don't know what they want to show, I'm afraid it might either never come back or take a dozen years so that a reboot of reboots gets out or a new series takes over.

'til capitalism and cashgrab leadership ruins it again and the cycle begins anew.

[synthy-sizer]

You could take the short path of launching yourselves straight up, or maybe even crashing through the window, but it only feels right to go the slow way. Two sets of footsteps shuffle up the steps. Your shoes making contact with creaking stairs and crunching shards of glass and debris are once again the only noise in the tall stairwell. Every building, every street echoes. The whole world has abandoned this derelict city and moved out, leaving everything feeling like a nearly empty warehouse on the final day of a clearance sale. That must be how they thought of it, too. Always in it for the money. You and Lust pass by one entrance after another. Some doors are barricaded. Some are ripped off their hinges, and the beam of your flashlight reaches into a deep abyss. And of course, there's everything in between. Shattered windows, plywood…sometimes you can't believe that even at the end of the world things just continued. That when a glass door shattered someone would come in and put plywood over it to keep people from cutting themselves on the broken glass. Why even fucking bother? In a few more years every living being would turn into a monster and the only source of light in the dark would be the iridescent multicolored glow of an angel.

Finally, you reach the 13th floor. “This is it.” Lust looks at you. “Are you ok?” Is anything ok? “I think so. Let's try not to stay here too long.” You roam the familiar halls. Memories you've worked to suppress float to the surface, and you do your best to force them back under the waves. Your fingers trace the old walls, causing old paint to chip and fall from the lightest of touches. The doorways to old classrooms beckon but you refuse to look at them, much less indulge their invitations. Lust follows you silently. She's never been here, because you didn't want her to be here. You're sure she's curious, but she politely follows your lead and doesn't explore. It already feels bad enough exploring here, like touching an open wound. Exploring the old rooms would be like shoving your fingers into it.

Finally, you reach the place you've been aiming for, the only reason to come here at all. The wall of fame. Most of the plaques have fallen now, trophy cases have been toppled and reduced into piles of glass, and old tacky banners and words taped to the walls have long since faded and fallen, resulting in a patchy mess of missing parts. You bring your attention to one of few plaques still hanging on the wall. You know it well. The 1985 graduates who earned the prestigious right to a fast track working at Apollo. The students who showed the most potential in science and development fields. Engineering, coding, genetic engineering and biology. Looking back, perhaps the latter half should have been a sign. But how would you have known? You look down the list of names, until you see one that feels like a knife to the heart; Avery. You pause for a moment, and take hold of the shotgun you always keep on your hip. You step back, point the barrel at the plaque, and fire. There's a spark of hot, orange light for a split second and a loud boom as it fires, and the plaque explodes in a wave of shrapnel, as does the wall behind it. The barrel is still smoking as you wordlessly shove it back into its harness. Lust watches you quietly for a while before speaking up. “Do you feel any better?” You think you do. “Let's go to the roof.”

You both dangle your legs over the edge of the roof. After the suffocating atmosphere of the building and its contents, the open air feels incredibly refreshing. “Hey, thank you for coming with me. And for respecting my boundaries.” You feel for her hand. “And for knowing what I wanted more than I did, I guess.” Her fingers lock in yours. “You're welcome.” Evening is creeping in. You can see the sky starting to turn orange. “Do you think it'll work?” “I think so, yeah. We've put so much into the rocket. So many hands have touched it now. There's no way it won't work.” “You know I don't just mean that. Using the megastructure feels like a long shot.” “It's all a bit fuzzy I guess, yeah. But we don't have a choice other than making it work.” You glance at the moon hanging in the sky. “Why haven't you told Sofia about what the megastructure actually is, anyway? And what it's doing?” “Because I'm scared, Lust. I'm scared of hurting her like that.” “I thought you wanted her to be ready. Didn't you get upset that she was scared of using a gun?” You sigh. “Maybe I'm softer than I thought I was.” She laughs. “I never thought we would have a chance to raise a kid. Fate has a twisted way of making that happen, I guess.” You sit in silence for a while longer. “We need to get back soon. Final preparations and all that.” You nod, and your heart races. “Hey, Lust. I know we've had trouble talking about it, but if we don't get another chance…I…uh...” You're choking on your words.

She hushes you. “Don't worry, I know.”

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[cowboycakes]

The Strategy

Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Reader

Synopsis: The forest was the last place you thought you'd find yourself infatuated with someone you barely knew - especially not your cocky prisoner.

Themes: angst, flirting, guilty love, big plot twist

Warnings: kissing and suggestive language, bullying / teasing, mentions of death, some anxious thinking, light alcohol and tobacco use, profanity. reader uses she/her pronouns. s4 spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

Anon (🐸)'s Request: Hi ! Can I request a Zeke x fem reader imagine/one-shot? Reader is a captain for the survey corp and long time veteran. She is really intelligent and is a strategist for the corp. They kind of hate each other but have a lot of chemistry but start bonding before the forest incident. Sorry if that isn't specific enough and too vague.

On occasion, you tended to be so logical that it ruined your life. There was no room in your mind for daydreams, love, or speculation. Fate was false - most things in life were completely arbitrary. That was the way you’d trained yourself to think. Not because you enjoyed it, only because it made it easier to survive.

This way of thinking is a result of your lifetime with the Corps. The award of a Captain’s position was the fruit of your labor, along with being revered for your ability to strategize. Many of the most important and most successful missions in recent years had been planned by you. But, the bubbling tension and division within the walls have thrown you for a loop. You’ve attempted to collaborate with Levi in recent weeks to try to pin down any conflict - anything you could do to calm the storm and keep your comrades safe would be worth it.

Instead of being able to act on whatever plans you’d developed, you’d been assigned to the most bizarre mission you’d ever taken part in: babysitting some man in his late twenties, all the way out in a forest filled with towering redwood trees. This mystery man was apparently not to be trusted, he was Eren’s half-brother from Marley and the holder of the beast titan. He’d done tremendous damage to the Corps in the past. His intentions and motives now remained mysterious, but one thing was for sure: his loyalties lied with Eren, not with the Scouts.

You were disappointed and terrified all together. Being so far away from the action left both you and your comrades vulnerable. But, Levi insisted you needed to confine this man far away from society. And although you were a captain, whatever Levi says usually goes.

The forest wasn’t so bad upon your arrival. Damp pine needles that covered the ground coated the air in a sweet aroma. The blanket of shade given off by the trees was temperate in the summer heat. The tents you’d been provided with were sturdy, insulated, and a dark shade of green that complimented the woodland setting. Above all, you were accompanied by 30 trained soldiers and a shipment of high-quality Marleyan wine.

The entirety of your first day in the forest was spent unpacking and setting up your living quarters. Stars now peak through the canopy of branches above, and a cold breeze ruffles the millions of leaves surrounding the camp. The air was chilly despite the heat that blazed earlier in the day.

The cot you’d assembled in your tent is comfortable enough, but the grey sheets you’d just stretched over the mattress still smell stale. You conjure up the idea of going for a walk while your blankets air out. The musty scent sure wasn’t going to lull you to sleep.

Your timid feet crunch on the ground through the forest for a while, away from the camp. The mist of your breath is tangible in front of your face - the light jacket you’d brought wasn’t going to be enough to keep your goosebumps at bay. It’s much more intimidating out here at night than you’d expected. Darkness brought mystery to the gaps between each tree. And the sheer amount of trees beyond the campsite is dizzying, their height is even more difficult to process. They add a sense of company to your walk, although you can’t tell if they are peaceful observers or prying sets of eyes.

It’s surprisingly quiet out here, no animal or human alike made noise at this hour. The silence leads you to pick up on the echo of a fire crackling somewhere. You’re suddenly a bit excited - you’d figured everyone would have gone to sleep by now.

You spot a comforting orange glow coming from the other side of the distant campsite, offset from the main groups of tents. Maybe someone else’s sheets needed time to breathe too.

The light grows brighter as you trek towards it. It leads you to a humble tent and a fire pit with two rusted metal chairs placed on either side of it. In one of the chairs sits a blonde man in a white shirt, with his back turned to you. He has his nose in a poorly bound book - its stitching is frayed and the pages look wilted, as if they’d been dropped in water before. A cigarette smolders in his free hand.

Your feet crunch into the ground a little harder as you approach in an attempt to avoid startling him. The man looks up to you once you’re finally facing each other. His face is foreign to you. Round glasses on his nose reflect a golden luster from the fire in front of him, blurring your view of his grey eyes slightly. Blonde waves are parted down the middle of his head, tousled a bit too perfectly. He has a well groomed beard that compliments his structured face and strong biceps that peak through his shirt sleeves.

He’s handsome, classy, alluring. Nothing like the usual around here.

“Hi, I’m Captain Reader,” you say with a small smile.

“Reader, huh?” he says, folding his book closed, “I think I’ve heard that name somehow…”

“Oh, possibly. I’m a long time captain. I do a lot of strategic work as well, and it's not exclusive to the Scouts. So my name tends to get around.”

“My name is Zeke,” he replies, returning the smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Zeke… did that sound familiar? You couldn’t decide.

You take a seat in the other chair across from the fire, warming your hands once you get comfortable. The embers lit in front of you are only a sad little bundle of sticks, clearly in need of more fuel. Zeke rolls his shoulders back as his eyes focus in on your frame. His attention is definitely not on the book anymore. His body language almost tells you he likes what he sees - he’s open, relaxed, observant. The cigarette has gone a bit limp in between his fingers.

You’re guilty of curiosity too, as your eyes prod his figure. There must be something in the air.

“What’s that book about?” you question, “it looks… well loved.”

He chuckles. “It's a little fantasy piece, actually. Not something I’d usually find myself reading, but I’ve read it a hundred times now. It’s about a maiden who buys her way to heaven, and a prince who rescues her from the consequences.”

“Interesting…” you say, “how does someone buy their way to heaven?”

“With something far more valuable than money,” he explains. You wonder if the sultry undertone he added was all part of your imagination. It was a little grumbly, suggestive.

“And what would that be?”

“Not sure, still trying to figure that one out,” he remarks, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. Light from the fire gets trapped in the smoke and travels up through the dark air as he exhales.

“You’re gonna ruin your lungs if you keep doing that, Zeke,” you joke.

He chuckles again, “So she’s pretty and caring. Guess I’ve lucked out.”

You feel a little heat rush to your cheeks. This innocent, flattered, puppy-love feeling: you hadn’t felt this way in years. You really wish you could just brush it off, it wasn’t something you were used to. Instead, you let your mind wander for only a second - it would be a nice pastime to have a summer fling with someone in this forest. You were more than tempted. It would get your mind off of the impending doom you tended to feel in chaotic times like this. You could live a bit for once.

And the beautiful man in front of you could be the perfect candidate.

“Hmm, it’s convenient that you think so,” you reply, crossing your legs.

“Convenient? For you, or for me?” he questions. “Looking to get something out of your time in this forest, Captain?”

You pause. He’s bold. “Depends… what about you?”

Zeke lifts the book up slightly in his hand and flips it over to examine its withered back cover, “Not sure, maybe I’ll finally experience whatever this book is talking about. Something so desirable I could cheat my way into heaven with it.”

No. His tone wasn’t your imagination.

“I have a feeling you’ll end up being the prince that has to deal with someone else’s fuck-ups instead,” you laugh.

His lips curl back into a smile as he starts to laugh with you. “Doesn’t sound out of character,” he replies.

His pretty blonde hair ruffles a bit as the wind picks up. And shit - is that wind bitter. The miniscule fire wasn’t doing it’s best to warm you. You notice your limbs are shaking, too much for your jacket and hands to conceal. Zeke surely notices too, he’s been eyeing you this whole time after all.

“Here,” Zeke offers, pulling a thick corduroy coat off of the back of his chair.

“No, no. You should wear that. I’m alright,” you protest, rubbing your hands over your arms vigorously to try to stop your shuddering.

Zeke gets up from his seat anyway and crosses the gap between the two of you. You look up to him once he’s standing over you, embarrassed. Two big hands drape the hefty fabric over your shivering shoulders. You immediately feel warmer as your body heat gets trapped underneath it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, pulling on the jacket to adjust it on your arms.

The wind still howls as Zeke goes back to his metal chair. He sits down casually, taking another drag of his cigarette as his eyes move back to you, lingering on you gently -- like he feels satisfied or nostalgic. Your features looked so beautiful in the faint orange light of the fire, as the only focal point in his vision while darkness clouded everything behind you. He couldn’t help but stare.

“I do mean it,” he says as he exhales, “that you’re pretty.”

His words hang there for a moment. They wait for you on a hook, persuading you to take his bait. So he could reel you in.

“Trying to flatter your superiors huh? Well that’s one way to get what you want,” you retort.

“Who says you’re my superior, Captain Reader?” he jokes.

You laugh at him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, “but I’ve never seen you around before. Are you from another branch of the military?”

Zeke pauses, letting out a huff of air.

“You know, with a reputation like yours, one would think you’d know your enemies a little better.”

Your face drops from a smile that rested high on your cheeks to a shocked, open-mouthed glare. You’re frozen. Why didn’t you assume…

“You’re the other Jaeger…” you trail off.

Zeke brings the cigarette back to his mouth and flips his book back open in response.

You stare down into the fire, unsure of what to do or say next. You were mortified. Maybe saying nothing was the answer - you’d already dug yourself into a hole by flirting with your prisoner. And damn, did Zeke deliberately let you. He knew who you were. He wanted you to feel this way. He led you on.

Who was supposed to deal with your fuck-up now?

You stand up, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Goodnight, Zeke,” you say quietly, dropping his coat onto the chair.

You move quickly through the dark air that nips at your ears, back to the safety of your tent.

***

“Don’t go off and be an idiot,” Levi warns.

You assure him you wouldn’t, pouring a big glass of wine for yourself with a smile spread across your face.

Levi had been more than reluctant to let your soldiers bring this wine, but you’d done some convincing. This forest had been boring for the past few days. Laughing over a few drinks would be a sure way to liven up the crowd. You were just excited to finally get a taste of this Marleyan wine that everyone had been raving about.

You hadn’t seen Zeke since that night three days ago. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get him off of your mind. Partially because you were horribly embarrassed. And angry. You couldn’t believe you’d walked into his trap like that, practically offering yourself to him as a subject to humiliate. You were sure he’d enjoyed every bit of it.

And the other reason you couldn’t get him off of your mind…

He was a bit gorgeous. And you loved the way he talked to you, how it made you feel. Even though your time with him was so short, you secretly wanted more. You cursed yourself for thinking about him like that after all the harm he’d done to the Scouts. All of it made you sick - it was wrong, it made you feel like you had dirt on your hands.

But what if you tried to talk with him again? Just to sort your feelings out. Then you could be free to forget about him. This time, you would control yourself. You knew who he was now, and what it meant to be speaking with him. You were allowed to speak with him, you just had to be careful if you were going to proceed. None of you could trust him.

But the curiosity was still killing you.

You swirl the wine around in your glass as you dig the toe of your leather boot into the soft ground - trying to decide.

Anxious feet move below you before your mind is ready for them to, back toward Zeke’s tent.

It was nearly sundown, and beautiful purple rays beam through the forest, shattered from full display by hundreds of tree branches. The air was warm tonight, so there would be no need for Zeke's jacket again.

Once you see his camp, you notice he’s back in the same chair again. He’s still reading that torn-up book, this time with a pencil in his hand. He scratches little notes onto the pages here and there.

He looks up once he hears the familiar sound of your boots. The eyes behind his circular lenses scan you, lingering on the glass in your hand. You wonder if you should have brought him one.

“Hi, Zeke,” you say softly, making your way to the chair across the empty fire pit.

“Captain, thought I’d never see you again,” he says, a false excitement stuck in his voice.

You keep swirling your wine around in its glass, waiting for it to air out so you could take your first sip. It smelled divine, so fruity and fresh, in contrast with the earthy smells that the forest gave off.

Zeke looks up to you over the top rims of his glasses, unimpressed. You raise your glass to your lips, almost ready to tilt it back and let the chilled, burgundy wine rush into your mouth.

“That’s sluggish if you,” he remarks.

You pause, letting the cool glass linger on your bottom lip.

“What?” you bark, pulling the glass from your mouth.

He looks back down at his book, “No Marleyan strategist - or any good strategist for that matter - would drink in front of their adversaries. It makes you look sluggish.”

You just gape at him. He’s probably having fun while trying to irritate you. Two could play.

You put your arm out in front of you and flip the glass over, pouring the wine onto the wet dirt below. It splashes up onto your boots as it streams from your cup and runs down to spill into the fire pit.

“Happy?” you grumble, tossing the glass into the dirt. “Probably shitty wine anyway, considering you two come from the same place.”

He snickers, “Not quite. I was hoping you’d just hand the glass over.”

You regretted trying to talk to him now.

“Fine,” you sigh, getting up from your spot and turning back toward your tent. “Keep scribbling in your stupid book.”

“Actually, I was writing the two of us into the story.”

You’re sure he’s just pushing your buttons further - trying to lay another trap for you and capture you in another awkward moment of infatuation. But his words cause you to pause in your steps for a second.

“And what are we doing?” you question.

“We just cheated our way into heaven.”

“Creep,” you grumble before continuing to walk.

***

You hadn’t gone near that wine since. You had a grudge against it now, it completely ruined the mood last time you saw Zeke. But it had sure lightened the mood for everyone else, probably a little too much. Everyone except for Levi, of course. It was nearly impossible to change his mood.

In the meantime, you were still victim to unwarranted thoughts of Zeke in your head. This almost felt like a schoolgirl crush, how he bullied you a bit. This was more like torment, actually, considering you were trying to get him out of your head. But it didn’t change the fact that you liked what you saw.

Lately he was always reading that book and jotting down notes in it. And he rarely left his little corner of the campsite except for when he went on walks sometimes. You’d admire him from afar, careful never to let your eyes meet with his.

You’d take the images of him now burned into your brain back to bed with you, and stare up to the dark tent ceiling above. You’d fantasize about what it would have been like to meet Zeke in another life. One where the two of you weren’t enemies trapped on two different sides of a war. Where you didn’t feel guilt for your interest in someone who had jeopardized you and your comrades. Where the two of you were free to know one another.

You couldn’t pinpoint what kept driving this involuntary curiosity you felt towards him. It was tiring, honestly. But you wanted his company. Maybe you just wanted company in general -- it's not like you got along with him or anything.

Should you fix that? Did you even want to fix that? Would a peace offering be doing too much?

He did mention he wanted your glass of wine…

So one night, you cave. And you march over to the wooden cart that held dozens of cases of wine, an empty glass for Zeke in hand. You’re shocked to see only four measly bottles remain, laying on their sides in the only wooden case left. You could have sworn the shipment was full only a few days ago, but this camp had been set up for weeks now. Everyone here must be just as bored as you were, and several times more thirsty.

You pry open a cork and pour a few inches of wine into the glass, stopping to waft the crisp aroma into your nose. The air tonight was crisp too, it was cooler than it had been in recent days. You were adamant about remembering a jacket this time. The journey to Zeke’s tent feels long under the moonless sky. Hesitancy, followed by regret, pools into your brain as the dim light from his campfire comes into view.

Grow some balls, you’re convincing yourself that all of this means more than it really does. You’re bringing him a glass of wine for God’s sake.

There’s still time to turn around though… you could just finish the glass on your own. Out of range for him to bully you for it.

But he’s sitting there so prettily. He has his boots up on the rocks surrounding the fire pit, careful not to burn their soles in the flames. His blonde locks are pushed back slightly, giving you more room to look at his smooth face. And he’s certainly not busy, just reading his old book. Maybe he still had some compliments left for you despite all the bickering you two had done. Maybe he-

“Haven’t tried any of that ‘shitty’ wine yet, have you?” he questions. You hadn’t even noticed how close you are to him now. You’d gotten lost in him on the way.

“No…” you grumble, “it's for you. A peace offering.”

You stick your hand out. He receives the glass, lifting it up to examine it before taking a big drink.

“Ah,” he breathes, clearly satisfied. “It’s disgusting, Captain. Really.”

You stifle a laugh. “Everyone else seems to think so too. It’s all nearly gone.”

“Hmm,” he says, taking another sip, “None for you, I guess. Might as well just let it run out.”

“I think I will,” you mock, turning away from him to go sit in your chair,

The sizable fire Zeke had put together tonight was quick to thaw the chills on your arms. You really didn’t need your jacket after all, and opted to lay it over the back of your chair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, taking in each other’s presence, observing the dying light in the forest.

Zeke looks at you eventually. Your eyes instinctually dart away.

“What made you want to come see me again?” Zeke asks.

You frantically search for an answer. You need to be careful.

“Boredom,” you reply flatly.

“You think so?” His attitude is back to how it was the first night you’d met. He’s engaged, focused, yet comes off so casual laying back up against his seat like that. He enjoys toying with you, like a cat to its prey.

Be careful.

“Don’t like my answer or something?”

That wasn’t exactly careful.

“No. You’re just not being honest.” He breathes that last word out like he needs to get a rise out of you, then he nonchalantly takes another drink while he waits for you to respond. Your mouth is open the slightest bit; you’re nervous, angry. He’s in your head now. He was reading you like that overused book of his.

“Then what do you want to hear from me?” you question. There’s thankfully still a false calmness in your voice.

“Just the truth. It’s not that complicated.”

You were sweating in front of this fire now. What was the truth? That you were interested in him? That you wanted nothing to do with him?

Be honest.

“I guess I just like your company,” you admit. Your eyes fall to the rocks lining the fire pit.

***

The discussion became pleasant after that, surprisingly. You guess you just needed to own up to how you felt. Your admittance caused some of the anger and tension tugging between the two of you to subside. The conversation was calm, collected, bouncing around from subject to subject: from the book, to life in Marley, to life in Paradis, to your occupation, and back to the book. Most of it was uneventful, but you liked that. It made it easy to pretend you were talking to him on the first night again, before you found out who he really was.

You left his camp with a giddy smile on your face. You’re on your way back to your tent now, after saying your goodbyes to Zeke. It was late, and you needed to be up early to have an important conversation with Levi. And god forbid he found out about any of this business between you and Zeke. Even though nothing was serious, it would come off unprofessional. And rightfully so.

You’re so lost in thought by the time you’re opening your tent door that you didn’t realize your arms were cold. The jacket you brought was probably still hanging off the chair at Zekes fire pit. It would look suspicious if you left it there and one of the other soldiers happened to see it.

