#and the only person who MIGHT still be there when everyones gone is mocking you

[tordistic]

this is their dynamic. To me

[cherienymphe]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader

➥ Happy Halloween weekend!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1

summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.

~

You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.

No one left for you to escape from.

Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.

Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…

Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.

When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.

The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.

Even if they didn’t want to say it.

“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”

You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.

“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.

Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.

It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.

It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus!”

You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.

“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.

“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”

By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.

“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”

Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”

Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.

The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.

“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.

“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”

Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.

He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.

…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.

“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.

Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.

Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.

It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.

“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”

You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.

Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.

The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.

“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”

You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.

“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”

Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.

Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.

The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.

Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.

“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.

“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”

Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.

“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”

While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.

“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”

You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.

“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.

“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”

You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.

“If they haven’t found him by now then…”

She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.

All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.

…and you’d killed him.

John B was the first to die.

…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.

Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.

You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.

When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”

You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.

“What…? I don’t…”

You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.

“They found him in the water, man.”

Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.

“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”

At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.

…but drowning?

John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.

That you could believe.

“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.

Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.

It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.

The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.

You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.

He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.

You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.

Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.

There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.

JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.

“Why was he out there so late?”

That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.

“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”

“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”

Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.

“I’m just saying-.”

“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”

The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.

“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”

He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.

You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.

Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.

The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.

“What’s wrong-?”

JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.

It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.

For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.

The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.

It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.

That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.

It was Rafe.

“Are you okay…?”

You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.

“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have done that-.”

“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”

He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.

The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.

“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”

You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.

“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”

You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.

“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”

You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.

“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”

Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.

…and that night never would’ve happened.

With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.

When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.

JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.

“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.

You spoke without thinking.

“Call Pope again.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.

…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.

You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.

With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.

You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.

Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.

“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”

His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.

“…what?” you choked out after some time.

His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.

“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”

You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.

“Someone…someone cut his throat.”

At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.

Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.

In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.

It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.

You were only responsible for one of them.

“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”

JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.

“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”

She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”

Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.

You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.

“Now, hold on-.”

“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”

You swallowed, hating this conversation.

“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.

The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.

“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”

You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.

“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”

“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.

…but Rafe was dead.

He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.

Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.

“First it was Rafe…”

You tensed at the sound of the voice.

“…then John B. and now Pope.”

You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.

“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.

When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.

Until now.

The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.

“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.

The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.

Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.

“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.

Sarah glanced at you at that.

“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.

Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.

“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”

She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.

“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.

When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.

“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.

“…and he’s dead.”

“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”

“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”

“Sarah-.”

“I said stop!”

The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.

“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.

Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.

You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.

Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.

Tonight, it was three.

Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.

Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.

The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.

You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Cleo?”

Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.

Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.

The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.

As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.

It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.

There was no light coming from downstairs.

The kitchen light was now off.

Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.

“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”

Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.

“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.

You tried to keep calm.

“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.

Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”

JJ was right.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”

You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”

As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.

When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.

“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.

Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.

You couldn’t not hold her.

By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.

You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.

“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”

You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.

Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.

You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:

“She broke her neck.”

That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.

“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”

Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.

“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”

You swallowed.

“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”

Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.

…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.

That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.

“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.

“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”

You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.

“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”

She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.

“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”

“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”

“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.

There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.

It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.

He’d only been focused on killing you.

As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.

You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.

“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.

You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.

“Y/N…”

“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”

Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!

“Y/N-,”

“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.

You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”

“Or it could be Rafe!”

Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.

“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”

You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.

“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”

“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”

You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.

“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”

“What-?”

“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”

“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.

“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”

“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”

Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.

“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”

Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.

When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.

It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?

It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…

Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.

With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.

Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.

Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.

…but not like this.

You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.

…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.

What else would they get out of moving his remains?

Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.

They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.

“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”

JJ heaved a sigh.

“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”

He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.

…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.

“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”

You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.

Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.

“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”

JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.

“I know you killed him,” he confessed.

Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.

“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”

“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”

You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.

“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.

JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.

“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”

You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.

“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.

“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”

He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”

You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.

You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.

Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.

Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.

Their throats were slit.

Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.

Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.

She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.

“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.

You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.

The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.

“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.

You didn’t realize why until you looked back.

Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.

He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.

You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.

A gunshot stopped his efforts.

“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.

You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.

JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.

A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.

You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.

Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.

“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.

“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.

Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.

“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”

She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.

“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”

The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.

“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.

You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.

“What?” you breathed.

“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.

She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.

“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.

The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.

The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?

You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.

You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.

The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.

You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.

Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.

You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.

The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.

Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.

The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.

…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.

…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.

You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.

You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.

He never called you by your name, it was always—

“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.

“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.

“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”

Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.

“Why?”

He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why what…?”

“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”

You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.

“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”

His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…

The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.

“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”

Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.

“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”

Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.

“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.

“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”

The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.

“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”

His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.

“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.

It was genuine.

“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”

His words confused you.

“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”

You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.

You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.

He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.

“Word of advice…”

You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.

“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”

A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”

Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.

“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”

You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.

That wasn’t healing.

That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”

It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.

“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”

He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.

“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”

He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.

It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.

Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.

“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”

Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.

“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”

He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.

“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.

“Rafe…” you choked out.

“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.

“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”

When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.

“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”

You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.

“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”

You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.

“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.

Rafe was excited.

“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”

He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.

“Do you know what’s better than that?”

His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.

“No,” you muttered.

Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.

“Having you all to myself.”

You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.

You heard him whistle.

“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”

You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.

“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”

The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.

Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.

You breath hitched as you froze.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”

You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.

“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.

Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.

“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.

With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.

He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”

It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.

As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.

Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.

“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”

You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.

“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”

A particular hard thrust made you gasp.

“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”

You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”

He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.

“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”

[cvrnelians]

smile like you mean it - chapter five

You knew filing for divorce would be no easy feat. But filing for divorce from Roman Roy?

"No easy feat” might as well have been synonymous with “impossible."

warnings: drug use, alcoholism, miscarriage, Roman and the rest of the Roy family being awful.

chapters 1-3 // chapter four

music

chapter five

10 ways to get someone to like you: A foolproof guide

If you want to be liked, be likable.

Roman scowled and slammed his laptop shut, carelessly tossing it to the end of the bed. 

“What a stupid fucking article.”

He got up and stretched, his limbs still rigid from a heavy sleep. If there was anything positive to come out of the complete and utter shitshow that was the day before, a good night’s sleep took the cake. Rest was something Roman didn’t get a whole lot of lately, but when he did sleep, he slept hard. 

Prior to becoming COO of Waystar Royco, he had always been a heavy sleeper. It wasn’t unusual for him to get eight hours of shuteye even after napping all day. He had a copious amount of (not-so-fond) childhood memories in which Connor, Kendall, and Shiv jumped on his bed in order to wake him up. They often had to hit him with pillows and shake him to the point of nausea to get him to finally open his eyes.

Well, they didn’t really have to. 

There were a small handful of differences between now and then. 

Although he would never admit it, his job was a big source of stress for him. The most pathetic thing about it? Most days he didn’t accomplish even twenty five percent of what his colleagues did. And what he was able to do completely exhausted him. It was a lot to live up to, being the inheritor—and now a figurehead—of a monster he hadn’t created; a monster he wasn’t even sure he wanted to keep feeding. 

Another major difference between now and then was that Kendall no longer needed to shake him from a dead sleep in order to make him feel nauseous. All it really took was watching him walk into your room in the middle of the night, casual as could be, to put Roman into a not-so-ideal headspace.

“Acting like he was reuniting with an old friend or some shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He got into the shower, his mind going a million miles a minute as he continued talking to himself. “I’m Kendall,” he mocked. “I’m better than everyone now, didn’t you know? I went to rehab. I drink green juice. I’ve read The Secret. I don’t have stress anymore because I never see my own children. Look how stable I am now.” 

This was the one downside of being so well-rested. His brain actually lived up to its potential. His mind simply refused to slow down. No matter how hard he willed himself not to think of you, he only thought about you that much more. Not that this was all that different from any other day. Roman thought about you all the time, sleep deprived or not.

