#again not a clue re: tags

[xx-vergil-xx]

as a huuuge fan of your fanfic, anything non-fannish you turn your hand to is gonna be spectacular 💚 intrigued and enticed by your wip list; particularly slaughterhouse 101 👀 -- luv, tumblr user monty whatifwekissedinthesawbathroom 💚

my guy right back at you ur style is sublime <3

slaughterhouse 101 asks the question: what if u had a one-sided codependent relationship with ur boss, who hit someone with a car? started this short story after watching just so much succession which i think will be blindingly obvious <3 it’s been thru so many rounds of edits and i still haven’t rounded it out tbh

“I need you to do this for me,” says Mercy. “Okay?”

She has some sort of small grain lodged between her right lateral incisor and her right canine. To regard Mercy’s physicality –– or really, any body’s lumbering, clammy insistence –– feels gauche. But when the waters of happenstance begin to tilt towards Charybdis, Russ finds it helpful. Such blunt truths –– lunch, loitering in the teeth –– are concrete bits of gravel to collect in his pockets, themselves immune to drowning. Like charms.

The sun sinks into its overblown tapestry of departure, its long and tawdry goodbye, red-eyed and bruising over the black tree line, and Mercy is unremitting, stood starkly on the double yellow lines of the road.

Russ has a knack for good graces, their securing and maintenance. The trick is to be the pipe cleaner, the mirror in an unobtrusive shirt. Distort and reflect until you are so indistinguishable from someone that their selfishness includes you by default –– that they’re as good to you as readily and unthinkingly as they might be good to themselves. Mercy sniffs out this quality in Russ early –– something about the heads on the pike comment must have clued her into his mind for homogeneity –– and now Russ is her unthreatening supply of extra limbs. Useful in the correct ways. So naturally a self-extension that her request, her demand, isn’t so much either of those things, but a line of executable, already executing, code.

It’s autumn, in the sense that the leaves are as painted up as the dusk, and it’s also some sort of corporate autumn, as Mercy has often implied. A post-harvest season of rising scarcity, in which phrases like “trim the fat” and “unsynced synergies” are exchanged. Russ looks at their current situation and wonders, sort of far off, how badly this might rank next to Watergate. If they might find themselves silverskin on the butcher’s block over something like this. The answer is obviously yes. The corollary: is it worth it?

[fandomloreblog]

SO APPARENTLY Luis team names were ENGRAVED onto his lighter? Thanks to the lovely people who managed to find this detail, because it allows me to decipher their names!

I traced over the engraved text and used google to determine similarities in last names for the few that were a bit weird due to the few letters I couldn’t describe, and I ended up coming up with these names! Why Luis isn’t on here, I have no clue. Maybe each member got a special lighter excluding their name?

I also pulled up my old art I did of Luis co-workers (in my style) from the NemiDad AU and changed their names to match around. However, I was missing one, so I may end up drawing them later.

[caiylist]

fucking hell why’d I chose a name that rhymes with a greeting. Fuck. My deadname rhymes with a greeting too. I’ll never escape.

[runnning-outof-time]

You Asked, I Answered | Tommy Shelby & Friend!Reader

Request: yes by @justrainandcoffee

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Friend!Reader (platonic)

Summary: After finally working up the courage to do so, (Y/N) confesses something she's been hiding from her best friend. Tommy answers in the most Tommy way possible.

Warnings: smoking, language

A/N: thanks for sending this in, Flor! I hope you like how it turned out and I hope you like how I weaved the prompt you sent in! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you want to be tagged!

I'm gonna tell him. I'm gonna tell him. I'm gonna tell him.

That was the statement that (Y/N) kept repeating in her mind as she made her way over to her friend's home on Watery Lane. She had no clue why she was feeling nervous right now, or why she needed to be psyching herself up to do this.

The two blinders standing outside the Shelby residence recognized her immediately. They both tipped their caps to her as they let her enter the home. She didn't have to venture too far in to find him. He was sitting in one of the chairs in the small entry room that the house had.

"Tommy?" (Y/N) called after the sound of the door shutting hadn't been enough to get him to look in her direction. His eyes snapped over to her when she spoke his name, and the distant gaze that greeted her was enough to make the breath freeze in her throat. "Is everything ok?"

Tommy nodded instead of responding verbally, his eyes finding the floor again. (Y/N) frowned and moved over to the chair that was sitting to the left of his.

"Business, hmm?" she asked in a knowing tone as she took a seat. It was obvious to Tommy that 'business' was a code word for the vendetta that the Shelby and Changretta families had been intertwined in for a few weeks now. She didn't want to say the word outright.

"Business," he affirmed with a slow nod of his head, letting out a sigh after he finished speaking.

"Anything I can help with to alleviate your stress?" she wondered aloud. Tommy didn't answer right away, so she continued, "you've always helped me when I needed it, so I'd love to re..."

"No. There's no need for that, (Y/N)," he cut her off, looking over at her as he shook his head. "This business isn't for you to be involved in."

(Y/N) nodded as she heard what he had to say. She wouldn't argue with his response. She just wanted him to know that she'd be there if he ever needed her.

Silence fell between the two of them then, and they held each other's gaze, both not really knowing where to take the conversation next. Of course, (Y/N)'s main topic was bouncing around her mind, just begging to be let out. She just had to wait for the right time. Tommy's mind was a mess of many different things...it always was these days with everything he had going on. (Y/N) said that she'd listen whenever he needed to talk, and she always had when he came to her in the past, but he felt that he couldn't burden her with the stresses he had weighing his shoulders down now.

"Is there a reason you've come over here?" Tommy finally asked. There wasn't any malice in his tone, and (Y/N) knew that his question was far from that. She'd been friends with him for enough years to know that he rarely liked to beat around the bush when it came to getting information. The pleasantries were almost always skipped. That's why she was so nervous to share what she'd been keeping from him for several weeks now.

"I, um...I wanted to tell you something actually," she finally mustered up the ability to say, busying herself by playing with her fingernails so that her nervousness wouldn't fully come through in her words. She wasn't sure how much it worked though.

"What's that?" he questioned, his one eyebrow quirked upwards.

"I've been keeping it from you for a few weeks now..." she trailed off, her eyes finding his again to see that he'd been staring intently at her the entire time. Instantly she felt like she was under interrogation. Tell him, (Y/N)!, she screamed at herself. "And it's not because I didn't want to tell you, it's just that...well more important things have been happening..." she paused again, justifying - or at least trying to - her reasoning for keeping this secret for so long. "I wanted to tell you that...that I, uh, well I've actually..."

"(Y/N)," Tommy's voice was flat, and it stopped her stammering instantly. It was the tone that he used with all of his business associates and blinders that worked under him. The tone that told them they were wasting his time; that they needed to get to the point. Now the former may not have been the case here with (Y/N)'s pauses, but the latter certainly was.

"I've met somebody, Tommy," she finally gathered the courage to blurt out, "and I'm in love with him." The breath got caught in her throat after she admitted her secret to him, and she stared at him with wide eyes. Each second that passed where he didn't speak felt like an eternity.

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but instead closed it and pursed his lips. He looked away from (Y/N), a tell tale sign that he was thinking over what she'd just said. She hated the fact that she could read him like the back of her hand at that moment. Then, after what felt like forever, he spoke. "I'm happy for ya," was all he said, his eyes finding hers again.

"Thanks," she couldn't help but smile at his response. It wasn't much, but it was what she was looking for...well it was a half of what she was looking for. "I...I need your help," she started then, going back to wringing her hands together.

A look of confusion filled Tommy's features. "With?" he asked, wondering what she could possibly need help with in regards to this front. Did she need him to vet the man? Need him to check and make sure that he wasn't into anything he wasn't supposed to be. That was the type of man she deserved after all: a good man.

"I don't know what to say to him," she admitted, "we see each other quite often, and he's a sweet man...he's really sweet to me, but I don't know how to tell him how I feel."

"Just tell him," was the very basic advice Tommy had to offer, and it was accompanied with one of his famous shoulder shrugs.

"How do I tell him, Tommy?" she asked for more clarification, "because if I could tell him, I would have already."

"I don't know what more to say, (Y/N)," he admitted, grasping at straws as he wracked his brain, trying to think of something more to add. Nothing was coming up. Admittedly, it was hard to even get his mind to focus on it.

"I need advice. I..." she paused, exhaling a breath as she thought about all of the moments where she could have told Ben - the man she was completely enamored with, how she truly felt. She shook her head then, hating how she chickened out every single time. That's why she decided to come to Tommy. He was confident. He rarely, if ever, crumbled in situations like these. And above all, he was her friend. He needed to help her with this. "I need your help with this."

Tommy sucked in a breath and then exhaled it slowly, trying to center himself. He then reached into his jacket pocket and fished out his cigarette tin. Going about the motions of placing one between his lips and lighting it so that he could then take a long drag from it bought him enough time to collect his thoughts. "See how it plays out then," he finally offered another piece of advice. Although with the face (Y/N) pulled in reaction to it, it's hard to say if it could even be called 'advice'.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she questioned, incredulousness seeping into her words.

"You've not found a way to tell him, so just see how things play. Maybe you'll find a way to, maybe he'll come out with it," he explained his reasoning further.

(Y/N) held his gaze for a moment, her mouth opened slightly, showing her surprise. She was trying to think of something to say. There were few times where Tommy had left her speechless. She thought she was used to his out of pocket responses; the way he'd tell the truth without any buffers.

"What's his name?" Tommy asked before she was able to get anything out.

"Ben. Benjamin Martin," she answered, tilting her chin upwards slightly so as to (hopefully) show that she hadn't been fazed by his previous unhelpful advice.

"That's just bad taste," Tommy scoffed, more so to himself than anything, but (Y/N) heard him loud and clear.

"Excuse me?" she scoffed in response, her eyes widening.

"He's the man?" he checked with her.

"He is," she insisted.

"(Y/N), he's a war shy bastard...managed to dodge every fucking draft there was. He's not going to protect you if it comes down to it. He won't be there when you need him."

"He needed to stay. His mother was ill. She needed him to stay and take care of her," she insisted.

"That's what he's told you. His family has money, (Y/N). You surely know that. He was able to buy his way out of it," Tommy didn't waste a moment in sharing the truth with her.

"How can you say this?" she asked him, her brow furrowed deeply. "You're my friend..."

"You asked, I answered," he answered simply with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Well it's rather rich of you to respond in such a way considering the fact that your love life is an absolute trainwreck," (Y/N) snapped at him, speaking without thinking. Her mind was still caught on his brash thoughts on the man she was seeing.

"I don't know what you mean," Tommy responded in a dismissive tone, one that told her that he really didn't want to be given any further explanations.

But (Y/N) gave him one anyway. "I know that Lizzie's pregnant. I know that May's come back into town. You're leading one woman on while playing with the emotions of another," she used his ways against him, telling him the truth without any buffers.

"You asked, I answered," he repeated his previous statement, his tone still dismissive.

"Maybe I shouldn't have come to you with this..." she started, huffing as she stood from her seat. "I know that you've got a lot on your plate now, but...but you're my friend. You've always been my friend and we've been through worse before. I thought you'd help me," she hated the fact that her voice cracked as she uttered the final sentence.

"I don't have much help to give at the moment, (Y/N)," Tommy shook his head, stubbing the cigarette he'd essentially forgotten out in the ashtray before he ran a hand over his face.

"I see that now," she sighed. There wasn't any resentment laced into her words. Instead she was just upset. Upset because she thought she would have gained something useful in coming to him. Boy was she so wrong in thinking that. She hadn’t gained anything from this conversation. All that came out of it was frustration. “I have to go, Tommy. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” his response came out as a breath, and his eyes found hers as he nodded.

Their eye contact was brief, and (Y/N) was the one to break it, leaving the Shelby home with the hopes that all of the hell that was happening in their lives would blow over so that she could have her friend back to the way she knew him before.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[captainlunaxmen]

All for The Cameras

Chapter 10

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Here we are! I really hope you like this chapter, and thank you to everyone who comments and likes my stories. It means so much🖤💜🖤

Let me know what you think, and if you're new and want to be added to the tag list let me know💜

Chapter summary: the "life" as Capitol's captive is not the best, neither is in district 13 not knowing what's going on.

Chapter warnings: it's the Hunger Games... I mean. Heavy hint of rape, blood, mention of torture.

Tag list:

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17

@piya-re @ivymyers @potao-o @wqstedyouths

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

Masterlist

Y/n's Pov

I don't know how long we've been here.

Days?

Months?

Weeks?

Hours?

Regardless of the truth, too damn long.

Part of me wants someone to rescue us, another doesn't want anyone to get near this place in fear of them getting caught too.

"Y/n...?" Johanna's voice feels further than it actually was, "Y/n... don't get into your head."

"All my fault." I mutter, shaking my head.

"I don't know what you said, but I can tell it's not good." Johanna groans, as she sits up a little straighter.

"Johanna..." I start with an exasperated sigh.

"No."

"It is my fault." I say firmly, "it is, and you have all the reason to hate me."

"Stop it."

"I should've gotten you all out. I..." I choke out a sob.

"Please... stop that." I've never heard her pleading, that alone makes me regain some sense and I crawl closer to the bars.

"I'm sorry." I say, "I'm afraid they know what they're doing..."

"I'm afraid so." Johanna nods, "if you lose yourself we're fucked."

"I know." I force a smile, "do you know how long it's been?"

"Uh..." she groans, "days? Weeks? No idea. Feels like too long, that's for sure."

"Agree." I sigh, "it's been too long since they took Peeta too."

"I don't know what t-" she stops herself.

"Uh?"

"They're coming." She whispers.

A moment later the peacekeepers walk in, passing my cell I see they are dragging Peeta, he can't even stand.

They throw him in his cell without any words and leave the room.

"Peeta?" I call softly, when he doesn't answer I look at Johanna in the cell in front of mine, she can probably see him better than me.

She shrugs.

"Peeta...? What's wrong?" I try again and this time I can hear a grunt from him. "Peeta..."

"She did this." He says, so softly I could hardly hear. My heart breaks, suspecting he's talking about me.

"What... what do you say?" Johanna asks.

"It's her fault." He says louder and I crawl a little back, trying to hide myself.

"Who are you talking about?" Johanna asks again.

"Katniss."

I immediately sit up straight, I look at Johanna who look right back at me, I'm sure we have the same confused expression on our faces.

"What did they do to you there, Peeta?" I carefully ask.

"I... It's all her fault." He says, without answering my question.

"Peeta, answer me." I tell him. I look towards Johanna for any sort of answer, clue of what's happening to him, but she's just as confused.

When we hear footsteps coming towards us, Johanna and I crawl back against the wall, waiting as they open the doors.

"Y/n."

I look up to see Cal, hands behind his back, looking down at me.

"What?" I spat.

"The president requires your presence." He states and with a nod of his head, he motion for the guards to open the door and take me.

They harshly grab me and make me stand.

"Hey!" Cal suddenly shouts, "she's my fiancee, careful."

I roll my eyes as I force myself to walk, and not be dragged, I try to send a quick reassuring look to Johanna as I pass.

"Any clue?" I ask, annoyed to mask the fear I'm actually feeling.

"He wants to show you something." He simply says as we walk through the dark corridors. There are no windows, I can't even tell if it's dry or night outside.

I look around, thinking of a way to escape, I've been inside these buildings all my life, and there must be something I can use.

"You try anything, I'll make sure you regret it." Cal interrupts my thoughts, grabbing my arm to push me to walk quicker.

I can only stay silent, but my eyes are wide open.

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

One of the Peacekeepers opens the door to Snow's office, and Cal pushes me inside.

"Ah! Miss L/n, good to see you." He greets rather cheerfully.

"I thought you were above lying, sir." I mutter.

"On the contrary, my dear, but it doesn't mean I am lying now. I was looking forward to show you something." He's smiling, happy with himself. It's not a good sign usually.

"And what that something might be?" I ask, I try to keep a brave stance, but the way he stares at me proves that he doesn't believe it, and he knows he could crush me if he wanted to.

He looks at me carefully before turning the screen on. The gasp I let out is full of hope, seeing Katniss alive and well. She's somewhere with a sort of filming team, military, Gale is with them. And I think I recognise the other woman. She used to work here in the Capitol. I can't recognise where they are...

"District 8, miss L/n." Snow says, probably from noticing my analysing the footage, "she went to visit a makeshift hospital there..."

"You... what did you do..?" I know what he could've done, I'm just mad, furious.

"What you see here is nothing. You see, we declared not long ago that any association with the Mockingjay symbol is forbidden, any form of association." He explains, "so... you tell me. What would happen next?"

I can't help the tears forming and falling from my eyes, the rage I wish to let out, but I can't... or I won't be the one to pay.

"I... I..."

"If you were there, you probably would've suggested a different approach, wouldn't you?" He mocks, "You're a smart girl, I did raise you, whether you like it or not. Your insights on our ways would've helped them. But now I want you to tell me: what was the inevitable next step?"

I'm shaking, I keep my eyes on the screen. If Katniss is alive, maybe the others are too...

"Well?" He urges, "say it."

"Kill the wounded..." I whisper.

"My exact words, miss L/n, my exact words." He looks at me, proudly it seems, and all I want to do is throw up.

"You attacked a makeshift hospital... without defence..." I keep shaking my head.

"They committed treason, my dear girl. There was a warning." He simply states.

"Why did you show me this?" I snap.

"Ah, finally." He walks closer to me, "try take a guess."

"Stop with this game." I spit back.

"Take a guess."

I take deep breaths, thinking.

"I..."

"Let me hear your thoughts, entertain me." He says.

I clench my fists, nails poking my skin hard enough to keep my mind focused.

"It's can't be so I can tell the others, too easy." I start and he nods.

"And why?"

"Because Peeta's treatment is not complete..." I say, realising it now, "one word and all your progress would be useless... so why tell me?... I..." Then another realisation hits me even harder, "I have to keep the secret from them... if they found out they wouldn't trust me anymore." I see Snow nodding, "and of course if I say something you would know and you would punish them, and not me."

All a stupid mind game, make me feel guilty for something I have no power on...

"Smart girl." He compliments, "your punishment for lying and betraying the Capitol, do the same to your loved ones. One word and they'll suffer. All because of you. Just like your brother."

If he shot me, it would hurt less.

I force myself to stay put, whatever I do will fall on Peeta and Johanna. I feel my hands getting wet, but I'm afraid if I move I'd do something I know they'll make me regret.

"Have someone bandage her hands before the next interview, general." Snow adresses Cal, I didn't even notice him entering the room.

"Of course." Cal responds, putting a hand on the small of my back to make me move.

That snaps me out of my paralysis and I loom at my hands. My nails got through and now there's blood on my hands...

Irony is weird. So is the fact that we're not heading to the tribute centre where they're keeping us...

"Where..."

"Shut up." Cal grabs my arm, "you need more than a few session."

I stop abruptly, his hold only tightens.

"Please no... Cal, please..." I struggle against him.

"We'll try again the reality session."

My heart sink at the thought.

No...

I struggle more but he just grabs me and puts me on his shoulder, I'm too weak to keep going.

I need to keep repeating myself that nothing is real in there.

Nothing is real in there.

Finnick's Pov

"Did you already try the trident Beetee made for you?" Haymitch asks Finnick, hoping to distract him from his knots.

"I... yeah... it was... Good... I think." He mutters.

"You know she wants you to fight, right?" Haymitch tries again, "Y/n wouldn't want you here, worried sick making knots over knots."

"She would slap me, probably." Finnick allows himself a small chuckle.

