#SORRY my illegible handwriting is SHIT! So are my hands. And so is my writing. OMG it all makes so much sense now🤯

[sugarnspice630]

Secret Santa - Mingi

“Looks like you’re on the naughty list anyway Y/N. Time for your punishment.”

•pairing: nonidol!Mingi x gn!reader

•word count: 1.7k

•tags: nonidol, stalker Mingi, Mingi's dressed as Santa for a few moments, Mingi is shy when meeting reader in real life for the first time, Mingi breaks into reader's house, unaddressed Christmas cards, fear play, ...did I miss anything?

Summary: Receiving Christmas cards from an unaddressed secret admirer for 11 days straight, then on the 12th day, they somehow end up in your house

A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! Somehow I managed to squeeze this story out of my ass but I think it actually turned out pretty good! Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading and hope everyone has an absolutely amazing holiday.

Christmas was your favorite time of year. The lights, the atmosphere, and the colder weather which results in bundling up at home and staying nice and cozy; it was so magical. All of this magic was ruined slightly when you checked your apartment mailbox and found a letter from an unaddressed person. Hesitant to open it, but curiosity was getting to you since you thought ‘Maybe they just forgot to put a sticker on it?’ so you opened the letter to find an ordinary Christmas card. However,  when you opened it, your legs got weak. It was a polaroid picture of you shopping for Christmas presents. Taken completely without you knowing. You felt sick to your stomach. How could someone do this? Who would do this? You moved the picture to see the card signed sloppily with red ink. Your heart beating incredibly fast, you rip the card and the picture and throw them in the trash. Taking a breath to try to relax, you go back to your normal daily routine and try to ignore the creepy letter.

The very next day, you checked your mailbox again, and there was another letter. Your hands trembled as you opened it, having a strong feeling it was from the same person as yesterday. The front of the card was different than the one before, but the inside of it still freaked you out just as much as the first time. The same red ink smeared inside, but the picture this time was a picture of you from your apartment bedroom window. Not doing anything explicit, just like you were walking in there to grab something. Again, you ripped the card and the picture up and threw them away. However, the thought of having this secret admirer this close to Christmas did excite you a little.

The cards continued to come for the next 9 days. Each day, the writing inside the card got even more illegible than the first time, and the pictures became more and more…alarming. A picture of your apartment door, a picture of you showering; thankfully your figure was blocked by the steam, a picture of your panties laying on your bed, which you definitely did not place there. You thought about going to the police, but what were they going to do about it? They had no way of tracking the person down because the handwriting was such a mess, no return address on the letters, and you certainly had no description of the person sending them. You were fucked. You just had to pray that this secret person would eventually stop or move on to someone else and leave you alone.

-

The time was now Christmas day and you were on your way to visit your parents. Frantically making your way to the bus, trying not to be late, you accidentally bumped into someone’s arm and it knocked your presents onto the ground.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry!” You quickly apologized to the stranger and bent down to start picking up your gifts.

“Ah, no need to apologize! H-here let me help. You seem to be in a hurry.” The stranger responded with a chuckle. He also bent down and started to help you pick up your presents.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You glanced up and noticed the person you accidentally ran into was ironically dressed in a Santa costume. “Dressed for the holidays, huh?” You said as you picked up the last gift and carefully stood up.

“Oh! Y-yeah, I uh..dress up as Santa every year and go to the local hospital and surprise the kids’ in there with gifts.” He nervously scratches the back of his head and looks down at the ground. You thought to yourself that he must be a shy or reserved individual and you felt guilty for running into him. However, his statement filled your heart with joy.

“That’s actually really sweet. I’m sure the kids appreciate it a lot.”

“It’s so nice seeing their faces light up.” He smiles softly, still not making direct eye contact with you. You smiled back at him and paused for a moment, admiring his facial features and the way his eyes sparkled in the daylight. He truly was an attractive individual. Realizing quickly that there was no time to stand around and drool over a stranger, you pulled out your phone and checked the time.

“Shit! Uh, I-I’m sorry I have to go! Thank you for helping me again; hopefully me running into Mr. Claus doesn’t put me on the naughty list.” You chuckle at the stupid joke. The stranger chuckles back at your joke, and you wave at him, thanking him once again as you start making your way back to the bus station.

“I’ll see you later~!” You heard the stranger call from behind you, but his tone of voice was different than when you were talking to him in front of you. Also, what does he mean by ‘see you later’? You don’t even know the man or where he was from. You shook it off as just another awkward thing that humans say accidentally to others. Like when the waiter brings you your food and says ‘enjoy’ and you respond with ‘thanks, you too’. Happens to everyone.

–

The Christmas party with your parents was great. Seeing family you haven’t seen in a long time and getting to catch up was something you needed to forget all about the crazy events you had the days prior. On your way home, you found yourself thinking about the Santa guy from earlier. You never exchanged names, but then again, it was probably for the better since he said, ‘See you later’. Perhaps he was the creep that had been sending you letters those 11 days? Chills went down your spine and you snapped yourself out of thinking. Looking out the window, you realize you’re almost back in town for your apartment. The bus finally stops at the station you got on at, and you carefully grab your bag of presents from the night and head out the door, thanking the driver as well and telling them to have a good night.

Walking to your apartment, you can’t help but have an uneasy feeling. All of the strange events that have been happening recently just put a huge damper on the holidays. You feel like you can’t fully enjoy them. Finally making your way back to your complex, you let out a sigh of relief as there was no letter in your mailbox. Finally, whoever that was decided to move on. You make your way up the stairs to your floor, starting to feel slightly tired from the day you have had. As you’re walking down the hallway for your floor, you see one, lonely, brown, package sitting in front of a door. Surely that can’t be at your door. You already got all your gifts tonight. Making your way closer to your apartment door, you can confirm the package is sitting in front of your door. That unsettling feeling comes back to you as you reach the door and see that there is no label whatsoever on the package. Someone just set this box here. You used your key and unlocked your door. You thought about leaving the package there and not bothering with it. Wondering if there was some kind of curse following you because you kept interacting with the strange mail pieces, but there was still that little light in you that was curious about what was in that package. You picked up the package and carried it inside, shutting the door with your butt and carrying the package to the kitchen counter to open it. You carefully grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the box open. To your surprise, there was nothing inside other than an envelope. Just like the ones you had been receiving in the mail. You opened it up and were greeted with another normal Christmas card; however, when you opened the card, your knees got weak.

See you later

Feeling the same feeling you got when you opened the first anonymous card. Your head was reeling. Who the fuck was doing this to you? What was the purpose of their actions, and why are they being so cryptic about it? ‘See you later.’ You repeated that to yourself again and again. You had heard this before. Those words came from the stranger earlier. They left the same sour taste in your mouth. Disgusted and utterly mortified, you hardly noticed the jingle bell sound coming from inside your apartment. Quickly directing your attention to your main door, you noticed it was slightly ajar.

You forgot to lock it.

Panic sets in and you run over to the door, slam it shut, and lock it. Your hands shaking as you do. Perhaps it pushed itself open? The seal around the door wasn’t the greatest, and maybe the pressure you applied from pushing it with your butt wasn’t enough to latch it shut completely. You press your head against the door and close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. The jingle bell sound rings through your ears again. You turn around at an alarming rate, but there is nothing out of place. You carefully walk around your apartment to discover what the strange noise was. Rounding each corner slowly and trying to catch the intruder when they’d least expect it. You hear the jingle bells one more time, but it’s coming from behind you, and it’s extremely close. The ring sounds more like taunting someone rather than the joyous sounds of Christmas time. You turn around slowly and are met with an extremely tall individual. Your head looking up and your eyes taking in every feature of the intruder, just in case you make it out of this situation alive. You feel yourself trembling with fear as your eyes get closer to seeing the man’s face. A few seconds later, you are met with another pair of eyes. The exact same eyes as the stranger from earlier. He has the most menacing smirk on his face. You gasp dramatically and take a tiny step back so you’re not as close to him.

“Looks like you’re on the naughty list anyway Y/N. Time for your punishment.”

[beepboopkek]

— An evening well spent

including: Jing Yuan

cw: !! NSFW !!, fem!reader, VERY SHORT, posted on mobile so formatting might suck sorry :( , one singular cl1t slap, c0ckwarming, implied unprotected p in v, still spreading my jing yuan is a bastard (affectionate) agenda , written very quickly there might be a few errors

w/c: 477 words

a/n: hallo everynyan my last nsfw kind of blew up and now my mentally ill ass is struggling because I am answerable to people now . but fuck it we ball. Wracjing my brain for more ideas so I can write more but if u have any requests then pls share!! sorry about the english again 🦅

NSFW BELOW !

There's no way you could concentrate.

Your bastard of a boyfriend had a wonderful suggestion when you told him of your troubles.

See, despite being a Xianzhou native, you had never been particularly fond of writing in the script and that was now coming back to bite you in the ass.

You'd gotten passing comments about it before, about how shabby it is or how it's almost illegible.

It seemed perfectly fine to you though, something for future you to worry about.

That was the case until your boss doubled down on you, her exact words being, “An outsider stepping foot on the Xianzhou for the first time would have a better handwriting than you.”

That was the last straw.

When you told Jing Yuan about it, he laughed for a few minutes before realizing you were deeply disturbed by this.

So, he offered a simple solution.

He'll help you practice the Xianzhou script for a month to help you get better handwriting.

The only catch? Well, he said there weren't any.

But, there's never not a catch with the general.

So, that ended up with you and him, settled in his private office at his home…

…With his cock stuffed inside you.

There's the expected catch. Who would've guessed the general found some way or the other to make sure he can have his way (consensually) with his darling partner.

Frankly, you don't know how he managed to get you to agree to this, maybe it was the fact that the two of you hadn't been intimate for a while or the fact that he knew you've always wanted to try cockwarming.

Maybe it was both.

You shook your head, trying to focus back on your shaking hand that was holding the brush.

“Have a tighter grip, you need to hold the brush a little more vertically for this set of the alphabet.”

Jing Yuan's deep voice echoed through your ears, turning your brain into mush.

But, you had to push on. He wasn't going to move until you finished writing a sentence perfectly and you knew for a fact that your dear boyfriend kept to his promises.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself before moving the brush again, making a perfect arch.

“There we go, that's my girl, hm. Doing so well. Just a little more, you can do it.”

He rested his head against your shoulder, bringing his hand to start rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“Yu, stop that I—”

“Focus.” 

A small slap to your clit made you flinch immediately, the extra ink in your brush spilling a few drops on the paper.

“Love, you ruined the paper.”

Shit.

“Looks like we'll have to start all over again, hm? What a shame.” 

He tutted, almost sounding regretful but he was far from it.

…This was going to be a long night.

[not-another-robin]

Miscellaneous Alfred Pennyworth headcanons because he is immortal and you can't tell me otherwise

Alfred HATES musicals. Hates them. Especially Broadway, do not get him started on Andrew Lloyd Webber. He has a vendetta against the man not only because he thinks mega musicals are cheap schlock, but also for RUINING his son for a good 4 months after Phantom of the Opera came out. That shit was Bruce's MCR. he's skulking through the manner in a blanket cape with dark eyeliner playing the title song at deafening volume. Harvey enables him for months just to get on Alfred's nerves. Besides that, the batfam insists he doesn't like musicals as a genre because he can't sing. They are correct.

In my heart of hearts, Alfred was the OG 'finders keepers applies to wayward children'. When Bruce started working with other heros Alfred started checking in on them regularly, especially the ones who were far from home or lost their families. It's not uncommon to see Hawkgirl or Diana or J'onn at the manor when they're feeling homesick.

If a league member has at least one parent that's able to be contacted, said parent is invited to monthly get togethers with the rest of the league parents. They have a little club to talk about their kids. Okay it's more of a support group

If someone needs to be looked after due to sickness or injury and the league can't spare a team mate to do it, they're brought to the manor. Its no secret that most hope for this outcome.

It's a running joke that everyone, everyone gives Alfred a gift on fathers day.

One such Father's day the teen titans made "if lost return to Alfred Pennyworth" shirts for every batfriend (somewhere around 20+ people when alls said and done). They have a big group photo with them all, Alfred in the middle with a shirt that says "keep them".

Alfred watches soap operas regularly, and has seen every episode of Dynasty to date. Where he finds the time nobody knows, but he is knowledgeable on all the TV drama within the shows and behind the scenes. He has pretty ecclectic taste too, given he speaks a couple languages.

One time, while deliriously sick, Jason found him watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. All of the batkids insist this was some fever induced hallucination. They are wrong.

Alfred is a world class pot stirrer. There is so little of substance at the myriad of galas he has to attend that he makes his own fun, sue him. It's a leftover pass time from Martha's days - people were objectively cruel to her and gossipped at her expense often, so she returned it in kind. She was truly a legend in this regard and Alfred was her right hand man. They were experts at sewing seeds of doubt with a single comment ("Oh I'm so sorry sir, I assumed the woman over there was your wife") and watch the world burn, wine in hand. He missed having a partner in crime in that regard - eventually, Jason and Steph fill that role.

Bruce and Alfred have been locked in a decades long battle for Bruce's posture. He will go into shrimp position if given any opening and Alfred is determined to not let that happen. Idk if anyone else's parents did this, but Alfred is absolutely the type of parent to poke/push the small of your back until you sit up straight. He also does this for every batkid, even unofficial ones. Tragically it is too late for Tim.

Both Alfred and Bruce are fond of pen pals, though Alfred kept his up for much longer. He writes letters to his few friends back in England, to the Kents, various heros, he even manages to get mail to Themyscira.

To anyone under the age of fifty (excluding Bruce, maybe) his natural handwriting is completely illegible. Peak old person cursive, it is supernatural how his friends manage to read it. He writes very neat and very small, with very little space in between the lines. Its nightmarish. He does know how to write legibly for the sake of the kids, but his personal notes are practically in code.

Okay this one's a little out there - Alfred's posh accent isn't his natural one. It's natural now, since he's been using it so long, but growing up him and his family spoke in a more country/cockney accent - except for his mom, who had the more posh recieved pronunciation one. I've rewritten Alfred's entire backstory so bear with me She was the head housekeeper for a wealthy family, and she came from a more 'refined' area, so she carried herself with the more stereotypical fancy British manners. Alfred loved his mom, looked up to her more than anything in the world, so he adopted her mannerisms (and accent) whenever he could. He was teased mercilessly for it as a kid, so he stopped, but once he left home to join the military he fully adopted the persona to distance himself from his father and brother. The only time the original accent would slip through was when he was really, blindingly angry or upset, and only Bruce and Dick have ever heard it.

He has a flat within the manor, like a little apartment for his own space. It's initially sparsely decorated, but over the years it accumulates a borderline absurd amount of photos. Some of them are of him, mostly military friends, him with Martha and Thomas, or souvenirs from his theater days. The vast majority are his kids though. Pictures of Bruce from every stage of his life of course (the kids have a field day when they find them) and a smattering of pictures Bruce has drawn for him over the years, from crayon scribbles to charcoal portraits. The halls are lined with photos of the grandbats, many big milestones but also personal ones caught on candid camera: the first time Damian smiled while being hugged, Cassandra and Bruce playing bridge, Dick and Jason asleep after their first mission. On the wall at the end of the hallway hangs the old family portrait - Martha, Thomas, 6 year old Bruce, and him. Though he's not particularly spiritual, it's placement makes him feel like Martha and Thomas can see how their family has grown.

[wordstro]

[7] apocalypse + ex!san + "stop fucking projecting."

part 6 | masterlist | part 8

a/n: mentions of death, mentions of hell, there is talk about su!cide but i guess the philosophy around it in a dystopian setting where one would think about that alot, violence, cursing, a lot of conversations and confrontations, san is bad at communicating lmfao, 9,300 words!

-

do you know him? jongho's handwriting is rushed, nearly illegible, but you used to work in healthcare way back Before. deciphering bad handwriting came with the job.

you look at jongho, the way his brows furrow in concern as he stares sideways at you. you're crouching in the shade, with your back to the stone wall as you stare at the clothes hanging from the clothesline. jongho crouches inches from you.

you contemplate telling him about the bunker. you shouldn't. no matter how sweet and kind jongho is, hongjoong and seonghwa have a hold on him the same way they do on everyone else. if anything, they'll hurt him more if they ever find out you've divulged information to him.

instead, you decide on half the truth, "we used to date. a long time ago."

jongho blinks, once, twice, before he wrinkles his nose. he writes, didn't end well?

"that's the understatement of the century, jongho. hell is probably better than this."

jongho chuckles, the sound deep in his throat. you've noticed when he laughs, he does not open his mouth. he tends to cover his mouth if he does.

he writes, with the way things are going here i do think hell is probably better.

you snort, "yeah there are no creepy cults and stupid exes in hell. just hellfire."

no tongues getting cut off either, jongho writes.

"i think i read somewhere that that's common, actually. sorry dude."

this time jongho laughs loudly, covering his mouth immediately. you lean your head back against the stone wall, basking in the warmth of the sun on your face. you glance at jongho. he's staring straight ahead, past the clothesline and the fluttering clothes.

"can i say something serious?"

he looks at you. he searches your expression before he nods. his smile falters a bit.

you say, "i'm sorry they did that to you. it isn't fair, and you did not deserve it."

he blinks rapidly.

you get embarrassed then, because he doesn't stop staring at you. you shake you head, say quickly, "i mean, i've only been here a little while but no one seems...nice. i'm not sure if you've heard that yet, that this wasn't your fault and you don't deserve that kind of pain. i really wanted you to know. i know it's not my place, and i swear i won't bring it up again, but - holy shit please don't cry."

jongho rubs at his eyes, shaking his head quickly as he turns away.

"i'm sorry!"

you have your hands in the air, wondering how to console him, but the tears are gone as quickly as they came, though jongho's cheeks are red and his eyes are still a bit wet. his hand shakes as he writes.

that means a lot to me, y/n, thank you.

you smile, "i should thank you. i'd have gone insane if i didn't have someone to talk to in this place. i just...i wanted to return the favor."

jongho nodded. his hand still shook as he wrote, but he appeared less volatile, cheerful once more, not to make it weird, but you remind me of someone i used to know. it's nice to talk to you too.