He liked you. Okay? Even with your cheap clothes and your shitty attitude and your refusal to sit next to him in the car, he had some…feelings when it came to you.

Ew.

He hated it when you were upset with him, and he hated it even more when you weren’t around.

From the first time he saw you, he liked you. A lot, actually.

Roman liked you a lot.

He had gone to your room the night before to say he was sorry discuss how hypersensitive you were being in response to the hilarious things he said, but he stopped short in the doorway. 

As it turned out, you were busy. So as any gentleman would, Roman said fuck that noise and booked it back to his room. That was the second time you made him run that day, you little jerk.

He wondered if he should take bearing witness to that stomach-turning embrace between you and Kendall as a sign. Perhaps he should never apologize to anyone, for any reason, ever again. Not even to those who deserved an apology. Not even to you. If that was what he got for trying to be the bigger person, having to watch his stormcloud of an older brother get what he wanted without even having to try, well…what was the point? 

“Likable. Likable? What does that even mean?” he asked himself. 

Why would the author of that article automatically assume the people reading it were the unlikable ones? What kind of introduction was that? Why should he have to shoulder the responsibility of someone not liking him? Why should he have to do all this work to win you over? Why was he even worried about it? You should be the one trying to get into his good graces. You should be the one typing stupid questions into Google at seven o’ clock in the morning, not him. It didn’t matter that he called you a run-of-the-mill, ladder climbing, H&M wearing plebeian (or a coffee gopher). It didn’t matter that he had driven you to the brink of a full blown mental breakdown under his tenure. It didn’t matter that knowing he was the one that made you cry felt like a punch to the gut.

...which didn't even turn him on, by the way.

None of it mattered. He shouldn’t have to apologize for a thing. You were obviously sleeping with Kendall. Kendall! Even if you weren’t working for him, sleeping with Kendall would still put you in the wrong in any context. You were trying so desperately to make Roman believe he was the problem, just as everyone else did. You little gaslighter. 

You weren’t seriously going to leave over a couple of little insults, right?

Right?

He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he somehow managed to get a concerning amount of shampoo in his eyes. 

“Ow, FUCK!” 

Following five stressful minutes of washing his eyes out (or trying to, anyway), he slumped over and held his hands over his face, allowing the water to run directly over his head. He could still picture you crying on the plane, which he had been doing on a loop for the past several hours. He could concede that he came off a little unpleasant at times, but it was more of a defense mechanism than anything. Deep down, Roman knew he didn’t take anyone seriously simply because no one else took him seriously. But you had wanted to be taken seriously, and did everything to earn that. 

You were having some relatively fun banter prior to the moment he turned on you like a feral dog. When he was finished with his cutting little monologue, you looked like you had been slapped. Seeing you so upset and proceeding to mock you for it…

Ugh.

This was not uncharacteristic of Roman, but it wasn't necessarily his proudest moment, either. It made him sick to his stomach, as a matter of fact. 

A lot of things about the past few days made him sick to his stomach.

He could remember having a similar feeling from when he was growing up. Everything would be fine and dandy until he would say or do one little thing to set Logan off, and then bam: 

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

“Oh, you’re crying now? You’re crying? Why don’t you just go tell Kendall about it? I’m sure he’d love nothing more.” 

Roman cringed at his own words.

First came the hurt, then came the ridicule. 

And then he was alone.

If you want to be liked, be likable.

He would never say it to you directly, but if he could, he would.

"I’m sorry I made you so sad."

☽ 

“You have no idea how things will turn out, and it’s very juvenile. It’s fucking dumb. You’re being dumb!”

You cringed as Kendall’s words bounced around in your head.

Last night had been very interesting, to say the least.

For several hours now, you lay flat on your back, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. When you did become lucid, you simply stared up at the impossibly tall vaulted ceiling. It was painted and preserved beautifully, gold borders encasing rich shades of red and blue. You reached your arm up, pretending to trace and retrace the intricate patterns with your fingers. Exhausted yet unable to sleep, you needed something mindless and soothing to wind yourself down. 

Sadly, your efforts were to no avail. Your mind was still racing, hyper focused on what transpired the night before. It was jarring to think that just a simple “so, how have you been?” from Kendall would open a Pandora's box you had no clue even existed. You didn’t have much time to concentrate on it, though. At that moment, two things happened at once.

You felt a stab of panic as you received a notification that your flight was now boarding. You couldn’t believe it. You had missed your flight. You had dissociated to the point of having missed your flight. And before you could even sit up, you were startled by a loud banging noise against your door. It sounded like someone was ramming something into it full force. You weren't even sure who you were hoping not to see at this point.

Not since Kendall went absolutely ballistic on you.

“Knock, knock!” a familiar voice yelled. He didn’t bother actually knocking, nor did he wait for you to respond. He probably thought the unpleasant crash was sufficient enough.

You were almost relieved.

Enter one Roman Roy.

But he wasn’t alone. In front of him was the culprit, the battering ram that nearly gave you a heart attack, in the form of a large metal breakfast cart. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, he was dressed in athletic wear. He looked out of place in such a grandiose room, like you were playing a beginner’s version of “I Spy.” 

I spy with my little eye something reprehensible.

“Here comes the breakfast fairy,” he said in an awkward, singsong voice. He slowly rolled  the unsteady cart towards you. “Here to um…y’know. Bring you breakfast. Breakfast just for you.”

A wheel broke off as he made his way over, making coffee spill onto the tray. He cursed as he shakily lifted the tray up off the cart and reached over to hand it to you. You gawked at him. “Okay, that’s what I get for saying that. That was fucking stupid. I didn’t say that. You don’t remember me saying that.” 

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It would appear so,” he said cheerfully. “Like a good boy.”

“I missed my flight,” you blurted out awkwardly. 

He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before reverting back to his typically rude delivery. “Yeah, not my problem. Can you please just take the tray? It’s really heavy.”  

“I missed my flight,” you repeated. 

He ignored you and slowly set the tray on your lap. He lifted the lid to reveal a pretty solid breakfast as far as you were concerned: a single poptart and two comically large cups of coffee. One was black, the other a latte with a poorly drawn happy face carved into the foam. You would have laughed if you weren’t so stressed out. All of this buildup for a lone pastry and an alarming amount of coffee.

“Where’s the second poptart?”

“I ate it. Obviously. Don’t be ungrateful,” he snapped. “You like wildberry, right? You seem like you would like wildberry. A little fun, a little different. Spice up your life, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, breaking the poptart into several pieces before taking a bite. “You could have the most elaborate breakfast in the world, and yet you’d prefer to have this?”

“What? I may be rich but that doesn’t mean I like exclusively rich people things. Have you seen rich people food? I mean, probably not but…” 

You tentatively picked up the latte. “Did you poison this? Did you spit in this?”

“Hah, you wish.”

“I wish?”

“I mean, I can if you’d like,” he said, leaning towards you.

“No!” you yelled, making him wince. You lowered your voice. “Sorry, no. I think I’m alright.”

He reached down to pick up the other mug. “This one's for meee.”

“Of course it is.”

He gasped, cradling the side of his face with his palm in mock excitement. “Uh oh. I have an idea. Do you want to spit in mine?”

“I hate this conversation," you sighed. "You’d probably be into that, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Well, how do you know for sure that the cool one is yours?”

You shrugged. “Because I’m cool.”

“You sure about that?” 

“And I know you like your coffee black.”

“Touché,” he said, leaning against the wall across from your bed. You both drank your coffee in silence for a few moments.

“Did you bring this from home?” you asked, pointing to the poptart. 

“No. I made that lanky muppet go buy me a box.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wh...Wait, are you talking about Greg?”

“Yeah, I figured I would send Gumby on a little errand since I apparently can’t do that with you anymore. Since you’re—” he made air quotes with his fingers—“quitting.” 