"Oh, for sure." Haymitch agrees, "so?"

"What?"

"Are you planning on keeping on sulking here?"

Finnick sighs deeply, eyes on the knot in his hands.

He puts is down on the bed and stands. Haymitch looks at him, a victorious grin on his face as he begins walking away, sure Finnick is following him.

Finnick takes a deep breath and follows him out.

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

As Finnick and Haymitch get to the others, another transmission from the Capitol starts.

Y/n and Peeta are together this time, facing the camera directly.

"Look at any movement from her, any scheme." Haymitch tells everyone, "she's trying to communicate."

"She tried to teach me morse code... she never got to..." Finnick whispers, defeated.

"Well, we got people here who knows it, don't stress yourself about it." Coin comforts him, "if she's indeed sending a message... we'll get it."

"Look at her..." Finnick feels himself about to cry, "look at them..."

In that moment Katniss and Boggs arrive too, just as Y/n starts speaking.

"Tonight, we've received reports of derailed trains, of granaries on fire, and of a savage attack on the hydroelectric dam in district 5." She says, hands fidgeting as always.

"We're begging for restraint and decency." Peeta adds.

Before he can say anything more, the scene changes into Katniss walking through ruins ans her voice singing.

"That's it. That's our footage" says president Coin.

"Beetee's in." Plutarch realises.

The scenes switch between Katniss' and The Capitol's.

"Katniss.." Peeta whispers.

"He sees it. He sees our propo."

"Katniss, are you there?" He asks.

Finnick looks at Katniss crying, helpless, then goes back at looking at the screen. He notices Y/n reaching a hand out to comfort Peeta, or to keep him focused. He can see threat of tears in her eyes.

Someone from the front desks walks up to Coin handing her a piece of paper. She nods her head and whispers something to them and they quickly run out the room

"Peeta, please continue." Ceaser voice urges him, "you were telling us about these savage attacks."

If before this interruption Y/n eyes were looking in front of her, to the camera, now they're set on Peeta.

"The attack on the damp was a callous and inhuman act of destruction." He says, but it switches again to Katniss singing.

"Think about it." He's fully in distress now, Finnick sees Y/n whispering something to Peeta as she gently grabs his hands, soothing him. "How will this end. What will be left? They're coming, Katniss. They're gonna kill everyone." Peeta's like he snapped out of whatever hypnotic state he was and warns her, "in district 13, you'll be dead by morning!"

Before the transmission is cut they managed to see peacekeepers grabbing both Peeta and Y/n.

"He's warning us. That was a warning." Haymitch says.

"Yes, it was." Boggs agrees.

"We have to get them out before they kill them." Katniss basically begs and Finnick is very close to do the same.

"Is there anything in the air?" Coin asks.

"Nothing on Doppler, ma'am."

"They were in the mansion. They could have overheard something." Coin guesses.

"Possibly." Plutarch agrees, "plus Y/n knows their ways."

Coin then looks at everyone, pondering.

"It's time for an air raid drill." Coin announces.

Everyone starts walking out as the alarm starts bleeping, urging everyone to get ready to begun evacuation protocol, heading to the underground shelters.

Finnick follows everyone down, he has to be careful not to trip down, because his mind is busy worrying about Y/n.

Are they going to hurt her? Kill her? He'd give his life to know... he'd give up his life for hers.

Y/n's Pov

We're in the dark. Complete dark.

Could it be a malfunction in the building electric storage? No... something happened, but what.

"Any idea, L/n?" Johanna asks.

"Not a clue."

"Peeta?" Johanna calls, him. He hasn't said a word since they got us back here.

"Mmh." He grunts, but not a word.

"What did they do?" She asks.

"They... grabbed him, he tried to get away from them..." I start, my voice shaking at the memory, "they started to kick him... hard. I try to make them stop. They punched me... they kept on kicking us until... Cal came in..."

"God..." she groans.

"At least they stopped hitting him." I whisper. "And they didn't bring us back to torture us... last time they used my brother... I don't think I can take another of those..."

"Fuck..." she breaths out.

"Doesn't mean they won't torture us tomorrow..." I hold back my tears, "but for tonight we're okay... I think."

"He got back before you..." Johanna inquires.

"So?"

"You were bleeding when they got you here... has it stopped?"

"No..."

"You said Cal was there." She keeps guessing.

"Yes..."

"Did he...?"

"Yes, Johanna, can we not talk about it?" I snap.

"Of course." She says, understanding.

I take a deep breath, to calm my nerves, and prevent any more tears.

"I didn't mean to snap. I'm sorry." I say.

"I snap all the time and you're never upset about it. Don't worry." She says, to cheer me up, I think.

"I never minded you snapping at me." I chuckle.

"That's why I thought you were worthy of my respect." She casually says.

"Because I let you snap at me?" I ask.

"Because you understand."

"Don't go soft on me now, Mason." I warn her playfully, "we'll getting out."

"Hope is a dangerous thing." She warns me as well.

"Yet it's also powerful." I wish I could wink at her right now, but I'm forced to close both my eyes due to the light turning back on.

"What the fuck?" She exclaims, "what's going on?"

"I don't know." I try to force my eyes to get used again to the strong light.

Then something is thrown into the room, and everything is surrounded by smoke.

We start coughing hard, I try to keep my eyes open to see anything.

I suddenly see people armed and with helmets on.

"What the fuck..."

"What's going on? Hey?!" Johanna screams at them.

One of them get closer to my cell, through the artificial fog, once they're close enough they removes the helmet just enough for me to see him, but everything turns black before I even get a glimpse.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

The Traces He Left Behind

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You had never expected the dog tags to be so heavy, but, now, as they sit in your hands they’re just about the heaviest object you’ve ever held. M.I.A doesn’t mean John’s dead...but it might as well.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Grief, mentions of death, blood, a small amount of gore, angst, fluff (eventually), allusions to intimacy, mention of nakedness

A/N: The number of people who thirst over this man gives me strength. Tell me if you find any errors cuz I barely edited this. 

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

People don’t disappear – they leave traces, clues, marks on the walls, or black scuffs on the floors. Hell, people leave something behind even if you can’t see it. 

But the dog tags in your hands give you nothing besides memories, and memories only leave heartbreak; burning in your lungs like you took a bullet there that digs between the soft tissues, spewing blood over the carpet. Heartbreak can’t help you bring him back.

John Price left you with nothing but his dog tags and try as you might, you can’t help but hate him for it. 

No evidence.

No trace.

And no body to be buried. 

They couldn’t fucking find him.

“This was all I could find,” Gaz whispered, breathless, when he stood on your doorstep a week and a half ago, watching the smile on your face freeze – as if, at that moment, you were caught in a time-loop of opening that front door over and over again to his pained face. You stared at him like you didn’t know him, and, so, he continued, the dog tags in the small black velvet box shaking in his grip as he opened the top with a muffled clack, “I-I’m so sorry, Love.” 

I’m so sorry. 

That was all they could say, but it didn’t mean shit. That couldn’t have been all that was left. Pieces of metal on a ball chain? Flecks of blood and dirt over the imprinted words and numbers? No. No. No.

Your eyes had withered as they traveled down Gaz’s ceremonial uniform, the brown color with the various medals glinting in the afternoon light of autumn. But the chill of the air never reached you, and all you could think about as your eyes landed, finally, on those damaged dog tags was that John would have hated all the hassle that Gaz had gone through. 

He would have snorted in that way only he could, cheeks jerking up as his eyes slid to the side for a moment; always thinking. John's feet would shuffle, and after a moment, he would cross his arms and say something like, ‘putting on the chest candy for me, Garrick?’

You almost heard him say it, his breath whispering the tendrils of your hair near your ears and his comforting presence – like a large Saint Bernard Dog just behind you. You even think you turned around and checked, because one moment you were at the door, and the next Gaz was walking you back into the living room of John’s London home, his arms holding you up. You hadn't noticed, but your legs had given out and you would have hit the floor hard if Gaz hadn’t snatched you up when he did. 

The Captain had always let you stay at his place when he was off on deployment – he said you made it more of a home than he ever could, seeing as he was gone all the time. You had only moved in permanently two months ago.

At the end of it, Gaz had placed the velvet box in your hands as you wailed on the couch, agony hitting off the walls and ceiling like a bouncy castle; gripping your face so tight the skin broke. The sound of the Tv in the background just makes it worse. It was playing re-runs of some old black-and-white film, a western that John loved to watch. You always played them so it felt like your boyfriend was still in the house, waiting just behind a thin wall for you to come and annoy him about how you hated these movies.  

But you had never hated them more than in that instance. 

Gaz utters your name, “...Speak to me, please. Tell me to fuck off or-or something!” All you did was bring the box to your chest and drag Gaz into a tight hug across the cushions, not caring about the uniform or how he shook as he wrapped his hands back around you, rubbing your back.

But you felt the tears on top of your head just as easily as you heard your own stain the fabric of the couch.

The dog tags clinked as they connected, and from under Gaz’s firm grip, you stared down at them before their image got too blurry and you had to blink away the tears again. Damaged metal – that’s all that was left. 

You both stayed like that for hours, long after the sun had set, but your eyes never strayed from the tags and in your mind, you told yourself that M.I.A didn’t mean dead. But the sinking feeling in your chest told you it might as well. 

Have faith in him, You sniffle, fingering the tags, caressing the imprints of ‘Price, Jonathan’ as your body shakes.

A week and a half had gone by like a nightmare, slow and horrible, and with every second of every minute of every hour, the weight on your chest had gotten worse. It wasn’t like when John lay a top of you, body pressing down in a deep slumber. Most days you didn’t leave the bed – it smelled too much of John you told yourself, but knew it was more than that. You had lost the drive.

Digging your face deeper into the old pillow – John’s pillow that you had begged him to replace as it was as flat as a pancake – your hands clench onto the dog tags from where they lay on the mattress, the cold metal digging into your palm. It was a painful reminder but one you knew you could never get rid of.  

In that state of half-consciousness, you liked to imagine that the plain green comforter around your waist wasn’t fabric at all – that the caressing weight was strong arms instead, dragging you backward until you met a firm chest; you could fall back to sleep with the knowledge that the breath on the back of your neck didn’t belong to the fan across the room but was actually John and his nearly silent snores. He always kept you right by him when he was sleeping; hated when he woke up and you were gone, either finding you in the kitchen making a drink to help you sleep or doing other activities like that. You remember vividly when John had woken from a nightmare and you were making a midnight snack in the kitchen.

His panicked breathing had told you first that something was wrong, and when you turned around – there he was, standing at the entrance to the kitchen with a hand grasping the door frame so tight his knuckles were white and shaking. He looked at you like he had feared for your life, and the toast you were about to bring to your mouth had frozen in your grip, peanut butter dripping off the side. 

“John?” You had whispered, placing the carb down with a thunk onto the plate, “are you alright, Love? What happened?” 

That was the first time you had seen John cry.

Before you knew it, you were rushing over to him and wrapping him in your hold. He hugged you so tightly that night you were only slightly concerned your ribs might snap. Ever since then, with the reminder of his tears dripping into your hair living in your brain, you made a point to stave off the nighttime adventures, instead listening to John’s heartbeat to put you back to sleep. 

You couldn’t sleep without him now; that was a fact. A torturous, downright evil, fact.

John had ruined you for anyone else besides him.

Tears slipped from your half-lidded eyes as the memory slipped away from you; turning your head farther into the pillow, you choked on the sob in your throat as the morning light attacked your eyes. You wonder if anyone has ever died from a broken heart before and if you’ll be the first. 

But I can’t die until John’s body’s found, You think with a muffled gasp, body curling into itself, I can’t go without knowing.

The boys had come to visit when they were free, all of them had keys and weren’t afraid to use them. They were worried about you, is all, so you entertained the unannounced visits with the same blank look that now lived on your face constantly. Gaz came the most as you were the closest to him – he meant good, you knew that, and he had cared about his Captain immensely when he was…when he was…

He felt an obligation to you and carried a large amount of guilt with him. 

Gaz liked to prod, trying to convince you to get out of bed, promising the weather was nice for a walk, on and on. But the world didn’t smell like John, and the faces you would have looked at wouldn’t have his beard or wear that stupid bucket hat or beanie and snort at your bad jokes. You had no drive to leave the house. What was the point? 

Soap was next, the jokester trying to lighten the mood at any instance. He tried to make you talk about John, saying little quips, but you never spoke a peep beyond your sniffles. You didn’t want to talk about your boyfriend, the voices in the back of your head talked about him too much already; to the point where it became a chore to think about anything else. At the very least Soap wanted you to smile once every time he visited – he had told you as much. But he left in defeat every time, and although his loyalty was arguably one of his largest qualities, his visits dwindled just like the light in his eyes. He was taking it hard. 

Yesterday, though, was different.

Simon had come to the house for the first time. He sat in the plush chair in the corner and read aloud to you from a random book on your bookshelf, not making any comment unless the character's actions were surprisingly dumb or pointless. He never pried like Soap, and never prodded like Gaz. He was just there, and, perhaps, that was what you liked the most about him. When you had asked him to read just one more chapter to you from one of John’s favorite books, Simon had looked up and paused when he caught your eyes, his own minutely widening above the cloth covering the lower half of his face. 

It wasn’t so often that eyes like his own were staring back at him. 

He had re-opened the book and read until your eyelids had slipped shut, and when you woke up, he was making breakfast in the kitchen. 

The smell of burning waffles prompts you to raise your head and look at the ajar door. Burning waffle mix wasn’t a pleasant smell, and your nose twitched in disgust. 

You got to your feet and shuffled down the hallways, dragging the comforter with you and listening to it ruffle over the floor as the clanking of pots and pans made your ears perk. Pointedly not looking at the pictures on the walls, you tug the dog tags over your head, caressing the metal before letting the weight hit your chest with a quiet thunk as they connect with your pajama top. 

Your bare feet pad to the kitchen entrance and briefly you remember a tight hug before the memory is shoved down as you shake the glassiness of your eyes away. You blink at the scene in your kitchen and a bit of awareness lights in your orbs.

“Are you trying to burn my house down, Simon,” You croak, no doubt looking like the dead walking, “Or are you just really bad at cooking?” 

The man was covered in flour, his black clothes layered in it so much so that your eyebrow raised, amusement nearly making you scoff. You shuffled to the island and pulled out a stool with curiosity and concern for the well-being of the kitchen. Hopping up, you watched the trained killer as he turned to you, the waffle maker behind him covered in pale dough. 

“Never made waffles before,” He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least, “Didn’t think it would be this hard.” 

“You’ve never made waffles?” You cross your arms on the island counter, moving to rest your chin on them before closing your eyes for a moment. For a second you had forgotten that John was dead and just like before the weight was back. 

“This was the only good one,” Simon’s voice snaps you back, and your open your eyes slowly. A plate slid across the counter, a slightly burnt waffle sitting drowned under syrup with a fork set on the side. You stare at it for a moment.

“Would it hurt your feeling if I didn’t eat it?” You mumble, peering up from your makeshift headrest. 

Simon’s arms were behind him resting on the back counter as milk dripped to the floor, and a sigh built in his chest making his sweatshirt rise before his eyes blinked at yours. 

“Yes.” He turned his back and began collecting ingredients, trying to clean up – apparently he had accepted defeat. Your eyes shifted to the plate ahead of you. 

“Fine,” You sigh, sitting up and dragging the plate closer, and pick up the fork with weak fingers before using the utensil as a knife and dissecting the food. 

Your mouth waters as you shove a piece into your mouth, chewing for a little bit before stopping. You look slowly at Simon, cheeks full, and you blank when you find him watching you closely. 

“Did you forget the sugar?” You watch the man’s body tense, eyes darting to his phone on the counter where he was most likely using an online recipe before snapping back to you. 

Pressure builds in your chest as you swallow the inedible waffle and feel it travel down your throat. A quick moment later you’re slapping a hand over your mouth and stifling the small laugh that echoes through the silent kitchen. You swore you see Simon’s shoulders jerk proudly for a moment before he turns his head away to continue cleaning.

Around your neck, the dog tags clink together and with your free hand, you grasp them lightly.

You felt just a little bit better, even if it was at the famous ‘Ghost’s’ expense. But who wouldn’t laugh at someone forgetting to put sugar in waffles?

                                                             —

No one knows who shot down the helicopter – they say it was the Russians, but who could really be sure? Task Force 141 had so many enemies it could practically be anyone on their list and they could be none the wiser until the forensic team got their job done. 

All that John knew was that he woke up in the dirt, the press of metal over his chest to the point where he knew some of his ribs were cracked and that the flames were getting closer to the fuel tank. The annoyance at the blurriness of his eyes was thrown to the side as blood pumped through his veins, some even leaking out from various wounds he has yet to notice. 

Throwing his arms out, his muscles straining behind his flame-licked shirt and combat vest, John’s hands find holds on the beam before throwing all his weight into it, desperation and adrenaline giving him all the strength he needs. Violent coughs fall from his lips as the smoke travels up his nose, making it hard to breathe. The shriek of the shifting metal encompasses John’s ears, so it was only common sense he couldn’t hear the screams on the opposite side of the downed helicopter. 

“Captain?!” Gaz’s voice was lost behind the wall of fire and grinding earth, “Price, answer me! John!” 

John grits his teeth, a growl flying from his lips as he hucks the beam farther down his body, just enough to shimmy his way out with a groan at the ache of his lower body. 

“Fuck,” He grunts. 

It was a miracle his spine wasn't broken. John’s blue eyes blink furiously as they try to dispel the ash from the corners, instinctual tears tracking down his face as his hands get skinned on the rocks. The smell of gasoline spurs him on, as well as the visible bodies of the other men in the Helicopter littering the remains of the cockpit.

One would think at the only thing on his mind was survival – getting out of this metal oven before it blew to find his men and regroup, asses the damage before calling Laswell for an Evac – but John was haunted by only one thought as his fingertips bled over the ground. He dragged himself on. 

I have to get home to her.

His body twists, and in his haste, the glinting dog tags on the ground are missed because of a wave of smoke as they sit, waiting, with their clasp noticeably broken. 

John’s shoulder forces away a large sheet of metal, ribs screaming inside of him, but the pain had never stopped him before and it wouldn’t now. The light of the sun greets him, and he only manages to drag himself a few feet away before the entire helicopter explodes in a flash of fire and death, throwing his body forward until it careens over the edge of a large hill, dirt and dust spraying where his body rolls down. At the bottom, John feels himself connect with something solid, and everything goes black in a savage wave of agony.

His last thoughts are of you. They always would be.

                                                             —

“I need you to come with me,” Gaz’s voice greets you when you open the front door, your hoodie and jeans not helping keep out the chill of the air as a breeze flows through the door. 

“Huh?” You frown, itching at your neck and unintentionally jingling John’s dog tags, “You show up for the first time in a month and that’s the first thing out of your mouth? How about a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’” 

Gaz’s face tightens, and his face turns to the side for a moment. You sigh deeply.

“I’m not angry, just sad you didn’t tell me you and the others were going on another deployment. I would have given you all send-offs if you’d just told me.” 

“We weren't on another deployment,” Gaz admits, shaking his head. You blink before looking him over. 

“Then why are you in your work uniform?” The combat vest and other gear were cause for confusion, and you briefly wonder what Gaz and the boys are up to if not a quick stop by the house.

“When I found out I came here as quickly as possible. But you have to come with me, right now.”

“I-” You sputter, not used to seeing the man ahead of you so serious, “Alright…Let me just get my shoes.” 