"an ex?" you ask with a sly smile.

jongho grimaces, shaking his head as he makes a gagging motion.

you pause, picking your words carefully, "where...where are they then?"

jongho pauses, same as you, and you wonder if he's picking his words carefully too. in the end, neither of you can truly trust one another. who knows if the other will be coerced into saying something to hongjoong or seonghwa, through force or otherwise.

he left.

you want to ask what that means. through a shipment or otherwise? but you don't want to pry, so you leave it be. you watch as jongho takes the page he wrote on and dips it into the bucket next to you both. when the paper turns to mush he rips it apart and gets up, stomping it into the mud.

you look at him. jongho just smiles, and holds out a hand to help you up.

~.~.~.~.~

it's later in the afternoon when you see san again. hongjoong brings him around, while you and jongho are figuring out how to go about getting the clothes down from the clotheslines so that you both can finish up by dinner. the field is lines with fluttering sheets, shirts, dresses, all kinds of clothes from the entire compound. it's simply unfair that just the two of you are assigned to clean, dry, and fold all that laundry. but unfair seemed to be a running theme is this place.

"this is san," hongjoong is amiable, grinning wildly as he pushes san forward. "san, this is y/n."

you nod. san smiles, his eyes blank. it reminds you of when you first met him. when he robbed you. he's too good at pretending he doesn't know you, and it makes your blood boil, despite the fact that it's a good thing he's acting so well in front of hongjoong.

hongjoong gestures to jongho, "this is jongho."

jongho gives san a small wave. you notice san's brows raise, just a bit. it's noticeable only because you were looking, really. you frown, before your gaze flits to hongjoong. he's staring at you, and his gaze is curious. a curious hongjoong, you find, is scarier than the other kinds, because it's unexpected and you don't know what he's thinking or what he sees that warrants curiosity.

"san here gave me a lot of trouble trying to get him in. and here i thought your little knife incident would be the worst of it." hongjoong snorts, shaking his head at san, before he looks at you. "anyways, he'll be helping you with your chores. i hope you two get along."

you only nod. hongjoong does not stride off. instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and eyes you impatiently, his smile slowly slipping from his face as the seconds passed. you frown at the sudden silence. san glances between the two of you, brow furrowed. jongho takes one look at hongjoong's expression before he stares at his feet.

"what?" you ask.

"i brought someone to help you with your tasks. what do you say to someone who helps you?"

you stiffen at his condescending tone and his sharp words. the anger that has been growing inside you, especially these past few weeks, starts to fester, but you bite your tongue. hongjoong gives you a small, knowing smile.

"show our new member how to obey the rules, y/n," hongjoong tilts his head, baring his teeth, "go on."

you grit your teeth. you know he's going to use this against you whether you thank him or not. it'll just be two different forms of humiliation. from your time here, you already figured out that that's what hongjoong likes. you can tell from the way his eyes twinkle with amusement as he watches you process his words and attempt to respond. you will need to either set aside your dignity to thank him or refuse and deal with the punishment. both options are terrifying, but one far outweighs the other, no matter how demeaning it is. so you take a breath, say through gritted teeth, "thanks. for bringing help."

"hmm," hongjoong taps his chin, "that wasn't very sincere."

"excuse me?"

"you heard me," hongjoong says.

"i said thank you," you suppress the urge to glare. "do you want me to get on my knees and kiss your fucking feet?"

hongjoong appears to truly consider your words and you don't bother to suppress your glare, fists shaking at your sides. for a moment, you wonder if he'll say yes. you wonder whether you'd actually do it if he said yes. you’ve been doing so much in the name of a survival you don't even think is worth pursuing anymore. but the longer he eyes you, the way hongjoong's lips curl with amusement, all while he taps his fingers against the hilt of the dagger strapped to his waist, makes your stomach clench. you'd do it, you know. if he asked. and from the way hongjoong lets out a small laugh, you realize that he knows it too. you don't like that. it's a vulnerability, a power he has, that scares the living shit out of you.

"no," hongjoong finally says, after a long beat, and a wide grin stretches across his face, his dark eyes remaining fixed on yours, "not this time. wouldn't want to ruin the newbie's day, would we, right san?"

you can't help the small glance in san's direction. his brows are furrowed. you look away before you can fully study his expression. you don't want to know.

"y/n," hongjoong pulls you out of your thoughts, his voice light, "that was two more strikes. talking back and being ungrateful. you make it so very easy, y/n, it's almost boring."

san shuffles next to you. you still don't look at him, eyes on hongjoong.

hongjoong, however, turns his gaze from jongho to san. it lingers on san for a moment too long, before he turns back to you and says, "anyways, have fun with the newbie. see you all at the shipment tonight."

then he skips off and you stare after him, anger and horror churning in your stomach. this is unfair. this is so unfair. you want to scream at something. you want to hide away somewhere. most importantly, you want to run far, far away. in retrospect, you should have tried escaping on your own. they barely monitor you. you could have climbed a wall or something, though you know there are people with guns everywhere. always watching. you shouldn't have waited for yeosang's plan. for san, who was now here, witnessing everything. you don't know why you feel strangely embarrassed by that fact, why it makes you want to crawl into a hole and curl away even more, but it does, and you hate that more.

your gaze flickers to jongho first, because it's easier to look at him, and he finally seems to look up at you, his brown eyes filled with way too much worry. you can feel san's eyes on you. you don't want to fully look at him. you're unsure why. but he is there and you have to acknowledge him eventually. you take a breath, heart knocking against your ribs, and you tear your gaze from jongho to san.

san's gaze isn't blank or looking past you as you expected. it's contorted in disbelief. maybe even a hint of concern. somehow, that is worse than if you'd seen anger, or, worse, amusement there, like you'd unconsciously braced yourself for.

he doesn't say anything, though, he just stares.

a full minute passes, but no one says a word.

that irritates you, a buzz settling under your skin. it's the same urge to scream from earlier, to shout and yell and punch something. you're angry, and you're looking to direct at something. anything.

you look at san, still staring, brows still furrowed, and you decide he is the only one you could fathom being angry at. jongho doesn't deserve it. hongjoong - who you truly want to be angry at - would kill you. seonghwa would, too. san...wouldn't, or rather he can't.

or maybe you think he is incapable of such a feat.

"jongho," you don't even look at jongho, eyes still on san, "san and i will take down the clothes on the north end. you start here, all right?"

jongho doesn't answer. you look at him. he raises a questioning brow.

"don't worry," you say with what you hope is a reassuring smile. jongho's expression only seems to fill with more worry as he glances between the two of you. still he nods, and picks up a basket. you scoop up two baskets, shove it in san's limp hands, and stomp past him towards the north end of the sanctuary. after a moment, grass rustles behind you as san follows.

~.~.~.~.~

the north end of the sanctuary is stretches all the way to the wall, and is pretty much deserted. it's where you and jongho hung the bigger bed sheets and blankets. you'd made note a while ago of how the guard towers had a bigger gap on the walls here, and the area gave a bit more privacy. couples sometimes came up here, to rendezvous behind the sheets the laundry crew (you and jongho lately) set up. it was a well known secret that it was secluded.

you stare at the way the white sheets and heavy blankets flutter gently in the breeze, still limp from being wet. you trudge as close to the wall, and as far out of ear shot and out of sight as you can.

once you are behind a giant white sheet that sometimes brushes your ankles in the breeze, you spin on san. he appears, the length of the full-sized sheet between you. you watch as he abandons the baskets, crossing his arm as he continues staring. will he ever stop staring? his gaze is piercing, as if he can see straight through. it's fucking annoying.

"what the fuck is going on?"

"i don't get a hi or anything? no how are you or how's the bruise on your face?" san asks, tilts his head, and the wind blows strands of his hair over his forehead and eyes. it emphasizes the purple bruise. you frown at it.

his expression stops being so strange and returns to the slight contempt you've gotten used to, from Before and from the bunker.

"this isn't funny," you step towards him, until only half the sheet is between you both, and the anger begins to spill out of you in waves. you don't reign it in with him. with anyone else, you might have. you keep your voice quiet, but you let yourself feel angry. for the first time in a long time, you let yourself feel, and maybe it's reminiscent of that night in the bunker, but your body does not seem to care. it's like the familiarity of choi san and the patterns you both used to have remains etched in your body's unconscious. it's easy to fall back into. "i'm sick of not knowing what the hell is going on. why the fuck are you here? why didn't yeosang tell me this? why the hell did you give yeosang the radio? actually, why do you still have it? you gave me so much fucking shit for holding onto mine, so why the fuck do you still have it?"

it all bursts from you in a stream of words, not one breath taken in between.

san blinks, says, "you want me to answer all that?"

your anger spikes at his jibe. your chest heaves, fists clenched at your sides, and you close the gap until you are inches from him. you shove him between each sentence, but he barely stumbles. it's as if he expects your anger and your shoves. perhaps, Before him would have. in fact, he just lets you push at him, his eyes settling on you, studying you. that makes you angrier.

"you said you didn't owe me shit" - you shove him harder, he doesn't budge - "you've treated me like fucking trash from the moment we met again" - you shove him once more - "and now you're here." - you grab his shirt, a crisp blue shirt that was likely given to him by hongjoong, one you'd probably scrubbed away at until your hands were raw - "why the fuck are you here, san?"

your voice cracks on his name as your grip on his shirt tightens, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and the way the anger makes your chest feel. you try to find the answers on his face, but he is infuriatingly quiet. unreadable. your grip on him loosens, as you repeat the only question you'd truly like the answer to, "why are you here?"

you think he'll say something, maybe answer everything. his expression certainly twists into something akin to kindness. it's strange to see on his face. you don't know if you believe it, or trust it. you think it's ironic, because he'd berated you for trusting so easily and you didn't understand it, but now you're wary of him.

instead, san reaches over and pries your fingers from his shirt. his touch is featherlight, gentle almost, as he pulls each finger away, one at a time. you let him do so, eyes wide as you watch the care in which he does it. he then lifts your hands from his shirt and places them as your sides.

you're too shocked to say anything. he straightens his shirt and meets your gaze with a serious look. a calm look. it is nothing like Before, not like in the bunker nor like when your relationship was rocky, where he'd met your anger with anger of his own. it's strange. frankly, you're tired of strange. it's so easy for you to fall back into old patterns, but it's like san doesn't know those patterns. it's like he really is a completely different person.

he says, "i'm here because i'm the only one of us they won't recognize."

you blink. the disappointment is hard to shake off and you're angry you're even feeling an inkling of it. this is san. disappointment should be a given at this point. "oh."

your hands go limp at your side. san clears his throat.

"i'm here," he says, his voice quiet, "because all you seem to know how to do is trust strangers."

you frown at that, "excuse me?"

san sighs, drags a hand through his hair, "you don't know yeosang. or this jongho. or me, frankly. yet here you are, naïve as fucking ever."

the san you know returns. you don't know if you're relieved or disappointed this time. what does that say about you?

"i don't need this again," you shake your head, stepping away from him.

"you don't need what? someone to tell you that you're being a fucking idiot? because from my perspective you need that and much more." san's jaw ticks in annoyance. he steps around you, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "it's been four fucking years since the world went to shit, y/n. i don't understand how you've survived so long when you're still so goddamned naïve. why don't you understand the danger you're putting yourself in?"

"why do you think i don't understand? what makes you think that?" you shoot back. he spins to face you, inches from you once more. you'd knew it'd been a long time since the world collapsed. seonghwa tells everyone the shipment number every night, and you'd figured that the shipments had gone uninterrupted every night. you know it's been 446 nights and counting of this going unchecked. but somehow, you still cannot fathom that four years have passed since that night. since your mother tried to kill you. since you've wandered the countryside.

four fucking years. holy shit.

in a way, you now understand san's original hesitance to acknowledge you. four years, plus the years since you've broken up. you were practically a ghost come back from the dead. you'd be hesitant too. still, you do not back down as you hiss, "stop fucking projecting onto me."

he recoils at that, scowl growing venomous, "i am not projecting."

"you're not?" you laugh, and it's loud and bitter. san glances around, though you can tell it's out of discomfort more than caution. your tone is mean, even to your own ears, "you told me i was being sentimental for carrying that radio around, yet you still have it. do you want to know why i kept it?"

you step closer, right into his space. san does not move, his gaze flickering over your face, his eyes unblinking. you say, "so i could use it to figure out what the hell was going on. there was an active radio station in the beginning. i was using it to survive. i kept it, not because of you, but because i thought maybe the radio station would go live again some day. but typical of you to think i kept it because of you. why would i keep the radio when we broke up years ago? when i broke up with you?" you can see the way your words hit a chord in him. whether that is anger or something else, you don't care to find out. you can't help the vindictive laugh that spills from your lips as you say, allowing all your anger, annoyance, and condescension (because you know he despises that) to trickle into your tone, "is that why you kept it? did you think you'd hear my voice through it after we broke up? hear me call for you from the fucking dead and ask you to come back? did you think i would be doing the same?"

san's brows furrow, balled fists at his side, and for a moment, you think he'll hit you. san's expression twists with many emotions, none of which you can figure out anymore. he says, "it sounds like you're the one projecting now."

"i can guarantee that i haven't thought of you once. i'd forgotten this damn thing was yours in the first place. it's just a fucking radio."

it's satisfying the way his expression falters. his furrowed brows slip, his sneer shakes. you know a part of you always hoped he'd say something through the radio, even before the end of the world, and especially at your loneliest moments in abandoned apartments and houses and in cold bathtubs, the radio clutched in your hands. you'd kept it out of sentimentality. he was right. but the satisfaction in lying and watching him finally falter, even just a bit, is delightful. it is mean, and terrible, and you feel an inkling of guilt, but he deserves it.

"and remember this," you snap, watching as his expression grows steely once more, "i hate the fact that you're the one that's here. i hate that i have to rely on you to get out of this shithole. you think i want to trust you? or yeosang? or jongho? i would not be in this mess if it wasn't for you and your friends. wooyoung's stupid fucking knife is the reason why hongjoong has been on my ass the entire time i've been here. i am here because you've felt the need to be an asshole from the moment you saw me. this is your fault, san."

surprisingly, san doesn't say anything. his expression doesn't change either. this time, it's not so satisfying. he remains too quiet, and you want a response.

so you step close, poke him in the chest, and you say, "so what we're going to do is loop me in to whatever plan yeosang figured out, and you are going to get me out of here. it's the least you could do after all this. in the meantime, you will not speak to me unless it's about escaping. do not look at me. in fact, do not even breathe in my general direction. don't even think about me. just leave me the fuck alone. understood?"

san grits his teeth, his jaw ticking.

"i said," you poke him once more, pressing your index finger into the middle of his chest, "understood?"

"i understand," he says, grabbing your hand. this time, he is not gentle. he holds it tight, glare burning and his grip bruising. he squeezes your hand, "you're not the only one with demands, y/n."

you raise your brow. he still holds your hand tight, as he says, "once we step out of those doors, you're on your own. do you understand that?"

the threatening implications in his tone makes you narrow your eyes. he sounds like he knows something you don't. you snatch your hand back, "i can't fucking wait."

"good."

"great."

~.~.~.~.~

it's a stupid plan.

"it's a stupid plan," you say. "the longer we're here, the more danger we're in. there's only so long until i get caught with the radio."

it's funny, how you'd been at each other's throats a moment ago, and now san is crouched in the grass, the laundry baskets you shoved in his hands abandoned beside you. you're sat cross-legged across from him, leaning back on your hands, the grass tickling your ankles and palms. you'd listened quietly as he explained what he, yeosang, wooyoung, mingi, and yunho came up with. and now, as you frown at him, you make a mental note that you'd need to wrap this up before jongho came to check on you both. or worse, hongjoong. the sheets flutter around you, and the breeze is gentle. strangely, this is the most serene moment you've had in a while. letting your anger out at san had made you feel a bit better about your circumstances and everything you'd held in since you'd come here. you're still annoyed with san, but you feel a little lighter, calmer. more rational. laughter rings in the distance, indicating that the work day and most of the sanctuary member's tasks were coming to an end. you sat up at the sound and san dropped from his crouch into a cross-legged position matching yours, his expression serious as he contemplated your words.

"it's all we've got." he finally says, plucking at a few blades of grass absentmindedly, "but we can talk to them about it when we check in tonight. maybe there's a faster way."

you're surprised he agrees with you. for once. you're both actually on the same page on something. you nod, say, "there has to be a faster way. there's always the possibility that one of us will end up in a shipment because of some small offense," you shudder at the thought, and san grimaces. yeosang must have explained the shipments to him, "besides security is tight here. seonghwa mentioned he'd made it tighter than it used to be. you'd think they were guarding the president with the amount of guns they have."

"i noticed that on the way in."

"the way in?" you frown, "they let you look?"

"when we were close, yeah. talked to hongjoong a bit on the ride here."

you blink at that, "oh."

you're not sure how you feel about it, but it's good to know san isn't totally on hongjoong's bad side, unlike you.

"there's another thing." san sighs, looping his arms around his knees as he peers at you, "we have to meet up to check in with yeosang. tonight. and every night after that."

you eye him, "okay, and...?"

"how's that going to work with your whole leave me alone thing?" san asks, with a brow raise. he says leave me alone with an inflection in his voice you know is supposed to be an imitation of your voice. you throw handfuls of ripped grass at him.

“don’t mock me.”

san rolls his eyes, brushing the grass from his hair, “right. my bad.”

his tone is not sorry at all.

you glare, "you're fucking annoying. i’ll just check in for the both of us."

"no way. i promised i'd check in. you don't want to deal with a worried yeosang. the rest of them are bad enough but yeosang is something else," he snorts, rolling his eyes. there's a twinge of...affection in his tone. it normalizes him, reminds you of memories you'd like to forget, and it's stranger than anything else you'd witnessed so far. you wrinkle your nose at him.