You go back quietly, careful not to let anyone hear your footsteps. A couple of scattered thoughts weave their way into your head on your journey - what if this was another ploy of his? An attempt to get you back where he wants you, this time late at night. But how could it be? You were the one who left your jacket there. If anything, this was your own attempt to lead yourself back to him. Did you want him that badly… deep down?

When you reach your chair, you find it to be empty. You check around its sides, back, and underside - no jacket in sight. Out of the corner of your eye, a sliver of light shows from under the tarp serving as Zeke’s tent door. He’d probably noticed it and taken it inside with him after you’d gone home.

Halfheartedly, you meander to the tent door. You tap on it once the limited glimmer of light from inside touches the toes of your boots.

“Zeke? Do you have my jacket?” you whisper, still flicking the tarp to get his attention.

No answer.

Cold air stings your exposed skin as a draft swoops down through the camp. You also were wary of any observers that happened to be out this late at night. There was no telling what it looked like you might be doing outside his tent at the moment. The more uncomfortable you became out here, the more impatient you got.

“Zeke!” you hiss, whipping your head around your shoulder to double check your surroundings.

Still nothing but silence on the other side. Had he fallen asleep already?

The urge to pull back the tent door hits you. It would only take a moment to retrieve the jacket, then you’d be on your way.

Once again, making this a bigger deal than it really is.

But that didn’t matter. It felt like a big deal. That’s what every situation that involved him felt like. A big, complicated, multidimensional deal.

Be careful.

That wasn’t the answer either. Being careful was a good tactic when it came to strategizing your next moves in war. It was sometimes rendered useless when dealing with love. This was out of your control. And that was ok. That was what compelled you toward him - the mystery, the rush.

Let go.

You grip the tarp, it crinkles under your stiff fingers as you pull it back. A rush of warm air hits you, along with the light of a few oil lamps. And Zeke… shirtless. Sitting on his unmade bed with your jacket in hand.

The sight of his sculpted body in front of you sets a nervous, unprepared spark off in you, causing you to shut the door fast and stumble inside. And all at once, there you were - back in Zeke’s grasp. You accepted that wanted to be there.

“My jacket... ” you say, staring hard at the fabric in his hands, trying to avoid eye contact with his bare chest.

He stands up in silence and comes to your side, raising the jacket up once he gets real close to you. Oh no, he’s draping it over your shoulders again, slowly this time around, taking his time to stare into your puppy dog eyes. Dammit - the hot cheeks, the butterflies, the embarrassment. All of it was back now, in an instant he had you feeling like puddy in his hands. The two of you stare at each other as his hands adjust the jacket around you, stopping to play with one of the buttons on the front.

“You’re forgetful,” he mumbles, still focused on the button on your chest. His tone is sweet and quiet, a small smile appears out of one corner of his mouth.

You weren’t breathing, or thinking. Just looking down innocently at the hand that was so close to you.

“I’m not… normally,” you say quietly.

Zeke’s hands move to grip each side of the front of your jacket gently. His eyes move up from the hands placed on your jacket, and back to you. To your lips. You part them at the realization, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat.

He shifts further in towards you, tugging on your jacket the slightest bit.

One cohesive thought rises up in the blankness of your brain. You want to kiss him.

The urge was mutual. Your lashes flutter against your cheeks a few times before you shut them, turning your head slightly to the right. Zeke follows your lead. You feel warm fingertips touch your chin and guide you to his soft pair of lips. His other hand abandons your jacket and comes down to meet your waist, slowly sliding to the small of your back. You melt into his touch, pulling yourself in closer. Chills go down your neck at the sensation of being in his arms, at his mercy. It feels so right, so warm and gentle. You want to keep going - so bad. You want him to hold you, touch you, kiss you harder.

But only for a moment.

You pull away once the guilt hits your core, gently touching your fingers to your lips.

Zeke stares at you, his eyes a bit wider than normal. His arms have gone limp at his sides without having you to occupy them any longer. You can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue, something that might save the situation and bring your lips back to his. You didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s wrong. This is all wrong,” you say, backing up into the tent door behind you.

You think of the war. You think of your duties. You think of who Zeke really is. Any fluttering in your stomach was gone now, instead it was filled by tinges of regret.

“You’re right. It is,” he responds. He walks back over to his bed and sits on the quilt ruffled at its end. He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his head away from you. “I figured you’d be smart enough not to kiss back.”

You were almost too shocked to notice how much his words burned. Your mouth hangs open as your eyes squint at him a bit. Emotion courses through you as your mind crashes down from the high you were just on. You needed out of this tent.

You grip the tarp resting against your back and fling it open. You felt lost, speed walking away from Zeke’s tent and toward the center of camp. The night concealed the confusion on your face, but only for a minute. A fire glows near your tent, lighting up your surroundings - its Levi. You try your best to avoid him, changing your course to avoid his eyes.

“What are you doing awake, Reader,” Levi questions dully.

You don’t let out any response other than stopping in your tracks.

“Is everything... alright?”

“I just,” you search for anything appropriate, any excuse for your apparent distress, “don’t like being in this forest.”

You both go quiet for a moment, listening to the snapping of thin branches in the fire.

Levi breaks the silence, “That’s actually what I was going to mention to you tomorrow. The MP’s need you for something. I was going to give you the choice to go back, or stay here.”

Going back. Maybe that was the right answer you’d tried so hard to find.

***

You shove all of your belongings into your suitcase early the next morning. It didn’t take you long to decide you needed to abandon this mission. Nothing between you and Zeke would ever work out, and your feelings for him were only a burden to everyone here, and yourself.

You lug your bags to a horse and cart that had been set up for you, tossing them over the cart’s walls and into the back.

Climbing up into the front seat, you notice a gift waiting for you - that overused book. Zeke must have finally figured out how to fake his way into heaven.

You decided to read some of it on the way back.

Zeke sure had written his own story inside of it. All of the notes he’d scribbled in the margins were in another language, presumably from Marley - a secret story you’d never get to understand. Only for him to know.

***

You heard news of what happened in the forest a few days after you arrived home. You couldn’t process it at first, instead you just sat in disbelief and denial. Then the ‘what ifs’ set in. What if you had stayed? Maybe you could have stopped Zeke from doing all the damage he decided to cause. The tear-filled anger set in after that.

There was only one chapter of his book left now. You felt disgusted looking at it, a reminder of everything you’d felt for him. You needed to sit yourself down and get through it so you could finally throw it away - and finally forget about him forever.

You come to the final page. It was intended to be blank, a sort of protectant between the ink on the last page and the back cover. But instead, there’s a penciled in note. From Zeke.

His writing in your language was messy and shaky. You assumed he could read in your language, but may not be practiced in writing in it. This was probably the first message he’d ever written in it. All for you.

—

Dear Captain Reader,

I tend to avoid feeling guilty for much. I probably won’t feel guilty for everything I’m about to do to your soldiers in this forest.

I did feel guilty, however, when I saw your beautiful face that night you found me alone in the forest. And then I realized you were caring, brilliant, and a strategist that was far smarter than I was.

Well, this was my attempt at strategizing.

Pulling you in and then pushing you away. I hoped the guilt and confusion would make you leave. Make you think you were unfit for the assignment, too distracted by me. Heartbroken, even. Anything to get you out of here.

Now, I’m not too sure there will be anyone to rescue you. I won’t be able to again. Take care of yourself. Stay sharp.

I hope you enjoyed the book. I was really never a fan of the ending.

Zeke

—

Author's Note:

Dear anon: You gave me a lottt of free rein with this one, so I hope it was ok ●﹏● (and not too angsty and complicated lol. You said they kinda hate each other but theres chemistry and I just ran with it. Oopsies.) This was one of my favorite fics to write, ever, I think! I had a lot of fun with the dialogue especially. Thanks so much for the request, and thanks to everyone else for reading! Lots of love - Shep :)

[edalynn]

i’m actually like Very Upset that my excitement for new episodes is starting to get watered down by the anxiety of hunt/low becoming canon. it genuinely sucks so bad. i absolutely hate when shows try to force in (especially m/f) ships way too late into both the character’s development and the show’s actual lifespan. we literally DO NOT HAVE the time to do ship stuff between anyone other than luz/amity and raine/eda, because their stories have been intertwined for so much longer that it’s inherent to the actual plot!!! if they actually try to go through with it when they only have 5 episodes left, it’s going to be somehow Even Worse than if they dedicated entire episodes to a romantic relationship

hi you’re like the only other person i know who hates that ship as much as me LOL so just let me know if you want me to stop anonymously complaining but. god. wow i despise it.

NO NO NEVER STOP ANONYMOUSLY COMPLAINING ILY I ADORE UR ANONS.

But seriously same, it’s been happening to me the past few eps to the point of my gf telling me to like just completely block TOH tag for a bit bc i get so worked up anxious over it. It really REALLY fucking sucks because toh is big time special interest rn and very personal to me. So being distressed abt new episodes really fucking sucks. I feel the same way about forced in ships (especially het ones) and it’s very out of left field for the shows whole vibe. Especially when way back before lumity was even hunter as Dana said she wasn’t all the interested in writing romance in general. (Other than the main ones you mentioned.)

(From Dana’s ama after season 1)

And yeah. When ppl get mad about lumity or whatever it’s just. Exactly what you said. It’s PART of the story & plot. It’s NECESSARY to properly tell the story of these characters. When we only have 5 actual episodes left and more story to crunch in it would be a disservice to toh itself to cram that in. It wouldn’t fit and it wouldn’t make sense. It also would do a disservice to Willow’s character arc imo too. We’ve seen her go from a shy, bullied kid in the wrong track at hexside to being totally confident and a badass who sticks up for herself and her friends. And she did it all for HERSELF. It would make it cheap to tie that off with a romantic relationship. Same for Hunter, i.e. his storyline being very much about self discovery in a very different way. Finding out your history, who you are, and having to come to terms with that. Along with coming to the realization that you’ve been abused your whole life and now you get to take control back for yourself and maybe help save the world from your abuser in the process. And not to mention the part of his storyline that is just learning how to be a person, opening up to people, and discovering what it feels like to have people there for you at all. I have a lot of strong feelings abt Hunter’s storyline and I’d just be really REALLY devastated if they threw romance in.

[jimlingss]

Hi! Here’s a request for your Drabble game: namjoon + fantasy au + “Take this seriously, it’s a life or death situation!” Can be funny or angsty and sorry if this request is too specific haha

Anonymous said: Hello Kina! I love literally all of your works! Can I request this prompt? “That’s barbaric.” “That’s how you survive.” Any member!

Anonymous said: zombie au with any member ?

Zombies count as fantasy, right? lol

↳ The Unintended

2.5k || 50% Angst, 50% Fluff || Kim Namjoon || Zombie Apocalypse!AU

You’re lucky to have Namjoon by your side.

He’s always been the outdoorsy type. One of your first dates together was a camping trip in the wilderness. You remember being mortified then — having no place to do your makeup or properly shower or be able to make yourself look good for him. But now you look back on the memories with fondness. He didn’t care back then and he doesn’t care now.

Not to mention, Namjoon was also a boy scout for eight years. When he got too old for that, he took up rock climbing and spent hours in the gym to beef up his arms. It’s where you met him in the first place as a receptionist at the gym where you were working part-time while going to school.

He knows how to fish. How to set up traps. How to start a campfire. 

Namjoon’s saved your life countless times.

But then again, he’d argue you’ve saved him lots of times too. Years of schooling to become a nurse wasn’t wasted on you after all. And you’re the better cook than he is.

“Look what I caught!”

You look up from the fire where your dear husband is holding a usual fish. But in his other hand is a rabbit held by its ears, dead. It’s dripping of blood, limp in his grip and you feel a twinge of guilt.

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s how you survive,” he says. “I’ll prepare it to roast.”

You hum, taking the fish from him and the pair of you fall into routine. Namjoon works alongside you to prepare the food, poking the fire interchangeably and the both of you looking up once in a while through the thicket of the forest. 

After a moment, you pipe up, “Hey.”

Namjoon glances up at you and says “hey” with a tender, dimpled smile. 

The corner of your mouth quirks without being able to resist. “I’ve been thinking we should get on the move again. I saw a cottage down the road on our way here. Maybe we could check it out.”

“It’s probably already been ransacked.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be nice to sleep with a roof over our heads. I don’t want you to stay up and have to keep watch.”

“We take turns.”

You give Namjoon a look. “You never wake me up for my turn.”

He smiles sheepishly and you put your blunt knife down, quickly growing solemn. “I’m serious, Joon. It’s not good for your health to not sleep and I can’t— I can’t have you breaking down on me.”

Namjoon softens when he recognizes your distressed tone, when he sees your expression marred with worry. “Okay,” he murmurs gently. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning then.”

You nod and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. 

As the fish and rabbit are roasted over the blazing fire, smoke fills your nose and you cough before batting it away. You’re starving — in general, you’ve been feeling weak these days but you don’t dare say anything to Namjoon. God knows what he’s putting himself through to make you feel as comfortable as you can. 

You don’t want to worry him even more.

But you can’t hide your groan or sickly expression when the fish you’re supposed to eat comes up to your mouth.

Namjoon’s immediately alarmed and wide-eyed. “What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

You hand the stick that’s pierced with the fish over to him while cupping your mouth, trying not to vomit. “I’m sorry. It just smells really bad.”

“I made it the exact same way before.” He frowns and bites into the fish that’s still steaming. Namjoon chews in his cheek. “It tastes fine, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll have the rabbit.”

But as you shift over, your husband’s eyes bore into your profile.

Namjoon stares at you. He gawks.

Then his mouth opens and he says— “Are you pregnant?”

Your eyes double and you look back at him. But then you scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You look away from him, picking at the meat, but you swallow hard in the meanwhile, mind racing. It’s not possible. It shouldn’t be possible. You haven’t had your period for three months — but you didn’t think twice about it. Not when there were more pressing matters. Not when you just assumed it stopped because you haven’t had your nutrients and you’ve been starving.

Namjoon knows the gears in your head are turning by your expression. He knows after years of being together.

“Y/N.”

“I already said it’s not possible.”

“There’s a city ten miles away from here. It’ll take half a day to walk there, but there should be a pharmacy or a hospital—”

“We are not going to the city,” you interrupt in exasperation. “It’s a death sentence, Namjoon, and we’re fine out here.”

“Not if you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not.” You deflate with an annoyed sigh. “I know my body best, alright? So just drop it.”

Namjoon stays silent. 

The rustling leaves of the forest and the distant sound of the river rushing fills the growing space between the two of you. And it sinks in how harsh and upset you got. You look up towards your husband with remorseful eyes. The last thing you want is to fight out here. Who knows when it could be your last moment together. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just worried.”

You nod. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yet deep down, uncertainty swirls and you’re green with nausea again.

...

It took a year to happen.

At first, it was called a flu outbreak. Authorities kept it contained for a few weeks until it wasn’t anymore. Within the span of another week, it was declared a worldwide pandemic and entire countries went into quarantine. 

Life itself shut down. People complained and protested, and when thousands started to drop dead, there were protests for lack of government action. Then, it was millions dead.

Developing countries fell first. It didn’t take long after that for developed nations to follow.

Chaos. Panic. Looting. The dead walking the streets.

You still get nightmares about it. Namjoon does too — when he’s holding you and suddenly jolts awake, gasping. It’s then and there that you know he’s had a nightmare of one of the many close calls.

“I thought the cottage was closer than this.”

The both of you are trekking through the forest, lugging your bags and weapons, trying to remain as quiet and elusive as possible. 

Namjoon looks over his shoulder. “Do you need a break?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

“It should be up ahead.”

You hum, feeling the heat of the sun beating down on you. But it’s still better now with the canopy of the trees hiding you. It’s refreshing even. You admire the unfamiliar scenery. 

All at once, you stop. None of this should be unfamiliar.

Namjoon doesn’t hear the crunch of leaves behind him and turns around.

“This isn’t the direction of the cottage, is it?”

“Y/N.”

Your brows furrow deep enough to hurt. “I already said we’re not going to the city, Namjoon! Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

Suddenly, there’s snarling in the distance. Namjoon, on alert, clasps his palm over your mouth and both sets of your eyes flicker over. There’s a shadow in the distance, a lurching figure amongst the trees. It snarls again, jerking a bit in your direction, but then no sounds follow. 

It passes.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“We have to go eventually, Y/N,” he whispers. “We need more supplies and if I can get my hands on a car, that would help us.”

“But—”

Your husband gingerly takes your hand, cradling it softly. “We’ll be careful.”

You gaze at him, searching his expression as if you’re painting his features to the forefront of your mind. But you already have. Yet, it’s not enough to feel comforted. “I can’t lose you, Namjoon. I can’t.”

Namjoon reaches out to hug you, embracing your body, frame overtaking yours.

You grasp onto his shoulders, trying to savour the moment and capture his warmth.

“You won’t. Not if I can help it.”

You nod into his chest.

The trek to the city is completed by afternoon and you find yourself standing in the remains of what was once civilization. There are decayed buildings, abandoned tanks, and much to Namjoon’s delight, many deserted cars. You see zombies bumbling around too. They’ve infested every corner street, every line of the road, and alley, nook and cranny. 

Their bodies are decaying, some with skulls lodged in half and their brain unraveling behind them. You have to hold back a gag when you can smell the rotten odour from here.

Luckily, you and Namjoon move quickly. You throw bricks and bottles at a distance to attract them and run the opposite way together.

First, you get to the small grocery store, opening your backpacks for the spare cans of beans and peas. It’s not much, but it’s a lot at this point. Namjoon even manages to score bandages.

“This is enough,” you murmur when you’re back on the open street again.

But before you can move on out, he stops. “Wait.”

You follow Namjoon’s line of sight. Across the street is a pharmacy and a horde of infected.

You pull your husband back before he can book it and the both of you hide behind discarded crates on the road. “Wait, why?”

“You know why. There were none in the grocery store. I checked, but if there’s any place that has them, it’s there.”

If looks could kill, Namjoon would be six feet under and then crawling out of his grave as a zombie. Maybe as the first one who wasn’t bitten or infected by the virus. “You’re being an idiot.” 

Namjoon grins. “Well, I was thinking of just shouting a battle cry and running straight in there.”

“Take this seriously,” you hiss and punch his arm. It does little to even push him back, much less hurt him. It doesn’t help that his muscles are rock solid. If only his brain was as developed — but if you were being honest, Namjoon was quite intelligent too. Except for right now. “It’s a life or death situation.”

Namjoon smiles, practically from ear to ear. 

The dimples on each side of his cheek crease and before you can react or say much else, he leans in and captures your lips with his. It’s a soft and sweet kiss. Then your husband cradles your face in his hand and tilts your head to deepen the kiss. You’re rendered to complete silence, melting into his touch as he takes your breath away. 

When he pulls from you, your lashes flutter.

You’re completely dazed. 

Until he grabs a rock near your foot and chucks it. It smashes into the window of a nearby boutique, glass shattering and all the zombies turn their heads. They snarl at a high pitch, screeching out as flounder towards the noise. Namjoon darts behind them, right out of your grasps.

You’d shout his name if it didn’t mean your own death sentence.

The wait is agonizing. You feel like you’re going to get a heart attack as you watch the door, unsure if he’ll come out. Even if he does, you don’t know if he’ll still be human and the Namjoon that you love. The one that you decided to marry, that you saw on the other end of the aisle and who cried like a dork when he saw you in the dress. 

Those years feel like another world. But they’re still memories you cherish.

The five minutes feels like an hour. You’re cursing, praying, regretting.

But then the buff idiot, your idiot, comes out and runs back to you with a massive grin. Uninjured. With bottles of penicillin, some kind of allergy medicine, and a pregnancy test you grimace at.

You seek refuge at an apartment building on the edge of the city.

It’s an expensive one that was fenced in and boarded up — one of the last to fall to the ruins.

You choose a room on the second floor that’s easy to get into and easy to escape if need be. Unfortunately a zombie lurches out from one of the rooms much to your horror, but Namjoon kills it. He takes his hatchet right into its skull and checks the other rooms before dragging the corpse out when you look nauseous again.

When it’s all over, Namjoon dusts his hands off like it was just some spring cleaning.

“What happens if I really am pregnant?”

You hold the test, motionless, until your head lifts to meet Namjoon’s softened eyes. There’s an overwhelming urge not to take it, to throw the box out the window and keep convincing yourself that it would be impossible to be carrying. But Namjoon risked his life for this.

And you know he won’t let it go. Not until an answer is certain.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he murmurs gently.

“I can’t give birth on my own, Namjoon.”

“I know.”

“If the baby even makes it that far,” you whisper and he grimaces. But what worries you far more, what’s put you in so much denial, and made you sick with terror is the fact that you know— “I’ll slow you down even more, Namjoon.”

His brows furrow, lips becoming lopsided. “You don’t slow me down.”

“How many times have you almost died trying to save me?! I-I can’t keep up.”

At once, Namjoon engulfs you with his arms. He holds you close, body flush against yours and you press your face into his broad shoulder, smothering your worries for a moment with his soothing comfort.

“I love you,” he sighs against your ear. “No matter what happens, I love you. There wouldn’t be a reason for me to keep living if you weren’t here, Y/N. I’m only trying this hard because you are. You’re my purpose now. You and this baby, if it’s real.”

Your fingers clutch onto his jacket, hanging onto your husband as your anchor. “Shut up,” you mumble against his clothes. “You know I hate it when you talk like this. Like you’re saying goodbye.”

Namjoon smiles faintly, remembering how you made him promise to never say goodbye. “Sorry.”

He lets you go and you turn into the bathroom.

The minutes that follow are excruciating. Maybe you’re just impatient, but you’ve grown to hate waiting. But still, you wait by yourself while kneeling on the cold, tiled floors, staring at the stick you peed on.

It’s faint. And you pray your eyes are wrong. But as the minutes go by, it becomes stronger and stronger in colour.

You leave and Namjoon looks at you expectedly. 

“Well?”

You thrust the stick towards him. Two lines.

[potter-imagines]

Library Confessions (George Weasley)

Summary:  george fluff?? maybe like some sort of best friends to lovers kinda deal?

Notes: I've been wanting to write George for a while so I was excited to make this !! hope you enjoy x

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 5.3k

It was a flurry and cold winter day, the kind of day when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. Seeing as it was your seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, most would assume you’d have adapted to the cold by now, but that wasn’t the case. Although as much as you despised the freezing temperature, the pulsating tick of your headache preferred the cold over the thunderous noise back inside.