“Make it quick. For your own sake.”

Tugging on your boots, on the way out you grab your purse and one of John’s black beanies, tugging it over your head before you lock the front door and jog your way to Gaz’s car in the street. You see the man tapping the steering wheel through the window, shadow vibrating with untamed energy.

What the hell is up with him?

The last month has been horrible, especially with the radio silence from the boys. You had assumed they were off somewhere on a mission, but to hear they had been in London the entire time? That just rubbed you the wrong way. Fortunately, things had gradually turned around after Simon’s visit and waffle fiasco a while ago, so their constant check-ups weren’t needed as much as they were wanted.

You don’t even exactly know what happened, but even on your worst days, you had promised yourself not to fall back into the deep pit you were in before. Though, most of the time you never left the house and woke up crying in the middle of the night; gasping for breath, there were good times too. Even if most of them involved remembering activities you used to do with John. 

You open the passenger door and slip inside Gaz’s car, clicking the seatbelt over yourself and sending a glance to the man beside you. Gaz doesn’t comment if he feels you staring, just puts his foot on the gas and begins driving down the quiet street. Sensing you wouldn’t get any answers, your body twists so you can look out the window, gazing out and watching houses and people fly past. Your eyes linger on the happy couples in their hats and scarves for longer than normal, and you only rip your eyes away when they become dots in the side mirror. 

Feeling Gaz looking at you makes it worse.

Your heart hardens, and you suck in a deep breath, leaning back to rest on the chair. With your eyes drifting shut, you let the bumpiness of the road lull you into a thin slumber. Naps are really all you’ve been able to take lately, and you fall into one quickly as the bags under your eyes burn. 

A hand shaking your shoulder wakes you, and a quiet, “Sorry, but you’re gonna wanna see this, Love,” makes its way into your ear. You groan, unclipping the buckle before rubbing your eyes. 

“Gaz, I hope you know what you’re doing,” You grumble, looking out and blinking to focus your gaze, “Where are we?” You set out of the car, stumbling before Gaz steadies you with a firm hand on your arm. 

“Base,” The man says simply. That wakes you up.

“What?” You gasp, looking around a parking garage where multiple other cars are parked, concrete pillars, and an ascending slope up to large metal doors showing you that you were underground. You had never been inside the base before – sure you had been in specific areas where you could greet John when he returned to London, but you were never allowed in the main building before, “Why are we here?” 

You turn to Gaz, but find the man already pulling your arm forward towards the glass entrance doors, fiddling with his front vest pocket. A squeak escapes your lips.

When he takes out his name card and places it on the door reader, he turns and faces you, and a beep sounds behind him.

“I need you to just follow me as closely as you can,” Gaz mutters, gripping both of your shoulders and giving you a hesitant but soft smile, “Alright? I promise all of this is important. Definitely going to be worth it.” 

“Well,” You snort, raising an eyebrow, “I’d hope it would be important, you just dragged me halfway through the city. You owe me supper for all of this, Garrick.”

Gaz laughs, turning and opening the door, and keeps it ajar for you to slip through.

“You’ll have to put a raincheck on that – you’re not going to want supper with me tonight.”

You make a questioning noise in the back of your throat, but Gaz just slips past you, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. 

“You’ll see. I can’t tell you all of my secrets.” The smirk on his face makes you roll your eyes, following after him like a lost puppy as you take corner after corner. This place was like a labyrinth. 

People watch you as you walk past, and the widening of their eyes gives you an idea of how much they know about you and your deceased boyfriend. 

John Price left behind quite the impression, you think to yourself as a group of people coming your way turn in and begin to whisper amongst themselves, side-eyeing you, but I wish he hadn’t had to leave anything behind. Least of all me.

The door catches your attention first, and Gaz hesitates outside of it as the sounds of arguing echo out from under the crack. He holds a finger to his lips and keeps a hand on the doorknob. His brown eyes stay on your face.

“You can’t leave Base, alright!” That was Soap’s voice, sounding much more serious than you were used to, “You need to stay here until you get cleared by--”

“You tell me one more time that I can’t leave until I’m cleared by the Doctor,” Wait a second, “I’ll ring your Muppet neck. I’m going to see her, let the whole bloody base try and fucking stop me.” 

The deep voice had a growl staining the words, agitation so familiar it drips off the tone like water. 

“John,” You mutter, heart beginning to beat faster in your chest. Without a second thought, you shove Gaz’s arm aside and barge your way into the room, ignoring Gaz’s playful, ‘hey, careful now.’ 

The door slams against the wall and your feet skid into a white-floored room, the bright fluorescent lights ahead buzzing. Soap and Ghost are both there, the latter trying to force the man you thought was dead back into the hospital bed while the other leans back against the far wall.

Everyone freezes and Soap looks like a deer in headlights with his hand wrapped around John's upper arm, straining to hold the once rampaging man back. But it’s not like you notice, you’re only looking at the man who ruined your life. 

John Price looks worse for wear. Even with the hospital gown over his body, you can see the bulge of tightly wrapped bandages around his torso and legs – his arms are connected to medical machines, a needle in his right palm giving him fluids from a drip IV. Oh, but it’s him. That’s your John. 

Ruin my life, You think to yourself, Ruin it over and over again if it means you’ll always be able to come back into my arms. 

He looks at you with a surprised softness, his blue eyes never wavering from your body as he takes you in with a deep breath. The brown beard on his face is longer than you remember, as well as his hair, and the red marks over the left side of his face say that many of his wounds are old, but have not healed fully. Where had he been? Gone for more than a month and labeled missing in action and he just shows up, black and blue and wrapped like a mummy? 

Your thoughts were running even faster than your heart and all you do is stand there and stare at John like he was a specter as the others watched with bated breath. You could hear Gaz in the doorway shuffle on his feet. But you weren't the only person shell-shocked – John still stared at you as well, his eyes running wildly until they land on the dog tags around your neck. 

The great Captain’s shoulders deflate, and his eyebrows draw in as blue flickers back to your face. “Oh, Sweetheart…” 

That was all it took for you to launch yourself into his arms, jerking forward into his chest with sobs leaving your lips like you had lost him again and not just gained him back by some miracle. John grunts under you, and Soap releases his shoulder with a huff. 

“I damn well told you ya’ couldn’t leave. You listen to me as well as Ghost does, Sir.”

Ghost huffs, shoving himself off the wall and taking a few steps forward, “Shut your trap, Johnny.”

Price never responded, because the second he was able his arms wrapped around your body, and as your own hands latch onto the back of his gown, his grip the back of your head; cradling it like a precious object. His other wraps around your waist. 

“John,” You whimpered into his chest, hearing his breath hitch as another sob rips from your throat, “What the fuck?” Wet tears stain his garment.

John utters your name as he begins running his fingers through your hair, turning his head down and pressing his nose to the top of your head as he lightly moves from side to side. Your legs almost collapse when you inhale his scent – gunpowder, leather, and spruce trees. That was him. That was John.

“Muppets!” John suddenly calls out, though his voice is noticeably shaky. You manage to pull him impossibly closer, “Get the fuck out, now.” 

“Aye, aye, Sir.” Soap mutters, sending soft glances your way that you missed in your state, “good to have you back.” You don’t know if he was talking to John or to the both of you.

Ghost whispers past, grasping Soap's shoulder and lightly shoving him faster toward the door as Gaz happily sighs. 

“We’ll be in the Barracks, Sir. Take your time.” The door closes. Immediately John starts talking.

“Love, I’m so sorry. The Helo went down and I–”

“It doesn’t matter,” You gasp, pulling back to grab at his cheeks, feeling his beard tickle your fingers just like it always did, “It doesn't matter,” you repeat, “You’re here – you came back.” A strangled laugh tumbles from your lips as John's fingers begin to clear the tears off of your face so gently, “You came back to me, John.” 

He gazes into your eyes so softly you feel like dying – such love leaking from his hold that you finally understand why you were so broken by his disappearance. 

You were always searching for traces of him, whether that was in his scent or the faces of strangers – in his books or his favorite films. John was your other half, and having him die was like having half of yourself die with him.

“What have I done to you?” John whispers, fingers grazing the deep purple under your eyes, taking in the lost weight as he grips your waist tighter. He swallows, eyes flicking away, “I should have tried to get back to you sooner.” 

Your eyebrows pull up, eyes widening at the genuine pain on John’s face. Knowing that words won't sway his hard-headedness, you blink away the tears and sniffle, moving your hands to your neck. With a swift motion of your arm, you tug the dog tags from your chest and press them between your bodies, your eyes impossibly warm as John tilts his head to gaze at them silently.

Keeping a handle on your tears, you bring your other hand up, grasping and taking off his beanie on your head. Carefully, and with all the love you could muster, you place it on top of John’s hair, whispering for only him to hear, “You were always with me.”

His kiss had never felt quite as good as at that moment.

That night the entire Task Force went out to celebrate – some bar with a classic atmosphere that John was sure to love after his official discharge from the medical ward. And he did, because as long as you were right beside him, and vice-versa, the lights always seemed a bit brighter, the music just a tad livelier. 

He kept you in the crook of his arm the entire night, and, in the morning he would tell you he was taking two months off as the light streamed through the curtains; your naked bodies pressed tightly as he leaves trailing kisses down your neck and between your breasts. Soft sighs and gentle caresses you had wanted for over a month that you would never lack again. 

But for now, in the soft yellow light, he watched you as you laughed at one of Soap’s horrible jokes, moving to shoulder Ghost to get a reaction out of him before John drags you back into his hold. You go willingly, wrapping your own arm around his tapered waist; snuggling into his chest with a genuine smile. Sneaking a glance up at your boyfriend, you find his gaze already on you, head still covered by that beanie that he wasn’t going to take off the entire night. A small smile rises on John’s lips before he leans down and kisses your head, your face heating as Soap makes a fake gagging sound before you laugh once more. 

Gaz watched the both of you, relief bleeding from his eyes as he brings his drink to his lips. Pointedly, he turns his gaze to the dog tags around your neck, seeing the glinting metal with a flash of surprise. 

He smiles. He’d have to remember to tell his Captain to order a new pair tomorrow. 

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 22 [FINAL]

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: toilet humor. Over consumption of alcohol.

Author’s note: Thank you so so so so much for staying with me throughout this story! I can’t believe it’s over. I’ll cry forever.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Can I Stay? Masterlist

Tag: @his-mochi-cheeks

You stood before the mirror scrutinizing your own reflection for any obvious evidence of this forbidden act you’d just taken part in.

Somewhere within the stall, Baekhyun had been busy with cleaning up and putting himself back together; just as you had done moments earlier. You heard the soft grunts and slightly annoyed grumbles coming from behind that closed door, “—a bathroom — of all places — we aren’t kids hiding from our parents.”

“Uhh…” he called out in a low voice. “I gotta take a piss.” There was just a touch of a slur in his syllables, “you don't mind, do you?” His question was mostly mumbled, but you heard the clank as he lifted the toilet seat; not waiting for your response.

“I think we are well beyond that sort of modesty, Baekhyun.”

“Are we?” You heard the stream hit the water in the bowl. “At least we have that.”

You leaned in closer to the mirror and touched over the dark red spot on your neck; pulling your own hair over the skin in an attempt to hide it.

Whenever you moved, so did your hair and the hickey showed up again. You reached for your small bag, remembering the touch-up makeup you’d brought with you. You tried your best with it, but the spot he’d made with his teeth would be one of his more lasting works. You could practically see all of his frustration from this evening with the teeth marks he’d left in your skin.

The toilet flushed as the stall door pushed open and Baekhyun emerged still zipping up and fastening his belt buckle.

“You know, I have a key to the penthouse in my pocket right now but you wanted to fuck dirty in a satellite bathroom on the third floor.” You heard hints of sarcasm. He was washing his hands. He was lifting his collar and tying his necktie, looking into the mirror as he re-did everything your filthy rendezvous had undone. His fingers flew up to the top of his head and he coiffed his remarkably still perfectly styled brown hair.

You rested a hip against the bathroom countertop and leaned your head against the wall beside the light switch, feeling just a tad dizzy from the copious amounts of alcohol you still had in your system but doing your best to focus on the many clues about something this man was haphazardly tossing in your direction.

You were having a bit of trouble gauging his mood. He seemed to be acting just a little bit prickly. It didn't feel like he was just drunk, this was something else. Leftover frustrations from being teased all night perhaps? A side effect from the three-hour boner? Was this pampered prince too good for kinky bathroom sex? As far as bathrooms went, this was a pretty nice one. There were warmed, rolled-up hand towels in wooden trays from IKEA, tasteful art hung on the walls, and on the other end, faceted mirrors lined the wall there that had given you a multi-angle view of what you looked like being fucked by your secret boyfriend. There was some sort of a fragrance that was released on a timer up in the corner. You’d heard the device squirt at least once while you’d been in here and now it didn't even smell like sex anymore. And it wasn’t as if you’d dragged him in here. He walked over here himself. Hell, he probably sprinted.

You watched his pretty side profile in silence as he did things like run a fingertip over his eyelid; wiping something imaginary there, or run his hand below his pouty pink bottom lip all while looking into the mirror at his own stunning reflection.

His eyes were blinking and he was not making any grand gestures or rushed movements in your direction and after a few breaths in and out and after a few more, quite excessive smoothing motions with the palms of his hands over his already neatly tucked shirt, he moved again to tug at his belt buckle, then moved his fingertips toward his own necktie that he pulled with an artists precision into about as straight a line as humanly possible and you were watching him with a building sensation that this man was, very obviously bothered by something you had, or hadn’t done.

”Baekhyun?” you said with all of your remaining unasked questions flipping up the inflection at the end of his name.

He inhaled a breath and only looked into his own eyes, blinking them slowly once. Then twice. On this third blink his eyes opened and his eyelids fluttered just enough to show you how much he was holding himself in a carefully barely controlled state. He was deliberate with it — with making a point to avoid your eyes entirely.

This pretty man had settled himself into a fit.

You were sure it wasn’t the sex from earlier. The sex had been amazing. He had liked it, you were sure of it by his giddy excitement at having his very own sex tape saved into a secret, password protected folder in his phone. He’d even made it a point to disable any sort of cloud back-ups that might have inadvertently saved it anywhere else. He’d gone through big gestures of saving yours in the same way. Double locked and very strong password protected. Some acronym of some code sentence he’d made up on the spot and you hoped to God you’d both still be able to remember it when you sobered up.

No, no, this was something else; something you simply could not ignore and from beside him on the countertop you could see the occasional notification popping up on his cell phone screen. It had been placed on silent but it was very much alive and very active. From where you stood, you could see the occasional pop-up message telling him he had been receiving text messages and they seemed to come one after another in rapid succession. Some even at the same time.

You pushed away from the counter and took a few steps; feeling either too drunk or too entitled to look away from his phone screen and in the mirror you caught the movement of his eyes as he watched you approach his phone. It was very active. You saw names popping up again and again. Summaries of text messages filled with laughter and images displayed in tiny thumbnails.

“What is all that?” You peered down at it and heard a slow sigh come from deep within your boyfriend’s chest.

“Group chat,”he said as he reached a finger out and touched his phone screen, “the guys,” not bothering to move the phone away from you or conceal it in any way; instead, he was reaching out unlock it, to bring it to the forefront of your vision so show you everything and to bring all of this nonsense up for you to see. “They’re making jokes and memes…to tease me…about you.”

The chat moved quickly. Tons of laughter and childish ribbing at his expense. An occasional picture with words written on it. You saw an image of a weeping man pulled deep down into the throes of despair coupled with some words embedded in the picture about a high-five from the love of your life followed by more raucous laughter from several people who all talked at once. An occasional question directed right to Baekhyun asking about where he even disappeared to. Someone saying he was off crying in a corner. One more noticing that you had vanished as well and you crossed your arms over your chest knowing deep down that the longer you both stayed gone at the same time, the more suspicions amongst your friends and co-workers would grow.

There was no more delaying it. You both knew it. This desperate need you both had succumbed to had been temporarily satisfied and unless you wanted those suspicions to become rumors and those rumors to be backed up with coincidences or worse, facts you both needed to come up with your next move so you could rejoin the others at the party and it really needed to happen sooner rather than later.

Something about his quiet observation of your face and the way he kept his tongue motionless well inside of his closed up mouth despite the half blinking you saw in his eyes and the way his eyebrows twitched up on his forehead had you hesitating to say what really needed to be said.

We should get back to the party.

We’ve been gone for too long.

Someone might notice.

Someone might find out about us.

Instead of speaking you cleared your throat and grabbed your bag, taking one step away from where he stood; one step that brought you closer to the door and further from him.

He didn't say anything but his eyes watched you and oh there was a darkness that grew inside of them.

Why couldn't you just speak to him? Something shameful and dirty had a hold of your tongue and you could feel a growing guilty feeling beginning to take your mood with the words of your plan for escape sitting on the very tip of your tongue refusing to come out.

You couldn't just leave him here. After bringing him in here to fuck and then leaving him behind once you’d been satisfied. It felt so far beneath you to do; not to him. Not with that silent pout you saw on his face the further your feet moved you away from him, the more it grew.

You couldn't stand it.

You spun around, facing him once again and his eyes widened marginally when you took another step toward him, reaching your hand up to reach around his shoulder you placed a palm over the back of his neck, pulling him into you as you leaned into him.

You kissed him. You pressed your lips over his and you let your lips part into his mouth as you kissed him without any hesitations or reservations, you kissed him.

He kissed you. He pulled you into his mouth and took a step into you, molding himself into the feeling and the shape of all of you until both of his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and you were pulled into his chest; into his firmness; into his open mouth. Baekhyun kissed you back deeply and he kissed you back slowly.

All the while you hoped and wished that your lips and the warmth from your touch might soothe every worry that had tried to take hold inside of his bothered chest. You wished he could have been so easily soothed with a few kisses, a few touches, a few reassurances.

He pulled away from you first and with his lips pulled tightly in between his teeth he inhaled a slow breath well into his lungs through his nose.

His forehead rested against your own and his arms still tightly encircled your waist, holding you here with him for a few moments before the itchy question that had been bubbling beneath the surface of him finally broke free. You heard the inhale before he spoke.

“How much longer do I have to be your secret? I hate it so much.”

Of course this was it. You’d had a feeling this was coming. He’d given you hints that he didn't really enjoy all of the hiding and scheming to keep your many sins under wraps. Even his unrestrained delight to find out you’d so easily throw away years of your career just for the chance of staying with him forever had told you that this man was not the type willing to keep his love hidden for very much longer.

You moved your hands over the back of his neck, threading your fingertips into his hair and you closed your eyes, steadying the rush of nerves that spiked at the very thought of the others finding out about the two of you.

“Soon. We won’t have to hide for much longer. I promise,” you spoke through a whisper and you felt the tip of his nose brush over your cheekbone before his soft lips pressed kisses into the softness of your cheek.

“Just not…tonight. Not when we’ve both been drinking and we disappeared together for so long.” You felt the pull of his lips against your skin. It was a smile. You felt the wetness of his teeth as he smiled. “It would be so obvious what we’ve been doing,” you complained.

“Soon, when?” He asked with a whine. There was a playfulness in his words that wasn't there before; before you gave in and promised him this all would be over soon.

“Monday. Monday we can ride to work together and you can drop me off on your way up to your new office. We can even hold hands if you want to.”

”Super early on Monday morning before anyone else gets there?” There was a petulance in his voice as he continued the sulking act. He knew you well enough to know that you always arrived well before any others from your team and probably before anyone else on the entire floor did. Lately though, with him occupying your heart and your bed until the very last minute, you’d tended toward wandering in later and later.