"he'd be worried about you?"

you didn't think he and yeosang were that close, though, then again, you hadn't actually paid attention to the two of them.

"not everyone hates me like you do," he snorts.

"they really should."

his chuckle is dry, before he says, "my point is, we need to figure out where to meet for the check ins. where's your room?"

you can't really argue with him. as much as you want to not see him every night, he's right. you both need to be there during the calls. your ultimatum feels empty as you realize you'll have to see him every single day, any way.

you sigh, "the main building. there's a jail there. like an actual jail cell."

"yeo mentioned that," san's brows furrows. "they didn't give you a room yet?"

"they gave you one?"

"it was part of the tour."

you grimace, "that makes it sound so..."

"camp counselor?"

"i was going to say school orientation-y."

san snorts, and you can't help but smile a bit. it's dark, but the humor in the strangeness of the situation makes it easier. it also made it much clearer that hongjoong really did have a special interest in making your life here as difficult as possible. and seonghwa wasn't preventing it. at least you had validation regarding your treatment.

a moment later, san's expression drops into a frown, "they're going to keep you in a jail cell, then? forever?"

"probably until hongjoong gets bored of me."

san glares at that, strangely enough, "yeah, i was going to ask about that. what the fuck is his problem?"

"me. wooyoung's knife."

"yeosang mentioned that."

you frown, "what didn't yeosang mention?"

san doesn't answer. he says, "why didn't you tell him it's wooyoung's?"

"i'm not a snitch," you say, "besides that's a slippery slope into revealing the location of your bunker. i didn't think you wanted that."

"of course not," san rolls his eyes once more, before he says, "but you're too nice."

his tone is accusing. this time you roll your eyes. you push yourself to your feet, brushing the grass and dirt from your thighs as you look down at a still-sitting san. "would you have told them?"

"if i was in your position, under your circumstances, then yeah," san shrugs, "yeah, i would have. anyone would have."

"i don't believe that." you pick up the laundry baskets, "that anyone would have."

san sighs as he gets to his feet. he shakes his head, his voice a lot less accusing. it's merely resigned, "this is why you're naïve, y/n."

you toss one of the laundry basket at his face. he barely catches it, his scowl following quickly after. you say, "whatever. just tell me where your room is and i'll meet you there. hongjoong stopped locking the door."

he wrinkles his nose, "does hongjoong usually lock your door? is he always bothering you like that?"

you notice concern. he's trying to hide it with the casual way he busies himself with the sheets on the clothesline. you help him with the big white sheet.

you both hold each end of the white sheet. he comes closer, so you can grab his end, and then he grabs the other end, helping you fold. he glances at you. your heart curls at his tone, but you push that away as you finally say. "why do you care?"

"i don't." san is quick to answer. he takes the folded sheet from your hands and drops it in his basket before he goes to a different clothesline, leaving you to fold the big blankets on your own. you stare at his tense back and shoulders for a moment longer before you turn to your work. the two of you work in silence, then.

~.~.~.~.~

you sit in your usual spot for that night's shipment. alone in the corner. san seemed to take your warning seriously. he didn't sit next to you, instead sitting near the front and center. a part of you felt guilty for it, because you remember clearly how you felt that night, and how you feel every night, and you think he should have someone familiar sitting next to him. at least for tonight.

you grimace when hongjoong slides into the spot next to you.

you can't help it, though. throughout the night, you glance san's way. just to make sure he's handling the situation well. he doesn't look upset at all. merely watchful. when seonghwa goes up. when he addresses the crowd. when he announces san as a newcomer. when the shipment comes out. when seonghwa kisses their foreheads. you keep glancing. you shouldn't.

you almost don't notice how hongjoong forgoes describing the reasons for why each person is being sent to their deaths. at least until the very end. until the music comes on, and the night fills with celebration. san shakes seonghwa's hand, smiles at him like they're good friends. he's good at it.

there's a pressure on your knee, and you flinch at the way hongjoong leans close. he lays his hand on your knee, fingers splayed, and it is a heavy presence. you frown at him. hongjoong is all teeth and dark eyes. he says, "you're quite invested in the newbie, y/n."

you don't like when he says your name. it sounds like a curse coming from him. you shake your head, "isn't everyone? it's his first shipment."

"hmm," hongjoong hums, the pressure on your knee growing heavier. you squirm, scooting away. hongjoong looks past your shoulder, and his smile seems to grow impossibly wider, his dark eyes filling with sudden mirth. you look over your shoulder. san is looking at you both. seonghwa is at his side. he's looking at san. then his head turns to you. in the midst of all the singing and dancing and fairy lights, the moment brings dread to the pit of your stomach. san meets your gaze, and then he quickly turns away, back to seonghwa. seonghwa seems to take it in stride. he doesn't look back at you, at least. maybe he didn't notice.

hongjoong's low murmur sends a shock of terror down your spine, "looks like the investment is mutual."

"anyone would stare with the way you're invading my space," you snap.

hongjoong laughs, and it's loud in your ear, "you're right. i must be imagining things."

he moves back, but his hand remains on your knee.

you push his hand off. he lets you.

"i've had one conversation with the guy," he says, as he gets to his feet. he peers down at you, "and i can confidently say choi san is not someone you should ever get involved with. you're too sweet and stupid to ever handle someone like him."

then he leaves.

~.~.~.~.~

you were right about not being locked in anymore. maybe hongjoong genuinely believed you wouldn't try to escape. it's not the most outlandish idea. there were guards everywhere. and clearly the sanctuary was truly a safe place from whatever was in the fog. you still couldn't figure out why that was.

you trudged through the compound in the dark towards the east wing, where san was assigned a room, and you jumped at every single rustle of a leaf, every cricket chirp. you didn't know what the punishment was for being up past curfew, but you certainly did not want to find out.

you knocked lightly at san's door. it opened quickly, and he hurried you in, glancing down the hall before he pulled the door shut. the rooms used to be jails, so the walls were made of stone and cement. sound proofed, you realized, just like the jail cell you stayed in. and cold. the room itself was decently sized, with a very comfortable looking, but small bed. anything was better than the hard jail cot and thin blanket you'd had, of course, but one look at the comfy bed and thick comforter made you grimace. he had a small wooden desk with books scattered on it, a small wooden chair, and a chest with four drawers. it was more than you had.

san plopped down on his bed, so you took the wooden chair, arms crossing over your chest. it was uncomfortable. but you'd take the discomfort of the chair over the tense atmosphere any day.

here you are now, drumming your fingers against your thighs as you peer around the room, overstudying it.

san breaks the silence first, "the radio?"

you unclipped it from your waist and leaned forward to hand it to him. his fingers brushed against yours as he takes it. he stares at the radio, his fingers tracing it.

you clear your throat.

san looks up.

you say, "you're quiet."

"i just watched two people walk to their deaths tonight," san says, tiredly, "and everyone danced afterwards. forgive me for being a bit quiet."

"that's not what i meant."

"then what did you mean?" san speaks over you, his voice rising, his eyes narrowed, his fingers curled around the radio, "did you want to argue with me?"

"i'm just -" you sigh, dragging a hand through your hair, "i'm trying to make sure you're okay."

a pause. it's long, drawn out.

you think the tension starts to get a bit awkward with how long it takes san to respond. all that's heard is the sounds of you both breathing. you open your mouth to tell him to forget it, when he finally speaks, "were you okay? after?"

you shake your head.

he nods.

after another moment, he says, suddenly, "does it get better?"

his tone is soft, almost vulnerable.

you bite your lip. you could lie, but it's san. besides lying won't help make it any easier. so you shake your head, "no. not for me at least."

he nods again.

then he turns on the walkie talkie and says, "guys, it's san."

the chorus of san's name through the walkie talkie, at various levels, startles you. your eyes widen. you watch as san smiles at the noise. it's sweet.

the chorus of voices disappears, dousing the room in pure silence, before the soft crackle of the radio returns. wooyoung's voice fills the room, "we've been waiting for hours, san."

"y/n was right about not having privacy until after curfew."

they greet you then, and it is much less excited than the greeting san got. but still relatively kind. you'd grown to look forward to their nightly greetings.

you reach for the walkie and san holds it out, but presses the button for you, so you have to lean to speak. you say, "so which one of you fuckers decided on not telling me the plan to send this asshole in here?"

your gaze flickers up to san, and he rolls his eyes. the melancholic atmosphere from earlier long gone, thank god.

"it was - "

"that's not important," yeosang cuts wooyoung off. "san, did you tell y/n the plan?"

"yes," san says, and a small smile plays on his lips, "they called it stupid."

"you agreed!" you call.

a pause before yunho says, "hey! i worked hard on it."

it's nice, you think, to watch san talk to his friends. there's an easy flow in conversation, and it feels like things are more normal than it ever was. he's not so mean or angry or vindictive. you wonder if you would have ever experienced a san like this. Before or otherwise. even when your relationship was fine, you never saw such a playful version of him.

eventually, the atmosphere settles into a more somber one when yeosang asks, "do you think there's an easier way to get you out?"

"we need a faster way," san says. he gestures for you to speak.

"hongjoong is still trying to get information out of me. there's only a matter of time before they figure out about the radio. i want to be optimistic, but well." you pause, frowning at san, before you add, "and he's already suspicious about me and san. which is why it would have been nice to get some kind of warning."

san raised a brow at that. his finger was still on the talk button, even as he says, "you didn't mention that. is this about whatever he was telling you at the shipment?"

"he noticed i kept looking at you."

san blinks, "why would you -"

you swipe the walkie talkie from him, so he's no longer pressing the talk button and your conversation doesn't have an audience. especially because you will not admit you were worried about how he would take tonight. instead, you speak into the walkie talkie, eyes on a bewildered san as you explain, "hongjoong's suspicious of everything i do. i made friends with someone and he immediately got all cagey."

san grabs the walkie talkie from you, "you'll be happy to know y/n's made friends with someone who appears to not like seonghwa or hongjoong, yeosang."

another pause. you eye san in confusion. why was that important? and how did he know that about jongho? did they talk?

"san." yeosang's voice is quiet, but thick, filled with something you can't quite place. it sounds almost full of awe and hope and something else that makes goosebumps settle all over your skin. you don't understand it. any of it. "you're serious?"

you make a move to answer, since it's about you and jongho, but san presses the talk button and says, tone so gentle your stomach churns, "yes. i'm serious, yeo. talked to y/n's friend myself."

san speaks to yeosang like he is something precious. someone he holds dear. it brings you pause. you'd heard that tone from him so long ago, you'd nearly forgotten it. you did not expect to hear it, especially not here and now.

yeosang doesn't respond. why would he care?

"what does jongho have to do with this?" you ask san, frowning at him. you notice he's still pressing the talk button. how are they supposed to hear their responses if san keeps the channel occupied? san stares at you for a moment, his jaw ticking. he sighs. you're not sure why.

"yeo and mingi didn't think anyone would disagree with hongjoong and seonghwa after they left," wooyoung is the one to respond, his voice quiet. "it's validating."

san hands you the walkie talkie, but his face is terse. annoyed, you realize. you wonder what the hell you did to warrant that. he'd seemed so kind just moments ago. or at least calm.

"the fastest way to get you both out," wooyoung says out loud, humming, "say, y/n?"

you don't like wooyoung's tone, "what?"

"what do you think of riots?"

you'd blinks, looking at san, who only snorts. he takes the walkie from your hands, and says, "you want us to start a riot?"

"a riot. a coup. same thing. just cause a scene so big and with so many people involved, that no one notices us breaking in."

"that's easier said than done."

"you can get your friend to help. besides, you and san should be good at causing scenes."

you and san both glare at the walkie talkie. you say, "shut up."

wooyoung laughs. he presses the button just so you can hear him laugh.

~.~.~.~.~

"i'll keep the radio. you can't keep it on you all day. especially with hongjoong so..." san pauses, as if he's searching for the right words, his jaw tensing and his nose wrinkling, "in your face."

you agree with him, at least on this. your cell has no hiding spots either. so you nod, covering your yawn, "that's actually a good idea."

san scoffs at you.

the pause afterwards is definitely awkward this time.

you get up, stretching your legs as you reach for the door.

you open it.

just as you're closing it behind you, san says, "y/n?"

you pause at the threshold of his room, holding the door open a crack.

"let me walk you."

you blink at that, "what?"

san rolls his eyes, "it's dark and you're exhausted. i'm not a complete asshole to let anyone walk home like that."

so you nod. the walk is completely silent. when you step into the room with the jail cell, the single candle you'd been given by seonghwa is flickering out. you can still see san's face as he takes in your accommodations, the shadows only elongating his frown.

you get the urge to hold your breath. instead, you say, "well, good night."

"yeah," san says, before he spins on his heels and walks out. the door clangs shut behind him.

~.~.~.~.~

every night, you check in with yeosang, yunho, mingi, and wooyoung in san's bedroom after the shipment. neither of you mention the shipment. you don't ask why san keeps speaking to seonghwa afterwards like the rest of the members of the sanctuary. you don't even look in his direction at night.

every night, san walks you back to your room. it's the only bit of kindness he's been giving you, and you suppose it isn't necessarily kindness, but rather societal politeness remaining from Before.

every night you both pass the walkie talkie back and forth and formulate a proper plan. you don't ask how san got a hold of paper and pens, because the map of the sanctuary he's made is pretty damn accurate.

every night, you both sit in awkward, tense silence before san calls for yeosang. every night, it's always yeosang's name he calls, with a lilt to his tone and a soft smile that makes you pause.

~.~.~.~.~

"she was a little kid."

san says it into the darkness, as you're both cutting through the courtyard to the main building. you freeze at his words.

you look back and san is staring behind him, in the direction of the doors where the shipments happen.

the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end at the way moonlight shines over you. you still can't stand the dark. it's terrifying. you feel like those things are watching you from above.

you say, "hongjoong says she wasted food."

san pauses, his eyes darting back to you. you keep walking. you feel exposed in the courtyard at night.

when you reach the hallway that leads into where you jail cell is, san finally speaks, his voice echoing into the high ceilings of the foyer. "is that what he's telling you? when he's..."

there's a bite to his words, even as he trails off.

"every night," you nod, peering up at the fist and hammer insignia carved into the wall. "since the day i got here."

you step into your room. san remains at the threshold. under the flickering, dying candle, you cannot make out his expression. not from this distance.

it feels like san wants to say something. he shuffles from foot to foot as he lingers. but, after a long moment, where you are watching him watch you, he says, "good night, y/n."

he leaves.

~.~.~.~.~

"morning," you yawn as you plop down next to jongho. san isn't here. hongjoong hadn't woken you up this morning. instead, you'd woken up to the meal bell over the intercom. the normality is unsettling, but you try not to jinx it.

jongho stares up at you with wide eyes.

then he digs through his pockets and pulls out his notebook and pencil. he scribbles, what's going on between you and san?

"what?" you startle at that. so hard you drop your apple in the dirt.

you don't pick it up, frowning at jongho, watching over his shoulder as he writes, nayeon says that felix and sehun says that sana talked to mrs. kim who was using the toilet where she met jaehyun - or was it taeyong? taeyang? -

"jongho, get to the point."

someone saw you leaving san's room a couple nights ago. after curfew.

"what were they doing out after curfew?"

jongho raised a brow, wrote, half the sanctuary knows. probably all of it by lunch.

"am i not allowed to hang out with people?"

should i remind you that he's your ex? you said it ended badly. you wanted to kill him.

you grimace, "that's...beside the point."

jongho has a way with speaking entire detailed sentences with just a look. this look in particular made you feel quite stupid.

~.~.~.~.~

"i wonder," hongjoong tilts his head at you as he lounges on a chair and watches you scrub the library floor. hongjoong flips through a book, "did you tell your little boy toy how you got the knife?"

"i already said i found it while looking for supplies." you huff, "there's nothing else to it."

"joong," seonghwa's voice echoes through the small library, "feet off the table."

hongjoong actually listens. he then gestures at you, "go on. clean the table."

you resist the urge to throw your rags at his face. seonghwa is somewhere in the library, perusing through the books. you want to ask for what, but he barely looks at you as he scours the library.

the sun is setting. you always feel prickly and nervous when you see it.

you look up from seonghwa as you wring out the rag in your hand. he's handing hongjoong a book and hongjoong flips through it, his eyes moving fast over the words.

"how do you guys keep the fog away?"

it's been a question that's bothered you since you came here.

hongjoong peers at you over the top of his book, his dark eyes narrowed.

seonghwa looks down at you, "you don't already know?"

"why would i know?"

seonghwa and hongjoong exchange a look. seonghwa shakes his head, a vigorous movement.

then seonghwa plucks the book from hongjoong's hands and waves goodbye.

you stare after him. hongjoong waits until the door clicks shut behind seonghwa before he speaks.

"what do you think the shipments are for, y/n?" hongjoong's tone is exasperated. "do you think we do it that way for fun?"

your hands still around the rags as your thoughts reel.

"do you," your grip tightens around the rags once more, your chest tightening, "do you sacrifice those people to...to...to those things? is that what you're saying? is that how you keep the fog away?"

you thought they sent them out there to fend for themselves. like a banishment. but this is - this is infinitely worse. you shudder at the thought of whatever awaited all those people hongjoong gave you details about, all those people he humanized for you because he knew damn well it would be worse for you that way.

hongjoong laughs at whatever he sees on your face. he says, "i'm not allowed to confirm or deny anything. but wouldn't it be a shame if your newbie ended up on a shipment? one of the guard towers has a wonderful view of the aftermath of the ceremony. front row and everything."

"what is wrong with you? you're both monsters."

hongjoong gets up, and you watch as he strides to you, as he drops to a crouch, elbows resting on his knees, and he catches your gaze.

he reaches out suddenly and grabs your face. his fingers dig into your cheeks, to the point where you know you'll have bruises. his nails are sharp, painful.

"you are what’s wrong with me," hongjoong leans in and hums the words, his eyes roaming your face as if he internalizing every minuscule emotion on your face. his fingers dig further, and you can't help but let out a small whimper in pain. he smiles at it. "do you want to know a secret?"