The Gryffindor common room was too rambunctious- wild, uncontrolled for your desires tonight. It was Friday and tomorrow was the highly anticipated day trip to Hogsmeade. Students were understandable thrilled and you would have loved to join in, but the throbbing pain and stress of school on your shoulders masked your fun. The migraines were brought on by school, but also the idea that you would not get to join your friends tomorrow.

Your feet carried you further from the common room, the rowdy noise fading with every step. If the weight of homework wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders, the party would’ve been in your plans. You tried to stay as long as you could but after about twenty minutes, and three Weasley fireworks being set off, you decided a breath of fresh air sounded delightful.

Your best friends, Fred and George Weasley, were the cause of this chaos. They were fully sober yet drunk off the energy of the room. When you had left, Fred and Lee were orchestrating a tournament of pumpkin juice pong, and George was sitting on the scarlet couch talking to Harry, Ron and Hermione. His eyes darted to you every few seconds. Sometimes he would hold the gaze, or send you a wink, but most of the times he snapped his head back to the golden trio, pretending his attention was elsewhere.

It made your heart thump against the bones of your chest. You were sure if he had been sitting beside you he’d surely hear it, loud and clear. A deep pink blush spread across your cheeks at the thought of George. You had been close friends with the twins since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express and sat in the same cabinet as them. Through the years, the bond grew stronger yet developed differently with each twin. Fred was like an annoying, overbearing, proactive big brother and George, well, the affection you felt for George was not in a brotherly way. 

Since your third year, you started noticing subtle things about him. Like how he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, or when he’d bite his lip when taking notes. He also had a tendency to eat his dessert first, if you got him laughing enough he’d accidentally let out a tiny snort and he always stood to your left when you walked to class together. When winter came, George was always shedding his clothes in order to keep you warm. Fred would complain that you knew it was snowing, therefore it��s your fault for being cold, but never George. Not to say that Fred is cruel, he can be a gentleman when he chooses but your relationship was more sibling bickering and competition. But George had always been a bit, sweeter than Fred.

Most wrote the twins off as one person but the differences between the twins was written out in neon signs, in your eyes. Maybe it was because you were closer to the twins than most, besides Lee. They were both your best friends, but they treated you in polar opposite ways. If Fred ever tried to cuddle you in his bed, you were sure you’d ‘Stupefy’ him into oblivion. When George did it, you could hardly croak a breath with all the rockets exploding in your heart.

The fragrance of frosted pine and butterscotch wafted through the nipping air as you approached the north entrance of the castle. Winter was finally here. The beauty of Hogwarts shined most bright during this time of the year. Snow crunched under the weight of your foot while you trudged through the courtyard taking advantage of the short cut. With the overwhelming school work piling by the second, slipping into the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You had two papers, a research project for Magical Creatures, and an exam in Potions. Not to mention you were expected to memorize and perfect a list of disarming and protection spells before Defense Against the Dark Arts by Tuesday.

Lost in your own stress, you hardly noticed your feet carrying you into the large doors of the library. The lighting was low and the attendance was even dimmer. A few Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws were scattered around the room. Madam Pince nodded her head at your arrival then returned to her work behind the main desk.

Sliding into an empty table, you started to situate yourself. A stack of parchment was already waiting next to a clean quill and glass container of ink. It wasn’t hard to find the necessary textbooks and you returned back to your seat rather quickly.

A good twenty minutes had passed before your ears perked up at the sound of Madam Pince scolding a student. You didn’t have a clean view of her desk but you assumed a group had gotten too loud for her liking. Turning back to your book you faced away from the main entrance of the library. Eyes scanning the textbook, a new presence creeping up behind you went unnoticed. As you flipped to the next page in the advanced potions book, a grasp clamped down on either shoulder and a pair of lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. The unexpected warmth created a jolt on energy through your body. You practically flung out of your chair in surprise, whipping around to face your attacker. The initial glare and scowl soon washed away as your eyes met a familiar pair of warm, chocolate orbs.

George Weasley had a devilish grin, proudly basking in your shock. Not giving you a second to refuse his arrival, George pulled the wooden chair besides you out and sat in it. Throwing his arm across your shoulder, he smiled innocently at you.

“And what might you be doing in here on this eventful Friday evening, hm?”

Still reeling in shock, you placed your hand over your heart in hopes to calm down from the scare. Wildly glaring up at George, you yelled in a hush tone,

“George! You nearly gave me a heart attack- what’re you doing here?” You smacked his chest with a thud, though George remained unphased. His eyes squinted down at you while he shot back,

“Pretty sure I asked you first, love.” He said smugly. A large maroon and gold sweater adorned his frame, paired with dark washed jeans. You could smell the signature scent of pine and cinnamon that wafted wherever he followed. Folding your book on the table top, you glared playfully at the ginger.

“What else is there to do in a library besides studying?” The smart reply caused a twinkle in George’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning as his witty side took control. His fingers tightened around the blades of your shoulder, dragging you a tad closer to him.

“Plenty of things-” An instant smack came as you knocked his side once more. George chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by the flusterness taking over your features. Motioning towards the stack of parchment and mountain high pile of lengthy textbooks, you shook your head.

“I’ve got a lot of work due this coming week, so figured I’d get a head start.”

“Ah, you weren’t enjoying the party.” He declared knowingly. George typically never left your side during house parties. The anxiousness and suffocation of the noise that crept into your veins was always capped by the feeling of his arm around your shoulder protectively. Although tonight, George ran to the Golden Trio the moment the function began, leaving you alone in the corner with Dean and Seamus. You were friends with the boys but George was the only one who could make you feel relaxed and him being busy, escaping the party seemed like the best option.

Leaning into your chair, a heavy sigh fell from your parted lips at the recollection of tonight. “Not really I suppose. I don’t know… not in the partying mood tonight.” You admitted softly. George’s face furrowed immediately, concerned painting his features boldly. The dim lighting of the library all but hid the gleam of worry in his eyes.

“What’s got you stressed, darling?”

Scoffing at the question you picked up your book and started flipping through the pages again. For starters, you couldn’t decide where was the best place to start when it came to all your worries. There was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who returned last school year, the fact that the twins were planning on leaving early to open their shop (which they asked you to help run once you finished with school), home stress, school work, your feelings for George, trying to figure out your plans for after Hogwarts, and so much more. The weight of the world was crashing down on you and for the first time, you felt like allowing it to crumble you.

“You mean besides the school work I’m drowning in and the ever looming fear of being murdered by the Dark Lord himself? Eh, not much.” The sarcastic reply was all too familiar to George. Having spent the last seven years glued to your side, he started to pick up on your antics. Like your constant need to use sarcasm to hide your genuine fears. He studied you for a moment, searching for any hint on what really had you worked up.

Reaching his hand out, George plucked the potions book from your hands and started surveying it. He tilted the book upside down, pretending to read the text. Scrunching his brows, the fiery twin feigned comprehension of the material, a small ‘oohh’ and ‘hm’ falling from his lips as he did so. His silly antics caused you to giggle as he threw the book back to the table.

“Why’re you doing homework on a Friday night, anyhow? You’ve got all tomorrow morning and all day Sunday for that!”

“Technically have all day tomorrow as well-” George stopped you short as he cut into the conversation stubbornly.

“No, we’re all going to Hogsmeade and I already claimed your spot next to me at The Three Broomsticks!” He resembled a pouty child as he huffed besides you. Flipping the page of your textbook, your mouth bunched in the corner, guilt entering your bloodstream.

“I’m really sorry, Georgie. If my grades slip any further- my mum’ll have my head on a stick! Besides, I didn’t figure it would be that big of a deal, everyone else is going so I’m sure my absence will not be noticed.” Your laugh was meant to cover the tang of honest hurt, although you hoped it would slip past him. Of course, George noticed everything when it came to you and seeing you down was definitely not something he felt okay with ignoring.

“But I’ll notice- just like I did tonight.” He added with a point of the finger. It was true, George always seemed to notice when you were missing. He also always seemed to know where you were when you did sneak away.

“Thanks…” Trailing off, you glanced over to George. The honey like orbs were already examining your features. You assumed he must’ve picked up on the sadness dripping through your pores because the next thing you knew, George was offering up his entire Saturday.

“You want me to stay back with you?” Your head snapped in his direction immediately. With a bugged stare, you shook your head feverishly.

“What- no! You and Fred practically countdown the days until we get to go to Hogsmeade. I know how bad you wanna go, don’t skip out ‘cause of me.”

“We do have another trip next month so I can just wait to go until then. I’m sure Hogsmeade will still be flourishing by then. C’mon, you know you want me to stay back. You’ll bore yourself to death without me around!”

“You’d just be staying back because you feel bad-” George interrupted you, face reading bewilderment at your accusation.

“No, I’d be staying back because I want to. Y/n, when have I ever hung out with someone I don't want to be around- besides Percy seeing as I’m obligated to share a home with him. I want to spend time with you, that’s why I look forward to Hogsmeade trips. Get to spend time with you outside of the castle. So if you’re not there, I’m just gonna be miserable, love. Which means, I better just stay back with you.” A mischievous smirk rose to his lips as he finished his spiel, crossing his arms across his chest. The material of his sweater bunched around his fold and you admired Molly’s handiwork. Pressing your finger into his chest, you gave George a playful shove. He reached out for the table top to sturdy himself as he chuckled. Batting your lashes you teasingly cooed,

“Sounds like someone can’t get enough of me.” Not missing a beat, George rested his elbow on the tabletop. His chin was planted in his palm as he leered dreamily.

“Thought we already established that.” He winked over to you. Lifting up your heavy book, you sheltered your blushing cheeks behind the pages. Your forehead pressed deeply into the pages as you folded the covers around your heated face.

“You joke too much.” Mumbling into the book, you were taken aback when a hand abruptly snatched the book from your fingertips. You watched as the book went above your head, then settled in George’s hand. He snapped the cover shut between his hands, an echoing ‘snap’ invading the library. The peppermint lingering on his breath smacked against your lips. George ran his finger over the title page, then tossed it to the side. As the book slammed on the counter, he turned his head back to you.

“Never about my feelings towards you, though.” He stated seriously. Your brows pulled together in a stern line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your furrowed gaze rested heavily upon him.

“I just… really like spending time with you. Like just the two of us.” As he finished speaking, you watched cautiously as George’s hand sneaked over to land on top of yours. His palm was warm on top of yours. After a few seconds, he flipped your hand over so it was set inside his. That comfort feeling bursted in your chest under the weight of his eyes. It was funny how the simplest of actions from him could cause a firework extravaganza in your chest. The tension in your throat was increasing.

“I do, too, Georgie. You’re very sweet.” You smiled awkwardly, the bashfulness overcoming every cell in your body. When Fred complimented you or was too kind, it made you suspicious. Usually he buttered you up before a prank, so you never fully trusted his words but George? George was too gentle to ever set you up or put you in harms way.

“Y/n… there was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you- well something I was gonna ask you tomorrow but seeing as you’re not going, might as well as you now.” The mumble was a notch above audible. You watched on as he fumbled with his hands, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His anxiousness was contagious as you soon felt uneasy as well. Your mind raced in worry as you wondered what was clouding his mind. As if it was second nature, your hand moved out in reaction to his worrisome state to snake his hand into your own. Softening your piercing stare, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong, George?”

His attention was shifted to your locked hands. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand, although it was the first time you were knocked off balance by the wave of electricity streaming down your spine from the touch. Based on his reaction, you figured George felt it too.

“Uh, would you ever want to, like, go on a date? I um, I’ve really liked you for quite some time now and I keep trying to ask you but I get nervous cause… I just needed to tell you myself before Fred does it for me.”

“Tell me now if this is a prank, George Weasley.” The sternness in your voice was something George only heard on occasion. He knew not to joke when it came to your heart so he was taken aback by your words, though understood why. You saw the confusion stirring in his brain before he settled your worries.

“It’s not a prank, love, I swear on my life. I would never lie about my feelings, that I can promise.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked up, eyes peeking over to your side. George had hardly moved and stared blankly at you. It was if his brain had hit a wall and was lagging in processing. The candle on the table flickered, orange and red shadows flashing across his face. Even in the shadows the razor sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones popped.

“Huh?” He croaked.

Catching a Weasley twin off guard was not a common thing and George appeared baffled. Hands folded in your lap, you could feel the small shake to his grasp. In an odd way, you felt a surge of confidence knowing you had the power to make George blush. Tightening your hand around his own, you roamed the pad of your thumb across his knuckles.

“Could we go on a date tomorrow? After I finished at least two of my papers- could we go on a date then?” It was hard to shake the electric shock tingling through your bones. Never before had you basked in eyes as beautiful as his. His eyes reminded you of a pool of whiskey and shades of chestnut. When the light flashed, a honey, caramel tint soaked his orbs. Simply calling them ‘brown’ eyes did no justice.

Your voice brought a large smile to George’s lips like he won the lottery. The glistening gleam brighten the dim corner of the library. You could feel your breathing become inconsistent once again at the sight. Nodding his head, you watched with a smile as his sandy, ginger hair danced in tune.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Does uh, does that mean you like me too?”

Leaning back in your seat, you started to think back on all your years at Hogwarts. There wasn’t an exact moment you fell for him- it didn’t happen all at once. It was born as a crush, your heart leaping at the sight of the handsome boy your first year. When you started hanging out with the twins, you immediately grew close with them by the third week. Since then, you only got closer with the twins although it was undeniable that there was always a more intense gravitational pull you felt towards George. Not that Fred hadn’t pointed out the obvious connection between his twin and you numerous times. He enjoyed harassing George and yourself a bit too much.

Shrugging your shoulder in uncertainty, you admitted,

“Honestly it’s been so long I can’t remember when I first started liking you. I mean I’ve had a crush on you since first year and… I’ve always found you to be the funniest, most handsome guy I’ve ever met.” You paused your word vomit to take in George’s expression for a sign. Glancing up, you noticed he was far closer to you than he was before. The tip of his nose faintly brushing against your own. Your eyes enlarged in seconds at the lack of space between you two. “What’re you doing?”

A gulp echoed through George. His teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip, tugging at the skin in an attempt to calm his nerves. You viewed in curiosity as his eyes darted from your lips, to your eyes, then to the floor, then back to your lips again. Your suspicions were confirmed as George locked his peer into your own. His face read seriousness as he asked you gravely,

“Are you going to slap me if I kiss you? I’ve seen you knock the daylights out of Fred for trying to. Mum says you need to take a girl out before you kiss ‘em for real so I wanna do it somewhat right. Y’know, be a gentleman and such.” 

Your cheeks flared red instantly, eyes planted to the floor. George had always been sweet but you never expected him to be this sweet. There was nothing more in the world that you desired than finally getting to kiss George Weasley, but it was an incredible kind of him to take your own feelings into thought before acting. You pressed your lips together tightly, exceeding all your effort into suppressing the bashful smile threatening to breakthrough. It took everything inside to contain your excitement and nerves at his proposal.

George broke your messy train of thought as the sensation of his hand against your skin registered. His slim fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, then wrapped around the side of your cheek. Like two magnets matching up, you melted into his touch. Finally drawing your gaze back up, you placed the palm of your hand against George’s chest, grasping a light fist of his sweater for stability. The height difference wasn’t immense, but enough that you needed some sort of control to keep on your feet.

“How proper of you, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I would really like that.”

Leaning into his hand, you met George’s gaze as you slowly moved towards each other. Meeting in the middle, you were nearly knocked off your feet by the force of his embrace. Your lips connected like a perfectly mapped constellation. His kiss was warm and fulfilling, yet constantly left you wanting more. It was undeniable he had practice before, his lips moved far too calm for this to be his first.

You practically melted in his arms, kissing him softly. Your lips danced for a moment until you steadied your hand on his cheek, holding his face. You needed that sense of control, wanted to feel the hold you had under George. Taking the first leap, you dragged your wet tongue along the smoothness of his bottom lip. A tiny, almost inaudible groan fell from his mouth. You deepended the embrace momentarily, then pulled away to press one lasting kiss to his puckered lips. George giggled in reaction, a cherry red blush painting his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” George ‘booped’ the tip of your nose when he finished speaking. You laughed at his action then extending your finger, you placed a similar tap to his nose and teased him,

“Stop talking about yourself, George.” Although before you could fully retreat your hand, George’s own wrapped around your fingers. In one swift motion he lifted your hand to his face, then pressed his lips to the back of your hand. As he raised his head, his arm was quick to wrap around your shoulder, jerking your chair towards George as a result. His fingers clutched your upper arm loving. 

That smug smile was plastered across his face again, pleasantly pleased with the peach glow tinting your cheeks. Feeling the heat rising you dove to cover your cheeks in the sleeves of his sweater. George accepted your full embrace, arms moving to circle your body entirely. Suddenly a light bulb popped in his mind as he released his grip slightly to glance down at you.

“Maybe if I help you with some of your paper tonight, we’ll have more time for our date tomorrow!” The excitement in his voice was by far the sweetest sound you’d heard. You smiled back at him and nodded in agreement.

“Sure but I do the writing- I don’t trust you enough for that. Your handwriting resembles that of a child.” You laughed at your own jab while George gave you a deadpan look, clearly unable to form a comeback. He’d say so himself that his print was what the Muggles would call ‘chicken scratch’, a phrase you taught George. When George first learned to write with a quill and ink, he had a tendency to smear the ink a smudge as he scribbled away faster than the speed of light. Molly would scold George as the side of his hand would be stained a deep black shade and his paper was hardly legible.

“Rude but, understandable.” George commented. It was sweet of him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly wanted to spend his Friday night stuck in the library. Raising your eyebrow to the boy, you gave him a questionable look.

“Wait, don’t you have a party you should be getting back to?” Arm still enclosed around your frame, George gave you a squeeze. A mischievous smirk now covered his lips as he confessed the truth. 

“What do you mean? I only threw that party with Fred so I could spend the night around you- maybe impress you with my wicked dance moves.”

Giving him a pointed look, your chest erupted with a fit of giggles. A memory popped into your mind of the first time you got the chance to view a drunk George Weasley putting on a ‘show’ for you. Sober George was a decent dancer but drunk George was on a different level of skill. The liquid courage had left George regretting a lot of nights and quite a bit of scenarios that came as a result. 

Although dancing drunk with you was never a regret of his. Especially when the two of you went to the Yule Ball together as ‘friends’. Mummers followed your every move as you waltzed with George, students gossiping about George and yourself. Not that you paid attention to anyone but George- there wasn’t a chance given to! You didn’t spend a single second resting on your feet as George had you dancing until the band was packing up. He spun, twisted, lifted, and twirling you all night long. When a slow song finally came on, the prankster king put his gentleman side on full display. It was by far one of the best nights of your life, one you still had yet to stop daydreaming over. Poking his side, you smirked teasingly at the boy.

“Georgie, darling, I’ve seen them before. You’d have a better chance sending yourself to the infirmary than impressing me with your ‘moves’. I haven’t forgotten the Yule Ball last year. My head was spinning for a month!” You laughed together at the reminiscence. George was just as mesmerized by the night as you, maybe a tad more so. For those few hours of pure bliss, George had never felt more complete. Seeing you all dressed up and glowing from head to toe- the image was captured in his mind forever. He never understood the term ‘speechless’ until he saw you walking down the stairs in search of him. He replayed that moment over and over again for a year now. Rubbing your shoulders lovingly, George leaned his head on top of yours.

“Aw, c’mon! You loved it! Twirling around like a beautiful ballerina in your dress. You looked breathtaking- everyone was staring at you. Can’t blame them, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you either.” His words made your insides feel fuzzy, kinda like the sleeve of his sweater. That of which your fingers were absentmindedly petting. George smiled down at the quirk, he loved every antic of yours.

Shaking your head, you pulled the book back that George had discarded. After all, you still had a stack of unwritten essays to get working on. You popped open the top of the ink container. George unraveled his arm from your shoulder to wrap lightly around your waist.

“Stop making me blush.” Crimson flooded your s/c cheeks, far too flustered to meet George’s eyes. That confidence from early had flown away just as sudden as it came. A sprout of warmth came as George’s finger pressed against the side of your jaw, turning your face. Sweetly, and silently, he requested your gaze to which you obliged.

“But you look so beautiful when you do, darling. Now stop distracting me- we have a paper to write, in case you’ve forgotten, love.” His lips darted forward and soon enough, his enticing lips kissed your reddening cheeks. George smirked teasingly, reaching the feathered quill out to brush against your nose. You lightly smacked it away, giggling at him as you did.

“You’re the one distracting me-” The squeal was silenced by George as he pretended to ignore your words as he continued to tease you. Pressing his finger against your lips, George purred,

“Hush, we’ve got work to do so I can take you out tomorrow, love.”

“Fine but don’t forget Georgie, I’m doing the writing.” Narrowing your playful glare, you spoke sternly. It was a sort of game you played- going back and forth with one another. Although finally that teasing crossed the line of flirting to something real. In a way, it almost felt fake. Like all those years of waiting hadn’t really paid off, you were just asleep in your dorm room, dreaming this all up.

The touch of George’s arm leaving your waist cold was enough to question; however the radiating sensation of his hand slipping into yours was confirmation it was real. The chaste kiss he left on the back on your hand still buzzed. Despite the lack of lighting, every handsome feature was distinct from his blazing locks to the scatter of freckles dotting his face. Giving you a sly wink George flirted,

“Ah, I love a woman who takes control.”

For the next hour and a half, far in the corner, behind rows of bookshelves and torches to light to way, George and yourself attempted to write your essay. The first hour consisted of stolen kisses, stolen looks, and George constantly stealing your book from your hands. He made it nearly impossible to the point you threatened to cancel your study date, which shaped him up immediately. 

The last half and hour George read to you different pages from your stack of books until you got a good jump on the paper. You were feeling hopeful until Madam Pince had announced the library would be closing for the night. In a matter of seconds, George’s hand was clamped around your wrist, attempting to drag you out. You managed to scoop your school supplies together and tuck them away in your bag before allowing him to escort you back to the common room. You just hoped your study date tomorrow would consist of some actual study. If not, it’s a good thing you have all of Sunday.

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone | part 2

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, there will be smut in other parts

Read part 1 here!

A/N: Hey guys! This is part two of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking part 1! I hope you like this one too. Let me know what you think! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please message me! I'll create one soon.

Love, W 🖤

When you sat down next to the blonde you immediately sensed that he tensed. You didn’t like how the things between you turned out to be so awkward. You two were never like that. And now you were scared to say a word to him. Suddenly texting seemed more appealing so you took out your phone again and started typing. You noticed Harrison glancing at you as if he tried to see if you are in a good mood for taking up this conversation. He didn’t want to be noisy and check who you’re texting so he quickly shifted his head to the slides that were displayed by your professor. However, he looked down at his phone when he felt it vibrate just to see that he got a message from you. Frowning, he touched the icon of your contact and read your message.