“We could sleep in a little. Maybe stop for coffee first. We could be a little late.” The alcohol really seemed to be doing a number on you. As you daydreamed of what might possibly come on Monday morning you couldn't fight the giddy feeling building up inside of your chest. Baekhyun had pulled his face back so he could look into your eyes as you told him so many of the sweet promises he’d wanted to hear.

“What if I kiss you goodbye at your office door and leave you behind to answer all of their questions?” He was giggling. It felt manic. His kind of happiness was the most contagious kind. The trembling in his chest shook you and made your own laughter break free. This feeling was more than intoxication. It was a new kind of hopeful happiness that you wished would never end.

“Monday,” he said after a while and on his lips he wore the sweetest smile with his pretty pink lips pulled tight and his eyes curved. “It’s only four days. I can act pathetic and lonely and single for four more days. If that’s what I must do—”

His words were cut off by the steady hum of a phone on vibrate that was ringing. You heard the sound echoing out inside the tiny room and both of your heads turned toward the sound of the buzzing on top of the bathroom countertop. He dropped his hands from around you and reached for the phone holding it up to his face for a few milliseconds to read the name on the screen.

He was pressing something and holding it up to his ear as he angled his torso away from you, at the same time holding his index finger up to his lips to let you know that you should not speak if you wanted the secret of this relationship to remain intact.

“Yeah, what?” He said into the phone with a gruff, put-out tone. You could hear the sound of another voice on the line, a man who’s intonation sounded like he was asking a question. The casual, super familiar tone you heard from both men told you this was a close friend of his. The finger he shushed you with told you that it might be one of the close friends sitting out there at the tables near the dance floor. One of the members of the teasing group chat who hadn’t stopped flooding his phone with messages since you’d given him that co-worker worthy, platonic high five.

“I’m taking a shit, why? What do you want?” He angrily barked into the phone and you swallowed the surprised hiccup that caught you off guard with his insane choice of an excuse for his absence. You had to lay a hand over your mouth to keep yourself silent through the shock and you’d just barely moved fast enough, thankfully, to keep yourself from being heard by his caller.

Your eyes were wide on him and you felt it then, again, just as you had genuinely felt it while you watched him with that rowdy group of young men earlier. The sudden and genuine shock at this version of Baekhyun that you honestly had no idea even existed until you’d witnessed him interacting with his friends had you questioning everything you had thought about him until now.

He was listening to his friend talking; nodding his head every once in a while. Silently agreeing to something without using his words. Maybe he was too drunk to realize the person on the other end of the line couldn't actually see him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Baekhyun had taken two steps further into the bathroom and pushed the bathroom stall door open. He noisily flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to turn on the faucet, pulling the phone down from his ear and waving it next to the sound of the running water for full effect.

He’d hung up the call and turned off the water before looking up into your surprised face with a passive expression on his face.

You watched him in silence for a few breaths before his eyes glanced emptily around the room a few times as if to question what your curious reaction was all about.

You shook your head back and forth before you spoke. “Who even are you?” Your brows were furrowed and you looked directly into his brown eyes as you asked the genuine question. You were honestly very curious about what sort of new surprises you would learn about this crazy man in the future.

You heard him scoff and he lifted his hands in front of him, palms up as his eyes looked between the two.

“I am a single, lonely, pathetic loser who has just given himself a killer fucking alibi for where he has been for the past half-hour.” He said this with his chin pointed toward his right hand. Clearly indicating the side he represented. When his focus shifted to the other hand which he held out in your direction he nodded in your direction before he spoke with a single lifted eyebrow above one eye.

“Where have you been for the past half-hour?”

This silly man believed himself to be too clever for his own good. You shrugged and scoffed with a quick and dismissive eye roll. You would show him how to craft a perfect alibi while also keeping your dignity intact.

“Darling, I am drunk and this place is huge. I got lost.” It sounded so simple because it was simple. It was also plausible, as out of character as your drunken behavior had already been so far… You pulled your cell phone out and opened the group chat with a few of your favorite coworkers and teammates and you quickly typed out a text message, ignoring any typos you saw your impaired fingers produce.

“I thought the [arty was on the 5th floor I’ve been up n down this hotel so many times. did they move the party????? someone help meee :(“

You showed him the message and nearly instantly, and as if on cue, the replies began to pour in.

“Omggggg ma’am lmao”

“lololol miss manager is lost”

“search party for mis manger nobody has any more fun till we find her”

“She’s so cute drunk”

“Third floor! We are on the third floor!!”

“Stay where you are I’ll come save you”

You looked up into Baekhyun’s shocked face and your lips pulled into a self satisfied smile.

“You are so cute drunk. Who is the one who said that? Is it a guy? Dani sounds like a guy.”

His pointy fingertip was touching your screen as he tried to scroll back up and get closer look at the names and pictures of the people in this group chat and you specifically did not dignify his silly questions with an answer. Instead you locked your phone and put it back inside of your bag; turning your back on him, you raised a hand to unlock the bathroom door.

You poked your head out first. The coast was clear and in the far off distance you could hear the thump thump thump of the party that was still going on. “You go right and I’ll go left?” you asked behind you.

Baekhyun’s head poked out beside you, just over your shoulder and he turned his head quickly to the right and to the left, scanning the area for witnesses. You had already done this part. He didn’t need to also do this part.

“If you go left, you’ll get even more lost.” He said in a serious voice and you felt him give you a solid push through the doorway at the same time as he reached down and grabbed ahold of your hand. He started walking toward the right, pulling you along with him.

“Baekhyun,” you whispered from behind him, wiggling your hand to try and get him to release the tight grip, “Baekhyun, I wasn’t really lost.”

You pulled back against him harder, and stopped your feet from moving forward, “Baekhyun, that was a lie, remember?” It took some urging but he eventually felt your resistance and turned back around to look at you. There was a sudden change in his face as he closed up his eyes and threw his head back. His lips pulled into a wide and beautiful smile and he had a moment of realization.

“Oh shit, that’s right,” he laughed hard and pulled his hand over his belly as he did it.

Oh no.

Ohhhh no.

This man was not in his right mind right now.

”Baekhyun,” you urged in a more serious tone, trying your best to keep all hints of amusement off of your face. You could feel your own smile fighting you. He was so drunk and he was so adorable, “Baekhyun, not tonight. Not tonight, okay? Monday. Remember?”

You pulled your hand out of his and he looked down at his own empty hand with a small frown before he nodded his head up and down twice.

“Not tonight,” he repeated, showing you that he was here now and he fully understood what you were telling him. Until his eyes found yours again and he inhaled a quick breath to speak again.

“Tonight!” he said excitedly and his lips were parted and your stomach dropped as you flattened your lips and closed your eyes in frustration.

“Not tonight.” You said feebly but he was excitedly tapping you on the arm. Clearly worked up enough about something to be having trouble getting the words out in order.

“No, no. I know. Not tonight for that. Not that, but tonight — tonight, my friends, the guys, my boys,” he was moving as he gestured with both hands as if they held onto something in the empty space in front of him, “and your girls,” he moved his hands to hold onto the emptiness on the other side, “my boys and your girls,” his face dropped and he lifted an eyebrow, “are having an after party tonight. Tonight, tonight.” He lifted a hand and pointed his finger downward.

Clearly his words weren’t fully cooperating with him and he’d resorted to using his hands and arms to pantomime his meaning. It worked though. You followed wherever his hands moved and you relaxed with the faith that he would behave himself just enough to keep things under wraps until Monday. He was also very excited about whatever he was trying his best to tell you about right now.

With one hand he reached out wide to the side and he closed his eyes up and shook his head. “After-party,” he said, “round two,” he lifted two fingers up with his eyes still closed.

”My party,” he placed his palm flat on his chest and swayed on his feet, “my going away party — Junmyeon said your girls told him. My boys have been invited. We are all going — tonight.”

“They are,” he lifted both hands and intertwined his fingers in front of his face, “they are all together now.”

After he finally got the entire message out he giggled quietly to himself.

“Woooo,” he breathed through his mouth, making a little sound as he did it, “I’m drunk — hitting me now. Fucking tequila.”

He smiled that breathtaking smile right at you before he turned and left. You noticed he took a right turn at one of the hallways ahead of you and you were thankful that in his drunken mind he knew the layout of this hotel enough to be able to find a different route back to the party.

You counted to twenty inside of your head before you took the first step and it only took you a few moments before someone grabbed you by the arm, linking a warm elbow within yours with a cheerful smile on her face. There was another girl on the other side, equally as warm. These were your people.

“We found her!” They both cheered in unison toward a much larger group of people who all lingered on the outskirts of the now, winding down party. “Round two! Round Two!” A noisy chorus rang out and you were not once let go of someone’s tight grip on you as you were steered quite deliberately out of this hotel ballroom, into an elevator that moved down to the street level and out of this building entirely.

From the murmuring around you, you gathered that Baekhyun’s cousin owned a swanky bar up the street; easily within walking distance. Spirits were high and the group of people was larger than you thought would be able to fit inside of a single bar. Worries were hushed and Baekhyun assured everyone that he texted his cousin and the bar was completely ours for the rest of the night. There would be food and alcohol and music and even, “An open mic should anyone wish to serenade someone special,” one of Baekhyun’s noisier friends said with a dramatic wink of his eye that earned him a hard smack on the back.

You had no idea who anyone was. There were just so many of them. You did hear someone calling one of them Junmyeon and you knew this had to be the one who had called Baekhyun earlier. There was also a Minseok who was shockingly pretty for a man, and Jongdae who was the loudest of all of them. If you had thought Baehyun’s best friend Chanyeol had been loud, apparently you just hadn’t heard Jongdae’s volume yet. There were some others who were much quieter, and one with striking, large, very expressive eyes who hadn’t said a single word since you’d seen him. He did give you a sweet smile and a little nod of his head which put you at ease. You were certain he was a delight on his own, but with this group, he probably just couldn't be bothered with competing against the other very loud, very chatty members of the group.

Swanky seemed like not a grand enough word to describe this place. The word “bar” was such a vast understatement it hardly even deserved to be used at all. This place was the highest of high end; the kind of place without a name on the door, without a listed phone number; with a strict clientele of only the city’s most elite visitors. You were sure most of the people who walked by that door on the street level had no idea what kind of beauty and opulence lay just inside. They would never know either.

The moment you stepped inside the fragrance, the lighting, the shimmer and glimmer and the air even, all enveloped your body entirely in what could only be described as the kind of warmth you feel coating your skin when you slip into a hot bathtub. It was like slipping out of your bra and restrictive loathing and slipping on a silk nightgown that expensive smooth fabric that glides against your skin.

You were all ushered toward a large table and one by one, people sat down. Baekhyun was sidetracked by a beautiful woman who pulled him in for a tight hug. She spoke to him in joyous up close whispers and he replied in kind with giggles and smiles, grabbing his hand and shaking it, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek. You were unprepared to face the hot surge of jealousy you felt deep inside your chest and you had to look away from this exchange. You focused instead on keeping the sweet smile etched onto your face. Your hands were shaking and your feet moved as if the floor was covered in super glue, but you kept that smile up for long enough for you to find a spot to sit at the big table.

Your just clear enough mind fought very hard against your heart and pulled your legs to sit down in the empty seat between Sandi and Marci before you could linger too long on the empty one beside where Baekhyun was headed, on the opposite side of this enormous table.

You didn’t need to feel the warmth of his body beside you.

You didn’t need to be reminded of how good he smelled.

Dishes of food arrived and fresh drinks were passed around and the small waitstaff was overly attentive and polite. The delicious food did more for your mind than any fake smiles did. You could feel your blood clearing the more you ate and as the food went in, you kept your focus on the food in front of you, on the drinks in front of you, on the company of women that sat on either side of you for long enough to get a handle on it. For just long enough for you to trust yourself enough to look up and across that table at the pair of dark brown eyes that you could feel watching you at this very moment. As he ate, as he laughed, as he talked and joked, as he drank; those eyes always found you. You were right to put some distance between you both.

The air in the room shifted then as the hum of the A/C sounded out suddenly and you felt a slight chill in the air. It was probably because you were sobering up some and the heat from the liquor wasn’t warming you from the inside anymore but you could feel an alarming sensation from below your revealing dress as the chill puckered your skin.

Oh no. Your stickers were long gone. A weird self conscious thought invaded your mind and you pulled out your cell phone to send the quickest discrete text message to your boyfriend. You kept the phone below the table as you did it and you gave it a second before you saw his attention drawn to the phone in his pocket.

His hands moved below the table and you watched the tick of his pupils as he read your message. There was a quick movement of his thumbs and your phone vibrated once, telling you he had responded to your question. He did not look at you at all but was well into a long discussion with the men who sat around him.

“Can you tell that my stickers are gone?”

”yes.”

He answered you so very quickly. He didn't even look up to verify that he could actually see your ice cold nipples poking straight out, ruining the luxurious look of this dress. This wouldn’t do. You rose to your feet and excused yourself for the bathrooms; all the while crossing your arms over your chest as you rubbed hands over your bare forearms in some attempt to warm yourself up. You needed a first hand look in the mirror. Maybe someone had a suit jacket you could borrow. With all of these charming young men surely one of them could sacrifice theirs for a lady with a chill.

You had to walk past his end of the table to get to the bathrooms and you noticed he shifted his weight a bit as soon as you began moving; all while still not looking at you. He continued carrying on with his friends; laughing and joking as if you were of no interest to him at all. If only you could borrow a tiny bit of his self control right now, you might not have been watching him so intensely.

He stood up on his feet the moment you came right up to his side on your journey through the room.

In a swift motion, Baekhyun, stood on his legs and he removed his blue suit jacket, then he turned it around, leaned over to where you stood and placed it right over your shoulders as you walked by and the moment the warmth and the smell of him landed over your back, coating you entirely in the heat you’ve been craving since you walked into this bar, your feet stalled their forward motion and you actually froze in place.

Not him though, the action was smooth as hell. Just as fluidly as his initial surprising movement started, he continued the motion and spun back around in a circle, sitting down seamlessly, effortlessly, and very quickly as if he had never even gotten up in the first place.

But he did. He did get up. He did give you his warm jacket with all of his body heat and scent and he did it right here. He put it on you himself with his own two hands.

And everyone saw him do it.

He did that in this room full of people — people who had been drinking all night, people who knew the both of you, people who, at least half of which, knew of his intense crush on you. The room erupted into a drunken cacophony of hoots and hollers and you could feel the blood rushing straight up your neck and warming the skin of your cheeks.

“Shut up. She was just cold.” You heard his complaints clearly as he was obviously trying his best to quiet down the excitement he had just caused, “You guys are so dumb.”

You forced your feet to move. Gripping the lapel of his jacket tightly around your shoulders you took another step and then another, moving quickly away from the noise and chaos he had just caused, towards the sanctity of that bathroom that you so desperately needed right now.

After a few quiet moments your phone buzzed once.

“Sorry,” was all his text message read.

You opened it and read it but you did not reply. Instead you used the toilet, washed your hands, used your ice cold hands to cool the hot skin on your face as you gave yourself a quietly whispered little pep talk about what you should be doing with your eyes while you were out there. You decided that you would strike up an intense conversation with Sandi about her love life. You would be engrossed enough to hear about her escapades to keep your mind off of the handsome man who sat at the end of that table ignoring you while his very attractive “cousin” or whatever the hell she really was to him, giggled at his jokes and gave him free appetizers, and told him about a girl she was going to set him up on a blind date with and called him Sweetness in a saccharine tone. Did she think she was a southern debutante?

You derailed your own pep talk with the pain you felt in the palm of your hand. You were squeezing down so hard you saw little half moons pressed by your fingernails into your palm.

You took several deep calming breaths. You recognized that you were acting ridiculous. Self awareness is the first step to recovery. You reminded yourself of this mid-calming breath and when you emerged from that bathroom and stepped out into the hallway you noticed that much of that chaos and noise from earlier had settled down. You could hear voices, some excited shouting and some groaning and it sounded like the group had finished dinner and had moved on to some sort of game. Knowing this group, it was likely a drinking game; hence the over the top groaning and cheering.

A quick peek around the corner kept your feet from moving forward because Baekhyun’s chair was empty. Had he left for the bathrooms as well?

Your shameless curiosity drove your legs to move in the other direction because your ears picked up on a familiar voice, just off a corner from where you stood.

It was his voice for sure. He was chatting and there was a word attached to a statement in a woman’s voice that gripped you so tightly to hear it said out loud.

Fiancé

She said the word fiancé.

Only the word and its meaning was skewed and broken because she was speaking to him quite obviously, about someone other than you.

“I saw your fiancé the other day,” she said. You felt a spindly pins and needles sensation slipping up the back of your spine.

He responded in a low voice. You couldn't make out what he said. It was some sort of low, rough tone.

“Oh really? That’s not what I heard.” She replied in a cocky, confident tone and you heard him clear his throat. Was that a nervous, caught sort of throat clearing? Was it annoyed or denial? Your lungs burned and you felt as if there wasn’t enough air to clear the anxious buzzing happening inside of your skull.

Fiancé? You felt a dizzy, sinking feeling inside.

Had Baekhyun been engaged to marry someone? Someone he loved, maybe? You could not help the way your neck craned to get closer and the few steps you took as you closed your eyes, begging to be able to hear what he was saying to her. The sounds of his clear yet quiet voice, at last, broke through the noise.

“last year — bullshit — excuse for a mother — my life is mine — can think whatever they want — drove me to a point — almost gave up — ”

You only got bits of it but from the little you had to work with you could tell right away and with the realization came an instant shame that covered from the over of your head down straight into your chest. This wasn’t something he had chosen. It wasn’t something he wanted any part of. Someone had been forcing him into it. And at some point last year, during his lowest point it seemed, fueled by some personal crisis, triggered and hopeless, desperately awful in every way — he called it all off.

Something so huge had happened in his life during that time and you had no idea about any of it.

You felt an acrid taste in the back of your throat. You took a step back and away from this and quickekend your steps further once you were sure you were out of earshot.

This isn't something you wanted to overhear about him like a sneaky jealous girlfriend who just couldn't stand the idea that every single bit of his mind was occupied only with you. You pulled the suit coat tighter around your shoulders as you moved. You felt dirty and unworthy of the sweet warmth he had given you as you did it. It was an awful feeling; knowing you had overheard something like that; something he likely didn’t want you to know about.

You wanted him to tell you all about his past, no matter how painful it was, but with his own two lips. You wanted him to share his past pain with you just as you would share your own past with him; but only when you both were ready for it and only on each other's terms.

Your stomach ached with the idea of leaving this to fester. Leaving this guilty feeling to sit inside of you without speaking to him about it; without apologize to him for your blatant jealous, shameful eavesdropping.

You had found a small nook just off of that hallway and you stood there chewing on your thumb nail and you waited.

It didn't take very long before you saw the first glimpse of him. He wa heading back to the table and you reached a hand out, touching his arm from where you were hidden inside of your little hole. He actually flinched and yelped out in surprise when you touched him.

“Jesus,” he was holding his chest as he whispered.

“Can I talk to you for a second? Just for a minute, please.” You recognized the serious tone on your own voice and it had you cringing for how ridiculously bad you felt about this. His face shifted instantly. He was overcome with a look of genuine concern and worry and he nodded his head, looked once behind him and made a motion with his hand toward another area of the bar. It was a space just off the kitchens where he led you to and once you followed him back there you found him leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his own chest in a fully protective stance. His eyes were full of worry and you realized that your choice of words, the ‘can we talk’ thing must have sent a jolt of panic through him; as it would have sent through you.