“Wait, does he even know how to drive in the UK? How did he even get to a store? We’re miles from—” 

“I told him I would make him sleep outside if he didn’t figure out a way to score me some. I have no clue how he got all the way out into the city so fast. Can you believe that? Being tall does have its perks, I guess. His strides had him moving at the speed of light, apparently.” 

You gawked at him again, horrified. 

Poor, poor Greg.

You dropped the remaining pieces of the poptart on your plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.” 

“Oh come on, it’s funny. Don’t let his efforts be in vain.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “Anyway. I was thinking...”

“Why are you dressed like that?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a fitness influencer.”

“I was getting to that. Don’t interrupt me.”

You leaned your head back and groaned. 

“Okay, drama. Calm down. We’re all supposed to go golfing this morning, but I hate golf. I'm pretty sure you do, too. You told me once. So I thought maybe we could, like. I don’t know. Pretend to go for a run like we usually do? Talk? Only if it’s not going to cut into your busy schedule, of course. Ms. Newly Unemployed.”

“Roman, what could you possibly want to talk about? If you’re going to try and convince me to stay, don’t waste your time.”

“I was thinking we could get to know each other, at least a little bit. That way, I would know what to put in your reference letter when you blow this popsicle stand.”  

“Yeah. Like you would write the letter yourself,” you mused. "Like you even could. You can't even reply to an email in a timely manner."

“Hey!”

“Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. Like I said, I missed my flight and am feeling like a total idiot. Bet you’re really getting off on that one.” 

He stared at you for a few seconds, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. 

“What?” you asked.

He sighed. “I’m not getting off on it as much as you might think.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“I don’t know how you perceive me exactly, but I have a general idea. And I know this might come as a shock, but like I said, I’m really not that bad. I mean, okay. I am. I am. But not in every situation, not always. I’ll have you know, I do have my moments.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Right now, maybe? Look, I brough—”

“Brought me breakfast. Yeah. I can see that.”

“Which I still haven’t gotten a proper thank you for, by the way.”

“I’ll give you a proper thank you when you give me a proper apology.”

“Fine. Okay, I’m sorry I was a little unreasonable with you yesterday. I’m sorry I, uh…manhandled you when we were getting into the car. Or tried to. Like, really, really tried.You’re pretty strong, you know that?” 

“Is that all?” you asked, cocking your head to one side.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about you and Kendall. And calling you names. I didn’t mean it. That about covers it, right?”

“And?”

“...being a dick?”

You considered not even bringing it up, but since you decided to quit your job, you simply did not care anymore.

“Aren’t you sorry that you lied to me?”

“Wait, what?” he asked, on the verge of laughter. “I didn’t lie to you. Lie to you about what?” 

Your conversation with Kendall rang loud and clear in your ears.

“It’s so good to see you. I wish you could’ve been on the flight with us, but I know you got held up. Work comes first.” 

Work comes first? What did that have to do with there not being enough seats on the jet? 

“Got held up?” 

“Yeah, Roman told us you guys were swamped.” 

“I…I mean, yeah. I’m always busy, but we flew separately because Roman told me there wasn’t enough room on the plane for us.” 

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” 

“Yeah, he said there were some issues with the seats. A few of them needed to be repaired, so there wasn’t enough space for everyone.”

“Are you…oh my god,”  Kendall scoffed. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Ken, I don’t—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Roman, why did we fly here separate from everybody else?”

Roman choked on his coffee, making him stop to clear his throat. “I already told you, there wasn’t enough space for our sparkling personalities on Dad's favorite plane.”

“Not enough space?”

“Yep.”

“You sure about that?”

“Look, no matter what evocative bullshit you send my way this morning, you can’t change my mind. I’ve already decided. I want to make things up to you. So, if you’re upset that I maybe told a little white lie, I’m sorry.”

“So you did lie, then?”

He eyed you sheepishly.

“Sort of. How did you figure it out?"

“I don’t get it. Of all things, why would you lie about that?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with me not wanting to hang out with my family in a torture chamber for hours? What if we crashed? You think I wanna die surrounded by a bunch of scorpions?”

“They’re your family!”

“Unfortunately."

“If the two of us crashed together, you’d have died alongside someone that doesn’t even like you. How is that more appealing?”

"Oh, how you wound me," he said flatly. “That may be so, but you don’t annoy me. Not to mention, you only sting me if I sting you first. It’s refreshing.”

You didn’t have the mental bandwidth to analyze that one this morning.

“Alright, fine. But your apology tour isn’t quite over yet.”

“You do know I don’t have to apologize to you at all, don’t you? You’re leaving. You’re basically nothing to me.”

“And yet, here you are.” 

“What can I say? I’m just such a nice guy.”

You both stared at each other for a second before launching into hysterics.

Roman sighed as you both attempted to stop cackling. “You know this is the most you’ve smiled at me in…like, ever? Is that poptart really that good?”

“I just feel relieved is all.”

“And why is that?”

“Why do you think?” you asked. "I'm finally freeing myself from your reign of tyranny."

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, setting down his mug. “We have fun sometimes, don't we? I mean, we got into a blowout argument yesterday and now we're totally fine. Even when we argue, I still don't feel like we're enemies. And believe me, I have a lot of those. Are you sure you want to leave?”

The way he was looking at you was truthfully making you a little sad. But as per usual, he wasn't thinking logically. You were practically attached at the hip every day. Of course there was some level of familiarity between the two of you, even amidst all the chaos. It was easy to mistake for friendship, given how often you were in communication, given how much you did for him. But that was your job.

You had to stop yourself from smiling.

Not anymore, it wasn't.

“Roman, the way we communicate is super dysfunctional. You’ve made me cry multiple times. Yes, I’m sure I want to leave.”

“Ugh," he groaned. "Okay. Look, as far as I'm concerned, you're king shit of fuck mountain right now."

"Excuse me, what?" you laughed.

"What you say goes. Pick a number, I'll increase your salary. Lay out some ground rules. I'm not the most ethically sound person in the world, but I do know how to compromise when it comes to doing what's best for business. And you're probably the only person who can tolerate me, so."

"Roman, I don't think I can come back from yesterday. That was way, way too much. But it's not just you. Last nigh—"

"I was wrong," he interrupted you. "I usually am. Shocker. But here's the thing: you're kind of like...invaluable, to me?" It came out as more of a reluctant question than a statement. His voice was shaky and small as he continued on. "You've, um...helped me a lot. In more ways than one. And I don't want you quitting and just going to work for Kendall again, because I don't really trust him."

"Roman, I can assure you that is not something you will ever have to worry about. Last nigh—"

"Just don't go, please."

You would've been more annoyed with him constantly interrupting you if his voice didn't sound so pitiful, if he didn't look so pitiful. You were caught off guard by the groveling. Not necessarily put off by it, but certainly surprised. This was possibly the most vulnerable you had ever seen him. And the whole breakfast thing; since when did Roman go out of his way to do something deliberately nice for you? It was very obviously to serve his own purposes. He didn't want you to quit, but it didn't seem to come from a bad place.

You had observed him for a second too long, it seemed. He cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. Just like his kindness, Roman's willingness to be vulnerable also had a very short shelf life.

"If you expect another apology, you can fuck off. And I know you do expect one. But don't actually fuck off, you know what I mean? Out of everybody here, I want you to fuck off the least."

"Wow," you said flatly. "That's amazing."

"I know. I can't believe it, either."

☽ 

kendall 👀👀

@pearlstiare // @ay0nha // @theladyalicnt // @littleladdty @spacebaby1

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 6th: Crush | You Could Start A Cult - Niall Horan | Sincere a/n: steddie, pining, post-s4. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

A crush is called a crush for a reason, and Eddie Munson is learning this lesson the hard way. 

The very hard way. 

The Jesus Christ, all he did was laugh at my stupid joke and I’m going to collapse in on myself like a dying star kind of way. 

It’s been nearly a year of this and Eddie feels like he’s being squashed beneath the weight of the giant boulder that is his crush on Steve Harrington. A solid year of his hopeless, pointless, wonderful crush on Steve Harrington. 