"no," you mumble. his grip smushes your mouth, so it's difficult to speak.

"when the world went to shit, i was just like you. stupid. sweet. asking people why they did the things they did," he brings you so close, you can make out the smallest blemishes on his face. you could count his eyelashes, "monsters aren't born, y/n. they are made. from aliens in the sky. from bloodthirsty monsters in the fog. from other people doing whatever the fuck they wanted under the excuse of saving their asses. from betrayals. do you know what it's like to have the love of your life turn his back on you, slit your sister's throat, and leave you for dead? do you know what the fuck that's like?"

you remain frozen in his grip, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. his dark eyes are faraway, his jaw clenched.

"you don't. not yet," he lets go, shoving you back. you catch yourself, clutching your jaw with one hand, and propping yourself with the other, unable to look away from him. "but keep protecting him, and you will. if i'm not the one to do it, then i'm sure he'd gladly do it again."

your face hurts, and your chest feels heavy with the implications of hongjoong's words. is he talking about...wooyoung? it is wooyoung's knife. the thought of wooyoung doing such a thing is not necessarily surprising, not with the way he brandished a knife at you when you first met, but it's still horrifying to think of when wooyoung did see relatively nice after. it still makes you feel bad for hongjoong, right then, pity filling you up, up, up. you take in the faraway look in his eyes and the shaking fists. the hatred in his eyes as he looks at you, someone he deems a reflection of his past self. the younger version of him. it saddens you that he hates a reminder of that version of himself that much.

slowly, you sit up, and hongjoong remains crouched as he stares at you the way predator watches prey.

"i'm sorry," you say, and your jaw hurts when you talk, your voice hoarse, but you push through as you search his hard expression. your fingers remain fists against the wet library floor as you look him in the eyes, "i'm sorry you were hurt so badly. i'm really truly sorry."

for a moment, hongjoong falters. his shoulders slump, and his brows fall, and his jaw slackens.

when hongjoong looks at you, there is a moment of solidarity, of kindness, maybe even of sadness. he truly believes you will fall into the same fate as him, as though you truly are him. you can see it in the way he slightly softens for just a moment. he says, "he certainly has a type, doesn't he?"

who? you want to ask. wooyoung?

but you don't want to send him into a rage again. not when he's appeared to calm down.

instead, you say, "i'm not you."

"maybe not entirely. definitely not literally. but," hongjoong gives you a onceover, "i've known you - the very essence of you - all my life. whether that was through my sister or myself. i buried that stupid bastard years ago along side her corpse. yet here you are. like a fucking ghost."

you shake your head, "if you really see yourself in me, that means you never buried him. he's still there. you don't have to bury him, hongjoong. you didn't have to kill that part of yourself."

you're not sure why you're trying to get him to see reason, to understand that how he used to be is not the problem.

"oh i know." hongjoong stares. he entirely too calm when he says, "when i get my revenge, i won't be around to see the aftermath, but at least all of me will be buried away. it's been the plan since the beginning, y/n, and you'd do well to have your own plan in place."

"you'd do that?" your voice is too quiet. you don't like the idea of such a morbid contingency plan or that he thought it was the only way, "kill yourself after you've carried out your revenge?"

hongjoong looked out the windows, to the now dark sky, to the moon and trees and things floating in the sky, "what else is there to live for in this place?"

you'd wondered the same thing, back when you'd wandered everywhere and had too much time to think. often times you wondered if it was worth it. it took a long time before you came to your own conclusion. you look at hongjoong as you say, "you don't have to live for anything. you can just live."

hongjoong stares at you. "we'll see if you think the same when you realize he's a liar and more of a monster than seonghwa and i ever will be. at least we lie for a reason. i can't say the same for mingi."

your eyes widen. hongjoong just scoffs, spins on his heels, and walks away.

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Twenty Two: Done

Mentions of: Injuries, Near Death Experience, Arguments, and lots and lots of angst

A/N: Lots of angst…sorry y’all!!

Tags: @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @prettycutebunny @moonshineinasippycup @vandeaad

You were finally here. After all the hard work, all the sleepless nights you spent suffering and scavenging for something, anything to get you out, you got it. The last piece to the puzzle. The Blight’s realm.

You peered around the corner, making sure you were in the clear, before signaling to Frank. The two of you quietly made your way into his living area…which was what seemed like an old laboratory. It was a glimpse into The Blight’s story, what he used to be before he turned into this..thing

The place was a wreck, papers scattered everywhere with illegible handwriting and scribbles over it, shattered lab equipment littering glass shards across the floor, and writing all over the walls.

“The hell happened here?” Frank muttered under his breath as he stepped over a broken beaker. You shrugged in response. “Just look for a glowing orange syringe. They have to be around somewhere.”

You split up. Frank searched the drawers of some filing cabinets, while you went through his desk“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“What? You can’t be backing out now. We’re right here. We’re so close, I just know it.” You replied with a frown, searching with more and more fervor.

He glanced over at you, opening his mouth to say something, before he heard something in the distance. A slight groaning sound. Then he saw it. The Blight, charging towards them. He called out your name a few times, but you didn’t respond.

“I finally found it!” You exclaimed, holding up the vial.

“______!” Frank yelled, and by the time you saw him, it was too late. He was knocked down, being hit in his throat and on his knees, choking and gasping for air.

You dropped the vial, causing the liquid to shatter against the ground, and turn it to black. You took note, but were quickly distracted by the Bone Buster hitting your knees and causing you to fall, crying out in pain.

He crawled on top of you, stabbing his weapon right next to your head. You flinched, struggling underneath him, moving your head away from the glowing saliva dripping from the hole where his mouth once was, unable to look at his hideous face. His eyes dropped to the silver necklace around your neck, and in a swift motion, he tore it off of you.

You struggled underneath him, but he was stronger than you expected. His bony hands replaced the necklace, keeping you pinned underneath him while he pulled out another syringe from his pocket, preparing to stab you with it.

Just before he could, you kicked him between the legs, rolling out from underneath him. You were about to get your things back, when Frank grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the laboratory alongside him.

“What’re you doing?” You snapped at him the moment you were out, tearing your arm from his grip. “What do you mean what am I doing? I’m getting us out of here!”

“Well I didn’t want you to! I was right there! If you just let me grab the serum and- and now he took my fucking necklace, too!”

He scoffed. “So saving us is my fault?You were about to die! We both were! We had to get out of there! Who gives a shit about some stupid Serum. There’s no point!”

“No point?! That’s why we’re doing this in the first place! I saw the effects, Frank. The ground went all black and- It’s The Entity’s weak spot. It’s my way out of here, and you just had to fuck it all up. I’m going back.” You seethed.

He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Do you hear yourself right now? You sound insane.”

You felt something pang in your chest at that. You had confided in him, and he doesn’t believe you? You stared at him as he continued.

“The only reason why I’ve tagged along with you to do all this crazy shit is because I was bored! But I can’t play this game anymore. You need to get a grip. There’s no way out of here and there never will be. Yeah, you’re stuck here and it fucking sucks, but you have to deal with it, just like the rest of us do.”

“Fuck you, Frank. You’re dead to me.” He scoffed at that. “Oh really? thought I was your ‘best friend.’”

“I only said that because I was high. I don’t give a shit about you. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone can stand being your friend in general. You’re an awful person, who does shitty things and uses people. Yeah, you have your little gang and your psycho girlfriend, but the only reason why you keep them around is because you’re afraid of being alone. You need to have other people around and make them feel beneath you, because it fills that hole inside. But deep down, you’re always going to be that broken lonely little boy and you’ll never change.”

You jammed your finger to his chest, getting all in his face. You could see the anger in his eyes, the hurt from your words, but you didn’t care. All this time, you thought he believed you. You thought he actually cared and wanted to help. But he didn’t. He was just playing this sadistic little game. He was just entertaining himself. You should’ve known better. You should’ve never trusted him. You should’ve never cared.

You turned on your heel, storming off. You bit your lip, trying to hide your sobs, refusing to let him see how he was affecting you..not wanting him to see your weakness.

It wasn’t until you were deep in the woods that you checked over your shoulder to see if he had followed. He didn’t. So you let yourself cry. You let yourself fall apart.

You cried for a long tim before you returned to your cabin, collapsing onto your bed and hiding your face in your pillow. You couldn’t help the questions that floated around your head. Would anyone believe you could get out of here? Was there really no way out? Was Frank right? What do you do now?

Out of all your questions, you knew only one thing. You and Frank were done. For good.

[inlocusmads]

for the writing slump asks, any oc of your choice trying to read Rowan’s handwriting!

thank you 🌺

Thank you so much for this prompt!!

Title: "I have no idea how this got worse"

Rowan's friends are less than thrilled with her chicken scratches. (Murder at Homecoming)

wc: 581, warning for strong language

a/n: Just needed an excuse to swear a lot in words lmao.

“What the fuck is this?” Rowan slammed a stack of loose papers on the cafeteria table, clearly indicating she’d hit her frustration threshold, enough to rip the stapler off of them.

Stevie looked up from her sandwich. “Seriously?”

“Motherfucker gave me an F.”

“Language!” came a voice.

“Good morning to you too, where were you?”

Donovan sighed, as he set down his tray of lunch, the sad mac and cheese staring back at him. He grabbed a sachet of pills, popped one in and took swigs of water, raging alcoholic style. “This headache is killing me, the nurse hates my existence and the pieces of shits at the newspaper club gave me a hard time over cleaning up some photos. What’s new, Rowan?”

“I got an F in Timothy’s class.”

“Ah, rough. Been there. I never took AP World History because of this.” Donovan poked and prodded at his mac and cheese. “Is this cheese even real?”

“Get your own lunch from home damn it.” Stevie dusted off the crumbs from her hands. “Suck it up, Ro, it’s tough.” - she picked up her essay from the table, going through the pages, “Okay, but what the fuck is this?”

“Right?”

“Rowan, what’s this?” Stevie asked, as if she’d just found a rotten banana in her backpack that she’d forgotten years ago.

“What? It’s everything about the Industrial Revolution.” Rowan replied, as if it was obvious.

“I can’t even read this.”

“Give it to me.” Donovan motioned and took a quick look at the page. “I literally can’t read this.”

“What? Is my handwriting that bad? None of you guys can ever read it?”

“Yes.”

“Look -- look, the title clearly says The Industrial Revolution and its Impact.”

“One, Tim does not like unclear essay titles - you gotta hammer in the specifics and two, I read that as ‘The Industrial Eggs’. How do you even cross your T? It looks like a g, more like ‘eggs’ with a million g’s inside it.” Donovan added. “Three, add a paragraph break, jeez, who writes like this?”

“Okay, Donovan, let’s be nice-” Stevie pacified the table, turning to Rowan. “No, but damn, who raised you? What even is this? I suck at history and even I know the Industrial revolution didn’t happen in the 1630s.”

“No- no that’s an eight. It's not a three, it’s a two.”

“Of course it’s an eight. For the love of God, get the thing printed-”

“You can’t. Timothy’s one of those weirdos who expect you to handwrite all your essays. You’re fucked, Rowan. Sorry.” Donovan poured a bit of ketchup on his chicken nuggets, expecting them to counter the otherwise bland taste. “No, this is terrible. Do we have time to hit up the diner?”

“You guys are of no help.” Rowan buried her face in her hands. “This is an F.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get over it. It’s deserved though.”

“You too, Stevie?”

“This has been a problem with you from the ever beginning of time, I swear to God-”

“I cannot believe you’re saying this-”

“No, it’s always this with you - I can never get you to sign a card properly, remember the time when we all pitched in for a giant birthday card for Luke’s party - yeah, Donovan remembers - and you wrote Happy birthday in the most illegible font ever to the point where people seriously thought you were saying-”

“-- never did anything and ANOTHER thing-”

“Fuck it.” Donovan sighed, “I’m going to the diner by myself.”

___

[nagipops]

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[1987vampire]

A Good Something? | Judd Birch

Fandom: Big Mouth Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: a hurt racoon, the f slur, just a lot of cussing.  Request: None! A/N: This isn’t established Judd x reader, this is meeting him for the first time so if I write more fics for him, I have something I can refer y’all back to :) If y’all want to see more Judd, an ACTUAL judd x reader, I can give y’all that ALSO the reader has dyed hair in this - not blue - it’s not super important but there’s a line in here that references it.  Extra: 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” your words were stressed as you slammed on the breaks. The rain made it hard to see; it wasn’t your fault that the animal had run into the middle of the road. You weren’t even going that fast, they should have been able to hear you.

You flung your door open harsher than you meant to, but you had to move quickly in case someone came speeding down the road, and you ended up bleeding out right next to whatever you had hit. The road was slick underneath your feet. You almost slipped and fell as you skidded to a stop in front of them. It was a racoon, a fat one at that, and it was staring up at you with big doe eyes. His leg was twisted, and he was letting out small grunts of pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little buddy,” You cried. “Can I pick you up? I’ll find somewhere to take care of you, I promise.” You hadn’t really expected an answer- it was an animal after all – but he nodded up at you, reaching his little paws out in hopes that you would help. You paused for a moment, taking in the situation and trying to figure out how to pick him up without hurting him.

You reached an arm under his butt and the other under his neck so you wouldn’t jostle his leg too much. He made little chirping sounds as you steadily walked over to your car, using your head as a shield so he wouldn’t get rain in his eyes. You let out a quiet stream of ‘I’m sorry’s as you did so. You made it into your car just in time to close the door as someone sped down, narrowly missing you as they went.

The little racoon shivered in the passenger seat, but you covered him in blankets and spare clothes you kept in the back, turning the heat in your car on high, trying to dry him and heat him up at the same time. He stared up at you thankfully as you put the car in gear, driving home even slower than before, never going over twenty-five-miles-an-hour.

Once you had reached your apartment, you had to sneak him in in hopes that your shitty landlord wouldn’t notice. He had a strict no animals policy, but this was a bit more important. Fortunately, you could sneak past his office by telling the raccoon to be quiet, since he seemed to be good at listening to directions somehow, and hiding him underneath the pile of clothes, passing him off as laundry.

Finally, inside the comforts of your apartment, you laid him down on the couch and set to researching what to do. After a few calls to a few vet offices and a lot of google searches, you were able to give him a makeshift cast and lay him in a way that would be best for his recovery. He was still talking in his little racoon language as you went. It really looked like he was trying to tell you something, but unfortunately, you were human and could not understand him.

That was until he held your hand in his little paws and pulled them to his neck. How had you not noticed the skinny collar he was wearing? His thick fur had almost completely covered it. Really, it wasn’t even a collar but a thick piece of cord with a circle nameplate in the middle.

You fiddled with it, reading the information attached. ‘Contact Judd. 555-4200’ was engraved onto it in someone’s personal handwriting instead of with a machine. “You know it’s illegal for someone to own a racoon around here, right,” you told him. The racoon made a noise of disapproval and fiddled with the collar again. “Do you want me to take it off?” He hissed in displeasure, making you stop abruptly. “Call him?” He nodded enthusiastically. “You’re a strange little guy, you know that, right?”

You pulled out your phone and dialed the number, tapping your foot against the floor anxiously. It took a few rings, and you were sure he wouldn’t pick up, when a deep voice answered the phone.

“Do you know what fucking time it is, right now?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned towards the first clock you could find—three o’clock in the morning. “I- I’m sorry. I can call back in the morning if you want. I just have this racoon with me, and his ankle is twisted because I accidentally hit him, and he had your number on his neck, and I- I-“

“Racoon?” His voice cut you off, and you could tell that he was waking up at the information. “You hit one of my fucking racoons?”

“He ran out into the middle of the road when I was driving. It was raining, so I could barely see, and I couldn’t swerve to miss him because there was a car on one side of the road and trees on the other. I wrapped his leg, and he’s resting, but he wanted me to call you, so here we are.”

He let out a few grumbles, and my fingers instinctively rose to my face so I could bite at my nails. “Fucking hell. Why was he in the middle of the road?” It was a rhetorical question, but you had almost wanted to respond even though you didn’t have an answer. “Does he have any distinctive marks on him? A missing toe, clipped ear, maybe he has uneven stripes.” Your eyes fell on the racoon again. He looked pretty normal besides the leg.

Almost like he knew what you were talking about, the racoon pulled one of his hands up to his forehead. After you pushed some of his fur to the side, you knew what he was pointing at. “He’s showing me that he has a scar on his forehead - like he split his forehead or something.”

“Of course it’s fucking Gerard – the fat fuck.”

You frowned at the statement. “He’s not that fat.”

“I mean the sentence in the most loving hatred filled way I can mean it. He knows I don’t mean it. Can you give the phone to him?”

This was the weirdest fucking situation you had ever been in. “Oh yeah, I guess.” you placed the phone in the racoon’s hand, and he made a chirp as a hello. You could hear Judd’s voice lowly in the speaker as he talked to him, the racoon making noises of acknowledgement as he went. You could make out very little besides him asking if you were taking care of him and then berating him for being stupid. The racoon – well, Gerard – kept trying to talk to him, but Judd refused to let up, barely giving him a moment to speak even if he did understand him.

After a few minutes, Gerard pushed the phone towards me, and I took it back. “So, what do you want me to do with him. Like, I can take him to yours, since I guess he belongs to you, or-“

“Fuck off. What are you – the feds? Give me your address, I’m not letting you see my shit.”

“Well, usually people ask me on a date before seeing my place, but-“ the words had slipped from my mouth before I thought about what I was saying, and my eyes immediately widened with embarrassment. “Oh my god- I’m sorry-“

He laughed loudly and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Well, we can think about that after I get the fat fucking faggot in your house.”

Your arms crossed. “You better part of that community if you’re using their slurs, fuckface.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mused. “Give me your address. I’m getting in my car.”

After giving him the information, you hung up, itching at your arm as you stared at Gerard. “He isn’t very nice, huh,” you told him. He chirped and shook his head as if defending him. “Is he really mean or is it a front?” He chirped at the second part, and I smiled. “Well, he’ll be here soon.”