The second you came close enough for his whispered words to reach your ears you saw the small step he took in your direction. He lifted a trembling hand to reach out toward you and on his lips was the beginning of a pleading apology.

“I’m sorry about the jacket — ” he began. You lifted a hand and shook your head to cut him off.

“This isn’t about anything you did. I owe you an apology and I need to say it now or it’s going to destroy me from the inside.”

Your quick words closed up his mouth and his shoulders sagged as he his face ticked to the side in confusion. His didn’t speak but his eyebrows furrowed and you caught the stuttered breath that caught halfway inside his throat as he tried to breath through it.

“I overheard your conversation just now with your cousin. It was not my place to hear it. I was dealing with some imaginary jealousy about how friendly and how familiar you were with her and I heard you two talking and before I could stop myself, I was listening to what you both spoke about. I’m so sorry I did that. It was awful of me to do. I feel as if… that was your private … life .. and if the tables were turned and you had done what I did, I might be upset about it. I’m so sorry, Baekhyun.”

He was motionless throughout your entire confession and apology and when you were done speaking you inhaled a deep breath and held it as you anxiously watched his face for any signs of what he was thinking about what you had done.

You saw a wave of motion move through him and he turned away from you for a moment as his hand ran over the length of his face. When he angled himself back in your direction his brown eyes sat heavy and deep within your own and he looked at you with a pull of his chin upward.

Before he spoke he licked his lips and his face twisted into the smallest grimace.

“You didn’t need to ever tell me that you heard that—” He started speaking. A clear upward inflection in his words that signaled very plainly that he wasn’t finished speaking with this one phrase. You couldn’t help yourself though.

Your nerves had your hands shaking and your voice trembling. “It was wrong of me to list—” you interrupted him but as soon as your words left your lips he raised a hand to stop you from speaking. You knew you were wrong. You knew you were moving out of turn and his quick hand and with the tight way he closed his eyes, instantly stopped your silly tongue from moving any further.

“Stop, please—“ he begged quietly and you bit down on your lips to keep yourself better behaved.

“You— didn’t need to tell me this…you could have gone the rest of our lives never mentioning that you knew this until one day it came up and I told you — I told you how painful it was, how hard it was for me at the time and you could have just pretended not to know and acted so surprised to hear that yes, I was being forced to marry someone I don’t know, against my will, my entire life and future being stolen from me because of disgusting greed and how very fucking close I came to not even existing at all anymore because of that pain—”

“I would have told you about this. Absolutely, and without a doubt, I would have told you everything, but you — you — instead you — instead you have given me honesty. You chose, for me, to be so very gracious and beautifully true to me and save me the years of the indignity of believing something about you that isn’t true.”

“Do you realize how insanely unparalleled you are? Do you have any idea how high of a standard you set?”

“How can I ever compare to you? I think I would have listened and I wouldn’t have even felt guilty about it. I wouldn’t have told you I heard anything. I don’t feel like I deserve you at all, but goddammit I love you so much I feel like I’m going to cry.”

His heavy words pulled your arms down from your chest and they hung lifelessly by your side. You felt pulled in every way, down into this carpeting that covered the floor below your feet. You had to close your eyes and drop your face and you slumped and sagged deep on the inside under the immense weight of all of this.

“You don't have to be so quick to forgive me,” you whispered and you heard the movement in front of you when he took a step. You noticed the shadow of his arms moving around you a second before you felt the warmth of his embrace as he circled himself around you, pulling your shoulders inward with the pressure of his hug; he pulled you firmly into his chest; tucking his face into your hair just over your shoulder and the breathe he inhaled from here trembled and shook.

“There is no part of my life that I want to keep private from you,” he spoke directly into your ear and you stumbled backward with the force of this embrace. “Let’s just think of this as a fortuitous event. Now I don't have to lie to you or come up with some stupid excuse for why I’m too much of a coward to answer my mother’s phone calls.”

“I don't think that’s cowardice, Baekhyun. You don't want to be hurt. Anyone would avoid pain if they can help it.” You could feel the relaxation in his limbs as he loosened the tight hold he had on you. You used this opportunity to lift a hand and lightly tap along his arm, urging him to let you go. The crisis had passed and you were lucid enough to know that this sort of embrace was definitely not something co-workers did, no matter how much they had had to drink that night.

The food you’d both had earlier had really done some wonders for your resolve and self control because he let you go quietly and took a step back, leaning against the wall with his arms firmly crossed but much lower over his chest this time.

This time, it wasn’t to protect his heart from whatever potentially damaging word you might need to tell him. Now he took on a much more relaxed posture that looked almost too casual. He had a slight grin on his lips and his eyes had a bit of mischief that always, always put you on some level of alert. You knew this look. It was never good news.

“So you were jealous,” he said with a little head shake, “of my cousin?” With the second part of his question he sneered and lifted both of his eyebrows with a forced look of disapproval but just enough self serving amusement for you to understand that he was more much more flattered than creeped out by your ill-placed jealousy.

You rolled your eyes and you were certain much of the disgust he should have felt when he thought about a close relative was displayed all over your face. Why did he look so amused by you?

“She’s very touchy — calls you Sweetness — ugh, kisses you on the cheek and hugs you so tight with her,” you motioned with your hands over your own chest, “body pressed all up against you. I couldn't tell if she was actually a close family friend that you just called a cousin who obviously wants to sleep with you, or a real, honest-to-god first cousin.” A new thought occurred and you inhaled to keep going, “ugh, or like one of those fourth cousins, twice removed; the ones that you're legally allowed to marry and make babies with even if it is technically still gross.”

His eyes narrowed, with that smile still firmly planted in place on his lips and he looked up and away from your face. He was silent for a few seconds too long and his eyes trailed up over the top of your head. He was doing some intense thinking. Some genome math. Some heavy generational calculating. You did not like the looks of this.

“Actually, I think she might be like a third cousin, now that you put it that way. Pretty sure, legally, we would be allowed to get married and make tons of babies. The genes are technically far enough apart. It would still be kinda weird though... I mean, for me. I don't know how she would feel about it.”

A sound broke free from deep within your chest. It was a disgusted grunt and you threw your head back and released it from deep within you as you turned around; giving your back to him so you could walk away from this ridiculous man. You ignored the teasing little ‘he-he-hes’ that broke free from his mouth. You were done. You were finished with this conversation, if he was going to admit out loud that technically she wasn’t even close enough of a cousin to be illegal to marry — and how dare he one-up on your reasonable and vague number of babies by making it “tons of babies” — you didn’t want to hear any more. Not only was your jealousy justified, but this man was gross. Not legally gross, but technically gross.

You were walking away. You could hear him calling after you as you did it.

“But hey, I’m young and single right? I’m single and lonely and pathetic for the next four days, right?” The sassy, sarcastically delivered quip stopped you in your tracks and you instantly turned back around, took three quick steps toward him so you could look right into his face. Just so you could see the look in his eyes as he dared to say such a thing. He seemed to physically recoil to see you return so suddenly.

You did not say anything; all you did was look at him but it seemed to elicit a strong reaction from him. His jaw snapped shut and his laughing, teasing expression shifted and turned extremely grave and serious with your unexpected and sudden return.

“I’m sorry. I was kidding. It was a joke.” He said the moment he was able to inhale a breath to speak, he gasped again, “joke — j-joke. Please don't hurt me.” He whispered nervously and you balked at the suggestion that you would dare resort to violence. All you could do was shake your head in disbelief. All you could do was lay a hand over your chest at the audacity of this man and after a few moments of neither of you moving, you simply turned and walked away.

You returned to your seat at the table alone; although, still wearing his blue coat. The color complimented the shimmering sparkle of your pretty dress perfectly and it was warm and it smelled like him. You wiggled into your seat and Sandi and Marci each handed you a drink. One had beer and the other was smaller and had liquor. Were you really up to another round of this?

It didn’t really seem much up to you because another game was starting and you were up. This game was two truths and a lie. If your falsehood was sniffed out you had to drink and if you were safe with your lying skills the rest of the group had to drink. It was pretty cutthroat and the choice of the lie had to be unanimous and made within a 30 second timer. Phones were forbidden, even though these lies and truths were so personal there was no way someone would be able to google for an answer. Still, you were up first and you pondered for a few moments before you spoke. You picked something very safe. ‘I have never been on a rollercoaster. I am in my 30s. My first pet was a fish.’ Nothing risky and nothing incriminating but strangely enough the two options outside of your age had started quite the heated discussion. You smiled cryptically as even Baekhyun seemed genuinely torn between the rollercoaster and the fish option and when the timer on someone’s phone rang out the group scrambled and chose the roller coaster as your lie.

You shrugged and told them your first pet was a puppy and everyone groaned and drank their shots.

The game was fun and the further it progressed the more intense the discussions grew. There was analyzing from all perspectives and the truths and lies grew bolder and harder to believe.

The drinks were being thrown back at record speed and soon enough you felt the familiar buzz of the alcohol coursing through your system. Jongdae’s lie had been that he didn’t know how to tie shoes and there was much shouting as all of the men around him pointed out his perfectly tied shoelaces. Someone else mentioned how they saw him personally tying his daughter’s shoes the other day at the park and he was easily snuffed out. Baekhyun was up next and he lifted his finger to his lips in thought for a moment before he spoke out.

“I have a diplomatic passport. I own the hotel we were just at. I am in love with someone from work.”

The gasps were loud and came from all sides of the table at his scandalous words. Each one seemingly of equal intensity and you did you best to keep your expression neutral as you lifted your beer and took the smallest sip. The bottle in front of your mouth hid the tiny smile you had there and the discussion around the table seemed to be truly torn. All of the men believed the lie was about the hotel. There was much discussion about how much Baekhyun had to travel in his life and how that hotel had no mention of the Byun name on it. The men never even once questioned the phrase about Baekhyun’s work crush.

The women on the other hand seemed to fixate on this one. ‘I’ve never seen him interact with anyone except for Sunny, who he was training so he had to interact with her, and Miss Manager. Who else would it possibly be? He’s just too busy with actual work to be in love with someone. Unless he just never said anything and kept it to himself. I wonder who it is.’

Eventually the men were louder and pushier made their decision stick; doubting Baekhyun’s ownership of the hotel and you had to smile widely simply because you could not stand knowing exactly which was the lie and being powerless to say anything out loud about it. You simply sat here with your beer in your hand, relishing in his little confession hidden within this game.

They were all wrong. You had to take a shot as well and his eyes were on you as you did it. Those lovely eyes shot tiny little hearts in your direction and you hardly even felt the burn of the strong liquor going down your throat.

“The diplomatic passport?” Junmyeon asked Baekhyun noisily, demanding answers and Baekhyun just smiled and looked down into his drink.

“Wait, so you own the hotel? No way.” Marci asked him across the table and Baekhyun nodded his head once and lifted the beer to his lips.

“I don't believe it. They’re all lies. He’s lying about all of them.” Her tone was petulant; made sulkier sounding with the amount of alcohol she had consumed and he leaned over toward Marci with his own cell phone in his hand.

“Marci, look up the number of the hotel. You can watch me type it.”

Marci took the challenge personally and began reading numbers out loud which Baekhyun carefully typed into his phone. On the last number the entry changed to a saved phone number with the name of the hotel and he placed the call on speaker so everyone could hear. The phone rang exactly once before a polite voice answered.

“Mr. Byun, What can we do for you tonight?”

”Sooyoung, can you let me know how many empty rooms we have left tonight? My friends need somewhere to crash after the party. Do we have enough for,” he lifted his hands and counted each head at the table. You ignored it when he skipped you and you hoped to God these drunk people weren’t paying enough attention to notice that neither you, nor he got counted. “Ten more?” He said after counting. A typing sound echoed over the stunned and silenced group and after a few moments the woman returned to the line. “We have enough, Mr. Byun. I will get them ready for your friends. I’ll place the room keys under your name at the front desk, sir.”

He thanked the woman and the table erupted in more of that familiar chaos of cheers and applause. You noticed that Junmyeon (I am a Gemini. I love rabbits. My blood type is A), the man who sat right beside Baekhyun had a puzzled look on his face and he lifted a hand to count the heads at this table, coming back not quite with the same number as Baekhyun had counted and puzzling over it while looking down at his own finger.

“Wait a minute,” Marci called out noisily. “If you own the hotel, and you don't have a diplomatic passport,” she gasped out loud and covered her mouth with wide eyes as the pieces slowly began to fall into place for her, “then who are you in love with from work?”

The attention of the girls was back on Baekhyun, but suddenly the group of men all jeered in her direction, clearly covering for him. “Hey, don't ask that,” someone said admonishingly. “A man’s gotta have some secrets,” someone else said.

“I thought it was pretty obvious already,” Kyungsoo, the quiet man with the big eyes abruptly spoke out in a smooth and low voice that could not have been more unexpected seeing as how he hadn’t said anything at all since his round of two truths and a lie (I like cooking. I have three dogs. I own six pairs of the exact same pants.)

“Let’s play truth or dare then,” Marci spoke up, quite put out with being told to zip it by this group of pushy men when she was clearly way too invested in this love story to let it go. If there was one thing you knew about Marci it was that she loved the gossip. All gossip. Any gossip. She was a sucker for it all. She was in this for the drama.

The of girls all cheered and you braced for the possibility of having to drink a lot more alcohol if you ended up being dared to do anything too risky, or possibly anything at all involving Baekhyun.

The next game was up. Minseok emptied his beer bottle and placed it on its side in the middle of the table and gave it a good spin. Sure this game wasn’t spin the bottle, but everyone liked the randomness of selecting the next victim in this way. As if pulled by some sort of act of fate the first spin landed on you. All at once, everyone’s face turned to look at you expectantly.

“Umm…truth, I guess.” You said, fully prepared to lie through your teeth if you had to.

”Do you know who he is in love with?” Marci wasted no time at all and the entire table erupted in rabid laughter. The laughter from the men’s side of the table was more intense than anything you’d heard from the group yet.

You steeled yourself; put on your best poker face, the one you used during business meetings and negotiations and you shrugged your shoulders with a slightly disappointed frown.

”I do not,” you said. The disappointed groans from all around were intense. Baekhyun’s eyes never left your face, not even for one second and you reached forward and grabbed the bottle to spin.

Tonight was not your night. The bottle landed on Baekhyun.

The noise was deafening and Baekhyun sat there with his eyes closed up tight in defeat with the smallest tense smile on his face.

“Truth or dare, Assistant Byun.” You said. You knew it was your part to ask, being the last one to spin the bottle.

“Truth,” he said, opening his eyes to look into your face.

Your mouth felt too dry and you sipped a little of your beer as you pondered the kind of question you could ask him that would satisfy this insane group of people but wouldn’t give anything away.

“Ask him who he loves. Do it. Do it,” Marci, Sunny, Dani, everyone was begging you to do it. The pressure you felt in this very moment was astounding. You had to inhale a slow and careful breath just to be able to stand this. The only silent one was Sandi beside you and you looked toward her just as she looked away from you.

You received her message. You figure this one out. I’m out of ideas, she said to you with her avoidance. The woman wouldn't even look at you. She was suddenly extremely interested in something she pretended to notice on the drink menu on the table in front of her.

“Umm…Assistant Byun, do you want to tell us who you are in love with?” It was a dirty manager trick. You technically didn’t ask him to answer the question. Anyone who heard this question would see your good intentions as you presented them. You could play ignorance quite easily for the mistake with your words and Baekhyun lifted a single eyebrow and smiled easily. God, he was a pretty man.

“Not really,” he said, clearly answering the question with honesty and satisfying the measure of the truth aspect of the game while still revealing absolutely nothing, thanks to your creative evasion.

The entire table moaned and groaned out loud. Some shouted in your direction, telling you to ask more directly next time and you laughed and gave your easy apologies to satiate this group of absolute drunken maniacs.

Whenever Baekhyun or any of his boys remained in charge of the line of questioning, things went pretty smoothly. They really were a good group of friends who had his back. The first real bit of trouble came when Marci had the spin and her bottle landed on Junmyeon who sat chewing on his fingernails beside a glaring Baekhyun.

“Truth,” she shouted ravenously, “or dare.” She added as an afterthought. She was trying to influence his decision and as his lips formed the letter D you actually heard her growling in his direction.

He caved so easily. A timid, “Truth?” Came from his lips and Marci pounced instantly.

“Who is Baekhyun in love with? I know you know.” Baekhyun was moving fast. He had his hands on the trembling man. The entirety of his side of the table filled with men were holding in their laughter, holding their bellies that hurt from laughing so much, and many of them braced for something to happen. Every single one of them had clearly had too much to drink by now. They would all suffer dearly for the over indulgence tomorrow, but tonight was just too much fun to stop now.

Junmyeon’s eyes went wide with terror and Baekhyun had lifted a hand to lay over the back of Junmyeon’s neck. You thought he might even be gripping tightly into his neck where no one could see.

”You’re thirsty, aren’t you.” Baekhyun lifted a shot of liquor up to Junmyeon’s lips and Junmyeon nodded his head and quickly and quietly swallowed the alcohol that Baekhyun poured into his mouth.

Beside them both, Jongdae was down on the floor laughing and wheezing through the tears that fell from his eyes.

You couldn't help your own laughter. The evening had progressed to such a point and so many near disaster moments had been carefully avoided you found yourself laughing just as much as the rest of them. Your cheeks were sore and your belly was sore and Junmyeon was spinning now. His bottle landed on Marci and everyone screamed out loud in agony recognizing that the cycle was never ending.

Marci was too determined, as were the other girls who had joined in this quest to uncover Baekhyun’s truth even if they had to sell their souls to do it. Theories began to be thrown around. It had to be someone here. Otherwise those men wouldn't have been so protective of Baekhyun and his secret. The girls were on fire; eyeing everyone else suspiciously on your side of the table and the next major crisis hit when Sunny’s spin landed on the aloof and very exhausted Kyungsoo. He had already had so much to drink and you could see the fatigue with all of this on his face.

In his best attempt at it, he picked dare.

“I dare you to whisper into my ear, the name of the person Baekhyun is in love with.”

The table had gone silent. These men knew the threat that they suddenly faced and Baekhyun’s eyes watched his friend with genuine worry. He blinked quickly and you heard the smallest plea, “Kyungsoo,” he said quietly.

You had some sort of an idea about this man. If anyone could stand up to Baekhyun and the rest of these men, it was probably Kyungsoo. He had a quiet sort of authority that you didn’t think many people would question. It wasn’t that he was unkind toward his friend. The man simply had a definite limit and had clearly reached it.

”I can’t drink anymore Baekhyun,” His words were very slurred and slowed down. The man stood up and rounded the table to where Sunny sat with an elated smile wide on her face and you watched with your heart in your throat as a whispered exchange happened between the two of them.

Kyungsoo then stood up straight and simply walked back to his seat and sat down.

Sunny though. Sunny’s hands flew up to her mouth to cover her surprised gasp and her wide eyes flew around the table as her entire face turned pink with excitement.

On both of her sides the girls were tapping her, and begging to be let in on the secret. It really did seem as if they knew something concrete with how very stunned they all looked once they had learned of the secret name.

Across the table, Baekhyun stared ahead of himself without any focus.

Everyone was very drunk already. Maybe no one would remember any of this tomorrow.

The group of men had all gone silent and after a few moments of whispering between the girls that pointedly did not land into your ears, a strange silence fell over the room.