Everyone knows– well, everyone above the age of 16 has figured it out at least. Eddie isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, after all. 

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak had their reservations at the start after years of being persecuted by the same genre of person Steve had been in high school but once Eddie spun them the tale of how Steve carried out from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, they’d come around. Jeff took the longest, finally acquiescing  after properly meeting Steve.

You were always into jocks, dude, c’mon. Sounds like this one might have some redeemable qualities at least. 

He couldn’t quite tell them the actual truth, but it’s truth-adjacent and does the job. It paints Steve as the hero Eddie knows him to be, whether Steve wants to acknowledge the title or not. 

Robin knew before they’d even gone back into the Upside Down, before Eddie nearly died in Dustin’s arms and then again, in Steve’s. 

I was there when you called him Big Boy, Munson. You’re not subtle. He’s just oblivious. 

Nancy figured it out when Eddie was in the hospital, still a little loopy from painkillers and who knows what else. 

You were on another planet and couldn’t stop talking about his chest hair, Eddie. 

Argyle knew on sight the first time he saw Eddie with Steve. It was a little spooky, actually, how on the nose he was about two people he barely knew but on the nose, he was. 

You’re the only one callin’ him Stevie, brochacho. And he’s the only one calling you Ed so… take that for what it’s worth. 

Jonathan knew because Argyle knew and Jonathan and Argyle seem to have something there, too, but that’s none of Eddie’s business. All of the unrequited love bandwidth he has is tied up in Steve, and his smile, and his way with the kids, and his cologne– 

“You got something on your face.” 

Robin nudges him in the side behind the kitchen counter where he’s been leaning, watching helplessly through the kitchen window as Steve grills another round of burgers going for their We Lived And Can’t Tell The Tale Because We All Signed NDAs party starting soon. 

Eddie wipes his face frantically, hoping he didn’t have ketchup or something on his cheek from Steve’s trial run of the burgers. He pulls his hand back to find nothing besides Robin grinning, bemused and pitying all the same when it clicks.

“I’m not actually drooling. Just… metaphorically. God, let me cling to some shred of dignity here.” 

Steve flips another burger, this one landing square right-side-up. Eddie groans, Robin rolls her eyes, and he laments. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me that that’s so hot? He’s not doing anything special! He’s just existing in those too-tight jeans and plain tee shirt and I’m ready to lay waste to the evils of the world to get to him. And they say I’m the cult leader? I’d follow this asshole into the bowels of Hell.” Eddie sighs and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It’s offensive, honestly, the popcorn ceiling and the way it mocks him. 

“I mean, you kinda already did.” Robin shrugs and bumps her shoulder into his, somehow softer than her initial nudge. “And look, it’s not my business, but I think you might be surprised if you talked to him. He’s not the same he was when he said all that shit to Jonathan, y’know.” 

Eddie whips to the side, too quickly as his head spins for a brief moment. He searches her eyes for hints or a glimmer of hope. Something. Anything. 

“What do you know, Buckley?” It’s less a question and more a statement. 

“I don’t know a damn thing, other than a conversation might do you both some good. But look,” Robin sighs and hops up to sit on the island next to Eddie as he turns his attention back to Steve manning the grill. He’s trying not to stare at the way Steve twirls the spatula… and failing, of course. How are his hands so big? 

“Hello? Munson, Earth to heart-eyes over there. This is information you might really want to listen to.” Robin waves a hand in front of his face and he jolts out of his thoughts. It’s for the best– the second he gets lost in Steve’s hands, it’s all over for him. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m listening.” Eddie responds, vaguely reminded of his many years in school. 

“I was saying, Steve’s a good guy. The best guy, really. And I know he’s acted fine with being single the last year or so, but he’s lonely behind that facade. So if this is just like, a crush that’s gonna pass, keep it to yourself. But if you really like him, if you wanna like, be with him, then yeah. I think you might want to talk to him.” 

Eddie considers his feelings for a long moment, staring back out the window. This time, he watches Steve at the grill and sees so much more than a guy in too-tight jeans and a plain tee shirt flipping burgers. He sees jumping into the lake, rushing through the Upside Down, finding a quiet moment in the chaos traipsing through the Upside Down’s version of the woods. He sees what little he remembers of bleeding out and being carried by Steve through the portal, of waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed and Steve sitting in the corner with Wayne. He sees every fleeting moment, every soft touch, every nickname and split joint and pizza with half pepperoni and half bacon. 

He looks out the window at Steve and sees his life. 

Maybe the weight of his crush has only felt so heavy in the way that holding your arms out for too long begins to feel heavy.  Maybe the forced, sustained tension would be relieved if he just let himself relax. 

“I’m with him already, for better or worse.”

Robin hums in acknowledgement before breaking into laughter as they both watch Steve transfer the burgers to a plate, only to accidentally knock the dish off the side of the grill. He must hear their laughter because his eyes shoot directly to the window and he points the spatula at them, free hand on his hip. “It’s not fucking funny, now I have to go to the store!” 

“It’ll probably be for the worse.” Robin looks at him and raises an eyebrow. 

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, tendrils of hair falling into his face that he pulls further across his mouth. 

“Worth it.”

[slickfordain]

fandom: Genshin Impact

AU: SAGAU

Can you do one where they thought the reader would be a male but really the reader is a female. And when the reader is isekaid everyone treats her normally and then she meet childe and they fall in love. Then everyone finds out reader is the creator, and how everyone would react when they find out she is dating childe. Mostly the harbingers and the tsaritsa

 Some things might not have gone your way, I’m sorry if it isn’t to your liking

Somewhat Yandere, leads to Childe / Tartaglia / Ajax x reader, female!reader, girly reader

You weren’t really the one to speak during playing a game, but you were always willing to be on a call with your online best friend who you’d consider as your long lost twin. So here you are, trying to level up Keqing and Amber to level 70 in their character sheets.

Unknowingly, the characters are well aware. For both of your best friend’s world and yours. As you can see, SAGAU works for the two of you… With every other many people. Makes sense, doesn’t it? Your best friend chooses someone’s destiny, and so do you, and you both get mistaken as the creators. It’s not false because you and your best friend would technically know “everything”.

But the thing is, the characters cannot hear your voice. They can only feel your presence and aura. So you were anonymous, even your face. Nobody would impersonate you. If someone did, they would pity the said person— while the Archons will send a light threat towards them to stop it and snap out of it, giving them a second chance to willingly change their plans. And it always works, because the imposter never has the divine blood or powers. Realistically I don’t think the characters would blindly believe an imposter anyway, because how are they supposed to believe someone, if the divine is always controlling the traveler? Exactly. The divine hasn’t gone into Teyvat. Not just yet.

And Venti would personally see this as a mock towards the divine, so most of his threats are violent, because he knew how it was to impersonate someone. But it’s different for him. He gets to slip away because he had no choice. The Archons and Celestia knew that, leaving him be and not hunting him down. They’re not that crazy.

People can change for the better, that’s why they don’t kill imposters unless the imposters go too far with it. They learned that because you like bullying some people too, much to their notice whenever they feel your anger and sarcasm— despite not hearing you…. But you can be sweet and gentle as well.

At this point they thought you were a male, because you seem rather strong and brave to go against a boss with such little leveled artifacts… Yet somehow you still won, and now you’re leveling up for the battle with Signora doesn’t know, mind you.

But that’s when things happen, with you teleporting into Teyvat in an accident, not knowing what was going on and what was happening. You just knew, you were totally screwed because you ended up in Teyvat.

And you ended up meeting Childe, being quite startled by him once he had shown up, with his hydro weapon in hand before realizing you were just an innocent bystander.

That’s where it began.

Now, you’re not quite one to trust Childe because uhm……. Yeah. But, if you show him some respect like how Yoimiya did in her voicelines, you might as well give it a try to befriend him. So that’s where it lead to, you being a listener as Childe was questioning where did you come from and why did you wear such… Weirdly unique clothing.