From Y/N:

Want to go out for a drink with me?

You watched him looking through the text anxiously, hoping that he didn’t get the wrong idea. You wanted to make things right, not only because you hated having unfinished business with people but also because you liked him and his company. Another thing was that he was Tom’s friend. You wouldn’t want him to feel bad about your misunderstanding with his best friend. When you opened your mouth to add something, Harrison turned to you with a lovely little smile. When he nodded some loose curls fell on his face making you smile in return and laugh inside. You didn’t miss the light in his eyes when you moved your hand slightly to put his hair back in its place just as you did with Tom. This time, however, you stopped midway and a crimson flush crept into your face. The blonde’s smile turned into a smirk when he caught up to your actions and before you could do something he moved a little closer to you to give you a chance to brush the messy curls out of his face. But instead of that, you slapped him on the arm and sank deeper into your seat what brought a laugh out of Harrison. He thought that you were adorable in your shyness and he definitely enjoyed making you flustered. The simple gesture made you hope that maybe nothing is lost yet. You just had to apologise and assure him that what had happened was just an accident. It would be easy, wouldn’t it?

After your lecture and interaction with Harrison, you felt a lot lighter. Your mind was at peace again and you could enjoy yourself knowing that everything will be alright between Harrison and you. When you got home the first thing you did was to lay down on a sofa. With a smile on your face, you stretched your body and closed your eyes. This moment of silence was what you needed after all these hours of anxiety and stress. Breathing deeply you slowly started to drift to sleep when the sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“I just got the best news EVER,” very excited Tom marched through the door with an enormous smile on his face. Noticing you laying on the sofa he stopped dead in his tracks hoping that he didn’t wake you. Looking up, you had to laugh at his wild eyes gaze, and tensed figure. You stood up to greet your best friend opening your arms for him. Tom smiled widely and embraced you in a tight hug but his strength and force made you lose your balance and collapse back on the couch. Brunette landed on top of you and you yelped in surprise. You could feel his weight on you but for some reason, it didn’t bother you at all. Actually, you found it really nice to be able to enjoy the way his muscles flexed when he tried to steady himself not to crush you. For anyone who walked through the door, the scene would seem unpleasant but you were comfortable feeling the heat radiating from his body. Every since you two started hanging out, a feeling of comfort and mutual understanding was created. With Tom things were always easy, you didn’t argue much and on top of that, it was really hard for awkwardness in your relationship. You loved him for his incredible ability to turn bad situations into good ones and brush everything off with laughter. Yet, this time you haven’t heard him giggling or saying some playful words to make you blush. You moved your head to look him in the eyes and this time you saw something you’ve never seen before. His gaze studied your face patiently, not missing any spot on your skin. His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to find the right words to say but your beauty was so mesmerising he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your face and you started wondering why was he so nervous out of a sudden. Little did you know that Tom has realised something at that moment. He realised he couldn’t find any flaw in you despite watching you the whole time. He realised that you make him the happiest and that he would never be the same without you. And most importantly, Tom realised that he could never make you as happy as he wished to. He has always made sure you were doing alright and that you knew he was there but he couldn’t force himself to love you. He tried, he really tried to develop some feelings. He would lay in bed at night thinking about you and what is wrong with him that he can’t love such an amazing person. Tom never believed in soulmates but he truly thought you had his heart and soul. When you were gone, he always felt like there was something missing. A puzzle that combines his messy lifestyle with his fucked up mind. You always had the right things to say to make him feel better and he never felt like you were judging him. He truly found someone with a pure heart and soul that is right for him and understands him without words. But if you weren’t the right one, where were they? Truthfully, Tom was tired of being alone. He wanted someone to love him and he wanted someone to love. You were there for him but somehow it wasn’t enough. He lacked the feeling of crazy love. He wanted it to consume him and intoxicate all his senses. He wanted to be in a daze that would make him do all the cheesy stuff his friends would tease him about but he wouldn’t care because of the happiness. It killed him that it wasn’t you. He knew that, all too well, but he didn’t stop being close to you. He wouldn’t dare to even try and lose you. At that moment he knew that he would take up every fight to keep you by his side even if it meant to hurt himself because despite all that you were his home and he needed you to breathe. You were his safe zone and if he couldn’t have you by fate, he would have you by choice.

As the seconds passed by your heart started to beat more quickly anticipating his next move. The way Tom was looking at you made you forget how to breathe. All you could do was stare at his beautiful honey brown eyes sparkling in the yellow light of the lamp standing on the table. Finally, after what felt like hours, Tom whispered "I got the job," seemingly getting out of his thoughts but you saw that he was still trying to figure something out in his head.

"This.. this is amazing, Tom," you replied not paying much attention to what he was talking about since all you could do was drool over him.

"Yeah, I'm going to the USA," he laughed like he couldn't believe he got the part but still didn't move one bit. Tom's body was towering over you making it hard for you to focus on his words.

"Mhmm.. I'm proud of you, Tommy," the nickname quickened his heartbeat as he always got warm inside when you called him that. He thought the nickname was childish but he always melted when it came out of your mouth. He wanted to kiss your forehead as an act of thanking you but you suddenly yawned.

"I'm sorry that I woke you up. I was just excited," his pretty smile was replaced by a pout when he remembered the state he found you in. You took his face in your hands and giggled at his cuteness.

"I was just falling asleep, don't worry," you answered truthfully, not wanting him to feel bad for disturbing your peace.

"Are you still sleepy? We can lay down if you want," Tom proposed, concerned about your lack of sleep out of nowhere.

"Well, I'd say we're already laying down..." hesitation was evident in your voice almost as you were worried to bring up the topic. The look on Tom's face shifted quickly after he registered your words and looked down between your bodies. That was when he felt his crutch touching yours and a wave of embarrassment mixed with lust washed over him. He must have got lost in daydreaming about you not to notice that he was basically crunching you. He was surprised you could even breathe in this state. "But.. I-I don't mind..." your words eased his panic but didn't help the blood coming south.

In the trance, you moved your fingers along his smooth skin hoping that would calm him down. You weren't sure what you were doing but you enjoyed this little moment and didn't want it to end. Tracing the shape of his nose you licked your lips what made Tom close his eyes and exhale deeply.

"We need to stop or I'll do something we will both regret," when the words left his mouth you stopped your movement but kept your hands on his face. Tom was scared to open his eyes. He feared for your reaction. A few seconds passed by while you tried to find the right words. Were you surprised? Yes. But you couldn't fight the smile that crept on your face and the butterflies erupting in your stomach. Although, you weren't sure how you felt about what you've just heard you needed to feel him. It may be wrong but you wanted it.

"What if I don't mind?" you said softly just millimeters from his lips. Tom finally opened his eyes at your confession and you could see the confusion painted on his face.

"I-I-I.... Look um..." this was the first time you've seen your best friend so nervous that he couldn't get the words out. He seemed to be really troubled but he finally gave in resting his own hand on your cheek. "W-what does this mean for u-us?" he couldn't help but ask. Tom didn't want you to think that he was just taking advantage out of the situation. He needed to know your point of view on this because he didn't want to hurt you in any way and this was a dangerous field.

"I don't know but I really want this" your words made the brunette's eyes darken. Licking his lips for the last time, he moved your head closer to him and brushed his lips against yours in a sweet but passionate kiss. Your lips were moving softly in sync as if you kissed for the millionth time. You were making out for a good few minutes until the taste of him was so intoxicating you forgot how to breathe and had to pull out for a second to catch some air. Your break didn't last long because Tom pulled you back in taking advantage of your parted lips and pushed his tongue in. You moaned at the action and the sound made Tom thrust his hips against yours. At that moment you felt something poking your thigh. You didn't want to stop your make-out session but you knew you weren't ready to go further yet so you patted his chest softly to signal him that you wanted to stop. Tom pulled out slowly trying to see if he hurt you in any way. "I'm alright," noticing his worried gaze you assured him that there was nothing bad happening. "I'm just umm... not ready for t-the next s-step," suddenly you got anxious hoping that you didn't say anything wrong to make him upset.

"Oh.." was all he said, not fully realising what you were trying to hint on.

"I mean... you know," you looked down at his bulge hoping that he would understand your clue.

"OH!" he followed your gaze and finally caught up to what you meant. "Noo, don't worry about it. We um.. we don't have to go further if you don't want to," Tom tried to make you comfortable but he couldn't hide the flush on his cheeks that was a result of his embarrassment. He didn't know why he felt so awkward out of a sudden. You, on the other hand, felt more confused than awkward. You had to figure out your own feelings towards your best friend but you couldn't lie to yourself and say that you didn't enjoy it because that was probably the most amazing kiss you've ever had.

"Thank you," you didn't really register your words but it seemed that neither did Tom because he started to get up and fixing his clothes and hair. You only watched him, not wanting to move.

"Do you regret it?" Tom asked in a small voice noticing your absent look. He didn't know how to feel about the situation too. He allowed himself to let loose this one time and he just hoped it didn't destroy your friendship.

"Do you regret it?"

"I asked you first."

"Trying to be smart, Holland?" he genuinely smiled at your remark because then he knew that nothing has changed. You wouldn't joke with him if you were mad or upset.

Taking a deep breath, you got up and turned to face Tom. "I don't regret it. Do you?" he let go of a deep breath he didn't even know that was holding and shook his head. "That's... good." you summed up the situation making Tom burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"You are so weird," you faked an offended look at what he added "But so am I. That makes us a good match."

You nodded your head because maybe he was right. Maybe you two were a good match.

After the incident, things started to get more intense between you and Tom. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or if he made it his mission to frustrate you even more by caressing you while you were falling asleep or casually holding your hand when going on walks. Whatever it was, it rendered you warm inside. You couldn’t fight your butterflies and stop yourself by slowly falling for your best friend. Subconsciously, you hoped you two would end up together, his family loving you and all your friends saying how you make a good match. However, it didn’t seem as he had any intentions to make the first move. Even though Tom was very touchy with you, he never asked you out or even brought up the subject of the relationship. It was even more confusing because he wasn’t messing around with anyone nor he had any female friends he was interested in. You knew because as your relationship with Harrison started progressing you found yourself gushing to him about Tom. Harrison always tried to assure you that Tom liked you too and after many days of contemplating you decided to talk with him about your feelings. You were even more nervous because he was supposed to leave for the USA for his new job in a couple of days. You weren’t sure where this conversation would leave your relation but the fear wasn’t that strong to stop you from confessing your admiration for him.

Tom invited you to his get-away party so that was when you wanted to talk to him. His family wanted to say a proper goodbye before he would leave for long months that’s why they all came to celebrate his success. You were one of the first few people who has come so you helped around the kitchen and talked a bit to Tom’s brothers. You’ve known these people for so long that at this point you treated them like your own family. You had fun talking with Tom’s grandparents and playing with the youngest members of the family. Tom was watching you from the kitchen with a smile on his face as you were humming Baby shark with children. He loved that you felt so comfortable around his family and that they’ve basically accepted you as their own child. His parents would even ask him about you sometimes, hoping that there was something more between you. He always brushed them off saying that you two were just friends because that was the truth. Even though no one questioned your friendship, everyone knew that it wasn’t just Tom who was coming over, it was always Tom and Y/N. When his parents wanted to invite you for dinner or a nice family gathering they would just tell Tom to pass you the invitation. Everyone treated you two as one because they knew that your bond was special and Tom’s family has never seen him happier than when he was with you. They were grateful that he had someone in his life who kept him grounded. “She’s the one, mate,” is what his brothers keep telling Tom. He would just smile mysteriously because it wasn’t true but he didn’t want to let anyones’ hopes down.

When the children ran away you giggled and glanced at the room to spot someone you could talk to. That was when you noticed Tom at the foot of the stairs who was talking to Harrison. He must have sensed you looking at him because he turned his head directly to you. The action made you smile and you started to make your way to take up a conversation with the boys. After finally scrambling through the crowd, you stood eye to eye with Tom who took your hand and led you to his room. You didn’t know where Harrison went but you guessed that Tom wanted to talk to you about something important. Otherwise, why would he take you to his room giving air to Harrison?

Taglist: @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @osterfieldshollandgirl

[genshin-impacted]

campfire stories // Childe x Reader (sfw)

Word Count: 2.3k 

Notes: gender neutral reader, reader pov, (implied mutual pining), takes place in 1.2, hints to Childe’s Story Quest, but no direct spoilers, a LOT of bantering

an indulgent fic combo w/ character analysis of Childe and the reader’s inner turmoil in regards to their (developing) feelings for him

Summary: You walk on this tightrope, balancing the tension that exists on being on opposite sides and the comfort that comes with easy conversation and undemanding company. So you let yourself worry about Childe. How could you not when you look at Childe and see someone with an easy attitude, carefree laughter despite his guarded eyes? 

For when you talk to him, you are reminded of home-- for better or for worse.

Here is the accompaniment/sequel fic: Letters to Home!

As a wanted person, there were few places you could safely invite yourself into. It is strange being received in such a manner when you were so welcomed back in Mondstadt, but you understand why, as a foreigner, you would pose the most threat to Liyue considering the recent death of the geo archon. 

(The fact you keep getting dragged into political turmoil is concerning, to say the least, though you have a feeling your path is going to continue to be full of trouble. 

You try not thinking of brown tousled hair and blue eyes and fail. Childe is, after all, the epitome of trouble.)

Luckily, you are used to camping out in the wilderness. Despite Paimon’s whines, she is also at ease surrounded by nature, with easy access to food and fresh air. Though both of you still wish you were able to sleep in an actual bed as you did at Wangshuu Inn, considering how close to the harbor you actually were.

When the moon fully rises above the two of you, Paimon is fast asleep within the tent while you tend to the flickering embers of the campfire, basking in the silence that solitude brings you. Though your moments to be alone are soon interrupted when you hear the crunching of grass underneath the footsteps of another, and you turn, alert, to see who approaches.

"Oh, what a surprise,” Childe says, coming down from the darkness of the hills. You can hear as much as you can see the amusement on his visage that you have become accustomed to seeing often. “Fancy meeting you here.”

"It really isn’t,” you reply back dryly, looking at the measly tent, the small campfire, and two logs that you placed in front of them as temporary seats. You try to not be embarrassed as Childe looks around with too much care. “You got something to say about my lovely campsite?” You ask, knowing full well you played into his hands when he laughs and waves a flippant hand. You roll your eyes, a small smile lifting your lips as you watch him patter around your set-up, only for you to notice a gash on his wrist-- maroon in color. And once you see that, you begin to notice other wounds scattered along his body like red paint splashes on a grey canvas.

He’s hurt, you think, and worry bubbles in your chest before you can tell yourself it’s a bad idea. 

You shouldn’t be concerned, knowing who he is and who he works for. The last time you met up with a Fatui Harbinger (other than Childe, that is), she almost killed you and Paimon after stealing something that didn’t belong to her. You think you’re allowed to associate the Fatui with cold smiles and brutal actions. 

But Childe is different. You find yourself relaxing in his presence before you remember who you’re talking to, but you wish you didn’t have to put your guard up for unsavory ulterior motives in the first place. It’s not as if you don’t see how Childe’s amiable smile can so easily turn icy or that his proclivity for violence is something dangerous in and of itself, but you wish these things were something you didn’t have to worry about.

There is a constant strain in your friendship, if you can call it that-- for no matter how many times you banter easily in a way that has you almost forgetting you’re on opposite sides, you remember Venti, and the suspicion wedges itself in between the two of you. You walk on this tightrope, balancing the tension that exists on being on opposite sides and the comfort that comes with easy conversation and undemanding company. 

So you let yourself worry about Childe. How could you not when you look at Childe and see someone with an easy attitude, carefree laughter despite his guarded eyes? 

(You never thought you would ever be involved with someone in such a complicated and convoluted way, but you can't help but crave the way you and Childe clash so casually, reminiscent of your friends back in your world.

You talk to him and are reminded of home, for better or for worse.

And if you think his smile is charming or that his eyes remind you of the ocean, you try not to.)

“Hey,�� you start, gesturing toward him nonchalantly, “why are you so beat up?” 

Childe chuckles, rubbing the back of his head, and you can see dried blood sticking to the tips of his hair. "Stumbled into a few ruin guards," he tells you, and you immediately translate that to ‘I picked a fight with them.’ As if knowing your train of thought, he quickly changes the subject. “You know, it shouldn’t be that bad trying to find an inn to take you in.” He grins, despite the look you threw at him. “You could just… provide the owners with extra incentive to let you under their roof.”

“Does it look like I’m made of money to you?” You retort, “Also, I can’t believe you’re trying to brush off the fact that you willingly walked into the ruins to fight them.”

Despite your snappy tone, Childe only laughs, and you can't help but be pleased that the conversation between the two of you is quick and smooth-- natural. “You know me so well already,” he says. “Have you been paying a little extra attention to me lately?” 

“Can't help it," you reply sarcastically, "you're a walking disaster, can't keep my eyes off of you." You smile when he laughs. “Anyway, come over here,” you say, rummaging through your backpack to find the medical tape. “You look like you’re one flesh wound away from dying.” 

You savor the moment of silence as Childe blinks at you in confusion. 

“...ah, are you going to dress my wounds? Worried for me, are you? How kind of you.” You can hear the teasing tone in his voice, but it is gentler in a way you did not anticipate. He looks at you with a softened gaze, and you can feel your face warm for reasons other than the campfire, so you roughly pat the log next to you, ignoring his grin. 

“No, this is actually my diabolical plan to end you once and for all,” you tell him, waiting as he takes off his top to bear his back to you. 

He glances back and you must have been too slow to train your expression to a more neutral one because he winks at you. “Be gentle, alright?”

"I'm going to be the opposite just because you said that," you say, snickering as you sweep off the caked blood where the scratches have healed over. You think briefly that joking aside, it was strange that Childe would trust you to not stab him in the back, but it passes as soon as it comes when you finally see how many scars he actually has littered all over his body. 

“Admiring my battle scars? Shall I let you take a look at every one of them?” You hear him say, and you bluster in silence as he laughs. “No need for ointment,” Childe says, when he hears you twist open an herbal soother. “I’ll be fine.” 

Without warning, you slather a healthy amount of antibiotic cream onto his wounds. He yelps at the coldness of the balm, and you can’t help the laugh that bursts from your lips when he turns to you with a pout. 

It's ridiculous to think that this man whose lower lip was protruding because of your mischievous administration was the 11th Harbinger, but you're starting to think part of the appeal is because this side of him is so unexpected to see. 

“I never said that I'd be gentle,” you reply teasingly with a fondness that so easily comes through. (You think Diluc would disapprove of how trusting you seem to be, and how Amber would have a heart attack knowing how much you hang around Childe-- but neither of them are here with you, and you are not in Mondstadt.) You find yourself sweeping your fingers over his wounds more lightly, and if he notices that your hands are more gentle, only a momentary glance behind him is telling. 

He hums. “Hm, I hope you don’t treat every patient you meet like this,” he says with a lilt of playfulness. 

“Of course not.” The campfire flickers in the corner of your eyes, comfortably keeping you warm as you press your hand onto his shoulder to wrap it with gauze. “You’re a special case,” you remark dryly. “Aren’t you glad?”

“You really know how to make a guy feel warm inside,” Childe tells you, and you can hear rather than see the smile on his face. 

For once, the two of you sit in silence. It’s a rare occasion, and you start to think that perhaps the two of you fill in the quiet with witty retorts in order to avoid the looming tension between the two of you. But with the soft flicker of fire and the gentle rise and fall of Childe’s shoulders with his breathing, you find yourself more comfortable in his presence than you’ve ever been. 

You wish you could stay like this forever, and so you set out to make it so.

You tell him what you have wanted to be if you had not come to Teyvat and become an adventurer. You avoid the more personal feelings that come with it, the yearning to go back home, how lost you felt when you were alone, and tell him briefly about who you are beyond what he knows of you as Mondstadt’s Honorary Knight. 

Childe listens to you without interruption, but you know his attention is on you from the way his shoulder shakes in laughter when you tell him about the antics your friends got into or the way he shifts when you talk about your dad.

“Do you miss your family?” He asks you suddenly when you take a brief pause to tie the tape around his shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply honestly. “I try not to, but I get homesick a lot.” You pause, your hand feeling the warmth that emanates from his skin. “You?" You try, "Do you get homesick?”

“If I give myself a moment to think about my family, I do,” he tells you, just as honestly. “I haven’t been back to Snezhnaya in, hm, quite some time, I think.” 

You trace your finger along the middle of his back where a long, white gash of scar tissue lay, and Childe does not even flinch. “Do your family know you’re Fatui?” You ask quietly, and you see your hand leave his back when he leans forward, away from your touch, to pull his shirt over his head.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize, he glances back at you and gives you a smile that makes your heart clench. “Not the young ones.”

“Oh.”

Childe laughs, and you feel your face warm again at the lack of tact in your response. “I’m kind of a ‘bad guy,’ as you already know. I’d rather have my youngest sibling still think of the world of me for as long as I can, you know?” He slips his hands through his grey jacket, continuing almost superfluously, “Defend their childhood dreams and what not.”

Instead of a response, you hum, glancing down at the red scarf that still lay pooled on the grass. You reach out for it the same time he does, and you look up to see eyes dark and blue as the ocean deep.

“Do you think I should quit?” He asks you abruptly, or so it seems to you, as you tug the scarf instinctively. You look into his eyes, wondering why they reminded you of the abyss.

The campfire ambers flicker at the corner of your eyes.

You falter when you think you should have not; isn’t the answer clear to you? Haven’t you thought Childe was better off without the Fatui? But something about the way Childe told you about his family, about his given role as defender of childhood dreams makes you think that there is more than what he has shown you. 

The fire seems unbearably hot now, but you think it might have something to do with the fact your body is close enough to Childe’s to feel how warm he is (and you wonder why you even took note of that). 

“Does it really matter what I think?” You ask instead, lifting a hand to pinch at his cheek, feeling yourself smile when he lets you do it with only a tiny wince. “Whether you quit or not-- isn’t that up to whether you think what you’re doing is still worth it?” You let go of his cheek and scarf, grinning up at him as he rubs his cheek and stares at you thoughtfully.