And soon it was. It only took him about ten minutes before you heard a loud knocking on your door, banging more like. You jumped from sitting beside Gerard to the door, peeking out into the dark hallway, the latch still connected. “Judd?”

On the other side of the door was a decently tall man with black and blue hair, his sides shaved til it was only stubble. He was clad in a gray hoodie and black jeans, gray converse on his feet. His face was set in a glare as he stared at you. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

You shut the door and unlatched it, opening it wider so he could come in. “You knock like my landlord.”

“Landlord?” He pushed into your apartment, his sights set on the racoon lounging on your cheap couch. “You don’t look old enough to have a landlord.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m nineteen. This is my apartment.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder. “And you let some strange man in? Pretty stupid if you ask me.”

You frowned and pursed your lips. “I can kick you out- keep your racoon if you don’t start acting nice.”

“You could definitely try.” He picked up Gerard’s leg, inspecting it. “You did a good job with this. Almost as good as my work.”

“He was a good patient.”

Judd scoffed, sticking his hands underneath Gerard to pick him up just as you had earlier that night. “He was probably just basking in a pretty girl’s attention.”

Pretty? A smile was climbing onto your face. He was pretty, too, if he didn’t have such a sour attitude.

His eyes fell onto yours as he turned. “I like your hair by the way. The color suits you.” You ran your hand through your dyed hair, suddenly very conscious of how you looked. “You should try blue next time.” Gerard made a loud noise in his arms and reached out to you. Judd frowned down at him. “You had your fun, dumbass, but you’ve got to go home now. I’m sure the others are worried about you.”

“Others?”

Judd looked back at you. “Yeah, I was – uh – training a battalion of racoons to kill my younger brother.” He groaned quietly. “Now they’re good for catering and attacking intruders, but they refused to hurt him. Got a few scars because of it.”

You chuckled quietly and shook your head. “You sure are something, alright.”

His lips upturned the slightest bit into a tiny smile. “Is that a good something?”

“Sure, we can say that.”

You opened the door for him as he started taking strides towards it. He paused right past the entryway, something sitting on his tongue. “Try not to hit any more racoons, alright?”

Your fingers drummed along the door, and you laughed. “I’ll be sure to call you if I do. Just in case.”

He was already walking away when he responded. “You have my number.”

You hesitated on shutting the door right away, choosing to listen to him begin to berate the racoon as he walked down the hall, something along the lines of, ‘you make me come out in the middle of the night, scared shitless. You could have died, you fucking cunt.” He continued as he disappeared out of sight, but you didn’t even have the heart to ask him to cover the racoon as he left, preferring to just deal with your landlords berating the next day.

[moronic-validity]

Slashers Ranked: Spelling and Handwriting

-Billy Lenz: 5/10. He's not going to win any spelling bees anytime soon, but he's satisfied with his abilities. As for handwriting? Let's...not talk about it.

-RZ Michael Myers: 6/10. Okay listen. He can spell. His handwriting though? Yikes big guy. If his handwriting was legible, you'd be able to figure out what he was writing

-1978 Michael Myers: ???/10. What are you? A cop? Michael knows he can spell, but it's apparently none of our business

- Bo Sinclair: 6/10. Once again with the handwriting.... I've always liked the hc that Bo is a voracious reader. Like I really like it. I think that because he reads, he's also a fairly solid speller. His problem? His handwriting looks a hell of a lot like his dad's

- Vincent Sinclair: 3/10. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just think that Vincent writes too quick to double check his spelling. He probably knows how to spell, but you'd never be able to tell because he'll scribble his typo ridden note to self, then go back to doing what he was doing.

- Lester Sinclair: 7/10. Lester's score comes from the fact he works for the state. Does this mean he's going to win any spelling bees any time soon? No. But he can spell well enough to fill out whatever stupid reports have to be filled out.

-Jason Voorhees: 5/10. Listen, Jason can't spell for shit. He really does work at it. Most people can't tell that Jason can't spell because he'll use synonyms. You only really realize it when he gives you a grocery list that says 'popcorn seeds' instead of popcorn kernels.

-Brahms Heelshire: 9/10. The little shit can spell, okay? His parents probably made sure of it. And is handwriting? You expected childish scrawls considering his behavior, but it's actually very neat and almost pretty.

-Thomas Hewitt: 10/10. Luda Mae made sure that Thomas could spell and not only can he spell, he has the best handwriting out of any slasher on this list second only to

- Bubba Sawyer: 10/10. Depending on which line you follow, Bubba had either Verna or Drayton on his ass about spelling and handwriting through his entire childhood and well into adulthood.

- Pavi Largo: 2/10. He can not spell for shit. That being said? He has beautiful swirling handwriting. "Pavi, you know there's an e in the word heart, right?"

"Do I kare?"

- Luigi Largo: 9/10. Really neat handwriting and really solid spelling. He handles a lot of contracts and he takes great pride in it.

- Amber Sweet: -1/10. She'll text you and blame autocorrect if there's a typo. Her actual handwriting is nearly illegible and she can't spell.

- Graverobber: -8/10. Fuck you, Fuck you, Fuck you. Graverobber had really neat handwriting and it's completely legible, but then he mixes numbers in with the letters because fuck you, that's why. Spells like a late 2000's scene kid.

-Amanda Young 5/10. She really does have decent handwriting and her spelling isn't bad. She's honestly just middle of the line here.

- Leslie Vernon 3/10. Okay listen, I hc Leslie as dyslexic (I'm also dyslexic, let me have this) and sometimes spelling is really hard. He knows what he's trying to write, his handwriting is good, but bless this man, his spelling is not great.

- Charlie Hewitt: you would think, as another one of Luda Mae's boys, that he would also have good spelling and good handwriting. You'd be wrong. 5/10. Charlie didn't care much for the lessons and he can spell and his handwriting is legible, but it is no where NEAR Thomas's level.

- Drayton Sawyer: 9/10. His handwriting isn't as good as Bubba's, but his spelling is definitely on par. He takes a fair amount of pride in his penmanship.

- Asa Emory: 7/10. Please hear me out here. Asa has really neat handwriting and can spell scientific names all day long. Technical terms? No problem. Do not ask him to spell the word refrigerator. He can't do it.

-Daniel Robitaille: 8/10. Okay so I saw the original Candyman very recently and my gut instinct is that he can spell and that his handwriting is really really good. And no, not just good for having a hook hand. Good. Period.

- Lawrence Oleander: 6/10 or 1/10. I imagine his handwriting as very neat when he's calm and the scrawling of a mad man when he's not. As for spelling? He's fairly good at it when he's focused on what he's doing.

- Strade: It's complicated/10. Okay so here's my thought process here. Strade is a serial killer. My guess is, he changes up his handwriting every now and again. Sometimes he's an elite speller with carefully swirling letters, and others, it's chicken scratch where ds and bs and ps and qs all look the same. The general consensus is that Strade writes however it suits him and the situation he's in.

[allisoooon]

I absolutely love your character insights and analysis! Have you ever tried to analyse the writing on Klaus' bedroom walls? I feel like entire essays could probably be written about it...

Thank you! Annoyingly, The Making of The Umbrella Academy has two things about Klaus’ room: 1) jack, and 2) shit. Great details on Allison, Luther, and Five’s rooms, Vanya’s and Diego’s apartments, and a few good shots of the mausoleum of all places, but whoever put the guide together didn’t care very much about Klaus or Ben. So. Gotta use my own eyes and brain here.

I would love to know whether the writers did the writing on that wall, or if it was entirely a set design thing, because that would make a difference in how much stock I put in it. Most of it seems to be the same handwriting, though, if at various levels of stressed. And he does that thing kids who learned cursive do where sometimes you start writing in cursive without realizing it, and when you realize it, you switch back to print.

But since it is filmed and on the show, it is canon, so I’ll look at it like canon. Looking at this post, if I was writing all that stuff for the show, I’d be thinking of a few different things:

1. Shit Klaus wrote because he was high.

2. Shit Klaus wrote because he was an artsy, gothy teen.

3. Shit Klaus wrote because he thought it was funny.

4. Shit Klaus wrote as legitimate self-expression.

You can have some really weird thoughts when you’re high that seem deep to you at the time but make no sense to someone who isn’t high, and I think that’s a lot of what’s on his walls. My teens were definitely an experimental stage for writing supposedly avant-garde things, and I think there’s some of that, too. And then there’s stuff like “One day I aspire to illegally land a plane in Mexico. A night in jail, Mexican jail, is character-building.” I think he just thought that was funny. Then there’s gonna be a lot of crap that covers more than one category.

Regarding actual self-expression, I’m thinking that’s part of the repeated themes and statements he makes. I’ll talk about those.

Uncomfortable tactile sensations.

1. “Where the fire burns so do I feel the pain electrify me.”

2. “My skin crawls with the seething visions of the night.”

3. “Feel the pain electrify me.”

My mind went to drug withdrawal, but there’s something more sinister I’ll discuss below. 1 and 3 are written separately, and repeats can be considered significant. Some of this could also be a response to the forced tattoo, though tattooing doesn’t feel so much like burning or electricity to me as being cut into with a penknife. Look under the category of Reginald’s rule for perhaps a more significant theory.

Darkness.

4. “It makes me feel like dark + small.”

5. “Even in the darkest caves there is a light!”

6. “Well I settled on ‘lamplight’ (the first sight, in which I learned to see divinity looking out the bedroom window).”

We know the dark is/was a PTSD trigger for him (he does fall asleep in the dark in season two, and peoples’ triggers changing is very normal). I think 4 is evocative of the mausoleum. 5 is written more than once.

Connections with people, or lack thereof.

7. “To keep at hand whatever it was the mountains meant and maybe that was love and maybe it was longing.”

8. “Sorry… I tried to wake up for you but sleep took me again…”

9. “Cheats, you lose!”

10. “And why didn’t I ever actually love the others?”

11. “I am [illegible] a lone and lonely sight.”

12. “There was a time when the need for love was nothing more [than] a sigh, a long look at a red light. And now, love is locked in [cut off]…is an old acquaintance.”

Two of these are written more than once that I can see: 8 and 9. 9 is written all over the place. 8 makes me wonder if it was written about an early attempt to get sober. Overall, the impression I’m getting of Klaus’ childhood emotional state is that he was very lonely and felt unloved, but also seemed to have difficulty reaching out as well. 8 and 10 get me thinking about depersonalization and derealization, forms of dissociation that happen commonly when someone is traumatized. Like the world around him doesn’t feel real, and neither does he.

Lack of identity.

13. “Faceless and nameless.”

14. “How do I know who I am?”

15. “How do you know who I am?”

14 is written twice. This makes it meaningful. I know I’ve read Rob Sheehan talk about how Klaus has no idea who he really is, so it’s not surprising. Also ties in with my thoughts about depersonalization above, but a very chilling possibility is that he’s writing about/to ghosts. Especially 15. I think 15 was a question he asked to the ghosts.

Deeply worrying indications of his feelings about his life under Reginald’s rule.

16. “Where the fire burns so do I feel the pain electrify me. You cannot kill the willing to die.”

17. “Feel the pain electrify me.”

18. “Obey, obey, obey, oh can you obey.”

19. “Fast as I can run.”

20. “Do not feed the animals.”

21. “Off with his head.”

22. “Feast on famine.”

You Look Like Death wasn’t out yet when this set was made, but it revealed Reginald used to electrocute Klaus without anesthesia. I don’t want to call it ECT because ECT is not and has never been “run uncontrolled electric currents through patient’s body at increasing levels to see what happens while they beg you to stop.” It is done for very stubborn cases of depression under general anesthesia with all kinds of monitoring and precautions. There was nothing therapeutic about what Hargreeves did for experimentation. So that’s what 16 and 17 make me think of, and presumably, Gerard could have told Steve Blackman some of what was in it. I know he told Robert Sheehan some of it. In context, 20 strongly makes me think Klaus felt like he was being treated like an animal. Obviously up to interpretation. 20 and 22 are both hunger-themed. Was starvation part of these kids’ punishments sometimes?

Truth.

23. “See no truth, speak no truth, hear no truth.”

24. “What is the truth of everything.”

I’m thinking about him growing old enough to question what he’s been told. 23 seems like exactly what a teen goth would write as soon as they knew about Gandhi’s monkey figurines.

Numbness or disturbed emotional state.

25. “You cannot kill the willing to die.”

26. “It makes me feel like dark + small.”

27. “What must I do to feel anything? Vacuum the void of space. Space dust all clean. Beast creatures mythical and real must be ground to dust to start anew.”

28. “Forge my soul in the fire.”

29. “The choices I’ve made could be my own self-understanding. I could balance this.”

30. “I became a frozen, forgotten frame of mind.”

31. “Time is passing quickly. There is much to enjoy and all the things I said I’d do…I can feel the guilt. How much will time will it take?”

32. “I never say he suffered!”

33. “Consume everything then consume yourself with me. Destroy everything I love. What is the essence of the forest? Why must I go?”

25 is an unsurprising thought, given what this kid is going through. Same with 27 and 30. The dissociative aspects of psychological trauma can cause some really disturbing numbness (you feel uncomfortably numb, hahaHAHAhaha…get it). 28 is written all over the place and seems almost surprisingly optimistic for Klaus. I would looooove to know what 29 means, if it might be part of his early attitude toward his addiction. 31 is crossed out, which motivated me to read it properly. I’d love to know why it’s crossed out. It’s crossed out in a different color, suggesting it was done at a later time and not part of some design. What are the things he said he’d do and why does he feel guilty about them? 32 is written twice. The last question in 33 makes me think he’s writing down something a ghost is saying. Overall, I’d kill to get a child psychologist’s opinion on this stuff, but to me a lot of it seems consistent with what I’ve read about PTSD.

Vaguely nihilistic sentiment.

34. “Wants, desires, nothing else matters.”

35. “Consume everything then consume yourself.”

36. “The day we die.”

37. “Don’t worry about the present and live in the past.”

38. “Yes years gone by without a word, but now in ink that’s soon to smudge.”

35 may be about his drug use. 36 is written more than once, including by a sticker of an eyeball. Five would have gone nuts if he’d noticed it.

Overall, I think we’re looking at a kid who had a lot of depth beneath the clownish attitude his siblings knew him for. Not all of this is dark, doom-and-gloom stuff. Some of it is humorous, some of it darkly humorous, some of it surprisingly optimistic, some of it’s just deep and the rest is inscrutable. What I love about this is that it acknowledges that abused children are still entire people. Adults like to wrap them up in pretty, innocent little packages and imagine they just shiver and hide under the bed all the time. Klaus wasn’t that kind of cliché. He was a kid who had a lot of people fooled into thinking he was shallow and carefree, but wrote cares all over his walls. Some sentences I can’t fully read keep popping up with the word “love.” I do try not to over-woobify my faves, but goddammit Klaus. He keeps insisting on breaking my heart.

You know what I realize, looking at this? I get why he and Ben were close as kids. Ben is also deep, a literature nerd, and seems like someone who could look at these walls and get what’s going on. Prior to Klaus’ drug use, they could have had some deep conversations the others may not believe happened with Klaus. I’m not saying Klaus is a great intellectual, but I can see where he and Ben could get on a similar wavelength.

A nice touch is that the stuff written in the most childish handwriting is the most faded. Quote #7 looks like it was written first years before, then rewritten when he was older.

Something right by his bed is like he woke up, took a black crayon, rubbed a black area on the wall, and scratched off a whole “message” that may just be him scribbling to let off steam. The only legible word is “NO.” Positioned directly under it on the desk is a jar of crayons. Though the more I look at it, the more I think it looks like charcoal?

There’s also “THIS IS THE DOOR” written twice in the biggest letters in the room. I’d love to know what that means.

In addition to all the writing, we get Klaus’ personal sense of style. Mostly, there’s a darkly witchy feel to it. Lots of candles, some slightly macabre imagery. A tiny electric keyboard, camera, and camcorder indicate he might have had artistic hobbies, or at least tried them out before getting bored with them. Cast iron teapot (a very good way to make tea), a sitting area by a record player with some dark boho décor. Records. CDs. Incense. Very small old television. Beaded curtains.

OF COURSE he has more than one hookah—one by his coffee table, one by his dresser.

Photos by Aidan Gallagher

Cutesy stickers. Some are of ghosts and skulls; a number are of aliens and UFOs. A hot plate with what looks like a Turkish coffee setup (you know, those tiny tiny cups of incredibly strong delicious coffee that’s almost like dark chocolate). Childhood crayon drawings. Leather-bound journal. Psychedelic imagery. Probably a Pink Floyd fan. I wonder if the fairy lights that frame his headboard come down around the desk for a reason—late night art? Coffee? Using that hot plate for something else?

Something that might be a tentacle monster made out of pipe cleaners attached to a bedpost.

It also looks to me like there’s no writing on the walls that were part of Vanya’s room. So maybe Klaus didn’t write/draw on his walls past a certain age, or wanted to leave that part of his space unscribbled-on. He would have been 17+ at this time and might have wanted that area to be a more grown-up space.

[norimiya]

New Beginnings

Masterlist   Prev

Reki Kyan x Gn Reader

Loverboy Chapter 7!

a/n: a bit everywhere, terrible skips. 855 words or so.

warnings: only a few curse words near the end.

With a gloomy expression, or rather a defeated one, Langa makes his way over to you two, freezing in his place when he sees Reki's body over yours. Should I? Are they? Are. They. No, we're in a park. Do they care? Are they? The internal conflict in his mind lasted long enough, now you and Reki stood on either side of him.

"Man, did you bomb another interview?" Reki asks, leaning slightly to glimpse at Langa's phone. "You should really talk more, that's probably it." He says, stretching Langa's cheeks.

"Not an interview." He says through stretched cheeks.

Reki's eyes widened before he checked again, "Just the resume? What are you putting on that thing anyway?" A single glance at it is enough to see all the information scribbled out in barely legible handwriting. "Man, do you want me to fill these out for you?"