You lied to him. Telling you were originally from Liyue, but then got kidnapped by some crazy hoarders and mixed their clothes together to create your outfit. Childe was surprised, thrilled and told you how much of a genius you were, but you just went by being humble and told him you weren’t. Haha. He didn’t believe that bullshit, because you were an absolute genius… And to think you survived those damn hoarders.

The friendship grew out, that the news about you spread like a wildfire… Though, everyone treated you normally, while the Fatuis had no absolute care about you. They would canonly, for SAGAU of the reader hid their identity (without knowing), could care for absolutely nothing. Not even the wanderer would care for you, unless he has seen how much you’re such a genuine friend.

Yeah. That’s exactly how it ended up into… You see, when you spent your time so much in Liyue being so silent and so polite— nodding and just trying to help people out, it eventually lead every commissions (That didn’t involve fighting) to you. You were now the new “traveler” everyone could rely on.

And everyone just simply adored you, even Ying’er and those people who sold things around Liyue. Yanfei was even going to book in a house for you, pitying about your life and was horrified about how many years you’ve been stuck with a bunch of hoarders. Once she sees them, she will give them a piece of her mind in the name of the law.

This attracted other nations… And the more nations tried communicating with you, the more they realized how much pure bright aura you had spread throughout the entire Teyvat world. And much to say the least, the traveler Lumine was so grateful you existed— because she’s now becoming less tired! You’re helping her out!

Everyone was so extremely fond of you, adoring every bit of your habits and movements, gazing at you like a hawk whenever you slept around. Because you’re lazy, and weak. You’re not strong or badass, but that was quite fine with them because they didn’t expect much. Why would you want to fight anyway? You think fighting is cringe when you do it, and find yourself comfortable doing makeup and being just— cozy.

You stayed in Teyvat, thinking this was just all a sweet shifting possibility, thinking you’ll wake up by the next morning. Wheezing and laughing every-time someone tried flirting with you, but got scolded by another.. And you managed to somehow get the Archons to speak to you first. Without doing anything.

You were a peaceful lazy tired gem, who just happens to be a normal civilian in Teyvat. You just wanted to do makeup in peace.

Childe was in love, not much to your surprises… Having deeper conversations with you inside your bedroom on your bed, having a sleepover under the fairy lights, talking about deep things. It eventually lead you two to open up, for the very first time ever since you two grew to be friends.

You were still nice and kind, not saying much about yourself which made Childe just— frown. He wanted to get to know you more, and urged you to continue on. Might’ve slipped up that he was in love with you, and since you thought that this was still yourself shifting into Teyvat— you approved of his confession.

How did the entire Teyvat react to this? Hah. They didn’t know actually… The wanderer might be suspicious of how close you and Childe were but, he thought you two were just best friends— so he finds every possibility to annoy Childe whenever he hugs your waist and sticks his tongue out at Childe, because you couldn’t see due to the hug. The wanderer saw you as an important friend he could’ve ever caught on with… A friend who saw his importance.

Heizou and Kazuha would even try sending you bouquet of (Favorite flower), telling you you are beautiful everyday. Everyone just… Seemingly saw you as their important best friend. It’s because they worshipped their God who hadn’t been… On for an odd while. They worried, feeling their hearts pounding and throbbing so quickly they felt like the need to burn their skin to melt themselves, and then kill and crush people. Why wasn’t their God back?

Please divine God come back.

You even notice how weird they acted every time they hung out with you, seeing them on their knees in front of a faceless statue… That was portioned like a male body, making you raise an eyebrow. Was this another Archon? An Archon you never knew about?

No… He must be more greater than an Archon… Why would the Archons bow down like this…? Unless, you’ve ended up into one of those weird fan fictions where there’s a divine God…

But luckily it “wasn’t” you~ And it was a male God, so you were fine, right?? You continued dating Childe who completely left the phase of praying to the divine. Oh, no, don’t get him wrong! He appreciates his God and everything…

But…

The way he got so emotionally close to you, made him choose you over the divine. He would kill the divine if it meant to have such a loving calm quiet person like you. That’s how much Childe likes you. You’re not special, but the fuck does he care about that for? You eat, sleep, laze around, and have this weird “artifact” on your hands, but remove it whenever you pamper him with kisses as he gives you the princess treatment. He’s so whipped for you, down bad.

And the afternoon continued on like usual. You were just asleep, seated down, head on the table above your arms while Ayato and Ayaka were simply so happy going to Liyue to know you! You were such a fun person, having dark jokes— Which uh, Cyno quite loved but, other than that you were harmless, just pretty normal which was refreshing for them… And they were always loyal to their divine, no doubt, they’re just squeezing you into the loyalty because… You were just a stunning best friend they could’ve asked for.

With everyone around the table talking and chattering, with Childe sitting so close to you as well with Wanderer, glaring at one another… Xiangling and Thoma accidentally dropped the knife from the tray, hitting your skin that you barely even felt, but woke up because it felt like a bug hitting your skin. Your body slightly flinched, but you didn’t scream or cry, your tired pretty eyes gazing confused at everyone. They looked horrified until…

Something leaked out of your skin, much to your surprise when you noticed there was— not gold— but pink blood running down, trickling slowly to the floor. It was said that gold was the divine’s original blood, but if it was pink, it’s the reincarnation of the divine…

The Archons had wide eyes, their skin going pale before they all stood up with shaky and heavy breaths, their hearts clenching while the entire planet of Teyvat fell into silence.

“… Uhm, you guys oka—”

“Y-You’re the divine?! The divine was a girl?!”

The yelling of Thoma startled the living shit out of you, as you stared at him baffled. You have never seen that man yelling so much before… Before noticing him and Xiangling trembling on their knees, their tears trickling out with absolute fear and regret. Guilt.

“P-Please let us treat you our divine! Barbara!!”

Jean had called out for her sister, who immediately ran towards you but… You just took the knife out?????? As if it didn’t do absolute shit to you?????????1?1?1?1?1?1????

Barbara swore she was about to faint. The true power of the divine was so strong, that not even a knife simply destroyed your mood. But it scared everyone, with Venti crying his eyes out, bawling before he grabs your wounded area and looked like he was going to murder someone.

Everyone was speechless. Childe was speechless. After all this time, he was dating the said God he had gone away from praying… Oh… Oh if you knew that he stopped, he was scared you were going to give him some punishment, an execution. Childe wouldn’t blame you, he would never.

“Guys… I’m just tired… Also this is just a scratch real- oh, now I heal—”

You somehow activated your regeneration ability, fascinating most who has seen it with their own eyes by now. And to say the least, they weren’t going to be happy by now that you started talking to Childe, by saying….

“Oh, thank you for the napkin darling.”

“Y-Your- I— uhm… Y-You’re welcome hon…! Ahah… I… You’re… Wow…”

Childe wouldn’t… Stop stuttering around you? Darling? Hon?! What was this all about?! The table was trying to process all this information, and before they could even say anything… You had gotten up to leave.

…

Childe is absolutely dying.

Because when it comes to the news spreading to Snezhnaya, the Tsaritsa is angry at Childe. Enraged that he dared to date her “feminine wifey”. The doctor and the fallen Angel will work together once more to get you, as Arlecchino and Pantalone struck a deal with one another with a handshake.

They will get you. They didn’t care before and they were blind by then, so now, let them take full care of you.

Do you still think this is yourself shifting into Teyvat, [Name]?

💉 I will test my gorey-writing skills next time

[starrgaziinggg]

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS | LEE MINHO

PART NINE -> epilogue (6k words)

navigation

"JEONGIN!"

There's moments in life when you're genuinely terrified. Like when you used to get called on from your scariest teacher with no clue what the answer to the question was. Or when you wake up in the middle of the night after hearing a loud noise and can't move a muscle for hours afterwards.

Now is one of those instances. You feel yourself practically jump out your skin when you hear Seungmin screech the younger boys name, taking your sunglasses off of your face instantly to catch a glimpse of the commotion.