“Ah, well…” Childe responds after a moment of silence where you could only hear the crackling of the wood. He pulls his scarf across his shoulder and smiles at you. “Who knows?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you mean ‘who knows’? Didn’t you ask me because you care about what I think of you?” You gasp dramatically. “Childe… am I… a special case?” 

Much to your surprise, you watch as Childe’s expression morphs into something akin to embarrassment. “Ah, well, you know,” he stammers, “you’re certainly the only Honorary Knight that I know of.”

“If you really think I’m dumb enough to believe that--”

“I never said that!”

The two of you banter until the stars are high and the moon moves across the sky. You continue to share stories with him, eagerly stretching out the time where the two of you are not Fatui and Honorary Knight. Childe carefully listens to you, learning more of where you came from and the circumstances that brought you here. In return, he shares stories about his family, about his viewpoint on battles and of snow. (“You and your obsession with blood,” you retort, and he only laughs, inching closer, but never touching you, underneath the blanket you swept over the two of you for warmth when the fire dies out.) 

If your relationship with him changes that night, you cannot tell. But sometimes you think his glances linger on you longer when the two of you pass by, and you wonder if he wants to share more campfire stories, knowing how much it brings you closer to each other-- no matter how much the two of you pretend that it isn’t the case. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

By My Side (Sternclay)

Prompt for the 14th is: Abandoned

Joseph Stern is eight years old when he develops his first cover story. 

He’s on the path topside from Kepler elementary; his parents let him go to and from school on his own because Kepler--unlike Milwaukee--radiates the energy of a small town where nothing bad happens. Plus, lots of topside parents let their kids do the same. 

There are no other kids from his class on the path. Which is why the sounds from the bushes catch his attention; someone is crying. Someone small. Maybe one of his classmates is hurt. He should investigate. 

Brush catches his sweatshirt as he crawls and pushes his way into the undergrowth. As sticks crunch, the sound stops, but Joseph can see another kid huddled up through the curtain of leaves and twigs. 

When he scoots into the next gap of space, both he and the other child freeze, one with surprise and the other with fear. Joseph is trying to work out why this other person is covered in reddish brown fur, ears a little pointy but face still very human in it’s expressions. He’s seen this kind of creature before, in the books he checks out every time he goes to the library. 

“Bigfoot?”

Wide, brown eyes grow even wider as the creature shakes their head, “No. Barclay. My, my name is Barclay.”

“Are you lost?”

“Yes.” Barclay wipes his nose on his arm.  Joseph sighs, relieved; his mom taught him what to do if he ever gets lost.

“We need to find your mom and dad.”

Barclay’s face crumples, “I, I, can’t, they, they just, just left me here. S-someone brought us to a gate but they, they only made me go through. They left me!” The last few words are a wail, turning to a high, lonely howl that makes Joseph’s chest ache. He can’t leave Barclay here, he won’t.

He needs a grown-up, but he knows his parents don’t always react well to things that are weird. All the teachers will be gone if they go back to school this late…

Ah ha, he’s got it.

“Come on” he holds out his hand, “I know someone who can help.”

“Really?”

“I’m pretty sure. She helped me when some bullies picked on me on my way home.”

Barclay takes his hand, grips it so tight his fingers hurt as Joseph leads him uphill and then down a side path. He jumps at any noise. Joseph identifies them one by one so he won’t be so scared. 

When Amnesty Lodge comes into view, Joseph takes them to the back and knocks on the door of the workshop. It swings open and Ms. Cobb (she tells him to call her Mama, but Joseph feels strange calling an adult a nickname) steps out, brushing sawdust from her sleeves. Her gaze falls instantly on Barclay, who tries to hide behind Joseph. This would work better if he weren’t a foot taller than him. 

“Well howdy there, Joseph. Who’s your friend here?”

“His name is Barclay.”

Mama crouches so she’s eye to eye with them, “Nice to meet you Barclay. You from Sylvain?”

Joseph’s never heard of such a place, but at the word Barclay’s head snaps up and he nods. 

“Then Joseph was mighty smart to bring you here. How about you two boys come sit in my office for a few minutes while I go find Thacker.”

They follow her into the Lodge, Barclay never letting go of his hand. Once they’re on the brown couch in her office, his new friend slumps sideways so his head is on Joseph’s shoulder. His friends at school don’t tend to hug or sit close, but he doesn’t want to be rude. He rests his head atop Barclay’s, runs his hand up and down his back the way his dad does for him when he’s sad. 

A soft, low rumbling noise spreads through the room.

“I thought only cats purred.”

“M’not purring. Just a noise I make when I feel good.”

“That’s purring.”

“...Okay then I guess I purr.”

Mama returns with Mr. Thacker, tells Barclay he’ll help him get some dinner and pick out a place to sleep while she takes Joseph home. It takes multiple promises that he’ll get to see Joseph again for Barclay to finally let go of his hand. 

As her pick-up truck winds up towards his neighborhood, Mama glances at him and says, “Joseph, I’m gonna ask you to do somethin for me; I need you to promise me you ain’t gonna mention what Barclay looks like to your folks. We’re gonna tell ‘em you met my nephew who’d gotten lost on his way back to the Lodge and that’s why you’re a little late.”

“Why can’t they know he’s a...whatever he is?”

She sighs, “Because if word gets out that Barclay ain’t human, someone might decide to hurt him. Not everyone is as understanding about the unfamiliar as you seem to be.”

Joseph thinks about his promise to always tell his parents the truth. About the stories he’s read where humans shoot at cryptids. About Barclay clinging to him and looking at him the way people in movies look at heroes. 

“Okay. I promise I won’t tell them.”

Mama smiles, “Thanks, kiddo.”

She drops him off, her story quickly ridding his mom of her anxiety-tinged anger at him being so late home. She adds that, since tomorrow is Saturday, would it be alright if Joseph came to the Lodge to play with Barclay? After all, he’s new in town and is trying to make friends.

The next day, his dad drops him off at the Lodge and Mama guides him to one of the rooms. Bundled up on the bed, frowning at a comic book, is a boy Joseph’s age with reddish brown hair. Joseph blinks, staring more than is polite as he tries to work out if this is some kind of joke. 

The other boy shyly smiles at him and says, in a voice that Joseph last heard coming from a fur covered face, “Hi, Joseph. I’m glad you came back.”

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

“What should we do now?” Joseph puts the lid on the Mastermind box as Barclay rolls onto his belly on his sleeping bag. A summer storm bangs on the roof, but they’re safe and cozy is in bedroom for their monthly sleepover. 

“Wanna just talk? Oh, wait, I, uh, I brought something.” He rifles into his backpack, pulling out a small, tupperware container, “Mama’s been letting me experiment in the kitchen and I made these this morning.” He pops the top, revealing gigantic chocolate cookies with butterscotch chips.

“Oh wow” Joseph takes one, “these smell amazing.”

Barclay grins, then laughs when Joseph devours two cookies in a row without pausing, “Guess they came out okay.”

“They’re so good. You’re a really good cook Barclay.”

“I mean, I guess.” His friend shrugs, smiles down at his own cookie.

“These are great, and so was the soup you made last week, and the cake you made Mama for her birthday.” Joseph sweeps crumbs into his hand and dumps them into the trash, “maybe you’ll be a famous chef when you grow up.”

“Like Julia Child.” His friend says wistfully, then scooches so he can bump their shoulders together, “or maybe I can be, like, your private chef when you’re in the FBI.”

“I’d like that. Hmm, maybe we could just be roommates?”

The window rattles like something is trying to break in and thunder crashes above them. Barclay yelps; he’s always been scared of thunderstorms, has told Joseph they remind him of something called The Quell.

“Sorry” Barclay mumbles.

“I’ve got an idea.” Joseph unzips their sleeping bags, shoos Barclay off his so he can drag them together. It takes some fiddling to the zippers to connect, but soon he has a double-wide sleeping bag. They’re already in their pajamas, so he slides down into his side and waves for Barclay to do the same. The sylph climbs under, purring as he worms his way into Joseph’s arms. 

They’ve done something like this ever since Barclay arrived in Kepler; his friend explained once that touching and cuddling was common for his kind, both as a way of comforting each other and as a way of conveying friendship. Joseph long ago lost count of how many conversations they had huddled up like this. In the beginning they were rapid fire exchanges of questions and answers, each curious to learn everything they could about the others world. The longer Barclay was on Earth, the more their talks could pass as those of two boys with no strange secrets tucked close to their chests. Even the night of their first sleepover at the Lodge, when Barclay pulled out a notebook full of newspaper clippings and photocopies from books, all to do with bigfoot sightings, no one looking in would have known it was one such creature huddled under the covers with Joseph. 

Now that they’re eleven, they have to be careful about where they do this; in Joseph’s experience, sometimes people are even less accepting of boys holding hands than they are of things like bigfoot. 

His favorite part of this is the way Barclay tries to fit in his arms. He’s already getting a growth spurt (Indrid, a boy a few years older than them, explained that he made Barclay’s disguise to age along with him), but he seems determined to tuck himself away like a stuffed animal. It makes Joseph feel like he can protect him. Makes him so sure that, even if there were something far worse than thunder outside, he could face it for the sake of his friend.

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

“Damn, you are not fucking around with this.” The thwip of laminated pages suggests Barclay is opening Joseph’s case folder, “and here I thought my bigfoot research was intense.”

“That’s one book of five; I categorize them by type of entity, but Bigfoot gets it’s own separate from ‘mammal’ because I’ve spent so much time on it.” He finishes knotting his blue tie, “It, um, it was also the first. Ever since you said you wanted to see if there were more of your kind of Sylph who’d been abandoned or gone wild, I’ve been studying the cases.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“A nerd on your behalf.” Joseph combs his hair back as he steps from the bathroom, “well, mostly.”

“Yeah, those offers to expand your blog series for The Skeptical Inquirer don’t have…” he looks up from the binder and snaps it closed, “fuck, Joseph, you look incredible. I cannot believe no one took you up on your offer to go to prom.”

“Right back at you, big guy. And I only asked two people.”

“I, uh, technically I did get asked. Katie G was really hoping I’d go with her but, uh, but I wasn’t interested.” He tucks his hands into his pants pockets, “ready to get on the road?”

“You know my parents want to take pictures.”

“I, uh, I thought that only happened with your dates.”

“That may be the case for people whose families don’t document life moments with a borderline religious fervor.”

Luckily, mom reigns in dad after only fifteen minutes of photography, and they head towards Kepler community center with time to spare. The theme is 1950s (Joseph lobbied heavily for “out of this world” from his place as student body vice president but was out-voted), with fake records hanging from the ceiling and checkered clothes on the tables. Dinner is so bland Barclay insists some of it is cardboard.

They chat and dance with their friends, though they both retreat back to the table whenever a slow song comes on. Joseph cannot work out why Barclay isn’t asking people, and only accepts one of the dances someone else offers; he’s gorgeous in his thrift store suit, his brown eyes glittering with the same gentleness they always do, and Joseph can only imagine how nice it would feel to have his brown-sugar baritone murmur in his ear while they swayed. Barclay could have anyone he wanted. 

When the D.J announces the last slow dance of the evening, Joseph decides he’s done imagining. 

“Come on, big guy.” he holds out his hand, “we should at least get one slow dance at our senior prom. We won’t even be the only guys dancing together.”

Barclay swallows, “Okay.”

They find a spot among the swaying couples, Barclay draping his arms over Joseph's shoulders while Joseph wraps his around the Sylph’s waist. The music is loud enough he’s certain no one but him hears the purr rumbling through Barclay’s chest.

“Can I tell you something?” Barclay’s fingers move, and Joseph knows without looking that he’s fidgeting with his woven bracelet. Which means he’s nervous, “I, uh, there’s another reason I didn’t ask anyone to this. There was only one person I wanted as my date. And I, uh, I knew he’d be coming with me anyway.” He chuckles, “that’s weird, right?”

“No weirder than me not asking anyone because I only wanted to spend my prom with you.”

Barclay hesitantly tips his face down. Joseph tips his up to meet it, bringing their lips together for what must be both the shortest and sweetest kiss in the history of human civilization. He’s not about to risk his perfect moment being ruined by the chaperones. 

His friend rests their foreheads together, “You, uh, wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Yes, big guy, I do.”

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

Barclay’s going to have to break down and get some Crocs; his old sneakers are fucking murder on his feet now that he’s in the kitchen full time. 

He showers quick and drags his laptop onto the bed for his favorite night time ritual. 

“Hi everyone, welcome to part two of my investigation of Hull House. You can watch part one here. Tonight I’m going to be talking about how to take accurate EMF readings, then we’ll see if I can replicate the ones other investigators claim appear when in the master bedroom.” Joseph holds the device up to the camera; he’s in front of a ramshackle house, smiling excitedly. Enough of him is in frame that he can tell his boyfriend is wearing the “This is my ghost hunting sweatshirt” he bought him for his birthday.

He glances at the view count; 100,000 and it’s only been up twelve hours. He’s so fucked. If Joseph doesn’t take a junior year transfer from state college an hour away to one of the two prestigious schools that accepted him, he’s going to end up with some kind of Youtube or T.V deal to make more of his show. Then it won’t matter that they’ve been boyfriends for years. That they call each other almost every night, that Joseph spends nearly every minute of his breaks in Barclay’s company. Joseph’s going to leave him for bigger and better things. 

Barclay is so sure of this fact that he takes Mama up on her offer of a gap year, where he’ll travel and cook, see the country, maybe even look for lost Sylphs who might be his family. He’ll tuck his piece of the crystal into his pocket next to the shards of his heart.

When Joseph arrives back in Kepler a week later, the first thing he does is stop by the Lodge and kiss Barclay against the counter in the empty dining room until they’re gasping for air. 

“I missed you so much, big guy.” 

“Missed you too.” Barclay buries his face against his neck, inhaling the hints of shampoo and cologne that his brain recognizes as mine so he’ll have a chance of remembering them when this is all over. 

“I need to go see my parents, I promised we’d have lunch, but when you get off work tonight do you, um, want to go to IHOP?”

Oh god, that was where they had their first official date. Is Joseph going to break up with him there? He does like things to have some sense of symmetry.

“Sounds good, babe.”

It’s close to eleven p.m when he pulls into the parking lot, dimly colored lights dripping down the windshield. He steps out of the borrowed truck, scans the pavement for Joseph’s car but only finds a jeep and a VW van.

He leans back against the door, cursing the NRQZ for the millionth time, when the door of the van slides open. 

“Hi.” Joseph smiles as he steps out. 

“Hey.” Barclay hurries over to him, heart trying to burrow out of his chest and head for safer pastures, “since when do you drive a van?”

“Since I got the idea to take the show on the road. Or, you know, more on the road than just checking out paranormal stuff within a few hours of school.”

Barclay closes his eyes; he needs to be supportive, needs to not show the fact he’s tearing up. “Sounds cool.”

Fingers tenderly stroke his beard, “You know what’d make it cooler? If my boyfriend used his year off to come with me.”

His eyes fly open; Joseph beams up at him, takes his hands the same way he did all those years ago. 

“Come with me?”

Barclay tugs him into a kiss, dips him just to feel his laughter against his mouth (and because Joseph loves the reminder of how secretly strong his boyfriend is).

“Of course, babe.” He rights them, holding Joseph close enough to feel his heart beating beneath his ‘Roswell’ t-shirt, “fuck, I feel so silly I, I was sure you were gonna dump me.”

“Not a chance” a gentle kiss as Joseph murmurs, “I won’t ever abandon you, big guy. I promise.”

[deaththesyd]

A Swim Worth The Bruises

Finally, after months of following others and loving their content, I am ready to make my first contribution to this site with my own fanwork! (This is my excuse for anything weird about the formatting of my post.) This isn't my first time posting fanfiction however! I have an AO3 account under the same username as well, that has a shakily outlined story which this fic is part of.

This is my first post of hopefully many, prompted by Kisame week 2021's day 1 challenge, "Come into the water and I'll show you". @kisameweek-2021

I also want to say this was inspired by a post headcannoning that Kisame could draw sharks to him passively, kinda like the Zodiac members in Fruits Basket.

Summary:

“I just wonder what you do out there for so long.”

The look on her face was simply too cute to deny her curiosity. It was probably a bad idea, but knowing her, she would definitely enjoy the experience. He debated on the idea for a short moment, which piqued her interest further. Her pleading look ended the mental debate. “Come into the water and I’ll show you.”

The summer heat was quickly becoming unbearable. The early morning hadn’t been too bad, as the trio had been mostly shaded by the trees, but as the day progressed and the terrain turned to deadened grass and rock, the sun's beams were becoming a little more than an annoyance. Normally, Kisame would just trudge on, even at the risk of heat exhaustion, he prided himself on his ability to endure. With his companions though, that wasn’t an option. Itachi had been getting worse. He tried to hide it, and to his credit, he had hidden his worsening condition for years, but as their mutual trust strengthened and the sickness became harder to stifle, Kisame had taken notice of the muffled coughs and squinting glances. Their traveling had always been leisurely, but unless they were on a mission that was expected to be finished quickly, Kisame insisted on breaks. The younger man was both determined and stubborn, and this meant that without Kisame’s interference, he would have dropped dead from overexertion several times over. At the moment, said man was keeping pace with the taller man's strides, but his ever weary face was dampened by sweat, and his breath was coming out slightly harshened by exhaustion.

Looking down at his other side, he could see that their third companion was too, sweaty and tired and determined not to show it. Breathing laboured, she clutched the straps of her backpack as she shuffled along. Her steps were loud and crunched as she dragged her feet, no doubt wearing out the soles of her shoes. Healthy as she may be, she wasn’t accustomed to the heat and it wore on her as it did the two shinobi. Both needed a break, yet were firmly set on pushing themselves till they were forced to stop. He knew that he would have to be the one to make an excuse for them to rest, but he was having a hard time spotting a reasonable spot to recover. That was until the wind changed direction and he caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

The reason he hadn’t realized how close they were was because of the sloping, rocky cliffs that hid it from their view. As they drew nearer to the tall rocks Kisame could make out a seagull call and grinned. Itachi must have realized where they were as well, as he perked up slightly and gave the other man an approving look from the side of his eye. Both men changed their direction slightly and headed towards what they hoped would be a suitable rest stop. Turning to check on the woman following at his side, she appeared to not have noticed anything, focussed on her own thoughts. She only clued in when they were close enough to hear the waves lapping at the coast, that was when her eyes lit up with excitement. She looked first at Kisame, who gave her a sharp-toothed grin, then at Itachi, who simply gave a curt nod. Childlike glee had her tired feet bouncing along once again.

Climbing the rocky slopes was challenging, but when all three had clamored to the top, they were rewarded with the uninhibited breeze, and the sight of sparkling water reaching as far as the horizon. The sight was beautiful of course, but the promise of salty, cooling water had them quickly making their way down to the beach. The current position of the sun gave them a nice shaded area at the base of the cliffs to settle their things. Itachi unzipped his long Akatsuki cloak and used it to sit upon, leaning against the cold rock. Kisame’s cloak was laid on the sand next to Itachi’s, as well as his sword, Samehada, and the rest of his supplies. While he kicked off his shoes, his cloak was stolen by the third of their group as she lazily flopped to rest in the shade. Her wriggling attempts to find a comfortable position caused a muffled chuckle from Kisame as he tugged his shirt over his head. Finally finding a suitable arrangement lying on her stomach, arms crossed in front to cushion her head, legs splayed awkwardly, she turned to say something but seemed to lose track of what that thing may have been when she glanced at the expanse of muscle above her.

Her ogling was very clear, Kisame smirked, “You see something you like?” he asked.

Partially hidden by her arms was an impressed grin, and her eyes stayed right where they were as she simply replied, “Duh”. The complete lack of shame made him laugh as he decided to indulge her by giving a few flexing poses, to her absolute delight. Itachi, who was quite used to their casual flirting, ignored them and closed his eyes for a chance at a light nap.

Shuffling out of his pants and stooping to fold them with his shirt and lay them on a rock to keep them from getting sandy, he was watched unabashedly by the woman. He was used to this by now, she had never been the type to hide her attraction to him. Instead of her staring making him uncomfortable, it gave his ego a boost, made him feel as attractive as she told him he was. “Tell me how the water is when you get back,” she said, a little more quietly than her normal volume, trying to be more considerate of Itachi’s attempt at getting some shut-eye.

Raising a brow, Kisame looked at her, “You could come along and find out for yourself” he tempted, following her lead in lowering his voice slightly.

In a less objectifying way, she glanced down at his underwear and gave a light laugh, “I don’t know if I feel comfortable swimming in my underwear” she answered.

This made Kisame chuckle, “It’s not as though it’s something I haven’t seen before,” he argued. He glanced at Itachi and added, “and Itachi’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t dare to make a woman uncomfortable by gawking at her in a state of undress.” Itachi didn’t react other than continuing to ignore their chatter, but this was the clearest sign showing that he had no particular desire to ‘gawk’ as Kisame had mentioned. He glared humorously at her, “Unlike someone else I know.” She giggled but looked as though she was considering his offer, before settling her head down in her arms properly.

“Too tired to swim,” she mumbled into her arms, “Later.” She finished.

That was good enough for Kisame, the lapping of the waves against the shore finally drew him away from the shade and his tired companions. The scorching heat had been forgotten as he undressed in the shade, but the short distance to the water had reminded him why he had so badly wanted to reach the cool ocean before. Splashing water sprayed his ankles as he took a testing step into the clear water. The feeling was already refreshing, but as he waded further in, eventually reaching waist-deep before diving under completely, he felt the familiar calm of the ocean, of what he truly considered home. Opening his eyes he could see the sandy, seaweed-covered ground better than most with his specially developed eyes. Tiny fish swam away from his kicking legs and powerful arms, yet more kept swimming closer, curious as they were. His lung capacity was greater than most, but gills served as nothing more than decoration, and he was forced to come up for air after a few minutes of swimming along the seafloor. Breaking the surface, he let himself float on the gentle waves, basking in the sun for a short while, before taking a breath and submerging himself again. After all the time on land, he had begun to miss the weightlessness of the ocean. Sometimes he wished he was fully adapted for the salty sea waters, he felt as if he was a mistake on land, a fish out of water.