“Well?” you said rather unceremoniously and abruptly. You couldn't stand this anymore. The cat was clearly out of the bag and you needed to know exactly what Kyungsoo had told Sunny and what had that girl all flushed and bashful about. You needed to know what you were working with to know how to act about it.

You needed either some damage control, or some denial to be happening right now but none of them were telling you anything. They just looked into each other’s faces and down at the table in front of them.

Your question was ignored. It was very unlike them, but they did it.

It was Kyungsoo’s spin and he grabbed the bottle and gave it a good go. You watched that stupid thing come to a stop pointed right at you and you lifted your eyes to look at the man.

“Truth,” you said before he had a chance to ask. As soon as you spoke, he did too.

“How do you feel about Baekhyun?” When the man said he was tired, he really meant it. He wasted no time. You felt the heat of everyone’s eyes on your face and the longer you sat here with this question hanging in the air above your head the less you really cared that much about what you chose to do. You avoided all of their eyes as you deliberated.

If you answered truthfully, well…

If you drank to avoid the question, well…

You weren’t much for bravery. You grabbed your shot glass and downed the liquor. The moment the glass touched your lips the table exploded. Someone was shaking Baekhyun by the shoulders, pulling him violently back and forth and you could see the laughter on his face.

“She didn’t answer it!” someone shouted excitedly.

“That could also mean she hates him and is just too nice to say it!” someone else shouted with the exact same level of enthusiasm.

You truly began to feel a lot of the same fatigue that Kyungsoo had been complaining about. His head was down on the table now and his eyes were closed. You couldn't be sure he hadn’t passed out right here at the table.

It was your spin and you gave it a good go. It landed on Marci and she looked into your face with her lips pulled up tight in surprise. She gave you the tiniest hiccup as a response and you looked into her face; suddenly very, very tired of playing this game.

“Truth or dare?” You said to her. Her choice did not matter. You would get it out of her either way.

She picked dare and you shrugged, “I dare you to tell me who he is in love with. You can whisper it into my ear if you want.”

Marci looked nervously around the room. No one seemed to have any suggestions or offer her any help and so she just swallowed nervously and leaned into you.

You heard her small inhale up close to your ear before she whispered, “Baekhyun is in love with you.”

The sensation of hearing this whispered into your ear at a time like this, while being closely observed by every single person at this table who knew what you had just been told was like an out-of-body experience.

You were floating up above your body. You could see the top of your head, you watched the nervous way you reached out for your beer and lifted it to take a big drink of it. You could see yourself fidgeting with the napkin underneath the beer, tearing it into tiny pieces with your fingertips and rolling the bits into little logs that you dropped onto the table cloth. This whole setting was a mess and you had been the one to make the mess. Across the table, you saw Baekhyun as he sat there completely motionless with arms crossed tightly over his chest, his posture sagging low in his seat and his eyes watching your face intently. It didn't look like he was breathing.

The entire bar was so quiet you could have whispered and every single person at this table would have heard you.

You inhaled a breath and blinked slowly, pulling your eyes up to look into Baekhyun’s across this table. You still did not feel like you were inside of your own body; making these choices; saying these words. You were not involved in this anymore. This woman who wore your face and sat here in your spot was inhaling to speak and opening her mouth as she prepared her voice to say something.

“Byun Baekhyun,” you said. Ten stunned faces turned away from you and looked at Baekhyun.

“Yes ma’am?” He answered through clenched teeth.

Tiny gasps peppered throughout the group. It was like a tennis match, they were looking at you again. Faces were covered with hands; gaping mouths were hanging open; someone was making a wild whimpering sound and smacking someone next to them in excitement.

“I don't think it’s her turn to ask. Marci is the one who has to spin next.”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up. Let her speak.”

“What the fuck is happening right now.”

“I am going to pee my pants.”

“Yes ma’am. He said, yes ma’am.”

“She said his fucking name. Let them speak.”

The rules no longer seemed to matter anymore.

Kyungsoo had lifted his head from the table and was watching you too.

“Are you in love with me?” You looked into his brown eyes, doing your very best to keep the tremble out of your hands. You had to shake your head a little bit to clear some of the heavy nerves that suddenly made your mouth go dry and Baekhyun did not answer your question right away.

”I thought you said not tonight.” His muttered response was cryptic and vague enough to bring more confused faces back to watch you for your answer. He was right. You had been the one to make this rule and you were the first one to break it. You’d always been very good at breaking all of your own stupid rules when it came to him.

“Baekhyun, are you in love with me?” The attention was back on him and he lifted both of his hands and rubbed them roughly over the length of his face.

Someone beside him poked him lightly on the arm, whispering something encouraging in his ear. Answer her. Tell her. Say it.

His eyes were closed.

When he inhaled to speak, a single earth-shattering word rang out.

“Yes,” he said.

He spoke it so softly; pulling his eyes back up, opening them and letting them land squarely inside of your eyes. He left the word to linger on his open mouth for a moment before he inhaled another half breath; just enough air for him to speak again.

“Yes, I am. I love you. Desperately.”

No one was moving. No one was breathing. Mouths and eyes hung wide open.

“Holy shit,” someone whispered under their breath. “This is insane,” someone else whispered to the person at their side.

The silence was going on for too long and someone cleared their throat. You hadn’t responded with any words to Baekhyun’s answer to your question and after much too long of everyone sitting shell-shocked it was Kyungsoo who moved first. He reached forward and spun the bottle in the middle of the table and twelve sets of eyes stared down at the spinning thing until it came to a clumsy meandering stop pointed directly at the man who had just shocked the entire room with his love confession to you.

“Baekhyun, I dare you to kiss her.”

The once silent table erupted in commotion again. There was an excited energy surging through every single person at this table and you had to close your eyes to block out the pinkness you saw in his cheeks as his friends all tugged at his sleeve, shook his shoulders, sent urging words deep into his ears with such intense insistence that he finally sighed out loud and asked his friends a simple question.

“Should I?”

Baekhyun was pushing himself away from his seat at the table. He was standing up on his two wobbling legs and he took several large steps in your direction.

Your eyes were wide as you watched him. You felt too surprised to do anything other than watch to see what he would actually do.

You hadn’t expected the speed with which he reached your side and you felt so caught off guard with his sudden close proximity that you stood up the moment he came up to you.

It all happened so quickly. You had stood to face the man who marched up to you and you gasped when you felt his arm slip around the back of your waist. He pulled you into him and you stumbled enough for his coat to fall off of your shoulders and pool down at your feet.

Your balance felt unsteady. You reached for his waist out of habit, out of that familiarity with the shape of this man and the way he fit so perfectly with your body. You wrapped your arms around his waist at the same moment as he reached up with his other hand and cradled your face in the palm of his hand and his eyes were down on your lips.

He leaned into you then. He kissed you. Right here with everyone watching.

He pressed his soft lips into yours and the gasps of shock from all around were drowned out by the loud pounding of your heartbeat inside of your ear drums. He tilted his head into you. You pulled his lips in between yours and you felt the soft wetness of his tongue as he slipped it along the surface of your teeth, biting down lightly on your bottom lip as he pulled away slightly, only to come back into you; deeper this time. Hungrier and more demanding. Definitely not something two people kissing for the very first time did. Definitely not the kind of kiss for a room full of witnesses.

Oh, you felt ablaze with this. You’d forgotten every single rule you’d ever fooled yourself into believing you could follow.

When at last Baekhyun pulled his mouth off of yours, you felt the trembling inside of your chest at this brazen act. Your hands felt shaky, your legs felt like you might drop at any second. You felt your breathing too heavy to settle easily and he rested his forehead over yours as he breathed just as heavily.

Your hand had wandered and you dropped your fingers from where they had threaded into his hair at the nape of his neck. With your bodies pressed up against each other’s and his heavy breaths fanning over your wet lips he opened his eyes and looked into yours and your lips pulled into the smallest smile. This kiss felt like the beginning of something. You felt an overwhelming relief surging through your chest and you watched his own smile slowly manifesting on his face. You leaned into him, placing the smallest kiss on that pretty smile of his. The man giggled softly when you did it.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Byun Baekhyun, you goddamn—”

“The son of a bitch did it.”

“He did it”

“A long time ago from the looks of it”

You had to turn your head away from them all; covering your mouth with a trembling hand you moved and you felt curious movement from his fingertips along your right hand that now hung limp by your waist.

He was lifting your hand. He was pulling at your ring finger there and you turned to look at his actions as he very steadily and carefully removed the diamond engagement ring you’d been wearing on the wrong hand all night.

He held it up in between his thumb and index finger and peered through the hole of the ring before he turned to you with his empty hand raised, palm up asking for you to give him your left hand.

You were out of any bit of resistance. You laughed and lifted your left hand and placed it carefully inside of his and he slipped the ring onto the ring finger of your left hand with the widest, cheekiest, most breathtakingly beautiful smile you’d ever seen.

You responded to that smile with a hopeless laugh of your own and you felt him lifting your left hand up in the air.

“What?!” their voices all shouted.

“They’re getting married?!”

“What is happening?”

“Oh my god I can't believe this”

”You’ve got to be kidding me. Since when???”

”Are you telling me we didn’t know anything about this?”

Chairs had fallen to the floor. Drinks were spilled and dripped messily all over the table and the floor. People were on their feet shouting. Some were screaming. Some were laughing and clapping. First in confusion, then in understanding and acceptance and the place was a thunderstorm of so much commotion that even the staff and chefs had come out from the kitchen to gawk at the strange occurrence that was happening out in their dining room.

“For the record, I knew.” Sandi raised a hand at last and the reactions were mixed. Some demanded to know how she would have dared to keep this big a secret for so long. Others were simply flabbergasted that such a big thing could have happened right under their noses.

Baekhyun was giggling. The unparalleled joy you saw in his face matched the elation you felt inside of your body as you laughed with him. Doing your best to answer whatever questions you could answer as tactfully and respectfully as possible and after much of the chaos and drama had subsided enough for you to manage to get a word in you raised your voice, calling all of their attention again.

“By the way,” you began with a smile as you turned to look into his joyful face.

Your next words sent them into a wild round of cheers and applause.

“You are all invited to the wedding.”

The End.

Thank you for reading. I love you all!

Can I Stay? Masterlist

[winxwannabe]

Winx Season 9/Reboot Leaks

Okay here's the tea: earlier today a twitter user by the name of Cataclysm_Power started posting a video they claimed was from the new Winx season/reboot. When pressed for further information, they linked to a telegram chat with what appeared to be assets from Rainbow (17 screenshots/2 videos). After some C-grade internet sleuthing, I am here to give my (worthless and possibly wrong) opinion on which ones I think are real and fake.

A note before we jump in: I'm not posting full images on my blog, because again I do think some of these are real and if the leaker is to be believed, they hacked Rainbow to get them. You can look yourself through the telegram link, or others who've posted them on the Winx Club tag. I also think the leaker themselves is scammy because they've tried charging for Miraculous leaks before. Do NOT give them any money if they ask.

Real: Bloom, Stella, and Icy's asset sheets, Bloom Full Body Pose

A lot of these leaks are 3d modelling assets, and these 3 are the ones I'm totally convinced are real.

The biggest clue of their validity is the bottom banner. All 3 sheets have them, along with the same episode code and notes in Italian. They're all also linked to the same person: Pasqualino Masciulli is Rainbow's 3D modelling supervisor, and has been with the company for at least 9 years. He's done videos on Rainbow's youtube channel as well, using his shortened first name Lino. My main point is that's way too niche for someone to fake just to make some convincing leaks, and it would make sense for the assets to be tied to him.

Likewise, there's a full-body frame post of Bloom with fucking ugliest denim leg warmers credited to a g.riccobono. This is likely Giulio Riccobono, who is listed on Linkedin Italy as a Rainbow employee.

Probably Real: Tecna's asset sheet, Bloom's detailed asset sheet

Both of these are likely real but have weird things about them that make me pause. Bloom's more detailed asset sheet is missing the name, date and episode reference on it, and the notes are in English. Tecna's is missing the bottom banner entirely, and there's some weird cutting around her head that makes it look like someone hastily made a png and stuck it on there.

Unsure: Computer File Tab, MD Concept Photos, Videos

There's a screenshot of a folder with both 2D and 3D assets of all the girls. in the files. I'm not sure if this is from a computer at Rainbow or the hacker's personal folder, so it goes in unsure. I do think most of the assets in it are real - it's low res but the eyes on the 2D sketches are so similar to the ones on Rainbow's newer images of the girls I think they have to be connected.

There are also some full body concept photos for Bloom, Aisha, and Stella. They all look pretty legit (as they're updated version of images we've already seen) but Stella's has other images for 'possible pallets' included. She's the only one with it and the images look like they came from a flash dress-up game, and it gives me pause.

Lastly, the teaser videos of Bloom are probably real based on the outfit, animation and that stupid fucking Bloom shelf being in the background, but I'm placing it in 'unsure' because of the bandicam.com logo burned into the top. If it really came from Rainbow and everything else was downloaded, there was no reason for the hacker to not get the raw file. I think it's real, but I don't know if it came from Rainbow.

Something Ain't Right: Group Shot

What gives me pause in the fully-rendered group shot (even though its shown in the computer file tab) is it shows transformation we haven't seen teased and has a 'Lorem Ipsum' placeholder text. Aisha's hair also looks like it was done with AI - the back of her wings clip through the hair, and parts of it look copy-pasted. I'm stupid, it's the end of her braids. The 'Lorem Ipsum' thing still stands, but I'm re-filing this under 'unsure.'

Probably Fake: Darcy and Damien's asset sheets

I'm showing things from here on out because I'm so convinced it's fake please let me be right. Unlike the other character sheets, the ones for Darcy and 'new character' Damien have no bottom banner, are marked as 'Winx Club Season 9' with an outdated Winx logo, and have notes written completely in English. Darcy's has a bit of 3D modelling, but it's too different from Icy's. Maybe they're super early concepts for Darcy, but Damien...go home, buddy.

You're in the Wrong Place: Rainbow Pants Girl

I'm convinced this girl is from a different show and was saved to the 'Winx Club' folder by accident. Different clothing, hair, and shading. May you end up somewhere better than this reboot, Mystery Girl.

[the-whumpening]

Re: Anonymous hate messages

[Image ID: Screenshot of an anonymous message sent to me, @the-whumpening. Several lines have been annotated by me with colored highlights. All text has been transcribed exactly as typed. The message reads:

i would not be protecting a (yellow) pedophile and incest supportor (/end yellow) but for each their own!:)))

(green) we do not claim (/end green) (blue) her. she (/end blue) (green) is not even doing "whump" at this point. (/end green) just plain (yellow) depraved pedoincest fantasy stories (/end yellow) while thinking (blue) she (/end blue) has (purple) one more personality every week. people do not need to see that, (/end purple) it is not okay. none of it is. (orange) maybe all those bans should have been a sign. /End Image ID]

As expected, I received my first ever hate message after talking about the situation with "antis" attacking whump community members. The "proship"/"anti-proship" debate has been around for fucking ages, and I'm personally sick of it, but I thought this would be a good teachable moment for any younger/less-internet-savvy folks here.

This ^ is trolling. Whether they believe everything they said or not, ultimately their goal was to rile up emotions and cause friction. Having been on the internet a good, long time (my main blog is from like 2009, y'all), I have seen my fair share of trolls. I've fallen for a few, too. It's inevitable. But to save your sanity and help you all deal with users like this, I've decided to share this message and break down the clues that told me it's not worth interacting with.

Yellow Highlights: What I've highlighted in yellow are the "scare words," I'll call them. They're flinging the most extreme, most obscene terms they can think of at the situation, even if it doesn't fit, because they're trying to scare me in to either complying or arguing. Nobody looks good if they're "arguing for" incest or pedophilia. They're setting up a no-win situation where my position looks absurd and unsupportable. Edit to add: my position, by the way, is that you can write/make whatever you want as long as you tag it appropriately and post it where it abides by the Terms of Service, which my friend did. I do not support censorship of any kind. I didn't think it needed to be said but I don't "support" real life pedophilia and incest, either. No one does, including my friend who was banned. That's a nonsense claim.

Blue Highlights: I referred to the specific user who got banned by his preferred pronouns in my original post. I exclusively used he/him, multiple times. By using she/her in this message, I know this user isn't arguing in good faith because either A) they didn't read my post clearly and think it's about someone else, or B) they're intentionally misgendering my friend. You cannot argue with someone who isn't approaching in good faith.

Green Highlights: This anon says that "we" don't claim the user I mentioned as a part of the whump community and that "[he's] not even doing "whump" anymore." Here we have a logical fallacy: that user doesn't belong here because they're "not a real whump writer." They've essentially made up a rule to exclude this person, and that justifies (to them) how that person was treated. (Who is "we," by the way? Anon is implying that they are aligned with the majority of the community, thus threatening to place me as an outsider.)

Purple Highlights: Blatantly ableist rhetoric towards someone who presumably has Dissociative Identity Disorder. As above, they're trying to justify why it's okay to bully and harass someone off the platform. "People do not need to see that." Nonsense. We don't exclude anyone from the community on the basis of their disability. Once again, Anon is not engaging in good faith.

Orange Highlight: Finally, their closing line feels like a threat. They claim that this user should have expected to be harassed, even that they deserved it. They imply that being banned/reported automatically implies guilt, regardless of the fact we know tumblr staff is less than charitable regarding bans--especially with queer and disabled users, and double especially anyone who posts any kind of remotely mature content (like your standard whump fare). We all remember waves of transfem users being banned out of the blue this year, as well as anyone sticking up for them. It happens all the time. I also mentioned in my original post that this user had been mass reported multiple times which led to his bans, which I think the gravity of is missed here. He was targeted, multiple times, by a ton of people falsely accusing him of breaking Terms of Service. Mass reports are rarely trustworthy, imho, and especially not if they happen to the same user multiple times. You know what most folks do if they don't like a person's content or behavior? They block them and move on. Maybe a single, accurate report if it seems necessary, but a reasonable person should never sic their followers on other users to mass report or harass. It's bad internet etiquette, and it has been for decades. The golden rule of the internet: if you don't like someone, block them and move on! If it sucks, HIT DA BRICKS!

And that's why I did not respond directly to this anonymous message. Nothing in its content gave me any indication that Anon and I could have a real conversation and gain an understanding of one another. I hope this helps some of you deal with any potential hateful messages you receive. The goal, above all, is to push you to an emotional high and make you have an angry outburst on them. That's what trolls feed off of. And if there's one thing being on the internet for longer than some of you have been alive has taught me: don't feed the trolls. Do not engage. Do not argue. Delete or block, and move on as much as possible. Turning off anonymous asks (or asks in general!) is always okay. Remember: you alone control your internet experience. You curate what you do and don't want to see and what kind of interactions you allow. Blocking is always an option. Turning off replies is always an option. Filtering tags is always okay. Be better than these folks, and remember you are in control of what you see and do--but you cannot control anyone else.

Side note: I did get a very lovely message from someone (who I will not name to prevent harassment) showing me support and being really kind, so that 1000% makes up for shitty messages like this.

[hey-august]

I'll Be Your Whatever - Chapter 2

Story Description: Life is full of all sorts of characters - some who come and go, and others that stay. After propelling yourself into a lie you can't (won't) take back, a certain pirate captain may have a reason to come by more often. (Chapter 1) Word count: ~1.9k Warnings: SFW, some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. No use of Y/N. A/N: Fake dating is one of my favorite romance tropes, but I have a few other classic tropes in mind for future chapters... Tag list: @rorywritesjunk @ane5e

The title comes from "your whatever" by lovelytheband.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Days later and you were still wallowing in the hole you dug, which had been reinforced with pity. Self-care turned into avoidance as you stayed home and indulged in unnecessary excuses.