How naive of you to expect a relaxing, stress relieving getaway with your friends. How naive indeed.

"You've crossed the line this time, kiddo," Seungmin seethes, traipsing round the decking in search of his target. "Where the hell is he?"

"Fuck me if I know," you say lazily, placing your sunglasses back on your face and settling yourself into your sun lounger again. You and Hyunjin had an ongoing competition to see who could get the best tan over the course of your week long holiday, and you'd be damned to waste precious sunbathing time whilst he was at the shops to get breakfast for everyone.

"Gross, don't say that," Seungmin grimaces, chucking you a bottle. "You're burning up, idiot."

You scoff, pulling your sunglasses off for the second time of the morning and dumping them beside you. "Am I really?"

"Yes," Seungmin responds, placing his hands on the railing that oversees the beach you were staying at, looking out to catch a glimpse of Jeongin before giving up and practically falling on top of the lounger beside you. "Unless the aim of the competition you've got with Hyunjin is to see who can look the most like a lobster by the end of the week, I'd lather up."

You sigh, picking up the bottle he'd handed you and rubbing the sunscreen into your arms and chest. "Why are you so mad at Jeongin, anyway?" You ask him, intrigued as to what had interrupted your morning detox. "And why did you think he'd be here?"

"He's a dumbass," Seungmin says, kicking his feet up on the sun lounger as if that explains anything. "And I thought he might be here since you're the only other person still at the resort."

"Everyone's gone?" You ask, closing the lid to the bottle and chucking it into the shade.

"Felix, Chan and Changbin went down to the sea front whilst Minho, Hyunjin and Jisung were at the shops. Jeongin must have gone with them," Seungmin explains, shaking his head. "I'm seriously going to kill him when I find him again."

"I swear if you don't explain what he's done, I'm taking your name off of the lease," you say, throwing him a side glance as you settle back into a comfortable position.

"You can't do that," he mocks, as if you would ever actually take his name off of the lease to your new apartment. You'd just signed it two weeks ago, with Hyunjin and Felix too. It had been stressful trying to find accommodation for your final year of uni, as you weren't entitled to on campus accommodation in fourth year. When Seungmin brought the idea of sharing an apartment close to campus with Hyunjin and Felix to you, it had been an obvious yes.

Sure, living with three boys was probably going to be a nightmare, but you'd just lived with Seungmin for a year and he'd practically kept you afloat, so no matter how messy Felix was or how late Hyunjin stayed up, you figured you could handle it.

"He left my flip flops outside in the scorching sun yesterday," he finally says, offering you an explanation. "I specifically told him not to, because I'd seen online that the brand can partially melt in extreme heat - and who would have guessed? I now have a pile of goo on the ground."

You can't stifle your laugh, giggling openly. It was just such a classic Jeongin move you'd come to realise. He was nothing short of a little shit when he wanted to be. "They can't be a very good brand if they melt in the sun."

Seungmin scoffs. "They weren't made for over 40°c heat. Plus, I may or may not have bought them from a dodgy website," he complains, though you know he's over exaggerating. You could put money on the fact his flip flops were only slightly damaged. "He knows exactly what he's done as well. He'd written an, 'I'm sorry, Seungmin' note right on top of the goo pile for me to wake up to this morning."

You laugh openly this time, shaking your head at your friends actions. "Unsurprising."

Seungmin hums. "Yeah, I'll get my revenge at some point," he assures you, turning to give you an evil grin. "He's gonna hate choosing me as a roommate for this trip, I swear."

The resort you were staying in abroad, found by Chan (of course, as the self proclaimed 'dad' of your friend group), had large apartment like rooms that joined together and allowed you a private stretch of gorgeous white sand beach. Each room had a balcony area overlooking the beach, which you were currently taking full advantage of.

"I thought you chose Jeongin as a roommate?" You ask, turning on your side to properly face your friend.

"Jeongin is the least gross out of everyone," Seungmin answers with a grimace. "Other than you, of course. But you're rooming with your lovey dovey -"

He doesn't get to finish his taunt, as the front door to your room flies open. "Honey, I'm home!" Minho shouts, walking through the slide doors onto the balcony. His flip flops patter against the decking before he flops down onto the edge of your sun lounger.

"You're not trying to steal my girlfriend, are you Seungmo?" Minho questions, tilting his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.

"It wasn't funny the first time you said it, and it's still not funny now," Seungmin responds, making Minho chuckle. Since Minho had popped the big question a couple months ago, he hadn't shut up about you being his girlfriend. His friends, that had now easily become your best friends, were constantly telling him to shut up, especially Seungmin since he spent the most time with you.

"Boo hoo," Minho says lazily, moving himself on your lounger so he was nestled comfortably in between your legs.

"What did you get from the store?" You ask him as he lays his head on your chest.

"Some meat and stuff so we can have a barbecue tonight," he responds. "Snacks, alcohol - some tampons for you."

"TMI," Seungmin winces, though you knew he was only doing it for show in front of Minho. You'd spent a year living with him and he couldn't care less about your period.

"A woman's menstrual cycle is natural," Minho mocks, laughing when Seungmin puts his fingers in his ears.

"Shut up, Jesus," you groan. It was bad enough you'd had to go on holiday while you were at the end of your period, especially in a group of guys, but your boyfriend felt the need to show how 'cool' he was about it in front of your friends, which made him decidedly uncool.

"Anyway," Seungmin says, attempting to stray the conversation away from your menstrual cycle. "What's Hyunjin and Ji up to now?"

"Said they were dumping their shit in their room and meeting the other guys at the beach for the day," Minho explains, stretching his limbs as he looks up at you. "Thought we could join them?"

You him, nodding. "Yeah, sounds good. Seungmin?"

"I'll need to borrow a pair of your flip flops, Minho," he says, and you take that statement as a form of agreement. "Jeongin has decimated mine."

Minho chuckles, pulling himself up from off your chest to sit at the edge of your lounger again. "Fine by me. There's a spare pair sitting on top of my suitcase."

Seungmin grins, getting up to put on Minho's flip flops. "I'm gonna go get changed into swim shorts, I'll get you guys down there?"

"Aye aye, captain," Minho responds, shouting through as Seungmin walks out your room, leaving you and Minho alone on the balcony.

He bends down towards you, leaving a chaste kiss on your lips. "Hi."

You giggle at him, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sun as you look at him, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Hi. Thanks for the tampons, by the way. I forgot to ask for them."

"Yeah, I figured you'd forgotten," he replies lazily, tapping your knees with his fingers. "Not a problem for the best boyfriend ever."

You chuckle at him, shaking your head. Minho had voiced his concerns about not being able to be enough for you, as he'd never been in a proper relationship before, but you'd assured him you'd be able to work at it together. And here you were, happier than you'd been in a long time.

"You look pretty," Minho states outwardly, and you smile knowing he means it. You'd come to realise he didn't give out compliments easily, so when he did it made your heart melt. "Last I saw you, you were a zombie in bed."

"Yeah, well, we were up late last night," you say, which makes Minho snicker. You whack him on the arm. "Don't be crude."

"Says you!" He laughs, grabbing your hand to stop you from whacking him again. You take a second to eye him up - shirtless, in just a pair of swim shorts and flip flops, you thought about how lucky you were that your boyfriend was perhaps the hottest man on the planet.

"Stop eye fucking me," he says slyly, narrowing his eyes at you.

"I'm not eye fucking you," you counter, crossing your arms. That turns out to be a mistake, when Minho's eyes go straight to your boobs.

"You know," he starts lowly, moving closer to you to push a strand of hair behind your ear. "We haven't countered period sex yet, but if you -"

You don't even need to whack him for that one, because he gets hit in the face with a blow up beach ball. Cackling, you catch a glimpse of the perpetrator.

"Get a room!" Hyunjin shouts, laughing maniacally as his bleach blonde hair flies out around him, and you just know Minho's going to kill him for that.