It seemed as though the body of water felt the same, as he spotted a black-tipped dorsal fin jutting out of the waves, heading directly for him. Kisame grinned a toothy grin, it had always been something of an uncontrollable talent for him to compel nearby sharks to gather around him. The reef shark wasn’t shy, it brushed against him, curiously drawn to his presence. Kisame carefully ran a hand along the length of its back as it moved past. It playfully flicked its tail, hitting him with a strength he would always admire. It circled him, enjoying the attention, bumping harshly into him. It appeared to be the bravest of its peers, as a few more gathered around him, their rowdiness didn’t make him nervous, instead, he enjoyed their rough company. The heat of the sun on his face and shoulders pushed him to once again dive into the deep blue. His new companions swam around him, curiously following as he dove deeper, giving him enough space to maneuver freely. Once he could seat himself on the sandy floor, he casually performed the signs for a basic water jutsu, creating a small whirlpool that caught the playful sharks and sent them spiraling quickly to the surface. Once the jutsu was released, they swam back, excitedly nudging him as they swarmed, the equivalent of a group of children surrounding an adult asking them “to do that again!”, and he indulged. When the pain in his chest was too much to ignore, he breached the surface of the waves to gulp greedy breaths of air.

By now his only company was not simply the blacktips, but they had been joined by a bulky and brutish bull shark that preferred to simply swim close, avoiding Kisame’s jetstreams and whirlpools. Lurking nearby in the slightly murky distance were a few hammerheads that were still hesitant to get too close. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been out in the deep, so he gave the bull a firm palm to the nose as a farewell and began the short distance back to shore. As much as Kisame yearned to belong fully to the sea, he couldn’t swim forever, and his companions waiting ashore wouldn’t be leaving without him.

Closer to the beach he could spot her walking in the shallows, still fully clothed, just cooling her legs. The sun wasn’t as high as before, and he was sure it had cooled down some by now, but standing in direct heat was most likely to still be less preferable than the shade. He wondered if she was waiting for his return. The beaming smile on her face when she noticed his approach made it clear that was exactly what she was doing, and Kisame couldn’t help but grin back in earnest. She waded further in, stepping carefully, avoiding the mushy seaweed and pointed stones till she was deep enough for the water to just miss the bottom of her shorts. He bridged the gap between them, getting close enough to speak without shouting. “Was napping with Itachi too boring for ya? Or did you just miss me?” he teased.

She gave a soft laugh, “Itachi’s not boring” she insisted. “I was just a little worried about you”.

Had he really been gone that long? Covering up the fact that he was flustered by her care for him, he reached a dripping hand to ruffle her hair in a teasing gesture, which she annoyedly huffed at, batting his hand away before running her own hands through to organize the dampened strands. “Worried about lil’ ol me?” he joked, “Did you think I was gobbled up by a giant sea monster? I thought you knew I was big and strong.” His forced grin returned to a normal one when she rolled her eyes at him.

“Of course not!” she replied exasperatedly, and then a bit more curiously, “I just wonder what you do out there for so long.”

The look on her face was simply too cute to deny her curiosity. It was probably a bad idea, but knowing her, she would definitely enjoy the experience. He debated on the idea for a short moment, which piqued her interest further. Her pleading look ended the mental debate. “Come into the water and I’ll show you.”

“But I’m already in the water” she teased, gesturing at the gentle rolls of the tide around her legs.

He rolled his eyes, unamused. “You don’t trust me?” he baited, and of course she took it.

“Of course I do!” She said frustratedly, followed by a dramatic sigh, “Just give me a moment to save my clothes, jeez I was just kidding.” Her obvious sincerity was just so refreshing to him, he couldn’t help but pick on her sometimes. Even when she was upset with him, she always made sure he knew how much she cared. He followed her, not even trying to hide the gloating grin he wore when she pouted over her shoulder at him.

The sun had shifted enough that the spot they had chosen before was now in direct sunlight instead of the shade, and Itachi had either never fallen asleep, or had awoken to the uncomfortable heat and had retreated further into the shadows to read instead. Despite what Kisame had said to her before about Itachi not looking at her undressing, he couldn’t help but keep watch on his young partner. Sure, he knew Itachi quite well, but for her comfort, and, admittedly, his own, he felt a bit protective. Folding her clothes and placing them next to Kisame’s on the now Sun-bathed rock. Faking confidence, she walked beside him, heading towards the water. Her body language was stiff, but she seemed determined to ignore how she flushed slightly at her inappropriate swim attire.

Reaching the water and wading far enough to conceal her form made her noticeably more relaxed. “So, what was soooo incredible that forced me to strip for you?” she joked, reminding him just why they were there.

Grinning down at her, he fell backward into the water and swam away facing her still, deciding a verbal response was not quite needed just yet. She huffed, but her curiosity made her follow his lead, swimming towards him, not quite managing to bite back the smile playing on her lips. They swam mostly in silence for a short while before he decided they had gone far enough from shore. She was attempting to hide how tired she was, but he knew that even with her determination she wouldn’t be able to keep above water for much longer. Reaching for her he arranged her comfortably in one arm, laughing off her protests. “Don’t worry about it Guppy, I don’t mind swimming for the both of us”, he assured before adding in a more serious tone, “and the water’s about to get a bit rougher than you can manage anyway”. This made her pout fade away into a more curious expression. She didn’t seem scared, but he felt her grip on his arm tighten in preparation for what was coming.

It took a moment, but when a bulky head brushed against his legs he heard her gasp. He felt worried then, that this had been a mistake, that she would freak out, but when he looked at her face, her look of wonder erased his doubts. Another shark bumped into them as it passed, a bit rougher than the last, but this just made her chuckle breathily as she watched it fade away into the deep. These blacktips were still young, only a few feet long, smaller than the ones from before, but as they started to get rougher as they grew more excited, Kisame gave them a few firm pushes on their snouts as a deterrent, but this only worked for a short while, as they once again circled the pair, brushing past them. Kisame felt one of her hands leave him to reach into the water to brush gently against them, careful to keep her hands clear of any teeth. Just as she would with a cat or a dog, she cooed as she ran her hand along the length of their backs, and giggled when one got too excited and snapped at the tail of another. Cute as it was to her, it was a sign to Kisame that he should put some distance between them and her before they got too nippy.

“I’m gonna need my hand back, so you might wanna hang on” he warned before letting go of her to flash a few hand signs that caused a pulse of water to flush the swarming reef sharks away. With the space he gave them, she adjusted her hold, while he readied himself for another jutsu. Like before, he formed a small whirlpool and sent it towards the sharks, sending them whizzing around in a flurry of current. Beside him his companion was in complete awe, watching the sharks regain their bearings as the jutsu faded. Confidently grinning, he completed the signs for another jutsu, this time, it was a geyser that sent the sharks up a couple of feet above the water, giving his companion a good look at the creatures she adored before they dove safely back down. He expected the starstruck look on her face, but he hadn’t expected it to be directed at him. He could feel his face flush as he performed his next jutsu.

-

They left when a couple of bigger sharks joined them, she looked disappointed, but she didn’t protest, something Kisame was thankful for. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and they still had some traveling to do before they could set up camp. Maybe some other time he could let her meet a white shark. When they reached the sandy shore and walked towards their clothes, he knew he had made the correct decision. It was easy for her to forget how tired she was when she was watching fish fly, but he could tell their swim had tired her out again. Still, she was uncontrollably grinning like a child, and her earlier embarrassment over her state of dress was forgotten as she asked “How do you do that? Do you summon them or something? That was so cool!”

Taking a subtle glance at Itachi, who was still reading in his spot in the shade, he passed her her clothes. “No, I didn’t summon them, although I can summon sharks. I’m not really sure if this is true for all in the Hoshigaki clan, but all of my family members have been able to draw sharks to them passively without summoning” he answered. She seemed fascinated as she stared up at him.

While struggling to put her clothes over top of her wet underwear and damp skin she continued “Does it work with all sharks? Are they always that friendly?” She hesitated before adding, “Has one ever hurt you?” She asked the last part concernedly.

“No, not really,” he assured, “I've had a few nips from some smaller ones, and a few bruises from the bigger ones, but they've never been aggressive towards me”. The look of relief that came across her face made him unconsciously relax as well.

“I’m glad they're friendly, even though they're a little rough when they play. It would probably be a problem whenever you went to the beach otherwise” she laughed. “Though,” she paused to consider a thought, “I guess if you drew them too close to a public beach you could easily terrorize the public by accident.”

The idea of him even going to a public beach was laughable to him, but the idea of him drawing a group of sharks to the shallows of a crowded beach was a dream he was now tempted to make a reality. He chuckled “Never thought of that, but I think that's a pretty quick way to get myself a private beach.”

Giggling and fixing her hair as best as she could, she waited as Kisame finished redressing before they gathered their belongings and joined Itachi. Without sparing them a glance he bookmarked his page and slipped the novel back into his pack. Kisame noted how far along in the story the younger man was and decided to make a bookshop one of their next stops. Adjusting his cloak, Itachi stood and acknowledged their presence, “Did you enjoy your swim with the sharks?” He asked, queuing the excited retelling of her experience. As they made their way over the rocky cliffs back to the road, she gushed about how cute the sharks had been, drawing a rare, faint smile on Itachi’s lips, something that Kisame after years of being around the man still wasn’t used to seeing. All three of them were still tired from their travels, but their short beach stop had reinvigorated their mood, and their comfortable chatter kept them entertained till they set up their camp and turned in for the night.

[junghoseokwife]

Merfolk in a Manhole 2

Merman! Yoongi, Merman! Seokjin, Merman! Jungkook, Merman! Jimin, Merman! Taehyung, Human! Namjoon, Human! Hoseok Human! Reader Summary: After getting kicked out of your apartment, you moved in with your parent close to the beach. Digesting as much salty air as you had, you became restless going to the beach to relax. A rather harsh wave smashed onto the beach bringing seaweeds a buttload of fishes and a hideous fish man with big bug eyes and webbed hands or was he a beautiful, sculpted tanned merman who needed help to find his friends? Paring: OT7 x reader Wordcount: 2.7k A/N: Sorry it took so long and I have been trying to get the hang of tumblr so please bear with me editing mistakes. Thank you for all the comments on the first chapter, I am never satisfied with my work so seeing you all like it makes me excited for more.

Your legs weren’t carrying you as fast as you wanted. You wanted to be as far away as possible. The financial stability you had been pining for had just been flushed down the drain and you were just so overwhelmed. You were never the most athletic of the bunch but today you could prove yourself wrong. The only sounds you could hear was the wind whipping against your body. You furiously tried to breathe, but the air was knocked out of you with every step you took. Your vision was collapsing on itself with the lack of oxygen that was entering your lungs. Your body shook violently as you round the corner of the street a little too late slamming your foot on the red and white traffic pole. The minor injury did not slow you down at all. You kept running the harsh pavement heating up under your foot, becoming a pain to move. Your name echoed through your head, your body jolting backwards slamming into a hard surface. You winced in pain as the adrenaline left your body, finally feeling the weight of your situation and the open wound on your leg .You watched the cars zoom past, too busy to care about the pedestrians waiting to cross; this foolish crusade of yours could have ended badly. The arm that had pulled you back tightened around your wrist. Your eyes scanned the road in front of you before looking up at the owner of the hand. “Hoseok” The drive was suffocating. Hoseok had not said anything after he bandaged your wounded leg and dragged you into his car. He tossed his now damage groceries, that he had dropped to chase you, into the trunk. Your anxiety peeking through as you nibbled at your fingernail. He looked through the rear view mirror letting out a disapproving sigh. “Stop that” He motioned for you to take your finger out of your mouth which you did reluctantly. He refocused on the road leaving you to your own devices once again. You decided to look out the window, small trees and dried grass was all you could see for miles. Crossing your arms you allowed the wind to blow your hair not minding the way it whipped your face. You had concluded Hoseok wasn’t carrying you home and you could not be happier, but a little knowledge on where you were going would put your mind at ease. You didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, but knowing Hoseok and you weren’t on good terms made you queasy so you did the only thing you knew would melt his heart. “Hoseok?” You whispered putting on the best puppy eyes you could “No” He deadpanned not even looking at you. You scoffed; leaning back into the seat “Rude” you whispered under your breath missing the way Hoseok had to bite his lips to contain his smile.

..........

“Wow!” Your voice was louder than you expected on the quiet beach. Hoseok had hauled your injured self out of the beach and dragged you onto the sand. You made a small snail trail that would be helpful if you got lost wondering the beach which wouldn’t be unlikely with how excited you were. You’ve never seen the ocean in your life; your parents never liked the salty air or the sound of the waves. They wanted to live in a wealthy area not ‘some fisherman’s village’ and you just never had time for recreational activities. The aquarium at work could not compare to the vast ocean and long beaches. You sat down, unable to walk anymore with your injured leg. The sand was warm under your skin, sighing contently; you looked at the water eyes reflecting the scorching sun that bounced of the ocean. Everything was serene Everything was beautiful The sand crunched under Hoseok’s weight, you didn’t pay attention to his persistent poking to busy soaking up the view that you might not see again in a while. You really should visit the beach more often. Hoseok was fed up with you ignoring him like he had done to you through the whole car ride. He spun the soda can, now full with condensation, trying to find the coldest area. He smiled devilishly as he placed it onto your skin. You quickly jolt back hissing in surprise, quickly slapping Hoseok on his arm before he had time to flee. He fell into fits of giggles when you grumbled, rubbing the your skin to heat it up. “Namjoon told me about what happened” He sobered up rather quickly opening the can and handing it to you. You swung the can into small circles, slushing around the soda in the can. You hummed as you took a sip, peeking over the can waiting for Hoseok to continue. He also seemed to be waiting for you to say something or at least to give a different reaction if the deer in headlights look on his face was anything to go by. You cracked a smile taking another sip before putting the can down. “Is that why you took me here then, to cheer me up?” “No. I wanted to see you in a swimsuit.” He leaned in a little causing his breath to tickle your face. The serious look on his face caused you to splutter a little. You made a disgusted face leaning back to put distance between both of you. Hoseok’s laughter sound like music to your ears. He returned to his former position, finally taking a sip from his own drink. Hoseok and you had developed a flirty relationship over the years; you both would either reciprocate or reject the other person advances. This type of friendship came out of nowhere but you had no problem with it. “You should move in with your parents. If you get kicked out I mean…” He rose from the ground dusting the sand off his clothes. “They’ve probably been waiting for you to go home for a while” He held out his hand for you to take pulling you off the beach. “I know” you whispered, picking the cans off the sand. “They’re just -”A sigh escaped your lips as stacked the cans ontop of each other following after your friend to the car. Your parents weren’t bad people they just weren’t ready to have children, and it showed. They always kept you at arm’s length, like you were an acquaintance. They would control your social circle deeming Hoseok not worthy to be your friend and that you should get married to Namjoon for connections to his family. “I know…” He smiled sadly “But it’s been years. They are old now. You can leave if it becomes too much.” He turned around taking the cans from you, resting them into the cup holder. You grunted deep in thought. What if he was right? Could they change? You looked back at the beach for the last time as the car started driving. You missed it already.

“Hoseok wait!!” He slowed down the car; you ignored the confusion all over his face as you popped the door open running far down the beach. You ignored the pain that surged through your body, probably reopening the wound on your leg. The sand clung to your feet like it was trying to stop you from where you were going, you stumbled a little before scooping the item in your hand. You turned around to the street giving Hoseok a thumbs up. Following the trail you made earlier in the day you clambered into the car closing the door. You held the item closer to your chest, contented.

..........

Packing was all you seemed to be doing nowadays. Your possessions seemed endless with the need to rest cutting in ever so often. You looked at your still bandaged leg frowning a bit. The leg had gotten infected when you underestimated the severity of the injury giving you a well overdue hospital visit. Hoseok refused to make you continue packing since you needed to ‘rest according to doctor instructions’. He was correct but your rest time prolonged your packing. You had the whole week to pack up and move out which you thought was more than enough time since you had the help of Namjoon and Hoseok, but they had been at work for majority of the week, so most of the work fell on your shoulders. Despite your lack of communication, you were thankful that your parents had paid for the damage to the apartment, saving Namjoon and your wallet from the burden of a lifetime. You decided to rest, wobbling over to your bed. You looked around your almost barren room spying the item you had picked up from the beach. It collected the sunlight in your room separating them in small rays illuminating small areas off the room. You weren’t sure if what you picked up was a seashell, it was shaped like one; if you put it close to your ears you could hear the sea but it looked like an aquamarine gem. It looked so fragile you didn’t dare to take it up after you accidentally dropped it earlier in the week. You have been thinking about making it into a necklace. Warmth spread around your chest whenever you looked at the seashell, you weren’t sure if it was a memory of your time at the ocean or because of how beautiful it looked just sitting on your bedside table. You taped the final box, bending backward to stretch your back. You let out a pleased groan when the muscle loosened. You looked at the clock, just in time you thought. The boxes were already lined up at the front of your apartment waiting for the moving truck. Namjoon had texted you, sorrowful that he couldn’t be there to help you move out. He was just so endearing you couldn’t be mad at him. You sat down on one of the boxes, checking the time. “Any minute now” You grumbled staring at the phone like it would cause time to speed up. When the sound of feet approached you, you quickly got up from the box to give the movers space to do their job. But the sound of your name caused you to look away from your phone. “Mom?” Her eyes were glassed over as she took in your form. You guess that happens when you haven’t seen your only child for years. She covered her mouth choking on her tears a little before turning to your father. They really aged gracefully. The fine lines and wrinkles on their face gave them a softer appearance than what you were used to. They looked like grandparents, kind and wise. You could imagine your mom baking cookies and your dad making a fool of himself trying to help her before she kicks him out of the kitchen. ‘Imagine’ “Mom” She teared up repeating what you had called her. “I’m so sorry, my daughter” Few words had to be spoken to know what that meant. How deep it cut you? You might never know, but the tears streaming down your face had said enough for your parents. The movers quickly stacked the boxes into the truck not sparing a second glance at you and your parents tear eyed and red faces, probably to not make you uncomfortable. After finalizing the move with you the men returned to the truck transporting everything to your new residence. Your father started off in the direction of their vehicle not saying anything to both you and your mom. Her watery smile struck you in your heart, she clasped her frail hands. “Let’s go home”

..........

“Mom!!” She placed a hand over heart still not used to the term of endearment. She wasn’t sure how she went through most of your life not liking the term. She hummed, still stirring the porridge she turned to look at you. You were clinging onto the door frame for dear life having woken up early to go to work. It would take an hour or two to reach but you didn’t mind. You ha adjusted nicely into your new home despite it being a couple days. Your parents had tried their best to make you feel welcomed, correcting their past mistakes. Asking about Hoseok and Namjoon ever so often, trying to integrate your friends into their lives.

“Have you seen my wetsuit?” Before your mother could answer, your father was at the door handing your wetsuit to you. He didn’t say anything as per usual, walking back to his chair on the front porch to overlook the sea. You folded the warm wetsuit placing it under your arm; he must’ve hanged it outside on the line for it to dry since you were too tired to do it last night.

“Thanks dad” You whispered. He grunted as a reply waving you off to get dressed.

Old age does change how someone perceives life. Your parents seemed to value a more peaceful, simple life. Unlike their younger selves who wanted money, business and connections. Now your mom went fishing with your father, she hummed songs as she planted flowers in the windowsills or baked for the children in the village a mile or so from the beach where you reside. The beach house was rather beautiful perched on a cliff, surrounded by shrubs and coconut trees, which mom always had use for. She would experiment making grater cake or coconut pudding allowing you to be the taste tester. Ideally you’d have wanted a father just as openly doting as your mother but this was fine. He took care of you in silence, behind the scenes, washing your wetsuit or suddenly not being hungry when only one portion of lobster was left. If you refused and told him to eat it he would leave the table and sit in his chair overlooking the ocean, forcing you to eat the last piece or it would go bad.

Placing all your belongings into a draw bag you pecked your mom on the cheek and your dad on the forehead before making your way to the bus stop. Your parents had insisted you use their car but your lack of driver’s license would make that impossible.

.........

You, Hoseok and Namjoon were the only ones at work. What irked you more was the lack of work you were getting. The tenseness in the air was palpable as you munched on the snacks you found in the fridge. Namjoon looked too sick to eat picking at his food ever so often. Hoseok was trying to sleep which remain unsuccessful. The lunchroom door opening startled all of you to varying degrees. Seeing your boss march through the door you pulled your hand from the fridge taking a cup of coconut pudding with you. Namjoon was alert while Hoseok sluggishly sat up, fatigue settling in his bones.

“You’re eating more food?” You bossed cocked an eyebrow in your direction. The question sounded normal; as eating before doing your job, which mostly involved swimming wasn’t the best idea. But you understood what he was insinuating, he ‘teased’ you alot. You shoved another spoon of pudding into your mouth to avoid confrontation. Seeing he wasn’t going to get a reaction, he cleared his throat deciding to talk about the matter at hand.

He placed a flyer on the table. One you had been seeing for a while now, on every surface they could fit.

A photoshopped picture of a mermaid sat at the forefront. Around the image were words saying this was the newest attraction for the aquarium. The aquarium wasn’t running low on funds so you didn’t know the need for a stunt like this. It didn’t matter to you, the more the merrier. You could ask them how they managed to hold their breaths so long or swim so gracefully.

“You and you” He pointed to both men in the room. “I need you to train them.”

“You” He pointed to me, seemingly taking in my current condition of being unable to swim he thought carefully about the task. “Reward them if they deserve it; punish them if they deserve it.

The already quiet room fell into a deafening silence.

“They’re arriving in a week or so, so be prepared.” He pulled his phone from his coat pocket, dialing someone before making his exit. Leaving all of you to rationalize what he had said, because mermaids were only mythological.

They didn’t exist.

[filthficdump]

Good Thing This Job Has Benefits.

AN: I wrote this in one day, I’ve developed a hyperfixation on The Walten Files, so you get to enjoy this absolute mess I’ve made.

You can also read it here on AO3. There’s no romance, it’s a gender neutral, nameless reader fict. There’s no death, because I am NOT about to write angst about a happy family :(

When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd.

The gravel under my tires crunched as I drove through the night, bopping and tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song, singing along. It was late, most likely near or after nine PM, but I wasn’t about to take my eyes off the road to check. That’s just asking for trouble.

But someone picked you from the bunch, one glance was all it took. Now it's much too late for me to take a second look.

New job, it’s been going great! I wouldn’t have thought I’d get to use my programming degree so soon, but I’m so happy I got this job. Sure, it’s for a kid’s burger joint, but there’s animatronics and other stuff, plus that finance minor rocketed me straight to an assistant manager position!

Oh, baby, give me one more chance, to show you that I love you. Won't you please let me, Back in your heart.

In the distance I could see a pair of headlights and slowed my car a bit and moved a bit to the side to provide them more room. These roads were narrow and I really didn’t think I wanted to get into a car crash and have to deal with that with what’s left of my savings and likely my first check.