Langa shakes his head, "What would I say when there's writing involved."

"Well, I guess there's no choice." Reki says, a determined look on his face.

-

"We're begging you!"

The Dope Sketch manager sports an exasperated look when the two boys shout, muttering to himself before he caves in.

"I'll talk to the owner." He says, immediately following up with, "That doesn't mean you'll get the job." When they perked up. He turns to you when Reki and Langa begin talking, "Do you need a job too?" He asks quietly, not wanting to stir Reki on.

"No, no. I'm okay, thank you. I've got one already." Not entirely a lie, you'd asked Kojiro for a job at the restaurant a few days after you'd had dinner since he'd been complaining about not having enough people to bus the tables. He said he'd think about it.

Back at the park, Langa prepares himself to do an ollie, two water bottles placed together in front of him, and there's a determined look on his face. Reki skates around in a triangular formation waiting for Langa to go, glancing over at you and pretending he wasn't when you catch him.

It's only minutes later when you're being dragged to Reki's house.

You situate yourself on Reki's bed fully under his covers, much to his dismay, and Langa stares at you questionably but doesn't say anything.

"Don't get too comfortable." He grumbled, reaching his hand over to flick your forehead. He rolls his eyes when you pull his blankets over your head, watching with heated cheeks while you tuck yourself close.

His mother comes in when his youngest sister runs out, scolding him for not telling her he's brought you two over.

You miss the wink she gives Reki when she sees you in his bed. Zoning out for the majority of their conversation and Reki's oddly comforting bed, it's no surprise your eyes started to drop.

"Y/n."

No response.

"Y/n." Reki tries again louder, but still no response.

"Y/n!" He shouts, barely dodging your head when you jolted awake. "You fell asleep. I would've let you sleep here but I don't know what your grandma would say." He whispered.

Your eyes widen when you see the time, "Shit. Shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean to."

"It's fine." He assures, resting his hand on your arm. "Langa's already left, let's get you home before your grandma gets worried."

It's quiet while you walk, random cars are passing by but the noise leaves just as fast as it comes.

"You didn't have to walk me home, you know." You mumble, keeping your head down when you feel his eyes on you.

Everything's been steady with Reki. Ever since you'd told him about the accident though, you've felt a shift change. Like he was always trying to protect you.

"I know." He says, "But my mom raised me right."

There's a brief pause while you take in what he's said, the silence falling when you let out a chuckle. "Is that right?" Your hand raises to your mouth when you feel his stare burn harder, nudging him with your elbow you whisper, "Did your mom also tell you to participate in illegal skating?"

There's a fiery blush that takes over his face at your words, sweat drops lining his forehead as he looks for an excuse. "Well... you know— you know! Does your grandma know, hm?" He tried.

He fails. "Yeah, she does. I kinda had to tell her, plus you can't hide anything from that woman." His shoulders dropped at your agreement, dramatically falling to his knees to wallow.

His hands grab at you from his position, from afar it looks bad but if you're close enough, it's harmless. From the way you're laughing at him while your hands are holding his when you struggle to lift him.

It's a comforting sight really. Two teens laughing like it was their own world. Looking at each other like they were theirs.

When Reki stops to take a breath his heart stops in his chest. You're kneeling in front of him, head barely resting against his shoulder, while your hands are locked with his.

Reki feels like his heart is about to explode.

A/n: 👀 happy one year to loverboy! I didn’t mean for it to run for this long but here’s to a year anyway! Thank you for reading! <3

Taglist (send an ask or reply to be added or removed); @scentedcandlesandcookies @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @hallothankmas @akuri-shinsou @leuki

[peakywitch]

Behind the Garrison, by the Canal - Finn Shelby

Word count: 1630

Warning: mention about sex and semi-nudity (?)

A/N: i wrote it in spanish and translated it, apologies if you see any mistake! 

gif: @el-cheung​

A soft knock on the door interrupted (Y/N) from his reading. She looked up curiously from her book, not knowing who it might be.

Her mother? She was upstairs sleeping with the baby.

Her father? He was working.

Her older brother? He was meeting his fiancé’s parents.

Finn? No, he was at a family meeting, it couldn't be him. Plus, they never met each other during the day.

Y/N got up from the uncomfortable purple sofa, going to the door. She tried to peek through the small window to find out who it was. Suit, a peaked hat, a cigar. A Blinder.

Sh took a deep breath, had her brother gotten into trouble? Having exhaled, she opened the door, showing Finn.

"Finn?" she asked curious and somewhat nervous, they were only supposed to see each other half past eight, behind the Garrison, by the canal.

If her father came earlier from work, she was dead.

"Hey, Y/N." he smiled, as he spoke fast.

"I know we said to meet in a few hours, but since I have the afternoon free, I thought about asking you if...you could...lend me another book?" the nervous smile was still there.

The young girl was teaching the younger Shelby how to read, and since he learned, he read every book there was and to be.

Pride and Prejudice? Finished in 72 hours.

Little women? One week.

Hell, he'd even read the bible and could recite some verses from memory.

On one occasion, Finn told Y/N that he had corrected Isaiah, about the bible:

"I will fear no evil!" Isaiah said humorously, as he answered Arthur about whether he was afraid on one of those many illegal occasions. “Jesus said it, you know, Arthur? And I…” Finn cut him off, correcting him.

"Isaiah, that’s Psalm 23:4." Finn said casually, as he finished his cigarette.

Arthur, John, and Isaiah burst into laughter, of course after trying to figure out how Finnny Boy knew so much about God.

"Sure, Finn. Give me a moment." Y/N closed the door, took the Illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland that he was reading, took out the bookmark, and returned to the door. She opened it and Finn was still wearing that nervous smile.

"Here it is, have fun with Alice, the Queen and the Mad Hatter, Finn." Y/N's smile made Finn's hand shake.

A few weeks ago, the boy had killed a man. His hand did not tremble, his head did not hesitate. But, oh shit, his heart exploded in anger that night, at home. Finn would never admit it, but it scared him to grow up and be as savagely violent as Arthur, or as distant as Tommy. Fear and anxiety were eating him alive, until he realized that his hand was shaking when she smiled at him.

“Thank you, beautiful." He smiled, as he exchanged the borrowed copy of Romeo and Juliet for that copy of Alice. After a wink and a "see you later" he walked away.

With a stomach full of butterflies, Y/N closed the door.

"Hello friend," she whispered to the book. "Have they treated you well?"

Y/N sat down on the couch again, going over the sentences she had marked with her black pen for the umpteenth time. As she was fanning through the pages, a piece of paper fell on her legs. Curious, she took it in her hands and saw Finn's handwriting. She knew it was his, she had taught him to write in italics. Also, she would recognize that misaligned handwriting and that soft stroke anywhere.

“I thought I knew love until your beauty seduced my eyes. Page 118 –Finn”

She smiled.

After greeting her father who had just arrived from work, Y/N commented that she would go to sleep and skip supper. The clock in her room read half past seven in the afternoon, which gave the signal to Y/N to escape through her window.

She wrapped herself up, looked at herself in the small mirror on her wall, and went out the window. Although the house had two stories, Y/N's room was downstairs, making it easier for her to get out the window.

Legs out, then the torso, the arms, and finally the head. Once outside, she adjusted her hair and began her short walk.

Y/N lived just five minutes from the Garrison and should meet Finn in an hour. But she wanted to stop by the Garrison to say hi to Harry. Also, she was to bring him a shirt that her mother had fixed for him.

As she thought of Finn, the five minutes turned into two seconds, and Y/N found herself in front of the pub. It was Friday, so it was full of men with inhuman amounts of alcohol in their blood. She took a deep breath and opened both doors, the smoke from so much cigarette making her dizzy.

She walked over to the bar and saw Harry serving a scotch. Her nose narrowed, remembering that awful taste she'd tasted with Finn.

"It's horrible," Finn had said, "I don't know why my brothers drink this shit."

"Hello Y/N" Harry greeted, anyone could hear her mother's Irish accent on him.

"Hi Harry, I bring you your shirt. Mom thanks you for making her focus on something other than the baby."

They both laughed, as Y/N handed him the bag. After a casual chat, some questions about her father, her new brother and her mother, they said goodbye. Y/N passed by the private booth, but didn't hear a soul. Maybe Finn was already by the river.

It was a matter of seconds before she reached the river, in their usual spot. She sat on a rock and waited.

Two, five, ten, fifteen, thirty minutes.

It was ten past eight, maybe quarter past eight.

Finn wasn't coming, and Y/N was starting to get scared. It was late, she shouldn't be alone. It was eight thirty, she had waited fifteen more minutes.

"God, don't let anything bad happen, please” Y/N said between prayers.

When she got up, she started walking in the direction of his house. To Finn's house. She was sure he was reading. She headed to Finn's house mainly because she was only a few feet away from it and also because she wanted to know if he was okay.

When she arrived and saw the light on, she was relieved. She knocked on the door, she would ask him to accompany her home.

"I’m going!" Finn yelled, there was a laugh and a slim, semi-naked woman who was wearing a man's shirt opened the door, still laughing.

"Lydia I told you that..." Finn's laughter stopped "Oh bloody hell."

Finn had come up behind Lydia, shirtless and his suspenders dangling at his sides.

The floor shook under Y/N's feet. The rest was blurry, for both of them. Finn remembered the cold hitting his shirtless chest as he yelled Y/N's name all over Watery Lane and Saint Mary's Street, asking for forgiveness and for her to listen to him. Y/N remembered the knot in her belly, hearing nothing except her breaths and feeling how Finn's words he had written burned her heart. Her heart, for the first time, was breaking along with the trust she had in him. Because she thought he was good, she believed that he loved her and that he wouldn't be fooling around with others after all those kisses and secret talks on the river.

When she got to the door of her house, Y/N was trying to open it. But the key was on the other side.

"Can you hear me for a damn moment!?" Finn yelled, coming to her side. He took the sad girl by the arm and turned her around.

"Do not touch me! Don't ever touch me again in your fucking life, Finn Shelby!" she bellowed, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Okay." he quickly separated from her, releasing her “But you have to listen to me. I…She…” his voice trembled.

"Did you sleep with her, Finn?" Y/N whispered.

"No...I..." the boy nervously combed his hair as he looked at the floor, Y/N knew instantly that he was lying.

"You had sex with her?!" Y/N let out in a strangled cry, asking but claiming at the same time. Her angry eyes were focused on Finn's, who were scared "And don't lie to me, please don't lie to me."

"Yes."

Y/N’s throat went dry, while her heart kept on breaking.

"Since when?"

"Five months now."

"Oh..." Y/N let out bitterly, then laugh "You are so afraid of looking like your brothers that you forget a detail: You are them, you always were and always will be."

“Don't tell me that, Y/N. You can't tell me that…” Finn cried.

"Yes, I fuckin’ can. You could shag her, I can tell you the truth. I'm not lying to you, Finn. I never lied to you."

“Do you remember two weeks ago, on the river? You said…” Y/N interrupted him.

“I said how I felt, Finn. Now I feel so much, so much pain and hate that I wish I had never told you."

Finn's face was a complete puzzle.

The door slammed open, appearing Y/N's older brother.

"Bye, Finn."

She entered the house, and headed straight for her room, ignoring her brother's whispers about how she should never have gotten together with Shelby. That they do this, they do that.

“Y/N! I am talking to you!" Peter said, entering his little sister's room.

"Peter, stop it, ok?" exploded Y/N “I know I didn't have to hang out with the Shelby family. But you're also dating a stupid woman and nobody tells you anything! "

Peter backed away, shocked.

“No… Peter, sorry. Wendy is…"

“Save it, Y/N. I opened the door for you, so that Dad wouldn’t kill the Shelby himself. But first thing tomorrow morning, they want you down. Both of them."

And just like that, Peter left the room, leaving Y/N in a mess and crying.

[witchywritingwildflower]

ART STUDENT H.S.

author’s note: this is just a preview of a longer smut. if you guys are interested lmk and i’ll post the whole thing here :) this isn’t explicit yet.

summary: university student harry (styles) has a project due in a few weeks and he hasn’t found the perfect model yet. or has he?

_________________

Harry was frustrated. He was angry at himself for being such a loner. Sometimes he liked it though - he couldn’t do his favourite hobby around people, that’s for sure. He preferred to work on his paintings alone. But now, it seemed like he regretted ignoring his roommate & his friends, turning down all the dates from the girls on his campus… He just needed a person! Otherwise, he won’t be able to finish his term, and gosh, he wanted to. He just wanted to leave all these stupid people behind, he couldn’t stand them - if it had not been clear. He still doesn't know how he got so popular on campus though. A lot of girls & boys know his name around here. It’s surprising, since Harry was… well, Harry. That's why he wanted to vanish when Amanda Grey turned down the offer to model for him this weekend. Who else, if not Amanda? She was flawless on the outside - even for him.

He found himself eyeing every girl he came across going from one place to another. None of them stuck out for him, they were kind of too average looking for a painting.

“I’m sorry, do you know where the building BH2 is?” And just like that, he felt like today wasn’t even that bad. Like he just got all his problems solved. She was standing right there! In front of his very own eyes! She’s perfect! Her hair was jet black, her crop top showed just enough skin to make the men around her sweat, and her legs… wow. Those black skinny jeans were something else. Harry reacted quickly.

“Oh yes, you go left down this hall, and…” the girl interrupted.

“I was thinking, maybe you could show me.” Oh god! And she was flirting? Harry couldn’t believe his eyes.

“For sure, yes. Would love to.”

As Harry and Kennedy - she told him her name - walked down the halls of MMU & having - nice - small talk, Harry just grew more and more nervous. How is he going to ask her about his assignment? She seems amazing, and Harry’s intimidated. Like a little boy.

When they arrived at Kennedy's final destination Harry just decided to go for it and ask her if she wanted to be his model for the next few weeks.

“Hey, Kennedy…”

“Yes?” as her hair wrapped around her slim neck from looking up at his tall figure, H swallowed thickly.

“I um, I mean it’s weird that I’m asking you this but uh... I think you’d be perfect for the assignment I’m working on.” Lie. He was completely lost before he saw her.

“Really?” she looked at him confused, but still a small smile lingered on her lips.

“Uhuh. I have to paint someone from my everyday life in an unusual environment. You think we could work on this together?” as these last words left his lips the bell rang, signalling lots of students - including Kennedy - to go to their next class. Harry started panicking.

“I mean” Kennedy was looking over her shoulder, turning her head to see if it’s really the beginning of her lecture. “ I - I don’t know.” she finally looked at H. “What about hitting me up later & then we can discuss it!” she started walking away but made sure she wrote her number down on Harry’s palm with a sharpie. She waved smiling and then disappeared behind the big doors of her building. Harry let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Did he just get himself a date? Because she was obviously flirting! Harry went back to his building with a smile on his face.

Later in the day, he became nervous once again. When should he call her? Would today be too soon? But it’s a project due in a few weeks, so if he won’t start working on it this weekend he’ll fail. He couldn’t focus during the lectures either, his mind was filled with Kennedy. He was having a crush, which just made things more difficult. When he got to his dorm he was relieved to be alone. And like that, Harry started sketching & brainstorming in his journal. He pictured Kennedy in various scenarios - standing on top of a high tower, her frame small and not noticeable among the crowded streets with unusually tall people, or her in a lake where all the water creatures were people and she was a fish - stuff like that. Harry liked confusing his audience with unexpected material. While he was scribbling away in his little bubble the sun set, painting the sky in dark gloomy tones. Around 6 o'clock Harry went down for food still thinking about his project and his model. An odd thought struck him - would he see her there? In the cafeteria? That made his heart rate quicken and his steps more eager to see her again. As he entered the canteen he immediately started searching for that one particular set of blue eyes and long dark locks. He tried to be subtle about it though - Harry waited in lines, examined every food option available with interest, actually talked to his roommate who happened to be there… -  but to his misfortune, Kennedy was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hi, Harry!” somebody lightly tapped his shoulder. Harry turned around quickly to see who was this happy to see him, and, with longing, he eyed his soon - to - be - model as she stood before him. 

“Kennedy!” he finally found his voice. ”How are you?”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed but paused afterwards. “I see you do not need my number anymore?” she asked cautiously with kind of an awkward smile, pointing to his right hand. Harry didn't understand at first but he looked down anyway, and there it wasn’t - Kennedy’s handwriting was gone, leaving blotchy black marker marks on his skin in an illegible way. 

“Oh shit,” said Harry apologetically. “Didn’t realize. I was outlining my ideas for the project and I - got lost I guess.” He tried saving this conversation but was almost sure she wanted to turn down their earlier agreement.

“It’s OK, I can write it in your telly If you’d like it.” Kennedy offered in a slightly easier voice than before. Harry nodded and dug deep into his pockets to find his old iPhone, handing it to her only a moment later. Harry couldn’t help but notice that when she took the device from him she intentionally brushed their fingers against each other. He blushed at this, waiting for her to be done.

“So have you decided yet?” Asked Harry. “To be the model,” he explained after Kennedy looked up at him with questioning eyes. 

“Oh, that.” she sighed, still looking down at the iPhone in her hands. “Well, I’d be happy to help you, Harry, I just don’t know how good I would be.” her lips trembled from side to side as she spoke.

“I think you’d be brilliant,” Harry said almost immediately, trying to make her see what he meant earlier when they first met - and what he thinks now as well. “It’d be nothing special. We could meet up a few times during the week in the studio where we work - you’d be sitting there and I would paint you.” he continued. Kennedy handed him his phone back, still looking at him with her bright eyes.

“Alright then. I’ll do it.” Harry couldn’t hide his excitement - his lips curled into a smile. “But… Can we meet beforehand? You know, just to discuss a few things…” she seemed uneasy. 

“Of course! Whatever you’d like. Thank you, Kennedy.” he gave her a reassuring smile and a slight nod, and let his gaze remain on her slim neck.