"We have a room!" Minho shouts back, throwing the beach ball back to Hyunjin which he catches, walking up to your balcony from the beach, shirtless and dripping wet. You assume he's already been in the sea.

"Maybe use it?" He says cheekily, and you roll your eyes. "We're gonna play volleyball, get your asses out here."

"I refuse," you say, throwing your hands up with wide eyes. "Not after last time."

Hyunjin giggles, remembering your game on the first day you'd arrived, and how your bikini top had come undone whilst you tried to save the ball. That was not one of your finest moments.

"You can be umpire," he says, tilting his head. You look towards Minho who shrugs, so you turn back to Hyunjin and nod.

"Fine," you say in defeat, standing up off your sun lounger and grabbing your phone and the keys to your room, so you can lock the front and sliding doors and jump the barrier of your balcony onto the beach.

The boys are all round the corner from your balcony, their towels laid out on the sand with some beach umbrellas propped up. Jeongin and Felix are chasing each other up and down the coastline with water guns, whilst Jisung and Seungmin are sprawled lazily out on their towels, taking refuge under the umbrellas from the blazing sunshine. Chan and Changbin are setting up the volleyball net.

As you, Hyunjin and Minho walk towards them, Felix and Jeongin abandon their fight, dropping the water guns by the boys feet.

"Didn't think you'd want to play after last time," Felix says breathlessly, giving you a cheeky grin when you hit him with your beach towel.

"We collectively agreed to never speak about it again," you seethed, listening to the other boys snickers. You choose to ignore Minho's smirk. "Besides, I'm reffing, and your teams already in the minus points."

"Why?" Felix groans, pouting at you.

"Attitude and bad behaviour. Ref rules," you throw back, placing your beach towel down and making yourself comfortable. Minho bends down to give you a peck, ignoring the guys cries of PDA and Jeongin covering his eyes before he calls team captain and the boys split up into two groups. Minho calls the second team captain and gets first pick, choosing Chan instantly.

They were unsurprisingly competitive, as you'd come to find out. If their beer pong tournaments were anything to go by, their volleyball games were even worse. You'd had to settle a multitude of arguments by half time alone - Jisung claiming Changbin was using foul play and Seungmin purposefully making the other team laugh to lose their attention.

Minho's team won in the end, which you could have seen coming from a mile away, since Chan practically carried any team he was on in terms of sports games. By sunset, half the guys had left to shower and the other half were setting up the barbecue, leaving you and Minho alone by the beachfront.

You watch the tide slowly make its way in and out again, the sound calming as Minho lay reading beside you. He's motionless, save from the periodic turn of the page of his book and his thumb swiping over your thigh when he found a comfortable position to hold his book with one hand.

The sun was slowly starting to set, the orange and pink hues of the sky mixing together like paint on a palette. When Minho turns the page to his book again, you pull your sunglasses off of the bridge of your nose to study him.

"What you reading?" You ask him, and he seems to finish the last sentence before looking over to you.

"A book," he says slyly, keeping his thumb in the middle of it but closing it over to look at you. He probs himself up on one arm.

"Oh yeah? Though it was an oven mitt," you reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Minho raises an eyebrow at you. "Oven mitt?"

"First thing I thought of," you shrug, lowering yourself so that your lying flat on your back, closer to him. He looks down at you with a half smile. "But really, what book is it?"

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as one hand pushes his dusty brown hair out his face, turning the cover of his book around to show you.

"How to deal with rude people with a smile," you read the title aloud as your eyes scan the front cover. "Is this a step by step guide?"

Minho chuckles, shaking his head as he pretends to snatch the book away from you. "No - if you must know, it's one of my favourites, and I'm rereading it and annotating it so I can give it to you."

You blink a couple times at his words, not really comprehending what he was saying. "You're going to gift it to me after you've annotated it?"

"Yeah," he replies, and you watch his ears tinge red - his tell. "After everything that happened with your ex and Sooyun, I just...I dunno. I read this when I needed to, and I thought you could benefit from it as well."

Minho will never let you live it down if you cry in front of him about this, claiming his superiority from his heartfelt gift, so you force a brave face. A smile comes naturally to you at the kind gesture.

"I love you so much, did you know," you say easily, shaking your head almost in disbelief. Minho had opened up to you more than you'd ever thought he would after making your relationship official. He told you about his family; his parents who he loved but did not spend a lot of time with due to them frowning upon his decision to drop his medical degree to pursue dance, how his cats meant everything to him and more...

This just felt as though he was sharing another little part of himself with you.

"What about you, then?" He says, unable to take the compliment without getting somewhat flustered as per usual. "You were reading something earlier in the week."

You hum, turning and digging the book out of your beach bag. You gently throw it onto his lap, watching as he inspects it like you had done his before handing it back to you.

"A poem book?" He says curiously. "'A mouthful of forevers'. Any good?"

"I love it. I've never been a big poem fan but this book...I dunno, her poems really speak to me."

"Okay you freak, read me one," he says blatantly, lying down flat on his back like you and crossing his arms, staring into the sky. He turns to you when you don't reply to him. "Please?"

You choose to ignore his shit eating grin when you open to one of the pages in the book you had dog eared.

"Love Poems, by Clementine Von Radics," you start with a huff, already feeling your tummy flutter under your boyfriends smirk and watchful eye. "I want to kiss you. Like big, fat kisses. Or angels. Or stars. Or something. I don't know. Love poems never make sense to me."

You pause for a second to catch your breath and sneak a peak at Minho as you do, and he's carefully watching you - a serious expression on his features as he nods at you for you to continue.

"Poets say things like Your teeth are flowers or Your eyes are miracles. But you aren't miracles. Or flowers. You are some sweet boy with a good smile and a shaky heart. Come kiss me. I'm in love with the miracle of your body—beside my body."

Minho stays quiet for a second, contemplating your words, and you can't help but feel sheepish.

"I like it because it reminds me of you," you say, although Minho's one of the smartest people you've ever met and you'd be damned if he hadn't already guessed that. "It's like - humans are never supposed to be these amazing, wondrous, beings. But you're you, and even though you will never be this unrealistic perfected poet concoction of a man, you have already shown me what perfect feels like. Because, I guess to me, perfect is good and bad things coexisting in this one little life with you."

There's not another second to babble on, because Minho's easily caught your lips with his own after moving swiftly so that he hovers over the top of you. He keeps himself propped up on an arm beside your head as he depends the kiss slightly before pulling away.

His hair tickles your forehead as he breathes, shaking his head at you. "You know I love you too, right?" He says lowly, dark eyes shifting between your own. "I don't say it that often, but I am so absolutely in love with you and sometimes I just have to sit with my thoughts because I have never known what I have done to deserve you."

His deep words make your heart fill and your grin crack. You figure you must be looking at him maniacally, but you don't care - not when you lowers his head to kiss you again, the feeling one that you will never take for granted. After these months you still feel the same butterflies you felt after that very first time.

"You're sooo in love with me," you can't help but to tease when he pulls away again, watching when he shakes his head with a chuckle. "You're practically on your knees for me."

"I could be later, if you quit acting like a brat in the middle of our nice moments," he says, tilting his head and placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. "Now, come on, cause -"

The distraction of Hyunjin and Jeongin making sex noises and kissy faces is one that you surprisingly enjoy, since it firstly means that Minho doesn't notice the way your cheeks are the same colour as your sunburn and secondly, that dinner must be ready. You successfully rope Jeongin into helping you pack up the beach stuff when Minho ends up in the midst of a physical fight with Hyunjin, the two men hollering and rolling around on the sand like children.

Whatever the issue was, you could assume Hyunjin deserved it. The two of them had been ridiculously close recently, after having talked out all their issues back when they weren't on the best of terms. You didn't know if it was just because you and Hyunjin were so close or because they'd finally had a deep discussion together, but they'd been practically inseparable the whole holiday.

Not that you are complaining - you'd take them clinging to each other over the two of them avoiding each other like the plague any day of the week.