Oh, darlin', I was blind to let you go (Let you go, baby) But now since I see you in his arms (I want you back)

The thought ‘That car looks like it’s moving really fast- too fast’ is the last thought in my head as the car got close, too close to stop the car or move away, there’s a ditch and trees on my side of the road. My hand hit the horn hard, blaring, but they served and-

CRASH!!!

Yes, I do now, I want you back. Ooh, ooh, baby, I want you back.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I want you back. Na, na, na, na.

When I come back to, I’m upside down, held up by my seat belt. Ho-ly-shit. I got into a fucking car crash.

Oh shit! I got into a car crash- The other car! I struggle to turn to look out the window and I see the other car against the guard rail. It’s hard to get a good look at the other car, seeing how I’m upside down and in the goddamn ditch, but I need to get out of the car.

I instinctually went for the pocket at the door, looking for my seatbelt cutter, but it had fallen out. Thanks, gravity. Thankfully, it’s on the roof of the car and I grabbed it before grabbing the handle of the door, pushing it open before I pressed my free arm against the roof of the car and-

“ FUCK! ” I yell, feeling the pain shooting up my arm and shoulder. Holy fuck, why did it hurt so bad?! We’re in the middle of the woods and I can’t remember the last home I passed and my car is upside down.

Either someone comes or I’ve got a long walk. I grit my teeth and cut the seat belt, falling head first into the ceiling and then out the door, tumbling until my butt hit grass. I flung the seatbelt cutter to the side and struggled up, using my door as support before I had to climb up the slippery slope of the ditch and onto the road.

My more useful arm held the other to my chest as I limped. Just about everything hurts. My chest, my shoulder, my leg, my face. Why did this have to happen? I was having such a good night, and now I’m in a wreck and about to give this jackass a piece of my mind. If he’s not dead.

I got closer to the car and looked inside. The man was unconscious, leaning against the steering wheel. I looked to the back instinctually, not expecting to see two terrified children! Oh god, wait- No, they’re alive. They’re looking at me.

I pulled open the driver door, still looking back at the kids, “Uh… Hey. Are you kids okay?” I asked, leaning down to look at them better. A boy and a girl, clearly siblings. They were sniffling and crying, but nodded, “Is this your dad?” I asked, pointing at the unconscious man. The car reeks of booze.

“N-No…” The boy sniffled, “He’s our uncle!”

“Okay, okay… Well, I’m gonna get us to help.” I said and went over to the passenger side, opening it up. The paint was scratched and the panels dented, but the car was still running. It would be shorter to keep going the way I came from, the city and a hospital is that way.

I reached over and wrapped my arm around the unconscious man’s chest, dragging him over into the passenger seat where there were beer bottles on the floor. Not even a seatbelt? He’s lucky he didn’t die.

I buckled him in and shut the door, walking back around to the driver’s seat before getting in and shutting the door. I tested my foot on the gas and hand on the wheel, my other arm resting in my lap.

Thank god the car still worked! I just started driving, the car feeling quite literally fucked as it went over the road, but it’s a working car!

It was perhaps ten or fifteen minutes down the road, “Um… So, what’s your guys’ names?” I asked, looking back at them through the crooked rear view mirror. They must have been so terrified. They were just in a car crash, and now their jackass drunk uncle was unconscious and a stranger was in the car with them.

“I’m Edd… She’s Molly…” Edd said, his sister was holding a grey bunny toy. Looked like one of those prize stuffed animals we keep at Bon’s Burgers prize counter, but it wasn’t blue or purple, and the restaurant hasn’t been opened yet.

I introduced myself and really focused on the road, “That’s a really cool bunny. It’s like the ones we have at my work.” I said, smiling, “Ever heard of Bon’s Burgers?”

The girl looked confused, “Y-Yes? Our dad works there.” She said. Oh no, were they my co-worker’s kids? Which co-worker?

“O-Oh? What’s your dad’s name?” I asked, glancing over at the man in the passenger seat. I couldn’t see him very well in the dark car, but I could hear his deep breathing and slight snoring.

“His name is Jack Walten. Our mom is Rosie!” Edd said, and for a moment I thought I was going to get into another accident. Jack… Walten…?

My boss's kids?!

“Ha-Ha, oh wow… Small work. I started working there. Today was my first day, actually…” I said, muttering a few swears under my breath, “I met Jack! Um… Do either of you know his phone number…? We’re gonna need it when we get to the hospital.”

The boy nods and I sighed- Wait, if these are Jack’s kids, then the man...

Another glance. We’re getting to the part of the road with street lights. I recognize those glasses. This was my other boss, wasn’t it? Please don’t say it is, I just crashed into my bosses’ car. Wait, no, he crashed into me! This wasn’t my fault!

The bastard is too drunk and irresponsible. He could have killed himself, the two kids, or even myself! For god sakes my car is in a ditch!

“Let’s just… Listen to some music, okay?” I offered and put on the radio, driving with my knee for the moment since my injured arm was starting to go numb. It better not be broken, I swear to god.

Once we got into the city I went straight to the hospital, parking in the emergency parking lot. “Okay, can you guys walk?” I asked, unbuckling my belt to look at both of them. They opened their doors and the girl winced.

“My ankle hurts!” She cried. Edd thankfully didn’t seem too injured, but he had a burn from the seat belt.

“Okay, okay. Hold on, I’ll carry you.” I said and got out. My leg felt like it was covered with biting fire ants, but I wasn’t about to leave her alone for them to just get a wheelchair.

I bent down and she reached up, one hand clutching the stuffed bunny as she wrapped her arm around my neck and I held her up on my hip, my only good arm holding her up, “Okay, okay, okay.” I mumbled softly and the boy was by my side, “Okay, grab my hand.” I said, offering my injured hand. I didn’t care that it hurt, I knew he was putting on a brave face.

He took my hand and I walked them both in. The tired nurse at the desk looked up at us and looked terrified before she quickly called for help, “We have another in the car. The black one out front.” I said, “We were just in a car crash.”

“Oh my god!” She said as more nurses came, one that had a gurney and I put the girl up on top and the boy got to sit in a wheelchair, “Are you their mother?” The nurse asked as one of the other nurses tried to sit me down in a wheelchair as well.

“No… I’m the one their uncle crashed into.” I said and reluctantly sat down. I didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating, it must explain all of the wandering thoughts that clouded my mind.

I was brought to the same room that they were, but curtains separated me from them. Doctors and nurses came shortly and my vision grew quite spotty. Information was exchanged, my nearest relative was an hour away and it was late, so it’s a toss up if they got the call.

One of the children gave a nurse the phone number to their home, and already my head was coming up with the worst thoughts of what would happen. Will I be fired? Is he going to sue me? I’m probably just as guilty as Felix in his eyes.

Speaking of Felix, if Jack doesn’t fire me he will! If he doesn’t get arrested.

“Pardon me…” One of the nurses said, drawing my attention, “We need to cut off your shirt. Your arm is likely dislocated and we don’t want to move it.”

Oh god, if they cut off this shirt I’ll have to pay 25 dollars to get another. “Um… No, it’s my only uniform.” I said and with my one good arm undid the buttons before another nurse pulled from my uninjured side and I pulled it the rest of the way off, letting the nurse take it.

Unfortunately, pants and shoes too, but I got a nifty gown and now they could resume looking me over. What I didn’t appreciate was them having to pop my arm back into place, that was awful.

They had to bandage up my cuts and test me for brain damage (just a mild concussion) and put my arm in a sling, my ribs were also likely fractured. Molly's ankle had to be splinted as it was strained and Edd had a slight concussion.

At least I got to change back into a spare set of plain clothes that they happened to have, but that required a nurse's help with the newly relocated arm that ached and hurt when I moved it.

Felix hadn’t been brought to our same room, and an officer came to question us. I told the whole story, and just to be sure they breathalyzed me. Unlike a certain driver I blew a 0.0 BAC.

Our stories matched up and they pulled back the curtains to allow us to see each other and talk. They were still shaken up, but they were told their mom and dad were on their way a while ago. Great. I’m just glad their parents were still awake and were on their way, even though I knew there was going to be so much to talk about and I was going to have to justify myself to both of the worried and likely angry parents.

I talked to them about school and what they liked to do, how they just came from a school party. Molly was excited to have her friends sign her ‘cast’ and Edd thought he would be the coolest kid in school for surviving a car crash.

I remembered being their age and smiled and nodded along as I was put on a low grade painkiller and we were given water to drink. After about 20 minutes I could hear a commotion and a man and two women calling out for the two children. They called back and moments later a frazzled looking man, my boss Jack Walten and his wife Rosemary, along with his worried looking teen daughter Sophie rounded the corner of the doorway and in that moment I had never seen anyone look so relieved.

The reunion was toothrottingly sweet, all five hugging and just overjoyed to see their children okay and alive. I couldn’t help but smile, even though it felt like I was intruding on something that should have been private.

Edd brought me up and Molly joined in, the both of them talking at once and practically over each other as they tried to explain everything that happened. I’m not sure if their parents or sister fully understood, but what was grasped was that Felix crashed into me, and I drove them to the hospital.

Both Jack and Rosemary looked at me and I awkwardly waved. He looked confused, like he recognized me but unsure from where, “Hi, boss…” I said, introducing myself for the second time that day.

We only met for ten minutes earlier today, but his eyes widened in surprise. “You… Felix crashed into you?” He asked, “And you got my children to safety?”

I timidly nodded. Please, please don’t be angry.

The officer presented himself and cleared his throat, “Your employee here was driving home when Mr. Kraken, who was intoxicated, who was driving the other way crashed into them and knocked them from the road into the ditch while Mr. Kraken’s car hit the guardrail.” The officer explained.

“I um… I was upside down but cut myself free and climbed out to check on the other car, and I saw that he had Molly and Edd in the back and my car wasn’t about to get out of the ditch any time soon so I just… drove them here.” I finished, punctuating the end by nervously drinking the rest of my water.

“He was drunk?!” Rosemary said, stunned and clearly angry. The officer nodded while Jack’s fist clenched, clearly enraged. I would be just as shocked and angry if I had children and they were put in danger by someone who’s supposed to be their friend.

I should probably be just as angry that some drunk asshole- who is my boss no less- nearly killed me, but I was just glad that we were all still alive. Sure, my car is fucked, and so is about 50% of my body (exaggerating), but my bones will heal and I’ll repair my car or get a new one. I mean, that’s what insurance is for, right?

What I didn’t expect out of all of this was to be hugged by Rosemary. Oh yeah, it fucking hurt but I just kept that to myself. She sniffled and I awkwardly patted her back with my one good arm, “Thank you for keeping them safe…” She said quietly.

“I-It was nothing, really.” I said timidly, “I wasn’t about to leave them alone.”

“Nothing? You saved them!” Jack said and shook my hand when his wife pulled away to dry her eyes and hug all of her children once more, “I can’t ever thank you enough for what you did for my family. I… I couldn’t stomach the thought if…”

I gave him a reassuring squeeze of his hand and he clasped my good shoulder, “It sucks that this happened in the first place but… I’m just glad everyone is alive…” I said, giving a nervous smile.

“Is he alive?” Jack asked, looking at the officer as he let go of my hand and shoulder.

“Yes, he is. We will be pressing charges, he blew above a 0.3.” The officer responded and Jack nodded, seemingly ‘pleased’ with that.

After exchanging contact information and addresses with both Jack and myself he departed, leaving the family to resume their reunion. I smiled awkwardly and looked away awkwardly, scratching my neck.

I haven’t heard anything about my relative having called or if they were coming, so I could only assume I wouldn’t be getting a ride from them. Or a ride tonight at all.

For a moment I was lost in my head, feeling a bit too sorry for myself. I moved all the way out here because there were jobs and rent was cheap, but I was so far from my family and friends, and even though I helped their children would I even still have a job?

I refilled my paper cup and sipped on the cold water before a nurse came to let us all know that after a final check over, we would be set to go home in an hour or so. Great, I better start making calls or something.

For a moment I didn’t realize that Rosemary was talking to me. I looked up as she repeated my name, “U-Uh yeah?” I said, looking a little confused.

“Do you have a ride home…?” She asked. Ah, oh no. I’m not about to ask these clearly exhausted parents for a ride home, I could only imagine they just wanted to get home and be with their children.

“No… But I can get one, don’t worry.” I said, but Jack shook his head.

“Nonsense, it’s the least we could do. You look like you need some sleep.” He said, making me chuckle.

“So do you two.” I laugh, “Really, you don’t need to. I’ll get a hold of someone eventually. Really!”

Rosemary shook her head, “No way, sincerely it wouldn’t be a bother. Where do you live?” She asked, and I reluctantly gave my street address, “Oh, you live just a bit down the way from us!” She said. Looks like it’s out of the question.

The doctor came and checked us all over one last time before giving me a prescription slip for painkillers for the next week and a half and we were permitted to leave. Jack carried his daughter while Rosemary held her son’s hand and I followed behind them.

I won’t lie, I’m pretty damn nervous. Checking out of the hospital took a little while as well, but soon we were free to go. That will be a fun bill to pay.

Rosemary sat in the back with the children, not giving me any chance to protest as I had to sit in the passenger seat next to Jack. Edd and Molly were clearly tired, cuddling up to their mother as Jack turned on the car and carefully pulled out.

It was incredibly clear that Jack was very, very focused on the road, not wanting to get his family into a car accident as well. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, but I was just so glad that this didn’t end in tears.

The car ride to their home was mostly quiet, only some light conversation made. Jack was interested to know how I enjoyed my first day on the job.

“It’s been exciting…” I chuckled and he laughed softly, but I wasn’t all that comfortable or any less nervous. I did just want to get home and rest, because tomorrow morning I likely had to call my insurance and figure out how I’ll be getting to and from work.

If there even was a job anymore. With one half of the business owners likely going to jail I didn’t know if Jack would take on the massive workload, or if he would even want me to work there anymore.

“We’re here.” Jack let them know.

We pulled into their driveway and Sophie was the first to get out to help her mother take her siblings into the house with Jack telling them that he would be right back after he dropped me off.

“Have a good night, everyone…” I smiled and waved at them. Edd and Molly sleepily waved back before they went inside and shut the door.

It was surreal, everything that had happened. And now I was alone with my boss as he started to drive towards my home.

“I can’t believe he happened to crash into you…” Jack said and I nodded silently, “I could never thank you enough… You… I just can’t believe…” His voice cracked and he brought his hand up to wipe his cheeks.

“I’m sorry this happened… I’m just glad your children are safe…” I said, fidgeting with a stray string on my pants, unsure if I should pat his back or would that be too far? “You have a beautiful family, Jack, I’m sorry that you’re having to drive me home…”

“Don’t be sorry, you drove them to the hospital with a dislocated arm! I couldn’t imagine what it was like, being run off the road and into a ditch, upside down!” He said and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“To be honest, it was like a dream. One moment he’s coming towards me and I move aside since the road is pretty narrow, the next I see that he’s a bit too close over to my side and then finally I’m upside down in the ditch.”

“And- It was you! Who would have thought that my new employee would be the one to get hit.” He said, smiling softly, “Oh and don’t you worry about rushing back into work! I will be paying you your wages, you helped my family out, I’m going to help you too.”

“You-You really don’t have to do that. I’ll be okay!” I insisted, but he shook his head. He wasn’t having it.

“I want to, you don’t understand how stressed and worried we were…” He said, “I called Felix over 20 times, I thought the worst had happened and I… I started to lose hope I would ever see them again.”

“He’s going to jail for this, no doubt…” I said, “Will you be taking over the business…?”

“Yeah… It’ll be a lot but I think I have someone who I can rely on to help.” He said, smiling.

“Oh, good! I’ll try my best to pull my own weight.” I said, smiling, “I know you guys took a big risk hiring me fresh out of college but-”

“I- It’s you!” He said, “I know you just started, but your finance and programming degree is going to be a massive help!”

“Wha…?” I gaped at him. Me? Did I get a promotion? “I would be honored to help!” I smiled. I think I just became a manager or something, I’ll figure that out when I go back to work.

I pointed out my house and he pulled up in front, “I won’t let you down, I promise.” I gleamed and he smiled, holding his hand out for me to shake.

I did, not expecting him to pull me in for a hug. Looks like this was a really huggy family, it was pretty similar to my own family. “I know you won’t. Would you mind if you gave me your number so we can speak tomorrow? I imagine Edward and Molly would like to hear that you’re okay.” He asked.

I nodded and waited until he got a pen and a small black book to put my number in it before I opened the door, “I’ll speak to you soon, then… Have a good night, boss.” I smiled and he laughed.

“Just call me Jack. Really.” He said, “Have a good night.” I nodded and got out before shutting the door, walking to the front door. I grabbed the spare key from the mail box and gave one last wave after I unlocked the door. He flicked his high beams at me before he started to back up and I opened the door, shutting and locking it behind me.

It’s been a really strange night.

[midnightseonghwa]

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 | 𝐩.𝐬𝐡

𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟐

✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Grim Reaper!Seonghwa x Living!Reader  

✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Grim Reaper, Halloween Au  

✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k+

✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: There’s nothing after death, or so they say. However, Seonghwa knows best and he’s determined to make you find out. 

Alternatively: “Married couples always promise to love each other till death, but darling, I’ll show you love exists after death as well.”  

✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of death, souls, grave yards, cemetaries, harassement/bullying and the afterlife. Seonghwa is holding a scythe to reap souls. There is some religious stuff as well. The people around you are really weird. You’re a living, breathing human at the beginning but not really at the end. The reader (you) are really weird. Some kissy kissy as well 

✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited 

✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction and that I don’t actually see ateez in this way. The religious stuff has not been put in to offend anyone. It is solely for fictional purposes. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! Also, this is inspired by OneUs’ song ‘To Be or Not To Be’. I am obsessed with their entire ‘Lived’ album...it’s a bit of a problem hehe  

✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy​

✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here 

Seonghwa watched you trace the crude grey stone with your fingers in a sense of curiosity.

You were a young child, new to the world but there was something extremely odd about you. Seonghwa had seen you a few times already, running around the cemetery as if it was the playground, playing hide and seek with the ravens that would sometimes whisper beautifully morbid things to you.

Tracing the sharp blade of his scythe, the male sighed and lowered his black hood when a series of footsteps crunched through the dead grass of the burial grounds.

"A mere lost soul," Seonghwa said as the groundskeeper of the cemetery came to a standstill next to him.

"A bit young to be a lost," he said but Seonghwa shook his head and ran his bony fingers over the staff of his scythe.

"Young souls are often the easiest to lose. But they are also the easiest to guide," he said and gave the groundskeeper a side-eyed glance.

"Are you going to guide her?" The groundskeeper asked in a quiet voice and Seonghwa inhaled deeply before covering his face with his hood again and disappearing into the shadows.

"Only if I must."

The next place Seonghwa saw you was at the foot of your grandmother's bed a few years later, crying hysterically.

Black ink flowed down your cheeks, leaving scorching burns in their wake but to any normal human, it would look like the most heart-broken tears were being shed.  

Next to Seonghwa, your grandmother pressed a hand to her heart. Although pain was not felt by deceased souls, the phantom pains of her only grandchild's cries were enough to provoke a physical feeling.

Both your grandmother and Seonghwa stayed, observing everything until it was only you left in the room.

Seonghwa approached you and wiped the inky streaks off your face with a gentle bony finger.

"Do not cry, child," he said and offered you a single black raven feather, smooth as the blade of his scythe.

"Angel," the word left your small lips as you marvelled at the man in front of you. A graceful being in front of a clumsy child like you, your brain could only muster the closest celestial being.

"No, child. But you can most definitely think of me as your guardian angel."

And with that, Seonghwa left you with an eternal promise and the mark of the grim reaper on your soul.

"So much for a guardian angel," you said as you twirled the black feather between your fingers. Now in your early adult ages, the feather had remained the only constant in your life.

Encased between thin glass sheets, the black feather gleamed under the sunlight as you leaned against one of the headstones in the cemetery.

"(Yn)? Here again?" The groundskeeper asked as he strolled by with his tools, his black cat in tow.

"Yes sir," you smiled and closed your eyes, letting your head fall onto the grey stone that was basking in the sunlight.

"I was going to wash the stones today but it seems I'll have to wait," he said and you smiled at the older man.

"Thank you, sir. You know I don't have anyone else but you."

The groundskeeper gave you a small wave before continuing on his way.

Sighing and tucking the black feather back into your pocket, you plucked at the yellow grass that always seemed to surround you wherever you went.

It was true that the groundskeeper was the only one you had. After the encounter with your "guardian angel", things had gone immensely wrong for you.

You started having nightmares and hearing voices that always called for help. The murmurs and cried pains of the damned that always seemed to haunt you on the darkest of nights. This eventually led to your family declaring you sick and moving away to a bigger city, leaving you behind.

You were harassed horribly during school which made you drop out and just stay inside your old house until midnight hit the skies. The old ladies of the town would gossip about your creepy aura and flash you with crosses and holy water while you would walk down the street.

Sometimes, just to mess with them you would hiss and try to cover yourself from the holy objects and inwardly laugh as the women scurried away to protect their children and husbands. On other days you would hide under the black hood of your jacket and ignore all the comments about being a disgrace to God and whatnot.

To say that your town was an orthodox one was an understatement.

But today was one of those rare nights where the voices didn't seem to bother you as much. The people of the town had been ignorant towards you and it was a blessing through and through. Lying in your deceased grandmother's room, you stared at the arcane carvings in her ceiling. Your grandmother always believed in the afterlife and that death was not as bad as people put it to be. It was always just a change of worlds but never a permanent one.

Your hand reached out to trace one of the gold lines in the air. You had spent your entire childhood memorising them as your grandmother would tell you stories of the world beyond but now, they seemed foreign to you, almost dead and lifeless.

"I remember seeing you here when you were only a little child," a smooth voice flittered across the cold room as you jerked awake and stood up to find the source of the voice.

"Even as a child, you were always so mysterious. I never expected you would grow up to be so beautiful," the voice sounded again and Seonghwa emerged from the shadows, bony fingers clutching his scythe.

He leaned down to your level and traced your jawline. His finger was chillingly cold and wasn't soft as skin would normally feel.

Silence blanketed the room as you shrank under his cold stare.

"Am I finally going to die?"

Admittedly, the question was stupid but voicing it lifted some weight off your chest.

"Why would you die?" Seonghwa quipped an eyebrow at you, a slow smirk making its way onto his face.

"You look like a grim reaper," you whispered and fidgeted under the tall male's gaze.