[statticscribbles]

Keyed In

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: Soulmate AU! Whatever your soulmate draws/ writes on their skin ends up on yours, reader constantly forgetting things and being distracted; Sweet Pea being used to it and writing reminders for her on his hands etc. Extra fluff please

“What’s on your arm?” Veronica questions and you shrug. “Groceries.” She nods reading down the list; before she laughs. “Key’s in L pocket. What does that mean?” You blink pulling over your jacket. “Oh; it’s where I put my keys. He reminds me about it when I forget.” “Did your soulmate remind you where your keys are again?” Betty asks smiling as she sits down into the conversation. “Yeah, he does that sometimes; it’s nice knowing he’s looking out for me.” “You do realize that means he knows who you are! We have to find him!!” “Or her.” “No girl has handwriting that illegible.” “Don’t be mean to him! He’s my soulmate!”

“Who’s your soulmate?” Jughead asks as he sits down. “Well I don’t know; but he’s a sweetheart. He’s always writing down where I put stuff and making sure that I remember to finish homework for class; I swear he’s the reason I’m passing english, I’d never remember when the essays are due without him.” “You know that sounds kind of creepy right? Like your soulmate is watching you all the time.” Cheryl asks and you shake your head.

“He doesn’t just do that, he’ll write his own stuff down too! Besides what do you and your soulmate write then?” You laugh when Cheryl rolls up her sleeve revealing hearts and doodles of flowers. You roll up your other arm showing her something similar. “Left arm is notes and right arm is for fun.” “Okay that tops me by a mile.” Archie laughs strings of doodled jewel’s and random notes in flowing cursive. “Wow that’s some really-“ You watch Veronica pull out a marker scribbling something on her arm, Archie frowns watching a line of circles wrap around his wrist; an arrow forms point to his left and he turns as Veronica bumps her matching arm against his.

“Oh, holy shit.” “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” “I don’t pay attention when people draw on themselves! My dad said it was rude to stare!” Archie defends himself, Veronica scooting closer and linking there arms. “It’s okay Archie my parents taught me the same. It faded on his arm.” “Yeah it does that once you meet, if I draw something it’ll show up, but it wont be as vibrant, as noticeable because we’ve met, we’re not searching for each other anymore.” Cheryl and you nod at Veronica’s explanation. “Same happened for me and Betts.” “Does that mean were going on a soulmate hunt for you then?” You roll your eyes when Cheryl shakes you excitedly.

“We can look for yours while were at it!” You grin and Cheryl shakes her head. “No one soulmate at a time!.” “Fine. I guess I’m up first then.” “So all we do is keep an eye out for anyone with matching lists and reminders. Could you write something to him so we know what to look for.” Archie nods. “Uhh, okay; what do I write?” Everyone shrugs. “Just whatever you want.” You chew your lip, instead of writing you doddle a snake wrapping around your wrist. “Why a snake?” “I think he’s a Serpent, or at least in a gang he writes weird lists sometimes.” “Has he written one we can see?” “Not recently.” You shrug.

Cheryl is interviewing the Bulldogs and half of the student body grabbing at there wrists while Betty and veronica apologetically explain what she’s doing. Jughead’s on Serpent duty, asking about anyone who has a snake on them goes about as well as he expected. “Not your tattoo you idiots!” He groans as everyone laughs. “You gotta be specific Jones!” “I was; I asked if any of you had a drawn on snake!” “The fuck you think a tattoo is?” You laugh in the background sitting next to Toni. “Sorry about dragging you all to Pop’s like this.” She shrugs doodling a daisy chain on her wrist, you can’t help but stare up her arm, doodles of flowers looping up them.

“Oh; your soulmate likes flowers then?” Toni laughs. “She likes pretty things.” You nudge her arm slightly. Narrowing your eyes at the cherry that’s been drawn in the crook of her elbow. “Hidden message; sort of a way for us to recognise each other if we ever meet.” “Not exactly hidden is it.” You laugh and Toni rolls her eyes. “It is if you don’t go snooping on my arm Y/N.” You shake your head. “I didn’t mean you.” You nod gesturing to where Cheryl and Veronica have entered, Cheryl wearing her cherry print cardigan. “See?” You wave her over and she beams. “Holy fuck.” Toni mumbles. You laugh and Cheryl arches an eyebrow at you. ‘What?” “Nothing, just still trying to find my soulmate, Ronnie, can we talk to Jughead. Enjoy.” You wave slightly and leave Cheryl and Toni to talk.

“What’s wrong now Y/N?” “I’m really happy for Ronnie and Cheryl but like I was supposed to find my soulmate; I don’t want to say anything cause I feel like I’ll be whining.” You slump in your seat Kevin patting your back. “Fangs’ add another shake, vanilla right?” You nod pressing your forehead into the table. “Come on Y/N its okay to be bothered by not getting what you expect.” “I know but I feel like I’m being bitter.”

“And what if you are? Be a bitter bitch then.” You turn when Fangs slides next to Kevin and another Serpent nods to the spot next to you. “Sweet Pea, pleasure.” He smiles and you nod. ‘Y/N.” “Hey you have a snake on your wrist, did you guys tell Jones this is whoever’s soulmate he’s looking for?” “No they’re looking for me; I’m trying to find my soulmate.” Sweet Pea nods in understanding. “So what’s the sudden rush to find him?” “I just; he’s helped me through so much I just want to be able to meet him and thank him; at the least.”

“I’m sure you’ve helped him just as much.” You laugh shaking your head as you pull the shake they got you over. “I doubt it; he’s reminded me where to find my keys at least fifty times; helped me pass english by helping me study; and; just, he’s been there for me so much, even though I‘ve never met him.” “Well yeah that’s why he’s your soulmate right?” Fangs nods and you frown. “I know like everyone says that but just; ugh you remember what I was like before you met Fangs right?”’ Kevin’s nods and you finish your shake. “I should get home; call today a wrap.” “Y/N We were thinking about at the game; we could do like a cheer or something so- Oh are you going home?” You nod, yawning. “Yeah; just a little bummed over everything that, dammit.” “Whats wrong now scatter brain? You forget your wallet? You gonna dine and dash Kevin?” You shake your head chewing your lip. “I can’t find my keys; I swear i-“ “Left pocket.” Everyone turns to stare at Sweet Pea.

“You were just going to let her leave!!?” You cringe back as Cheryl shouts at him. Toni looks shocked but you can see the smile under her surprise. “Cheryl it’s fine; I get him not wanting to-“ You’re jerked back Sweet Pea pulling you back into your seat in the booth. “If you think for one second it’s cause I don’t want you; I’ll fight you in the parking lot.” “Sweet’s I don’t even remember where I put my keys; you have to write it down for me; do you really think I could take you in a fight?” “Okay bad choice but just; don’t think that okay?” You shrug. “Why wouldn’t I I mean-.”

“Hold on.” Sweet Pea pauses your pity party turning and glaring at everyone else who’ve excitedly gathered round. ‘Will you all fuck off please. I’m sure you’ll be able to pull ever detail out of us tomorrow okay. Can we have an alone moment.” Cheryl smirks arm looping wth Toni’s and dragging her, Fangs and Kevin off. Jughead nods to Sweet Pea before he, Betty, Veronica and Archie leave as well. “I would ask for you to continue but I don’t care about whatever reasons you have for thinking you’re not worth it to me. My opinion of you is not for you to decide.” He smiles warmly and you sigh. “I’m pretty useless on my own; I don’t have any good skills like you; I’m not in a gang, I can barely remember to get to school on time let alone-“ “Good thing you’re not alone then; you have me.” “But-“ He nudges your chin up  as he leans over kissing your cheek.

“Isn’t it a little better in person at least.” You swallow nodding. “Much better in person.” You add in smiling up at him. “Since we’re soulmate’s I should get to know more about you right?” “Of course; I think it only makes sense since you’ve helped me with my keys so many times you learn where I live.” You watch Sweet Pea jerk surprised. “Besides it’ll give them something to talk about.” You wink flickering your eyes to the side where Sweet Pea tracks them to see everyone piled in Cheryl’s car watching.

“How do you feel about motorcycles?” You grin as he offers you a helmet and you swing your leg over winking at the car as they all quickly look away. “So what lie are we going with? We made out for hours? We’re running away to get married? We’ve decided to start a band?” “Well one of those wont be lying.” “Which one?” You grin at him leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “Guess.”

Support My Writing?

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH03

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: There’s sweet fluff in this.

WC: 2738

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

They enjoy their glass of wine in silence before her stomach starts to growl. It growls the loudest she’s ever heard. Maybe it’s because she hasn't had anything to eat since this morning, and her stomach rebels against the wine as it’s  the only thing in there. She should have known better.

Dean must have heard it because he starts to chuckle, “What toppings do you like? I thought we could share one.” 

“Sure, but don’t judge, please?” She says as she stands up, sees Dean’s eyes on her and feels the urge to cover up. He gets up from his chair and takes the towel she brought out with her, holds it up for her to cover herself.

When he looks at her again, he has one eyebrow cocked, “Why should I judge?”

 “Uh, because I quite like pineapples on pizza,” 

“I don’t judge,” Dean scoffs, and adds, “But I really think that should be illegal,” He laughs, but he doesn’t say anything more, and goes in to order their pizza. 

Y/N slips in while he’s on the phone and goes straight to her room, and changes into something comfortable. Now that she’s seen that he wears sweats, she’s happy to match him. It’s actually pretty weird seeing Dean like this because the only clothes she ever saw him in are suits, it makes her think that he even sleeps in them. She wonders if he has other clothes at all.

When the pizza arrives, Dean moves the glasses and bottle into the living room and asks her what movie she wants to watch, but she really doesn’t mind so she lets him choose. Dean zaps through Netflix and settles on Bird Box. 

While the movie starts, he hands her some napkins, and she’s wondering if that’s enough, because she’d hate to ruin the nice couch. He must have sensed her hesitation because he’s smirking, “It’s okay, you don’t wanna know what I managed to spill on this couch already,”

“Ewww,” She mocks, cringes her nose and he snorts out a laugh.

It’s easy, she thinks. It’s easy to let herself go. It’s easy to be here with him and just talk about anything outside of work. She comes to the conclusion that Dean’s not such an asshole after all. In fact, he’s a real gentleman. And that’s not really good, is it? It makes her feel things she shouldn’t feel.

She shakes the thought out of her head and takes a slice of pizza out of the box. It’s then  that she realizes that the whole pizza is riddled with pineapples. She frowns, “I thought you didn’t like pineapples on pizza?”

“I don’t,” Dean shrugs, takes a bite and pretends to wrinkle his nose before he grins with his mouth full and continues to eat. 

Y/N doesn’t think she makes it far into the movie because her eyelids are getting heavy halfway through. It’s the most illogical, most boring thing she’s ever seen, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings so she tries to watch it. 

Last thing she remembers, though, is that she’s half leaning against Dean before she fell asleep. 

 ***

 Y/N wakes up in a bed. It’s clearly not hers. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize that she’s in Dean’s apartment and that she’s in her bedroom. 

Oh no, she remembers eating pizza with Dean, remembers falling asleep to the stupid movie. He must have carried her to her bed. 

Her own fucking boss had to carry her to bed! If that’s not embarrassing she doesn’t know what is. 

She scans the room and her eyes settle on the clock on her nightstand. It’s already past 8am. She slept like a baby through her alarm but in her defense, the bed is so fucking comfortable, more comfortable than her own, and it’s only a fucking guest room. She wonders how comfortable Dean’s bed must be. How he can even wake up and get out of it every morning astounds her.

And then, the thought of being late for work crosses her mind before she realizes that she doesn’t have to go in. Realizes that she didn’t sleep through her alarm because she didn’t set one in the first place.

Grabbing her phone, she sees that there’s a text from Ruby.

 R: How was your first night? Did you consummate your fake marriage? *wink wink* 

 Then a text ten minutes later.

 R: Oh my god, it should have been a joke but you did, didn’t you? He’s in a remarkably good mood. Didn’t bitch about the coffee I brought him at all!

 Ah, Dean’s already at work then. He’s usually there before she turns up, and now she knows why. It’s only about a ten minutes walk from his apartment. 

 Y/N: Relax, nothing happened.

R: Ah, there she is.

Y/N: I slept in. The bed is so comfortable!

R: His bed I’d hope!

 She snorts out a laugh. 

 Y/N: No, I have my own room that’s bigger than my apartment.

R: Ugh, maybe I can come see you? Wanna see how the most not eligible bachelor lives. Or send me pics! Oh shit, he called out for me. I need to go. But I swear, whatever you’ve done to him. Do it again! I like to work for him when he’s not constantly yelling at people.

 She chuckles at that. She doesn’t answer Ruby though, instead she sends a text to Jack, telling him that she’s got another job that would secure him his degree and that everything’s okay.

Climbing out of bed, she decides to get coffee. It’s weird not having to go to work and she kind of misses it a little. 

Y/N walks out into the kitchen where there’s still a faint smell of his cologne and coffee in the air. A deadly combination for her brain apparently, because it makes her insides tingle in all the right places. She looks around and immediately spots a yellow sticky note left on the machine. 

It’s Dean’s handwriting. She knows it from all the scribblings he leaves on her desk when he already shut off his laptop and thinks about something that she must do for him the next day. 

 The machine is easy to handle. On, off. That’s it. I’m sorry I made you watch that movie. If you want to know, it didn’t get better after you fell asleep. Two hours of our lives, wasted. I’ll see you tonight, maybe we can watch something else — D

 She’s smirking. He really took his time this morning to write her a fucking novel. It really baffles her that he goes out of his way for her and it really seems like he genuinely cares to make her stay with him as comfortable as he can. Well, it does benefit him too, come to think of it.

 *

 After another round on the massage comforter, she walks into her room to find a message from Jack. 

 J: I hope you don’t sell yourself for my benefit. But I trust you. Miss you x

 She has to smirk and immediately types an answer back.

 Y/N: Just stay in college and make me proud, alright?

 Just when she’s about to put her phone away, it lights up with a call.

Dean.

“Hello?” She says, wondering if she should add sir to it at first but decides to drop it.

“Hey, you slept alright?”

She smiles, “Yeah, thanks. It’s the most comfortable bed.” She bites on her tongue so as to not ask him about him carrying her back to said bed.

There’s a light chuckle on the other end, “Good. Listen, I went over my schedule today because Ruby didn’t do it for me, and saw that I can’t have a movie night this evening like I wrote on the note,” He pauses to think, “You found the note, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“So, you maybe did know this because you arranged the invitation and you put it into my calendar, but I didn’t until about twenty minutes ago,”

She thinks hard about his schedule, remembers that there was something. An event. Some kind of gala. 

“But instead of watching a movie, what would you say to me taking you out?” He says, “I called them and managed to do a last minute adjustment to my invitation.”

“Oh,” She huffs out, knowing where Dean wants to go with that.

“Thought it’d be a good opportunity to show them my wife. Are you in?”

He still asks, even if he actually doesn’t have to? Because yeah, she obviously can’t be a fake wife in private. The world needs to see it. Amara needs to see it.

“I guess,” She mutters. She is actually not really sure if she can pull that off. Her heart beats faster just thinking about walking on a red carpet.

“Y/N, you don’t have to, you know,” It’s as if he senses her dread, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but we should at least try to look like a happily married couple and we can’t pretend if you don’t want to.”

“No— I mean, it’s okay, I’ll do it,” Her voice is more firm this time. She wants to. Wants to show him that she can do it. 

It shouldn’t be hard, right? She’s been with a man before. She knows all that hand holding stuff. And Dean’s paying her double for god’s sake. What’s an evening of being flirty with him? It’s not like he is an old greasy man. Well, maybe that would be better? Maybe then she will not risk falling for him? Because that’s what is going to happen if she’s not careful, she just knows it. And then she’ll get her heart broken. Even though a broken heart is a little price to pay if it means that Jack can finally start his own future, come to think of it.

“Okay,” There’s a huff of breath, he’s smiling, she can hear it, “Good. I’ll get Gabe to drop off my card, you can go shopping for a dress. The card has no limit, just buy whatever you want, alright?”

She grins smugly, “I need shoes, too.”

“Buy all the things you want.”

“Alright, sir.”

“Y/N, stop calling me that. Unless,” He pauses and there’s a playfulness in his voice, “That’s what you like.”

She’s glad it’s not a video call, so he isn’t able to see that her face is burning up. She doesn’t say anything and Dean takes the hint.

“Right, I have another meeting, I’ll see you around 7pm. The gala starts at 8pm.”

“K, bye Dean.”

“Have fun.”

*

 Y/N’s standing in her room as she waits for Dean to come back. He’ll probably need to shower and get dressed too. 

Gabe came by to drop off Dean’s Centurion card and he walked straight into Dean’s bedroom to drop off Dean’s tux onto his bed. She never had such a card in her hands, it feels heavy, made of platinum, not like her cheap plastic one that she only uses once in a blue moon.

At first she didn’t know where to go because she hadn't been dress shopping for a gala before. She wondered if H&M would be a good choice but then thinks that it probably wouldn’t. While she was out shopping she looked into shop windows and came across a beautiful long sleeved sequin pattern dress in gold. 

She never knew gold would look good on her but the shop assistant was so nice, even though she knows it’s that woman’s job, she felt really good in the dress and it wasn’t over the top with the price so Dean should be okay with it. She couldn’t resist buying matching shoes, too. 

Later, she splashed out some money for lingerie that she could wear under it and hoped that Dean wouldn’t mind. He told her to buy whatever she likes, so.

And now, she’s nervously pacing around her room. Her pacing only stops when she hears footsteps approaching.

There’s a knock at her door, “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah,” She manages to say.

“Good, sorry I’m a little late, had to pick up something on the way. I’ll shower and get dressed. Meet you in the living room in thirty minutes?”

“Sure,”

She hears him opening the door to his room.

Thirty minutes. Ugh. She hasn’t even applied makeup yet. She’s so nervous.

After a last check in the mirror, she walks out into the living area, her heels clicking on the marble flooring. She’s not used to wearing such high heels, and prays  that she won’t stumble and fall flat on her face. 