You did leave one morning to purchase a few groceries from the corner shop, but the background chatter and voices took the forefront of your attention. A weight sat on your chest as you worried that you would have to talk about a relationship you knew nothing about. After the outing, you decided to remain inside and come up with an excavation plan. 

You passed the time by painting and completing commissions, while hoping your creative muses would help concoct a narrative that would finish off this chapter you were suffering through. Unfortunately, their jurisdiction didn’t extend that far and you were on your own.

The only story you could draft involved a recent break-up. You didn’t recall seeing the pirate clown around town often. It seemed unlikely he would show up again, so ending the relationship could explain his absence. While you wouldn’t have to continue living a fictional life, you were certain that Reeves and Bolsti would try to use this short tale to their advantage and come up with more awful one-liners that would fizzle instead of flatter.

These thoughts looped in your mind, trudging along a worn path that always ended in the same place. The monotonous thinking occupied more than half of your mind, while the remainder was used for the few activities it could manage - cooking, eating, sleeping, and painting. 

One afternoon, a series of knocks at the front door abruptly paused the repeating thoughts. You hesitated on the other side of the door. Without a peephole or nearby windows at eye level to peek through, you settled for pressing your ear against the wood to listen for clues about who was on the other side. Or at least figure out who it wasn’t.

You couldn't hear anything. No voices, no chatter, no banter. Whoever was outside rapped on the door again, managing to bang their fist on the exact opposite side of your head. The loud reverberations bounced in your skull aggressively.

Annoyed with the unintentional gift from the unsolicited visitor, you swung the door open and prepared to berate them from pulling you away from important work (leaving out that the “important work” was hiding from your problems). The angry spark died at the sight of the seafarer in front of you. You barely had a moment to register the double layer of fake smiles on his face before slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck,” you said to yourself in a hollow voice. You had been afraid that your problems would come find you, but you didn’t believe that they actually would.

“I think that’s my line,” Buggy snarked as he re-opened the door. He still wore two smiles - one that was tightlipped and forced underneath his usual painted one.

“N-no, no you shouldn’t be here. You have to go.” The words stumbled out of your mouth, as clumsy and confused as the rest of you. 

You still had a hand on the door, and while any attempts to close it were not obeyed by your body, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Not only was the pirate larger than you, he had already stepped inside.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I even brought you flowers.”

You ignored the condescending pet name and focused on the bouquet daisies he held. They looked so out of place that you knew this was real. There was a pirate captain standing in your entryway. An entryway that felt cramped now that it was filled with his large presence. The man standing in your home had a big hat with blue tassels, ocean-colored eyes, a red nose, face paint, stubble, a long jacket, gloves, and a bundle of white daisies. Even the muses couldn’t come up with a sight like this.

“Why? What are you doing here? How did you even get here?” Although you accepted the fact that Buggy was truly in front of you, there were still too many mysteries to ignore.

Buggy rolled his eyes and pushed the flowers towards you again, their silly little heads bobbing as he motioned for you to take them. You accepted the offering, unable to ignore how nice the bouquet was. The daisies were full of life, wrapped in a bit of paper, and tied with a red ribbon.

“This is nice…did you actually buy it?”

“Sure.” Buggy’s cocky grin wasn’t enough protection against the sharp stare you threw his way. “Fine, yeah. I thought it looked nice.”

You nodded silently for a moment, looking past his scowl. A little petal stuck on his fluffy lapel caught your attention. You reached out, only for Buggy to pull away.

“It’s just a petal,” you commented, before plucking it off his coat and letting it flutter to the ground where it landed on the green carpet. “I’m surprised, you managed to get my favorite flower.”

Maybe it was because you hadn’t been outside in the fresh air for a while, but you couldn’t stop admiring the happy flowers. You turned around to grab a vase from the kitchen and Buggy followed you down the hallway. His bootsteps deepened when he stepped off the carpet and onto the wood floor.

“That probably explains why those shop people told me where you live,” he commented as his eyes drifted around.

You stopped short and the pirate plowed into you. He grabbed your shoulders, trying to keep you both from toppling over. A forceful shrug relieved his grip and you spun around. There were too many feelings and thoughts bubbling inside and your face couldn’t decide which one it wanted to emote. Shock or betrayal? Surprise? Maybe fear? Resignation? And anger, but how much?

Buggy bit his tongue. Your rolodex of emotions was the best thing he had seen all day, but laughing in your face was not part of his plan.

“They did give me a hard time. Actually, I waited outside of that damn store for hours. I thought you would show up at some point, but you didn’t. I must have looked like I got stood up.” Buggy paused and took a breath. He was trying to comfort you, not berate you. “Eventually I demanded they tell me where I could find you. Obviously they were convinced with one look at your handsome ‘boyfriend,’ or whatever, holding your favorite flowers.”

His monologue ended with a flourish of his hands, waggling eyebrows, and a laugh bursting from your mouth. There was only one store he knew you'd probably visit, so he must have been talking about Mr. Inslo or his husband. Neither of them would have given in so easily, especially if a loud, boisterous pirate stomped around the shop demanding information, like a greedy kid in a toy store. Imagining that scene unfolding in front of an innocent bystander brought tears to your eyes. Your recent isolation magnified the humor and you indulged in the levity. Satisfied with that explanation for the time being, you wiped away the joyful tears and finally made your way to the kitchen. 

Buggy leaned against the doorway, which creaked under the weight. He watched you make quick work of rehoming your flowers while periodically stifling a giggle as you replayed his story.

At first he was irked at how hard you laughed at his very true story, but the glimmer in your watery eyes and speckled flush on your cheeks smothered the small fire in Buggy's chest. Laughter is like music to a clown’s ears, after all. At one point, you locked eyes with him and it brought out another fit of wheezing laughter - one he couldn’t resist joining with a chuckle. Your infectious giddiness was becoming it’s own amusing performance.

You finally calmed down as you tied the red ribbon around the glass vase with a delicate touch. A ribbon that Buggy chose himself. The florist forced him to pick, so it wasn’t anything special, but seeing how you treated it with care made Buggy feel strange. Uncomfortable. He needed a distraction.

“The shop owner told me to drop this off,” he blurted while pulling out a very small brown package from a coat pocket.

You took the item and unwrapped it to reveal a single watercolor pan. It was a special order that you meant to pick up a few days ago, but you forgot when your self-imposed shitty solitary confinement began. Normally, new art supplies would fill your heart with glitter, but this felt like you spilt ink in your chest.

You swiped a few drops of water from the vase and rubbed your finger on the paint. It didn’t take long for the block to soak up the moisture and release some pigment. You dragged your finger along the paper the daisies came wrapped in. The color was impressive and lush, the hues swirled and shifted in the water. Buggy looked up - your eyes contained the same shimming colors but there also was excess water threatening escape.

“Wrong one?”

“No…I just meant to pick it up a few days ago.”

Buggy knew your statement was true - the shop owner told him the same thing - but you were telling a half-lie. The pirate clown was also skilled in using select phrases to hide feelings. Something else put a morose look on your face. Something related, and Buggy could guess what it was.

“Right, since you’ve been staying inside like a creepy recluse and avoiding everyone because you created a biiig fucking problem and don’t know how to get yourself out of this shit-tastic situation?” The eyes that held joyful tears not long ago now looked at Buggy with despair. 

You nodded. It was harsh, but that seems to be how he talks. And, honestly, you needed to hear it put bluntly like that. You were soft with yourself - making excuses, sugar coating your concerns, running away when you could.

“Let me help. We can make a deal and this whole problem will go away, I promise.” Buggy finally exposed the reason he came by. He hoped he didn’t screw up the plan before this point. Each beat of his heart echoed in his skull and he was beginning to worry that you could hear it too.

Instead, all you could hear was a small voice inside you which was relieved to hear what Buggy had to say. It knew that was the only reason he’d be on your doorstep and felt vindicated hearing the truth. The voice was also irrational, because it was telling you to accept his offer. If the irrational little voice was right the first time, then it’ll be right again. Clearly, the pirate wanted the treasure map you mentioned last time. He was desperate enough to buy flowers, but not to knock you out and ransack your home, or worse. 

And even though you knew Buggy was offering an empty promise, it gave you a glimmer of hope. If he was willing to go through all the things he did to find you - to find the map - then maybe he meant some part of it.

“Okay…yes. But there need to be rules.”

The twinkle in Buggy’s eyes flickered and his smile bordered on the edge of a grimace, but he held it in place.

“Of course,” he muttered before turning up the charm and continuing, “Of course! A contract, right? I’m sure we could work something out.” He held out a gloved hand, eager to seal the deal.

The shake of your head finally jostled Buggy’s tense grin down into an irritated glare and his body drooped with disappointment. You bit the inside of your lip, trying not to smile at how quickly the intimidating pirate captain turned into a petulant child. It seemed like he wasn’t used to getting his way, which only confirmed you were right to wait.

“Contract first, then we shake.”

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 260 (spoilers)

We get to see what Todo had hidden under his bandages and the reveal is both underwhelming because of its simplicity and absurdity (never heard of a vibraslap before in my life) and it's overwhelming because of the sheer mileage and fighting skill Todo can pull out of it.

Typical Gege move on that part. Take one CT and go into the nitty-gritty of its abilities even if it looks silly sometimes.

The vibraslap changes Todo's ability from clapping to making that sound that swaps people. The biggest change? He can now swap things about 50 times in a single second.

This is the current fighting gang being swapped around in that second and I'm sure anyone else would throw up when subjected to that.

For reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with the end of the chapter, I've only now realized that Todo can swap Gojo too. He wouldn't be able to do anything against infinity though.

Just the same as when they tag teamed against Hanami and Mahito, those two Brothers™ are now going against Sukuna as well and Sukuna knows how bothersome and nearly impossible it is to fight effectively against (Re-)Boogie Woogie and he says himself that Todo came at an inopportune time.

The narrator says that Todo successfully transported the others out of MS so the question of Maki getting out is basically answered. She'll probably make a comment on that later on when she suddenly stabs Sukuna from the back again

The animators are going to have their hands full with this part of the fight. For Gege it's also difficult to draw this kind of CT on static paper so he opted for those white lines to show where RBW was active.

Sukuna also jumped on air again and Todo had no idea how he did that. Why didn't Maki show them what that is about 🧐

With all the debris, it was also difficult sometimes to understand the panels but here we have Yuji imitating a pillar while ramming himself into Sukuna

Later on Sukuna gets hols of Yuji's face with his giant hands, stuff I find extremely funny, but Todo saves Yuji before Sukuna can do something to him.

Then Sukuna makes a fatal mistake! He thinks he can outsmart 500,000 IQ Todo and fails miserably (RIP Mei-Mei's crow). Yuji gets another black flash in.

Then Yuji grabs Sukuna's chest where his injured heart is and the chapter tries to deceive us at that point.

The "JJK ...ch.260/END" box appears and it looks like that's it for the week BUT we have one extra page left and that page starts HUGE with Sukuna making Gojo's handsign for his DE again and it ends even BIGGER with GOJO being BACK!!

But hold on a second!

Can we be sure that this is Gojo? 🤔

Actually yes, because we have an entire catalog of clues on how he would've survived the World Ending Slash from Sukuna.

There still is the possibility that this is a trick that someone is playing against Sukuna though. Uro's CT of manipulating air might e.g. cause an illusion like this and even the narrator talks about a "spirit" which raises some questions.

But it's also said that his eyes are unmistakable and Sukuna himself seems convinced that he's the real deal.

I'm going to make a post on all the clues we got about how he survived and I'm going to refer to my original post on his survival from way back when he got bisected.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Let It Percolate

Pairing: Mountain/Rain

Rating: General for now, no plans for smut but it might go up if someone cracks a dirty joke down the line.

Tags: Coffeeshop Au (kind of), Mystery, Fluff, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, Bad Coffee Good Vibes.

Summary: Mountain's promotion to Head Gardener of the Abbey comes with much responsibility. He turns to a journal left by Pebble, his predecessor, in hopes of any advice he can find in the notes.

Downside: Pebble wrote everything in code because she is, forever and always, somebody with too many secrets.

Plus side: The cute new water ghoul working at the Abbey coffeeshop is willing to help Mountain solve it.

(Author's Note: I just want a low stakes mystery fic to take a break from the bump and grind of my usual writing. I don't know how fast this will update.)

Mountain had heard mixed reviews about the little cafe the Abbey had on grounds. Beautiful to be sure, with a view of the gardens on one side with the river that meandered through it leading to the lake on the other. It was quaint, it was clean, it had little shines to various demons where one could pay a small fee and have a prayer candle lit. The study group that met there every Sunday evening would include the request in their adjourning blessings. Food was good. 

But sometimes the coffee was bad and that wasn’t great for something purporting itself to be a coffeeshop.

“There are other drinks, you know.” Zephyr had told him when he asked them about a quiet place to study. He’d been promoted to Head Gardener after Pebble’s sudden resignation and was both anxious and excited to leaf through his predecessor’s scrawled secrets from her journal. “Get the Earl Grey Tea with lavender honey syrup.”

“Sounds sweet.” Mountain tended more towards bitter flavors, plain teas and unadulterated coffees. He didn’t consider himself a purist or anything; he just didn’t want to feel like his tongue was coated in sugar after a few sips.

“Then get the coffee and suffer.” Zephyr replied, unsympathetic to Mountain’s plight.

So here he was. Drinking coffee that had definitely sat for too long and staring in utter confusion at the scrawl of Peb’s research notes. Pebble had had some of the most steady and gentle hands  Mountain has ever seen; able to carefully coax even the most delicate of sprouts up through the dirt, combing apart stuck together fronds, carefully scraping off parasites and re rooting even the most fussiest of growings.  But delicate work did not mean delicate writing. Pebble had a heavy hand with her pen, tearing through the paper as she’d written in such a godawful, looping shorthand that it gave Mountain a headache to even think about. 

“Why the shorthand?” he asked the tabletop. The scratches in the surface did not yield up any clues despite being more legible. “It’s not like the Vatican is trying to steal the secrets of our perennials.”  He took a sip of his coffee and gagged. Right. It was bad.  His eyes jumped from tabletop to beverage.  He’d paid a fair price for it but it wasn’t like that was an excuse to be terrible.  He glanced over to the counter, where he’d given his order to a new looking air ghoulette.  He liked her, Cumulus.  It was easy to order from her, with her big dimpled smile and the way she called him “honey” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But instead of Cumulus, it was a solemn looking water ghoul and Mountain’s heart stopped in its tracks.  He didn’t know Rain worked at the cafe as well. And if sensing the thought of his name, the water ghoul looked up from where he was wiping down some counter space over to Mountain. Mountain immediately looked back down at his work and proceeded to have an internal screaming fit.  When he dared to peek up again, Rain was completely absorbed in the task of refilling a hand sanitizer bottle.  His gorgeous blue-black hair was tied up in a messy bun at the nape of his neck with a few strands escaping to curl slyly around his ear. He tucked them back with an absent-minded hand that looked far too elegant for such a simple gesture.

Mountain ducked his head again and stared at the dirt under his fingernails. It was the precise shade of the coffee he’d been so grumpy about.  Would Rain judge him for it if he went up to order something new? His hair was pulled back carelessly, unkempt and dirty from his morning spent in Pebble’s office, going through something that could politely be called “messy” (Zephyr) and rudely called “A Fucking Hoarder’s Trove” (Mist).  The only saving grace was that he hadn’t touched her fertilizer collection yet and had deemed his smell acceptable enough to hunker down in a private corner for a few hours. If he’d known Rain was going to be here, he definitely would have showered.  Maybe stolen some of Zephyr’s nice soap instead of using his usual 5-in-1.

Trapped between a terrible drink and a terrible appearance, unwilling to give up and run away, Mountain stood. Grabbed his cup and made his way towards the register where the love of his life awaited, resting his elbows on the countertop and looking bored as all get-out.

(Zephyr had once said a crush was merely a lack of information. Mountain had silently pulled up Rain’s  ID picture on the inter-Ministry online portal site and angled his laptop so Zephyr could see.

“Ah.” They’d said wisely after a few moments. “My friend, you are fucked.”)

Rain looked like he was napping, but his beautiful eyes opened and focused on Mountain as the earth ghoul came to a halt in front of the counter. His eyes were the deep shade of blue Mountain had only ever seen on late august afternoons, under a hot summer sun with not a cloud to be seen. They were the blue of an incredible vast expense, an ocean that threatened to swallow him whole and leave no trace behind if Mountain dared to get lost in them.

“Hi.” Rain said flatly, sounding as bored as he looked. “How can I help you?”

Mountain cleared his throat, unwilling for his voice to break on the first words he’d ever spoken to the water. Rain’s impossibly gorgeous eyes went from his face to his mug.

“Oh.” he said, straightening up. “Coffee sucks, huh?”

Mountain nodded.

“Sorry.” He said with a shrug, hand out to take it. “Is there anything besides coffee you want?”

“Uh…”Mountain nervously scanned the menu as Rain’s cool fingers brushed his and hoped his shudder wasn’t too obvious. He had no idea what to order besides plain black coffee. “The…chai.”

“Sure.” Rain said nonchalantly, putting the mug through the dirty dish conveyor. “Dirty?”

“My name is Mountain.” He said in confusion. His hands went behind his back to hide his nails and rub over the space where Rain touched him and tried to ignore the stab of hurt through his heart. He knew he should have showered!

“Wh-” Rain started and frowned. “Not you. Dirty chai is a drink. With espresso.”

“Isn’t that coffee?” Mountain hesitantly asked. Rain paused.

“I’m just going to get the water.” he said with a sigh. “Just go sit down, I’ll have it out in a minute.”

“Okay.” Mountain said, still confused. He went back to his seat. He stared at Pebble’s journal.  He felt his phone buzz. Glancing at it revealed a message notification from Zephyr, asking how things were going.

Mountain: :( 

Zephyr: ?

Mountain: rain

Zephyr: !

Bubbles popped up indicating the other ghoul was typing out more than just alarmed punctuation but at that very moment, Rain was making his way to Mountain’s little corner with a steaming mug on a tray. A warm blend of comforting spices hit his nose when the cup was set down and Rain tucked the tray against his side.

“Anything else?” He asked. “I’m supposed to sell the scones today since they’re nearly stale.”

“No thank you.” Mountain said politely. “Unless they're blueberry?”

“Cranberry.” Rain said with an odd little one shouldered shrug. “Think blueberry muffins are next week's thing though. I’d have to check.”

Rain then proceeded to not so subtly stare at Pebble’s journal. It was hard not to, given that it was the only other thing on the table. Calling it a book would be an injustice; this was a true tome, bound in ancient leather with thick creamy pages full of her bizarrely written notes and diagrams. Mountain tugged it towards himself protectively, but not overly so. 

“Sorry.” Rain said, the hand not holding his tray going to fiddle with his necklace. Mountain wondered if he picked out the silver chain by himself or if someone had given it to him. “That just looks cool. Did you find it in the library?”

“No.” Mountain said, feeling part of the protective knot in his heart loosen just a bit. Pebble had been…strange, to say the least. Even now with her retirement, he was loathe to risk any part of her being mocked. “I…I’m the Head Gardener now and this is just notes from the ghoul who had the job before me.” 

A pause as they both looked at the mess of ink on the page masquerading as writing.