Seonghwa laughed, it was chilling in its nature and froze your bones.

"That's because I am."

Regardless of his cold stare and voice, his tone was nonchalant and careless, as if admitting to being the grim reaper wasn't the biggest thing in the world.

"Oh..." you trailed off, not quite sure how to react to that piece of information.

"What do you want with me?"

"That's..." Seonghwa sighed and leaned against his scythe with a bored expression.

"A good question," he said and furrowed his eyebrows.

"If you don't have any specific requests then please leave," you said and trudged to the bedroom door, opening it wide and letting the cold wind whistle through the room.

"Actually, I wanted to take you with me," Seonghwa said and leaned his fingers out to touch your hair. He twisted them around his fingers and smiled. It was a sweet smile, one filled with love and adoration, something you had not experienced from any human before.

But lucky for you, Seonghwa was not human.

"Take me where?" You asked and brought your hand up to curl your fingers around his wrist. His skin was strikingly pale against yours and while Seonghwa could feel the low thrum of your pulse, you couldn't feel a thing.

"To the spirit world of course," he said and booped your nose lightly in a childish manner.

For a grim reaper, he sure was soft with his movements.

"What if I don't want to go," you whispered and dropped your hand from around his wrist. Seonghwa's unbeating heart dropped a little at the lack of physical contact as he too uncurled your hair from around his fingers and then caressed your head gently.

"I suppose that's fair," he said but one look at your face and he knew you were just being cautious of stranger danger.

"Listen," he started and leaned down, dangerously close to your lips.

"Wha-what are you doing?" You asked and leaned your face away from his.

"Just let me show you," he said and leaned closer to you.

Hesitantly, you met his face halfway and pressed your lips to his.

If only your family could see you now, they would bury you ten feet underground.

His bony fingers let go of his scythe which vanished into thin air as he pulled your waist closer to his.

His lips were cold and yours felt numb to his touch. It was an insensitive feeling but as Seonghwa exhaled into your mouth, you felt a wisp of odd smoke travel past your lips.

It looked like unfurling ink in water as the wisps passed from his mouth to yours.

Stilling in his arms, your vision blurred and Seonghwa's face pixelated before it dissolved into the same black wisps of smoke and you found yourself as a child sitting in the living room with your family.

"I'm afraid (Y/n)'s brain is not developing properly," A voice rang in your ears as you watched little you play with blocks and your parents conversing with a man in a white coat.

"Oh, nonsense. (Y/n) is doing just fine," your grandmother butt in and ushered the man outside, your parents giving her a glare.

A smile made its way onto your lips as you watched the scene in front of you. Your grandmother always did have her way with you in the best ways possible.

"Mother, you don't understand. (Y/n)'s not normal," you heard your father coax but your grandmother just shushed him and handed you a cookie, which you gladly accepted before going back to play with your blocks.

You reached your hands out to touch your grandmother's delicate face but your vision distorted again and merged into you sitting at the cemetery while you were younger.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw a figure talking to the groundskeeper while looking at you. The figure was clad in a long black cloak and you only caught a glimpse of his glimmering scythe before he disappeared into the shadows.

The ink once again unfurled and revealed to you getting harassed in school. The girls pulling your hair as you walked past them in the corridor while calling you names and the boys tearing your books apart and beating you up in the school's basement.

You cried watching everything unwind. These were the memories you had kept suppressed for so long but seeing them again had just opened up unnecessary scars in your heart.

"(Y/n)," a bony hand reached out for you and brought you back to reality as Seonghwa's fingers wiped at the tears that were streaming down your face.

"Wh-wha-what was that?" You asked and touched your face, fingers pulling away to reveal obsidian ink staining your fingers.

"Why...what...why are my tears black?"

"What have you done?" You demanded with a bite in your voice this time.

Seonghwa sighed and brushed your hair out of your brush before wrapping you in a blanket.

"I simply showed you everything you've been through in the mortal world."

His words rang in your ear with high pitched noise, like a shrill cacophonic note being hit on the violin again and again.

"(Y/n)," Seonghwa said and leaned down to your level again.

"It doesn't have to be like this. How can you keep living in this pain?"

"Who said I've been living in pain?" You retorted and pushed your pointer finger into his chest that was covered with black robes.

"My darling, I've been observing you for so long and the pain you feel could bring some of the most tortured souls to their knees."

You gulped, the air not quite flowing down your throat properly. Your body felt constricted as if it was trapped in the physical peel you call your body.

"Let me show you," Seonghwa whispered and snapped his fingers.

The air around you changed and it was no longer cold. it was no longer filled with hate and bitterness but instead, there was a warmth. A warmth that seeped into your bones almost as if it was a mother's hug. Your mother had never hugged you like this, it brought tears into your eyes. As if it had encased you in its warm arms, refusing to let go.

Your core, the very centre of your being felt whole again and every little touch was like a loving caress instead of sharp recoil.

But the moment was a fleeting one. Gone almost as soon as you had touched it, crumbled to dust right in front of your very eyes.

"What was that?" Your voice was soft and deep down, your held hope. You wanted that feeling to be your home forever. Somewhere you could finally be everything you've ever wanted to be. If Seonghwa was the key to that, you were willing to take that chance.

"Just a mere glimpse of what your life could be with me. Imagine everything I could give you, how free would you be," he said and you found yourself wondering exactly that.

What could Seonghwa give you, what could he offer and how free would you feel?

Freer that anything you ever felt on Earth, that was for sure.

"What do you say, my darling?" Seonghwa had his bony hand stretched towards your face. He gently caressed your cheek with one finger and you realised how menial everything was in compared to this. It was yours for the taking, everything he could ever offer was written in the hand of his ivory white hand and all you have to do was feed from it.

"Is it better to be alive or not to be? The question is yours," he said and you watched as the scythe was back in his hand.

"Where are you going?" You said and stood up from where you were previously sitting.

"Well, my darling, there's only one grim reaper and millions of souls to guide," he said and approached you closely.

"When you need me, call me by my name and I'll be there, always in the shadows but I'll be there."

"What am I supposed to call? Reaper?" You scoffed and turned away from him. How could you give someone the disease only to give them the cure as well?

"Call me Seonghwa," he said and disappeared with a cold whistle, as sharp as the blade he always carried.

Your every day after that was filled with constant itching to escape. The voices never left you alone and would only get amplified in Seonghwa's absence.

On the rare nights he did visit you, you would sit around the tombstones in the cemetery. He would tell you stories of all the souls he has guided into the spirit world and sometimes, the names he would tell you about would be in the very cemetery you two would spend time in.

The ravens would always squawk at your presence but you knew exactly how much they appreciated your company during the deadly hour.

You had come to know Seonghwa a great deal. His entire being was now an open book to you and every detail was like a word etched onto his pale skin that was the page. He would often shower you with ghostly kisses and you always found yourself wanting more.

"Just concentrate," his voice sounded behind you as you closed your eyes and narrowed all your energy onto the spirits he was talking about.

"You're special. Made for this, made for me. You can do it," he said and coaxed you further with a loving nudge.

"Seonghwa...I can't-" and the words got stuck in your throat as a wisp stroked your side and curled around your wrist.

"What...Seonghwa...what?" You stuttered and looked helplessly at the reaper.

"Just relax," he said cooly and you snorted at his comment.

"Yeah...relax," you said and shook your arm, trying to get the wisp off you.

"It's a soul, (Y/n). A lost one, just like yours," he said and stretched his hand, attracting the wisp towards it. You watched stoically as the white smoke uncurled and floated towards Seonghwa who sent it towards the sky in a hushed whisper.

"It's gone," he said and you nodded before sinking to the yellow grass under you.

"Seonghwa-" you started but when you looked up, he was gone with only the moon glimmering as bright as his blade looking down at you.

It was a horrible feeling to admit that you had gotten shamefully attached to Seonghwa. You found yourself thinking about him even when you were lying in bed, begging for sleep to take you without any nightmares.

Sitting up in your bed, the covers bunched around your midriff, you silently called his name.

"Seonghwa."

It was an almost non-existent whisper. Something that couldn't even be heard to your own ears but you had felt your lips move which was why you were sure of the letters tumbling from your lips.

"My darling, you finally learned how to use my name," his voice sounded and you jumped in your skin at the amount of soft malice in his voice. You wanted to bask in it.

"I want it," you voiced and he lowered his hood while quipping his eyebrow at you.

"What do you want?"

You inhaled deeply and leaned into Seonghwa.

"I want to be with you?"

Seonghwa laughed a musical laugh that was still cold in nature, the icicles pressing into your body.

"You've chosen not to be," he said and nodded moving even closer to you, almost pressing your body into his.

"Not to be what?" You asked and Seonghwa smirked the most deadly smirk you had ever seen adorn his sharp features.

"Not to be alive."

His final words made him press his lips to yours. This time, it was a liberating feeling as the black wisps climbed your body, tangling around your limbs and then finally your throat.

It was strangling all the life out of you but as Seonghwa petted and soothe your hair, you felt yourself feeling a tad bit better.

You lost yourself with one last word hanging from your lips, "Seonghwa."

The air was colder when you awoke. Two feet on the ground but they weren't yours.

Gasping, you stumbled backwards as you saw your dead body lying limp on the floor.

"They'll call it a miracle," Seonghwa said and kissed your hand that had turned a pale white to resemble his. There was no pulse this time and the place that held your beating heart was glaringly silent.

"How did you...what did you-" Seonghwa stopped you with a careless wave of his scythe.

"You don't have to know," he said as you both made your way to the cemetery.

"(Y/n)," the groundskeeper said and gave you a slight mocking bow.

"It's great to see you," he said and you laughed a hearty laugh, one that liberated your entire soul.

"I'm going to miss you, sir," you said but the groundskeeper shook his head with a slight chuckle.

"Nonsense, child. As long as you're with the reaper, you'll always see me."

Seonghwa grabbed your hand and led you into the shade.

"Are you ready?" He asked and you nodded enthusiastically.

Sharing one last kiss, you stepped into the shadows, disappearing forever.

"They got my birthday wrong," you complained to Seonghwa who just laughed and traced the headstone with his hand.

"Do you really care?" He asked and you whined a little before laughing.

"Not really...but they make me look older than I actually am!"

"It's alright, my darling. They never cared anyways."

And that was something you could agree on. They never did care. All they did was bury you ten feet under the ground and mutter false prayers of love before dispersing back to their lives that didn't contain a sick, now dead child.

When you were in high school, you had read Shakespeare's play, Hamlet. It was there you had learned the phrase 'To be or not to be, that is the question'.

It truly was the question, your question. But your grandmother always told you, death was never permanent, only a change of worlds so your answer to the question would always be ‘not to be’.

Not to be alive but to be by Seonghwa's side.

[fnf-brain-rot]

back in the day

Boyfriend held onto his microphone with a strong grip, staring down at the dulled, black surface that triggered memories in his mind. this wasn't the mic he used in his everyday quests of rap battling, no. this was, what he used to call, his battle mic. It was a pretty lame name, but now it holds loads of sentimental value.

Back when he and Pico were dating, yes he dated in his middle school, his parents couldn't tell him he wasn't allowed to, he would often hang out with his friends, Nene and Darnell. He actually enjoyed Pico's friends a lot. Nene helped get him in touch with his feminine side, and Darnell would give him guys talk about things Pico hated talking about. Being together with them had its downsides of course. he was occasionally dragged into their hijinks, which would get him pretty beat up. He and Pico even argued over it. Boyfriend didn't mind, he thought it was cool in all honesty, but Pico didn't want him getting hurt anymore, and his parents might start noticing the cuts and bruises. It gave Boyfriend a bright idea.

________________________________________________________________________________

"Mom! I'm heading out!"

"Okay sweetie! Be back BEFORE ten, okay?"

Bee rolled his eyes, then closed the front door of his home behind him. He had a bright idea. A dangerous one, but it was totally smart. He skated his way down to the lesser developed area of Newgrounds City, which already put him in a bit of danger. He was the brightest thing there. Stopping near an old, rusty bus drop off, he took out his phone. Maybe he should tell the others he was there, just in case anything went wrong. He stopped himself though. Nene would panic and tell Darnell and Pico. Darnell would doubt the idea and tell Pico. And Pico... He would come down there himself just to chew him out.

he shook his head to clear his thoughts, then pocketed his phone. He was already there. there was no point in going back.

He had a couple hours to put his new skills to the test. Did he start training only a week ago? yes. Was he impatient to prove himself? Very much so. Was this a good idea? Hm.. probably not, but he'll get nowhere if he doesn't believe in himself! 

He set down his board, then began his walk down to the little ice cream parlor a couple minutes from him. He remembered Pico saying something about it swarming with Uberkids. This was his ticket. He held his microphone tight in his sweaty palms. it seemed like the parlor was the only thing using power around here. All the other buildings were either dark, devoid of life, or destroyed, as if fires have been set and holes have been blasted through the walls. 

He stepped foot at the door, already feeling the refreshing cool air brushing against him from the other side of the glass. He swallowed hard, then pulled the door open. He couldn't see anyone behind the counter. That alone made him nervous. "H..Hello?" His voice quivered, despite his best attempt to sound tough. Standing in front of the selection of ice cream is when he noticed a kid his height standing there. It was one of them.

Boyfriend smiled nervously. these guys don't really talk huh? He gripped his microphone to comfort himself. He was now realizing he didn't really have a plan, and he was mostly daydreaming about kicking ass on the way there, but now this felt super stupid. Maybe they won't wanna fight? "Uh.. hi? Can I get a chocolate mint ice cream?" Maybe ice cream would make him feel better. The other was about to comply with his order, but seemed to stop, staring into Boyfriend's eyes for longer than he was comfortable with. No doubt they knew him, he was literally always with Pico.

the way he recoiled confirmed his thoughts, and before he knew it, he had a gun pointed at him. "Bad idea.." bee murmured before immediately ducking as a shot was fired in his previous position. "Oh shit! Shit!" He scrambled off the floor, making a run for the front doors, which he kicked open with his foot. He could hear the uberkid chasing him down, firing shot after shot at his moving target. 

Boyfriend ducked behind a dumpster for cover. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he was about to collapse. Wait no, he knew what this was. Adrenaline. He could call Pico.. Or he could handle this himself and prove he was fine with the other three. Right. He's not being brushed off anymore.

He waited for footsteps, hearing them get closer and closer to his location. Right when he saw the shadow, he flung himself out into the open. he heard gunfire, and felt a searing pain in his shoulder, but he ignored it. In one swift motion, he threw his mic at the kid, then yoinked it back. He had his eyes closed, so he had no idea what he really did, but when he opened them, he was holding the kid's gun. 

"Ha! Hahaaa!!" Boyfriend laughed triumphantly, but quickly made more distance between him and the approaching opponent. He flung his mic again, pulling the cord down. The solid object made direct contact with the other's skull, tripping him up and flinging him face first into the pavement. With a wide grin, Boyfriend dropped the gun, then kicked it away behind him. "Not so useless now, am I?" He put his hands on his hips, but wasn't prepared for the next act.

The uberkid lifted himself up on shaky arms, and pulled a whistle from his pocket.

oh no..

"Oh! Wait! nono please!" Boyfriend held his hands up, but the shrill sound of the whistle cut him off. He knew what that meant. He could already feel the buildings around him come to life. They were probably waiting for the signal this whole time. Maybe they thought he had Pico, Nene, and Darnell with him.

He's really starting to think he should have called them.

Boyfriend began running without a second thought, passing the barely conscious kid on the ground. He needed to get to his board. he needed to get out of here.

He pulled out his phone and pressed on the first contact he could see. Pico. Oh great, now he had to get yelled at. he pressed call, hearing the gun fire begin to echo around the decrepit walls of the broken down area. Pico picked up on the second ring, a yawn following right after. "Bee-"

"I'M BEING CHASED BY UBERKIDS AND THEY'RE SHOOTING AT ME!!" 

Silence crept between them for a moment before Pico responded, his voice dripping with a stern, serious tone. "Where are you." Boyfriend cried out at the feeling of another bullet grazing him, almost tripping over his foot. "Downtown! Near the ice cream parlor!" He heard Pico sigh heavily. "We're on our way. Get behind something." With that, the ginger hung up the phone.

Boyfriend felt relief wash over him at the news of backup on its way, however it was short lived when he felt a solid hit in his left arm. He gasped out in pain, the spot immediately boiling with heat. He tried to focus on his skate board but.. Oh god, they were already there.. he skidded to a halt, but quickly moved in a different direction. he hoped to god this alleyway didn't have a dead end. He tripped over an open garbage bag, tumbling over and rolling into a brick wall, hitting the back of his head. 

His vision swirled, and he was in so much pain. He bit back tears and tried to stay quiet, doing that thing he saw Pico do when he got shot. he ripped off a piece of his shirt, then tied it around the wound. The pain was unbearable, but he had to be tough. 

The gunfire stopped, supposedly because they didn't know where he was. All he had was his microphone.. It wasn't really a weapon.. But it could be.. He looked around, squeezing the hand of his injured arm. The sooner he got used to the pain, the sooner he could fight. Drawing in a breath, he stood up, suppressing the urge to curl up in a ball to wait for his saviors.

There stood two uberkids, thankfully unarmed, but still looked dangerous. He was quick to jump forward, throwing out his mic. The force of the sling wrapped the object around one of their necks, and with all his force, Boyfriend gave it a hard tug. He made direct contact with his opponent's face with the top of his head, hearing the crunch of his breaking nose. The buddy he was patrolling with quickly ran to help, grabbing Boyfriend by the shoulders, and the blue haired struggled against his grip. 

He then smacked his head up into the uberkids' jaw, then kicked his leg up at his crotch, causing the clone to double over. "When Pico gets here you guys are FUCKED." He threatened them through grit teeth, kicking away the one in front of him. He didn't have it in him to kill them like the others did. If anything he just hoped he knocked them unconscious.

He breathed out as the two bodies collapsed under him. The adrenaline really did do wonders huh.. He limped his way out of the alley way to get to his skateboard, hopefully it was less crowded-

The moment he stepped out he saw a good five of these wastes of science grants running his way. "Son of a-" He began to back track, almost stumbling backward into the wall to hide. Welp, at least he did some cool fighting shit before he died. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sounds of gunfire to end his life.

Well, it didn't.. kill him when he heard it.

he cracked an eye open as blood splattered onto the pavement in front of him, but it wasn't his. He turned the corner to see no other than Nene, who jumped in the middle of them for dramatic affect. Pico covered her from some ways back, gradually making his way toward the scrap. It wasn't too long until Boyfriend heard an explosion, surprisingly nearby. He often forgets how bloody these fights are.

"Nene..!" Bee quickly rushes toward her, surprising both her and Pico. "Bee, wait!" The ginger yelled out, but Boyfriend didn't listen. The blue haired boy held up a hand for Pico to hold his fire, then threw his microphone to wrap around the neck of one minion about to grab Nene from behind. he tugged to give himself a speed boost, then lifted his legs to collide with his stomach, knocking him to the ground, the shorter standing on top. 

"Wow Bee, where'd you learn that?" Nene smiled, impressed, and Boyfriend couldn't help but breathe out a laugh. "It's why I'm here." He admitted to her.

With all the immediate ubers handled, Darnell came down from one of the already destroyed buildings, seeming giddy as hell while Nene checked Boyfriend for any wounds. "Holy shit Bf! I saw what you did! Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that??" He clapped the boy on the back, which made him wince painfully, and the taller muttered an apology with another laugh. Pico was quiet, as to be expected. "Did you know you got shot in the leg?"

"I what."

Boyfriend looked down to see blood oozing out of his calf. Oh wow, he hadn't even felt it.

"N..No I didn't know that." He felt the pain wash over him though when he looked at out. "Wow that hurts!" He forced himself to laugh at it, and  Nene and Darnell happily lent him their shoulders to limp on. "Let's go, before he loses too much blood." Pico muttered, walking over to the rusty bench and grabbing his skateboard. Boyfriend already know how this talk was gonna go..

________________________________________________________________________________

The three kids easily helped boyfriend patch up his wounds. The worst hurdle was taking the bullets out of his arm and leg. He had to bite down on a towel for that.

Pico had him lie down on his bed, the boy no wearing one of his sweaters and a pair of his boxers since he had to shower. He texted his mom to ask if he could stay at Pico's, and being the understanding mother she was, she allowed it.

"Get better soon, okay Bee?" Nene waved as she walked out of Pico's bedroom, Darnell playfully saluting him. With those two gone, Boyfriend grew tense, watching Pico walk into his bathroom to clean up everything they used to dress his wounds. He felt bad about making them do all this. He knew it was his own fault he got in trouble like that. He should endure the punishment.

Pico came back, turning the light off as he left the room. Without a word, he sat down on his bed, then turned to look at Bee. They stared at each other for a moment, and Boyfriend's cheeks began to redden. Now wasn't the time to faun over his boyfriend-

"Uh.. I'm sorry.." He started, looking away in embarrassment. He couldn't read Pico's expression, and frankly he didn't want to. Pico put a hand on his face, drawing a slow breath, then letting it out. "bee, you could have gotten seriously hurt."

"I know I know! I just.. I wanted to.." Pico grunted before he could finish. "You wanted to put yourself in danger to, what, prove a point? What's the point in doing that if you might not live to prove it to people?!" Boyfriend flinched as he raised his voice, then winced at the dull throb he was met with from moving so suddenly. Pico sighed again, and without warning, leaned forward to gently hug onto Boyfriend's torso. The smaller's eyes widened, and his heartbeat increased. "I'm just.. glad you're okay. Don't.. Don't do that again, okay?" 

Bee smiled brightly as Pico sat up. It always melted his heart when he smiled like that. "I promise! I obviously can't fight on my own like you can." He teased, then whined as Pico flicked his nose. "No dumbass. Since when do I fight armies without backup, huh?" He scoffed, and Boyfriend laughed again, gently rubbing his nose. "Yeah, yeah. I learned my lesson." Pico rolled his eyes. "You better have.." He leaned down and kissed Boyfriend on the forehead. He was dramatic about it, a happy squeal leaving him while the ginger simply rolled his eyes again. He should stop doing that, he could feel his sockets loosening already.

________________________________________________________________________________

Bee smiled at the memory. He was lucky enough to get away without any scars. Meeting Pico this week was tough. he could barely explain to Girlfriend why he started crying after that. He wasn't ready to tell her about it yet. He would soon though, he doesn't like hiding stuff. He loves her too much.

.......

"You up?"

The phone showed Pico was typing for a while.

"Ya, why"

"I wanna talk"