As she rounds the corner into the living area, she sees Dean already waiting for her, dressed in a fitting tux and smelling so fucking delicious. He looks like he’s just stepped out of a glossy magazine spread and that’s not fair. She can already see the press giving them a caption for their picture together. It reads, DEAN WINCHESTER COULD DO SO MUCH BETTER. 

Y/N can feel Dean’s eyes on her. They’re wide and his lips part slightly before they curve up into a smile. It’s bright and white. She’s smiling too, can’t not smile when he’s looking at her like that. Looking at her like she’s the only one that matters. She’s not used to it at all.

“Wow,” Dean breathes out, “You look beautiful.”

She was already blushing before but now her cheeks heat up a little more, “Thank you. You’re not bad yourself.”

Dean has to chuckle and then all of a sudden, he runs back to his room, “I’ll be right back,”

After about a minute Dean reappears clutching things in his hand. One of them is a pocket square. He went in and picked out a color that matches her dress. She has to grin at that.

He places it inside his jacket but he seems to struggle, “Can you help me, I—”

“Of course,” She grins, and steps closer to him, arranging the pocket square so that I’d look nice. Patting his pocket, she leaves her hand on his chest when she’s done, feels his heartbeat underneath her palm. She can swear it beats a little faster than usual, not that she knows his resting heart rate. “All set.” She says and Dean grins at her. 

“Okay, now my turn,” Dean licks his lips and clears his throat, and she can’t help but wonder what he means by his turn.

She doesn’t have to wait long, because Dean opens up the little box he was still clutching and she can see the princess cut diamond engagement ring with a matching wedding band. 

“Dean, no.”

“Why, Dean, yes.” He chuckles, takes them out, and takes her left hand in his. “Y/N, will you give me the honor of being my fake wife for real now?” 

Y/N has to giggle at that, “Yeah, of course,”

He smiles, slips the ring onto her ring finger and to her surprise, they fit perfectly. She looks at Dean, raises her eyebrow, “Let me guess, Ruby?”

“Yeah,” Dean smirks, and then he shows her his left hand, “I have one, too. So, you ready?”

“Not really?” 

“That’s the spirit,” Dean places his hand around her waist, pulls her close and kisses her cheek softly. 

It does nothing to calm her down because she’s even more nervous now. 

“You gotta try to keep me from falling, okay?,” She says as he moves his hand to the small of her back, and guides her to the door. 

“I would never let you fall,” Dean shows her a small smile and they step into the elevator. 

In there, she eyes him up again, can’t quite take her eyes off him. He looks so good with the slight scruff and the freckles, the crinkles around his eyes deepen the longer she stares at him. 

“What?” He asks her, raises an eyebrow.

“You look good, Mr. Winchester,” She says with a smile.

“You too, Mrs. Winchester. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And I’m not lying.” He leans in, places another kiss on her heated cheeks before the elevator comes to a halt. 

He helps her get out and Gabriel’s already waiting, holding the limousine door open for them.

CH04

[ironmariposa]

(The things I did) Just so I could call you mine

Chapter 3/4

Also found on Ao3

Notes: A huge thank you to @writing-as-tracey for giving me key words to use for Heather & Rays project and for all their encouragement for this story!! Keeps my motivation going. If you haven’t yet you should definitely check out their ff!

“The Senior baseball tournament.”

“Oh.” Heather laughs holding up her hands, “There’s no way you want me on the team.”

“Not a choice, Hill. Everyone has to play.”

Heather shakes her head, “Trust me, Ray, you do not want me.”

His eyes flash and she swallows because damn why does she keep slipping up like that. Making off the wall comments that have double meanings.

“I mean on the team. You don’t want me on the team. I’m horrible at organized sports.”

He leans towards her, “You can’t be that bad. Come on, it’ll be fun. Just. Go out to Andy’s and practice in the batting cages.”

Andy’s is the local putt putt place that is mostly a piece of shit but pretty much the only fun outing that’s close by. Her, Bishop, and Natalie spent most of their middle school years there. Playing putt-putt but for the one time. One time Natalie was crushing on a baseball player and forced the three of them to go to the batting cages. It was an absolute disaster.

“Lets just.” Heather sighs, “get back to work. I only have another hour before I have to pick up my sister.”

Ray drops his chair back to four legs and picks up the book she slides across the table to him. “Just think about it.”

She studies him as his eyes flicker through the book. They’ve had multiple meetings together at the library and sometimes at school. He’s given her rides home, teases with her sister and just recently started calling out to her in the hallways. The first few times she jumped, because in the past it meant he was about to mock her or Bishop.

He’s different and as the due date for their project approaches she finds herself almost sad. Because after they’re done she won’t have a reason to hang out with him. And she finds she actually likes hanging out with Ray Hall.

“Are you serious?” Heather stares at her friend, her best friend, in complete shock. The news she just dropped on them as they sat on the side of main street was shocking. To have known someone for so long and not see such a bombshell coming…. Heather was lost for words.

Bishop just shakes his head, “You know what, I'm not even that surprised.”

Heather looks at him then back at Nat, “Well I am. You’ve always said it’s a stupid game for idiots to play.”

“Nooo.” Nat says with a tilt of her head, “You've always said that. I just agreed.”

Bishop points his drink at Heather, “She’s got you there.”

“I mean…” Heather shakes her head and picks up her drink. Hearing that Natalie plans on playing the Senior game after two Seniors died last year playing it, is just terrifying. She never thought she would have to watch someone she cared about go through it. Although, the closer she grew to Ray, she knew in the back of her mind she would have to watch him. There was no way he wouldn’t play, especially since his brother won just a few years ago.

Nat nudges her with her arm, “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No. Not mad.” Heather meets her friend's dark brown eyes and cringes, “Just …worried.”

Nat laughs, “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s exactly what Jimmy and Abby thought too.” Bishop says with a bit of a bite to his voice. Both girls look at him with wide eyes and he makes a face, “Too dark?”

“Yeah.”

“Just a bit dude.”

They all laugh and if it’s a little strained, well, no one points it out.

Heather rushes into their established room in the library with an apology on her lips. “Sorry, my boss made me stay later because he wanted to get high with his girlfriend.” She slams herself in a chair and begins to unload her bag.

“Sounds like a douche.”

Heather grunts, “He one hundred percent is a douche.” She slams one book then another down on the table before pulling out her notebook and flipping it open, “But he pays me. Most of the time. So I have to put up with him.”

Ray closes the book he was reading and leans forward, “What do you mean he only pays you most of the time?”

Heather shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. So did you figure out which chapters we should focus on because I was thinking ��” Heather stops her ramble as Ray's hands fall on top of her notebook, covering it completely.

“Heather, it’s illegal for them not to pay you.”

Heather sighs, “Well considering there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”

“You could quit.”

She laughs harshly at that, “You sound just like Nat and Bishop.” He makes a face at the comparison, “I can’t quit. I need the money. The portion my mom doesn’t take for living in her house, I’m saving for college.” She looks up at him with a desperation for him to understand because her friends never could. They both come from families that love and support them. Families that can afford to send them to college. Families that lift them up instead of dragging them down so deep, it feels like she will never be able to dig herself out no matter how hard she tries

But if anyone could get it, it would be him, “I have to get out of this town.” She says in a quiet voice and there it is. His eyes say it all, complete understanding.

She feels relieved at having someone understand her so completely. She feels like she can actually breath.

He nods after a moment and pulls his arms back, “I was thinking chapters ten and eleven and then the last few chapters.”

Heather nods as she flips through her notebook to those chapters.

“Hey.” Ray steps up to her locker and she glances quickly at him before focusing back on the contents of her locker. She can still see him out of her peripheral as he leans up against her locker door, grinning, “We’re taking the boat out tomorrow afternoon, want to come?”

Heather nudges him with her arm and grabs her locker door to shut it, “Did you finish your character analysis and also who’s we, because I have no interest hanging out with a drug dealer and a pediphile.” She starts to walk to class and he follows. Moving around her to walk backwards so he can face her. And it works for him because no one wants to be the one he trips over so everyone makes a path for them.

Ray chuckles, “I did finish it.” He waves the paper at her and she takes it, her eyes skimming over his handwriting, “And Adam’s not a pediphile.”

“Did he not date that freshman for a few months?” She asks as she tucks the paper in her notebook.

“Well sure but he was still seventeen at the time.”

Heather shakes her head at him silently. He laughs, his dimple flashing and her eyes once again lingering there. He notices. Of course he does, his eyes say it all.

“It’s not just them. Sarah will be there and probably Ruby Anne.” Ray stops causing her to stop or run into his chest. And she kind of wants that. At school he manages to keep his shirts buttoned but any other time she sees him or spends time with him, he usually has his bare chest on full display. And she’s been getting the urge to touch it more and more.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” He urges.

“Okay.” She finally agrees. Ray shouts loudly and steps around her to head off to his class. He continues celebrating loudly as he leaves her and she shakes her head in embarrassment. Glancing around she finds no one is paying them much attention besides a curious look or two. Thankfully neither of her friends have class down this hallway.

She actually has that Saturday off but she tells her mom she’s working. She can’t use that excuse on her friends because they’ll expect her to meet them on her break so she tells them she has to watch Lily and work on homework. They don’t question her because it happens often enough. She feels bad for lying to them. They both mean well but they’ve been making little comments here and there about how much time she’s been spending with Ray.

She approaches the dock with trepidation. She can see Adam and Sarah already on the boat. Ray is messing with a fishing pole off to the side. He looks good in low riding swimming trunks and a sleeveless button up. Of course it’s unbuttoned. Adam gives a soft whistle and nods to her when Ray glances at him. Ray turns to her, the smile on his face wide and genuine. He pushes his sunglasses on top of his head and her heart pounds at the look on his face.

“You came.” And he sounds genuinely surprised.

“I said I would.” She smiles back at him and they stand there for a long moment.

Tyler pushes past them, “Let's go bitches.”

Ruby Anne follows behind him and smiles apologetically at Heather. Her eyes find Rays again and he nods his head to the boat.

They’re last on the boat after Ray unties it from the dock and other than the captain's chair there’s nowhere for Heather to sit. Ray fixes that by pulling her onto his leg once he sits to drive the boat. She looks over his shoulder at him.

“Is this really necessary?”

He winks at her, keeping his eyes on the water but for that small glance, “Unless you prefer the floor?”

Heather glances over her shoulder. Sarah smiles at her as she lounges back in her seat, a can of beer already open in her hand. Tyler and Adam are passing a joint back and forth. Ruby Anne is sunbathing in her seat.

They're going pretty fast and as Ray turns the boat around a corner she falls more into his lap. She tries to move back to just perching on his knee but he maneuvers his arms around her waist to steer. After a moment of hesitation, Heather relaxes against his bare chest, her head resting just below his chin. He nudges her slightly with his nose and she glances up at him.

“Are you smelling me?”

He laughs out loud and she smiles at how much it thrills her to make him laugh. He presses his nose against her hair again and takes an exaggerated deep breath.

“Smells like peppermint.”

She doesn’t respond. Just enjoys being in his arms, letting herself relax for once where it concerns Ray. No one here is going to tell her it’s wrong or how horrible he is. Or how stupid she’s being. She can just enjoy the moment.

And she does. It takes them another twenty minutes before they get to where they’re going. Ray tells her it’s his favorite fishing spot. The others jump out and make their way to a floating dock where they continue their activities of sunbathing, smoking and drinking. Ray waves them off when they ask if they’re coming.

They spend the entire day out there on the water, not returning until twilight. Heather knows she’ll be red from playing in the water with Ray, to sunbathing on the dock with Sarah and Ruby Anne. She even had a semi deep conversation with Tyler about how honeybees play an important part in their ecosystem and how without them we wouldn’t have coffee or avocados or even medications. Heather's mind is blown with how much knowledge Tyler seems to have on this one subject but Ruby Anne informs her that when he’s high, Tyler likes to watch nature documentaries. They all laugh so hard at him, he storms off a huff.

Ray walks her to her car. The others already went on their way as she helped him unload the boat.

“Thanks for…” she turns and is left speechless as he his eyes meet hers. It’s dark out, hard to see much but his eyes are filled with want. For her. He takes one step, then another, crowding her smaller body back against the truck. And she thinks this is it. This is when he’s going to kiss her. And she was going to let him.

She whispers his name as her legs fall open, giving him room to press against her. She feels the hardness of him all over. He brings his hands up but instead of touching her like she expects. Like she wants, he brackets her head between them as he presses them against his truck. His head tilts down and she lets out a long breath as he drags his nose up her neck and to her ear. His breath is hot as he whispers in her ear, “You’re so far from cute, Heather Nill. I could absolutely devour you with how fuckin sexy you’ve looked all day. I’ve been hard since the moment you appeared on my dock.” And he proves this by grinding himself in the warm space between her legs. Heather's head falls back against the truck with a groan. She curls her hands with want. She wants to fill them with him. To touch him all over, starting with a handful of his hair and ending with a handful of his ….

Ray's nose is back to dragging over her neck and he nips at her pulse causing her to jump. She reaches for him, her hands spreading over his bare back as she pulls him in. He lifts his head, his lips a breath from hers.

Her phone goes off and it’s obnoxious enough that it pulls them both out of their lust haze. Ray pulls his body away from her as she reaches in her pocket to pull it out. It’s her neighbor and she knows she has to answer. It’s never good when she calls.

Glancing at Ray she flashes her phone at him, “I have to…” he just nods and she steps away from him as she presses the accept button.

As she suspected, Bo and her mom are at it again and Lily needs her. She quickly explains to Ray who accepts it with more understanding than she expects. Her friends aren’t usually so understanding but then again they have perfect families that never have drama. Ray on the other hand…

Ray sends her off with a tuck of hair behind her ear and a soft smile she’s never seen him give another. Her thoughts are on getting to her sister but her body is still aflame with desire as she speeds to the trailer park. And after she gets Lily settled in bed, the house now quiet with Bo gone and her mom passed out, Heather lies in her bed thinking of that moment out by his truck and how she knows without a doubt she would have let Ray take her to his bed if they hadn’t been interrupted. And she wonders if that’s a good thing or not.

Heather is waiting for Bishop to finish switching books in his backpack at his locker when Natalie runs up to them and grabs Heather's arm, squeezing tightly.

“Ow Nat.” Heather attempts to pull her arm from her friend's grip but the taller girl refuses to let go.

“You went on a date with Ray Hall?” Natalie practically shouts.

Heather shushes her as she glances around. Bishop looks up from his backpack, frozen. They stare at one another for a long moment before he says one word through gritted teeth, “Well?”

“I…”

Bishop slams the door to his locker so loudly, if people weren’t looking at them before, they sure were now. Natalie seems to notice this as well and pulls them into a dark empty classroom, closing the door behind them.

“Ruby Anne is going around saying you and Ray hooked up this weekend.”

“We didn’t hook up.”

“That you spent the day with them out on his boat. But that couldn’t be true, right? Because you told us,” Natalie points between her and Bishop, “That you couldn’t hang out because you were watching your sister all day.”

Heather presses the heels of her hands to her eyes and then runs them through her hair, “Okay. I lied.”

“You lied?” Bishop says.

Heather avoids meeting his eyes, instead choosing to look over his shoulder into the dark corner of the classroom, “Look, I just didn’t want you guys to give me shit about hanging out with Ray.”

“We don’t give you shit.” Natalie tries to protest.

“You actually do. Even when it’s just to work on the project, you give me shit. I’m so..” Heather takes a deep breath and lets it out, “I’m so sick of feeling guilty for wanting to spend time with someone.”

“Not just someone.” Bishop says through clenched teeth, “But Ray Hall.”

Heather tilts her head back as she breathes in deeply through her nose. Here it is.

“Ray Fucking Hall.”

“Okay, Bishop. I get it. You hate him.” She runs her hands through her hair again but says the next words without hesitation, “But I don’t.”

Bishop blanches at her words and she looks at Natalie who wrinkles her nose at her.

“Heather, you know what he is. You know.” Bishop says with so much heat. Heather just stares down at her feet as Bishop continues his rant. She knows he’s been building this up ever since she was partnered with Ray. She thinks maybe if she lets him have his say then he’ll just back off. Because between him and Ray and everyone else she feels so confused. “All he is and all he’ll ever be is a Meth Row idiot, heading down the same path as his father and brother. You have to see that. You have to know that after all these years.”

“Okay Bishop, that’s enough.” Natalie finally steps in. His eyes flash to her then back to Heather. Without another word he turns on his heel and storms away.

“He’s an idiot.” Natalie says.

“He is.” She agrees.

Natalie wraps her arm around Heather and guides her back out of the classroom, “But you know it’s because he’s in love with you.”

Heather tilts her head back with a groan, “He is not in love with me, Nat.”

Natalie just gives her a look. The look, “If you say so girl.”

After the confrontation, Heather keeps to herself. She doesn’t see either of her friends the rest of the day. She attempts to smile at Ray in class but he just turns in his seat to talk to Adam. She’s too distracted to think anything of it and slides into her seat silently. It’s the week before Spring Break which means their presentations are all week. Their day to present is on Thursday and so Heather sits through the week watching the other presentations. Bishop isn’t talking to her at all and Nat is being distant. She spends her days after school working and keeping Lily away from their trailer as much as possible. The fallouts between her mom and Bo usually last longer than a day or two and it’s always safer to keep their distance.

But then Thursday comes and Ray is nowhere to be seen. She sits in class as the bell rings and picks at her nails. Mrs. Plaza calls her up to the front, “It looks like your partner isn’t going to show. Are you comfortable doing the presentation on your own?”

“I am. But he’ll show.”

Mrs. Plaza looks at her with sympathy, “I’ll put you and Ray last on the list.” She reaches out a hand and places it on Heathers, a comforting touch, “But, Honey, I wouldn’t count on him showing up.”

Heather smiles, “He’ll be here.” And though she sounds confident, with each minute that ticks by, her confidence falters.

Finally, there’s no time left and it’s their turn to present.

He doesn’t show.