“I think.” Mountain finished. “It's really hard to read.”

“Oh, congratulations.” Rain said, sounding genuine. “May I see it? It's just that I can read now, and I like looking at different ways of writing.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Mountain said, scotting his chair away so Rain had enough room to bend over the table. “Uh, congrats on reading?”

It sounded awkward and forced even to his own ears but Rain seemed pleased, giving Mountain a small smile.

“Some of the older water ghouls say it's unnatural and we should stick to our songs but we aren't in Hell anymore. I like singing stories as much as the next, but I also really like to be quiet too, you know?”

A joke. Rain is joking with him.

“I like being quiet too.” Mountain replied quickly and as casually as he could, put his hand over his mouth so he could stop putting his foot in it.

But Rain just gave a soft little chuckle and kept studying the journal. So Mountain studied Rain. This was the first time he'd been so close to the water ghoul. Every detail needed to be committed to memory  to recount to Zephyr later that day. The angle of his jaw, the slight hump to his nose. He had three piercings in his left ear, plain little studs in silver. His scent, tangy and tickling in Mountain's nose like grapefruit. It was actually very tingling. He was going to sneeze. He sniffed, scrunching his nose, and prayed he wouldn't.

“Yeah, I’d make that face too.” Rain said, choosing that precise moment to look back at Mountain. “What is this, shorthand? Looks like shorthand.”

Mountain slumped his chair.  

“I can't read it.” He confessed, since he was already doomed. “I thought I would be able to but it's just so…ugh.” He blew air out in a frustrated puff

“Incomprehensible.” Rain finished, pushing the journal back towards him.”Why don't you ask her about it?”

“Can't find her.” And Mountain had tried. But Pebble was a cagey, secretive ghoul to begin with and had been around since the first stone of the Abbey was laid. She wouldn't be found until she damn well wanted to be found.

Rain hummed.

“Do you want help? I like puzzles.”

He liked puzzles. Mountain was bombarded with the mental image of the two of them in winter huddled over a large table, draped in blankets as a fire roared and the light made Rain’s skin glow. They’d hunt for pieces of an enormous jigsaw, working on their own slices individually until the whole picture could be seen and maybe, just maybe, they’d kiss when it was solved.

“I would appreciate that very much.” Mountain said earnestly. He finally took a sip of the chai as Rain went back to looking at the journal and the warmth that spread through him had nothing to do with the drink in the slightest.

[aftonsparv-bugzz]

H O N K H O N K !! :o)

ladies and gentlemen, prepare to knock your fat craniums to this brand fabulous new BLOG !! 🃏 𖤐⊹₊ 🎪⋆

⬛🟥⬛🟧⬛🟨⬛🟩⬛🟦⬛🟪⬛

🌈👾✧˖°(≧ヮ≦) 💕ִ ࣪𖤐₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

___ ★₊˚﹟🪐'

:33 < welclawme nyall !! ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა rawr !!

:33 < this is a re-entry/re-introduction/blah blah blah whatever to my blog xoP 🩻

:33 < (heres a supurr cool link to my introduction :o00 https://www.tumblr.com/aftonsparv-bugzz/743871612061990913/tag-guide )٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

𖦹🌈🎸⁉️-⃝⃤

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

:33 < heres some info on what i'll be doing on this blog !1!1! ⋆˚🐾˖°

:33 < youcan request many things !! such as:

sprite/character edits !!

pannel edits !!

dni banners/just any banners in general !! (re opened !!)

emojis !! (for discord n stuff :3 )

non scibal emojis and agere/petre things !!

flag requests !! (though im not great at them)

user boxes !! (re opened !!)

ship edits !! (any ship, so long as it dosent go against the dni (dni is in pinned intro post))

stimboards/fashionboards !! (if you have certain wants/prices, please tell me !! also these might take a little slower (fashionboards now closed !!)) (can do, but it'll be like this !!)

moodboards/playlists !! (certain songs/themes wanted, please do tell me !! these also might take a little longer !!) (playlists closed !!)

source calls/kinfeshions !! (please be nice and not rude though !!)

making icons !! (lgbtqia2s+ + character icons, fictive icons, therian/kin/alterhuman in general icons, ect)

:33 < ect ect !! (≧ᗜ≦)

⭒˚.⋆𖦹°‧⭒⋆.˚⭒˚.⋆𖦹°‧⭒⋆.˚⭒˚.⋆𖦹°‧⭒⋆.˚⭒˚.⋆𖦹°‧

☆ ⭒ ⋆ ⭒ ☆ ⭒ ⋆ ⭒ ☆ ☆ ⭒ ⋆ ⭒ ☆ ⭒ ⋆ ⭒ ☆

B33 < please do be respectful and specific when requesting things though !! ¯\(º_o)/¯ please do not harass anyone who requests things if they arent using anon !! iwill not stand for it on my page. ido not tolerate it. please just block them and move on if they make you uncomfortable.

B33 < also, keep in mind this blog only has 1 mod !! requests may take longer to complete ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) (╥﹏╥)

:33 < ido prefer getting requests related to my interests/things iknow well (see pinned post) but idont generally mind !! ^_^ 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ (also, even though this is a pretty homestuck based blog, you can request non homestuck related things and non homestucks can interact !! it isnt only a homestuck blog, its just mainly homestuck because im currently obsessed with it :33)

:33 < this is a pretty messy blog so you'll be seeing things of everything everywhere on this blog but yea !!1! :33

★🎸🎧⋆｡°⋆ ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

⋆⭒˚｡⋆✮⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆⭒˚｡⋆✮⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆⭒˚｡⋆✮⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆⭒˚｡⋆✮

𖦹⭒°｡⋆🪐.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹⭒°｡⋆𖦹⭒°｡⋆🪐.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆𖦹⭒°｡⋆

:33 < on that note, here are some things iwont do :o[

pendulum swings. no clue how to do them

recipies (no idea how to make one)

skincare/selfcare (again, no idea how to make them

prooshuip/comship ectect

sexual things (im a minor. kissing, hugging, ect is fine, but anything slightly sexual that makes me uncomfortable will be rejected)

and anything not mentioned

(also anything involving discourse !! ido not want to be invol with it !! (<_<") and anything agaisnt my dni/anyone who goes against my dni iwill not do things for :o( and by the way, if youdont want me to tag something as something, please tell me !! otherwise i'll probably tag it wrong (<_<"))

B33 < this might change in the future, but for now, iwont do them :o(( ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

★⋆.˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆★⋆.˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆★⋆.˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆★⋆.˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ

:33 < thankziez furr reading all of this !1!! :o3

B33 < oh yea also i take art requests ^_^

:33 < byebye !! ^_^ 🌊✮ ⋆ 🦈｡ * ⋆｡

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊ ⊹✮₊

⋅⋆ ☼ ☆ 𖤓 ☆ ☼ ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ☼ ☆ 𖤓 ☆ ☼ ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ☼ ☆ 𖤓 ☆ ☼ ⋆⋅

B33 < (purromo purrlease anytroll ? would be quite helpfurrl x33 /nf ⭒-.⋆🪼⋆.-⭒)

☆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧☆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

» [wHeN iM cLoWnInG - icp :o))] «

0:37 ─〇───── 3:30

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

:33 < dividers: first, second, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (sorta messed up the numbers but yea) tumblr is being annoying and not letting me add alt text im sorry (if the description is bad, ido apologise

[prettyboykatsuki]

warm-ups | sfw + kunigami + sofa

✭ tags ; implied nsfw at the end, coming home / re-uniting, established relationship, gn!reader 18+ | ✭ wc ; 1.4k (?????)

✭ a/n ; me when the random prompt generator gives me a random prompt and i have no clue how to execute on it. never written him before ever so Sorry

Kunigami thinks he should get to fight an airline service at least once in his life.

It'd be one thing if this incident was something happened once in a while. National traveling is already a pain in his ass thanks to customs. He's doing it so constantly - he's used to the strain. Waking up early, packing his things neatly, going through a million checks.

If he were a less ethical person, he'd take a page out of other pro's book and just get a jet for himself because frankly he's fucking sick of it.

This is the longest he's been completely out of the country before in his life. He's been gone for around 6 months now, training with the Brazilian National Team. It was a reward experiencing he'll admit, despite kicking his ass nearly everyday. He made good friends and the people were welcoming- someday he'll make plans to go visit with you.

But he's homesick beyond reasonable doubt. He misses his family dog. He misses Japan.

Most of all, Kunigami misses you.

He really considered not leaving because the idea of long distance didn't sit right with him. You (being the unfortunately considerate lover) you are encouraged him to go. He's thankful you support his dreams. You even surprised him with a visit because it fell on his birthday.

Which was thoughtful and he was so glad to see you but not helpful in quelling the ache of your absence.

Kunigami Rensuke loves you habitually. Maybe that's just how he operates (how he has after becoming a wildcard, that persists into his pro-career) but there's something about it that he never fails to act on. No amount of calling or texting has been able to scratch the itch, the need to love you.

You've been dating for the better part of three years and your anniversary is a few months away. Kunigami wants to marry you but he has to make more money first so he's been hustling.

(Not that you care about stuff like that. But as a pro and a man with pride, he's not really comfortable giving you any less)

It's a typical story for a lot of athletes but you were there before all the fame and publicity. You put up with all of it, all of his dedication and all of his frustrated feelings. Soothed him with gentle hands and a warm meal and a house that felt lived in.

To say Kunigami is grateful is understatement of the century. More accurately, Kunigami can't be without you too long. His life feels incomplete if you're not next to him. He's gotten heat for being soft but he doesn't care.

A wild card, a soccer hero - Kunigami has a lot of self-imposed expectations. But you? Not once have you ever made him feel bad about any of it. In a career where nothing is guaranteed, Kunigami is assured by your love. It makes him want to work harder.

You, of course, are nowhere near as clingy as he is. People often joke that you've got him wrapped around your finger. You laugh and disagree but Kunigami knows it to be true. Anything and everything, Kunigami wants to give you the world.

So six months has been a nightmare. Frankly, he never wants to do it again. His mood is infinitely worsened now because of all the delays. You have a tight schedule and you're not going to be able to come see him because of it.

So he's seething a little, despite it all. He really wants to make it someones problem because he misses you just that much. But alas, he already knows he shouldn't. He can practically hear your voice already.

("A day isn't gonna kill you, Rensuke.")

But it really feels like it will. He's moping the whole way home, even as his driver drops him off at his apartment - Kunigami doesn't feel like his life will start again until he sees you.

So, unlocking his door and coming into his abandoned apartment feels unceremonious at best. His first reaction is that something is a little off when he enters.

There's a noise coming from the living room and everything smells good. The house smells like linen, more precisely. His first reaction is that there's someone who broke in.

But upon entering further, traces of you start to appear like magic. Your coat on a hanger in the closet, your shoes on the rack and your house slippers missing. He doesn't want to get his hopes up, so he holds his breath as he walks into the living room.

Like some kind of miracle, Kunigami finds you asleep on his old beat up sofa. Now the new one, but the one he's had since he's first apartment. You're cozy in it too, hidden under a pile of blankets and wearing his stolen clothes.

The T.V. is playing an old comedy movie and there's a glass of water and all your things next to you. He's so happy for a minute, he really doesn't know if he should wake you up. Picking you up and plopping you into bed with him (maybe trap you there for a while) seems best.

But you stir awake before he even has a chance, eyes blinking up at him blearily, muffled under the covers.

"Rensuke?" You say, yawning aloud "That you? Or am I seeing things?"

What does he even do with his feelings?

"Not seeing things. I'm home."

You laugh pleasantly, sitting up rubbing your eyes. Your socks are pulled up to different degrees. Kunigami wants to marry you immediately.

"You're home," You say, happy with it as you open your arms up dramatically - inviting him in "Welcome home,"

It takes every ounce of restraint not to tackle you as he drops his bags on the floor and kneels between your legs to hug you. You're warm and soft, and Kunigami has missed you so much it's inhuman and cruel.

You let him nuzzle into the crook of his neck, palms soothing on the nape of his neck as you rub your cheek against his hair.

"How was the flight?"

"Pretty shit but it doesn't even matter," He says back, pulling away to really look at you "Doesn't matter at all,"

"You missed me that much?" You tease. He laughs out loud.

"Don't do that to me," He says, unable to stop smiling "You know the answer to that. I thought you couldn't come see me?"

"My boss' son is a huge fan of you, would you believe?" You say, yawning a bit as you lean forward to press your forehead to his "So I promised him a signature. He gave me 3 whole days off."

Kunigami laughs.

"Are you serious?"

"So serious. I thought it'd be better to surprise you at home. If I did it in the airport the paparazzi was gonna get pictures of you losing your marbles,"

He laughs at that, cradling your face in his palms.

"Yeah. Pretty sure I woulda tackled you,"

"You would've knocked me unconscious. You're so big,"

"You think I got a little bigger?" He prods. You laugh and Kunigami thinks it's his favorite sound in the world.

"Fishing for compliments five minutes in? Really? You did get bigger, your arms feel good. Very much wanna get crushed in them, so good work?" You say, squeezing his bicep. He grins.

"And the rest of me?"

"Guess I'll find out about your core 'n legs in a bit, huh?"

Kunigami laughs at that, the stupid wiggle of your eyebrows and the warmth of your body. He feels fucking giddy, in a stupid way since he's a grown ass man. But who cares, really? His life is good. He's never been so happy.

You make room on the couch for him and Kunigami hurries to join you - taking his shirt off and leaving him in his briefs before you climb to lay on top of him. You hug his chest.

"I got 20 minutes before I can't hold it in," He replies, his hands around your waist.

"Maybe I should stretch or something."

"I can help you with that," He offers.

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"No you can't, you fiend. Give me 20 minutes of cuddling before you render me useless to walk without assistance,"

He feels blood rush to a place it shouldn't go.

"Might have to cut it to 15,"

You laugh and hit his chest and Kunigami squeezes you even tighter. He loves you more than anything else in the world.

[ablazenqueen]

i know everything about your wips of course but please please tell the world about svsss grim reaper its SO GOOD

Tagging @koaly-ty who also asked about the same fic! Thanks for the asks from both of you!

GRIM REAPER YES

Don’t mind if I do, this is the fic I am by far the most excited to write! (as you already know, Kai, so thanks for letting me ramble about it 🤣)

So basically, the concept for this (modern) AU is that Luo Binghe dies as a child (probably of starvation/malnutrition) while caring for his dying mother. When the grim reaper comes to collect his soul, he begs to stay alive to take care of his mother because she has no one else. Shen Qingqiu, who’s halfway through his first day as a grim reaper, still young and naive and left alone by his supervisor (Shang Qinghua) for five whole minutes, turns out to be remarkably susceptible to a pair of puppy eyes and allows it. Not only that but Shen Qingqiu goes as far as to find ways to take care of Luo Binghe from the shadows until his mother dies and he’s grown-up and has things a little easier.

Luo Binghe, who’s never been treated with kindness in his life, falls fast and hard for what he assumes is his guardian angel.

Fast forward a couple of decades and Luo Binghe is now a thrill-chaser. He intentionally puts himself into dangerous situations in the hopes of seeing Shen Qingqiu again and poor Shen Qingqiu is desperately trying not to get in trouble with his superiors for letting a mortal live and has to constantly scramble to keep Luo Binghe from dying again and getting re-marked on the Book Of Death. This danger-seeking behaviour is what leads Luo Binghe to becoming an infamous PI with a number of high profile mafia clients.

Which means this is a *drum roll please* case fic! Yay!

So one of these high profile recurring mafia clients, Mobei-Jun, comes to Luo Binghe one day demanding he investigate the nationally-broadcasted murder of his right hand woman, Sha Hualing. They both know it’s because Mobei-Jun wants to know who he needs to kill. Luo Binghe doesn’t ask questions. He takes the case.

Sha Hualing, for her part, wakes up feeling completely fine. In some grimy hospital, in a hospital gown (ew), but still. Fine. Except— Oh. No one can see her. Turns out? Not dead. She’s in a coma with no clue how she got there.

The Book Of Death doesn’t like coma ghosts. They’re confusing, in a space between life and death that isn’t supposed to exist. So it charges the nearest grim reaper to reap her soul. Shen Qingqiu. He figures it out, but too late. Sha Hualing immediately realizes this guy is the only person who can see her and demands that he revive her.

Shen Qingqiu learned his lesson years ago. Do not interfere in mortal affairs. If he revives another mortal, he’s practically begging to get wiped out of the divine plane of existence. Some very insistent weedling does, however, eventually gets him to agree to help with the investigation.

(Sorry for the long-ass explanation, this AU’s just got a lot of moving parts 😅)

This fic is gonna be a big boi! It’s going to be Bingqiu (grim reaper/immortal human) with side Mingling (undercover cop/mafia henchwoman) and background Moshang (grim reaper/mafia boss) and Liufang (cop/doctor). I expect it’ll be my next multi-chapter project after my Tiwpor fic so I’ll probably start writing it around the end of summer!

[yiiiiiiiikes25]

had a wip wednesday tag many weeks ago from @garagepaperback, whose gorgeous a barely lit path will astonish you, and who came to my front stoop yesterday to talk about fic for three hours 💅🏻

trying to force myself to finish this thing, so:

Adam scrapes his chair close enough to put down the coffee and waits, but Dick just looks around the patio, one penny loafer ticking a stately beat. Moths leer outsized shadows up the walls, and the brick vibrates with the drone of the HVAC. The silence pushes past awkward into daunting. It’s possible this is a real weird bummer of a dream.

Fine, fuck it. Adam has to rub his face for a moment before he can deal with whatever’s about to go down here; when he feels his jaw give a baneful spasm, he lets his hands fall upturned on the armrests, though he doesn’t know whom he’s asking for mercy. “How can I help you, Dick?”

Gansey rounds on him and revs the smile again. It takes him a breath or two to get going, but his tone stays light. “I do have to apologize for the trespassing theatrics. I texted a few times this afternoon and evening in hopes we could get a drink, or even take the train together tomorrow.”

Ah. With a moment to orient himself, Adam recognizes the passive aggressive symptoms of a WASP enraged. He pulls his phone from his pocket; he’d built new do-not-disturb settings Friday night so just work stuff could come through, bypassable if someone knew to call him twice, but it had been nice, the peace from push notifications. Everything important goes to his watch. Clean. He flashes Gansey the Focus screen. “DND, sorry. Not a great idea for me to come up, though. I let Ronan know this morning.”

“Isn’t something you can be coaxed into, hm?” Gansey’s gaze is direct, untroubled, his drawl unhurried.

“I don’t… no, it’s not. We’re talking on Tuesday night.” The coffee tastes like it’s from the decent Nespresso in the ICU RN break room, an ominous clue as to the depth of Gansey’s charm getting himself backstage. “Sorry, you came to get me to go to the Open?”

Gansey re-crosses his legs, this time ankle over knee. “No. A bit, maybe. No. Have you thought about what you want out of Tuesday?”

Adam lets his mouth fall open for a disgusted half-second. “That’ll stay between me and Ronan, actually. Gansey, what can I do for you this evening?” Of its own accord, his tone has dropped into the register he uses to speak to insurance companies.

What’s the look on Gansey’s face, now? Something deflated, downturned. Sorry, maybe. Adam can’t parse it. “Right. That’s right. I should try not to keep you,” Gansey says. His brow hardens, rueful mouth resolving to a grim line. “Actually, I’ll be out of here sooner if you can do me a favor, will you?”

@flightspathfic @whatimages gimme your fragmentiest fragments