"You and Minho hyung are cute," Jeongin goads as he folds Minho's towel, showing you his dimples and widening his eyes. "Kind of gross, but mostly cute."

You take the towel from him and shove it into your back, grabbing your water bottle and waiting for Jeongin to pick up Minho's water bottle before the two of you head towards your bedroom's balcony. "You think?"

He hums, nodding. "Everyone's been saying it all holiday. Especially Hyunjin, which is so weird. To think a couple months ago he was like your relationship's number one enemy is laughable."

You can't help but roll your eyes with a smile at the memory. "He was such a pain in the ass back then, huh?"

"Right?" Jeongin agrees, giving you a hand to help you climb over your balcony decking's railings when you reach it. "I don't know who was a bigger clock block, him or Felix."

He laughs with you when you can't help but to crack up, remembering that one time Minho was helping you dance in the practice rooms and Felix came in at the worst possible time, or when you and Minho were finally opening up to each other and Hyunjin just had to spread a rumour that wasn't true.

"Is it weird that I wouldn't change any of it?" You ask the younger boy, thanking him when he hands you the water bottle.

"Nah," he agrees, his freshly dyed bleach blonde hair (that he'd tried and failed to convince everyone he wasn't copying Hyunjin) forming waves from the sea water he hadn't washed out yet. "It's one hell of a story."

The distant calls for you both to hurry up remind you that you've got food waiting, so you lock your bedroom door and head out back again. By the time you round the corner, you spot the boys in a large circle - your boyfriend in charge of grilling the meat, whilst Felix is preparing what looks like bibimbap. Changbin's also putting together burger buns and salad as Jisung hands out the drinks Seungmin's pouring. Chan seems to be in charge of the whole orchestration, making sure everyone gets a bit of all the foods on their plate.

"You are a grand help," you say snidely to Hyunjin, the only one of them not helping, as he sprawls lazily on a deck chair by the unlit fire pit.

"I was sworn off preparations," he responds, not bothering to look at you. "I'm the visual."

Jeongin shares a look with you as you scoff, getting stuck in to helping when Chan starts handing you plates of food to place on people's seats. "You need a reality check."

"Chan?" He calls lazily.

"He's the visual," Chan shrugs as he hands you another plate, the other guys snickering. "Plus, Minho beat him up earlier."

"What was that even about?" You ask, wanting to be kept in the loop. Your boyfriend catches your eye, rolling his own in response. It's almost a shame to see he's put a t-shirt on, but the way he's rolled the sleeves up over his biceps and his cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the barbecue make you think otherwise.

Since Minho isn't giving you an answer, you turn to Hyunjin, who only gives you a smirk. He pulls his arms up by his head, resting against them. "I only told him that public sex on the beach is actually a crime, and nobody wants to see his massive -"

He doesn't get another word out, after getting hit in the face from a flying beef burger. Jeongin cracks up beside you, and you can't stifle your laugh either, especially when Chan starts shouting.

"We only have so much of them to go around!" He frets, counting out the food items with his fingers. "Stop acting like a child, Minho. Your girlfriends right there."

Minho waves at you with a grin, and you shake your head at him. Seungmin and Jisung finish pouring the drinks, making the rounds and placing them in the cup holders of each chair.

"She's just as bad as him," Seungmin scoffs, picking up a plate full of food and taking a seat beside you. "You know she made me pick out paint samples with her last week? Guess what colour she's painting her bedroom."

Your boyfriend raises you an eyebrow as he finishes passing out the rest of the meat and turns off the barbecue. It must have slipped your mind to inform him of your plans for your bedroom in the new apartment; you were still renting, but the landlord was extremely lenient and allowed you to paint wherever you wanted as long as the apartment looked how did did before you arrived when you eventually leave.

"She wants the ceiling to be pink," Seungmin groans, sending a wave of laughter through your friends. Sometimes being the only girl who regularly hung out with them sucked, and you made a mental note to at least attempt to find another female friend - preferably one who wouldn't steal your boyfriend.

"The ceiling? How are you even gonna reach that, shorty," Changbin laughs, ruffling your hair with his free hand before plonking himself in a seat next to Hyunjin, the rest of the chairs filling up pretty quickly. Minho takes the spare seat beside you, of course.

"I have a vision," you mumble inwardly, ignoring Minho's pout about how cute you were.

You had to admit, Minho's food was delicious - as was Felix's bibimbap, which wasn't to be unexpected. One of your favourite thing's about Minho was his dedication to making food for everyone, one of his love languages- though he'd never admit it out loud.

All of you eat well, chatting together about anything and everything. Hyunjin giving Felix extras from his plate when Felix had finished, the younger boy grinning at him in delight. Changbin and Chan engaging in an arm wrestle, in with Changbin dominates, of course. Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin having a beer downing competition, spluttering with laughter when Jisung almost chokes on the drink. Minho, a hand on your thigh, watching his friends eat the food he'd made for them in contempt - all of it fills your heart.

To think how miserable you had been, in a relationship you had tried so hard to keep afloat, and a friendship that ended in distrust - how different your life was now was insane.

Hyunjin distracts you from your thoughts, calling your name as he stands up. "Yo, come help me get the ice creams from my room."

You roll your eyes at his request, but inevitably agree, standing up and narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend who slaps your ass as you do so.

"Come on lazy lumps," Hyunjin taunts, calling you as you run to catch up with him walking towards his room. "These ice creams won't get themselves."

"Alright, alright," you sigh, following him into his room and taking a bundle of ice creams he pulls out the freezer. "You're so clingy recently."

He scoffs, making a disgusted face at you. "I'm not clingy," he claims, whilst you tilt your head at him. He closes the freezer with the ice cream packets in his arms, sighing. "Okay, maybe I'm a bit clingy, but you can't blame me. There was a point I thought you and Minho would never talk to me again."

"You're so dramatic," you chuckle, as the two of you walk out the room and back towards your friends. "We've been over this a million times - I don't blame you for anything, and you'd never get rid of me or Minho that easily."

"I know, I know," he says, and you notice his faint smile. The sand gets in between your toes as you walk, so you take your flip flops off to walk barefoot. "I'm just happy about how everything's turned out. Don't tell Minho I said this, but the two of you have never been happier now that you're with each other, and I was a little bitch to think otherwise."

You laugh openly at his compliment, shoving his shoulder fondly as you reach your friends, handing out the ice cream packets.

"You're not trying to get with my girl, are you Hyun?" Minho comments cheekily, which everyone collectively groans at.

"Nobody is trying to steal your girlfriend, dickwad. That joke has been used and abused," Changbin whines, which your boyfriend grins at, as if this was the desired affect of his idiotic comment. Hyunjin only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Says the one that was all over her that first night at the bar," Minho jabs back, which Changbin just smirks at.

"We get it! I'm hot!" You say confidently, scrunching up your nose when Seungmin chucks a rolled up napkin at your face. "And anyway, Changbin's taken now."

Changbin widens his eyes at you as the other boys turn to him in shock because, oh shit, that was a secret you were not supposed to share. There's a chorus of irritated yelling forced towards Changbin, and he looks at you in despair.

"You have a girlfriend?" Felix shouts, standing up and pointing at Changbin. You shoot him a sorry glance as he waves his hands.

"Yes! Okay, it's a very recent thing," he groans. "And you! You were not supposed to tell them!"

You shrug your shoulders apologetically, secretly enjoying the chaos. Minho turns to you, an intrigued smirk on his face.

"And how did you know before any of us?" He asks, no distaste in his tone, just genuine intrigue. One of your favourite things about Minho was how he could not care less about your friendships with the guys, something your ex was almost always complaining about. Minho relished in the fact you got along so well with all his friends.

"I went by Changbin's place to get him to help me fix my broken bedside table for the new place, and she called him while I was over, so it was really only a coincidence," you explain with your hands up.

"Why did you need Changbin's help?" Hyunjin questions. "Am I not good enough?"

"You don't even own a toolbox, Hyun," you say, deadpan, turning to Minho. "And you were away working, so don't start."

"I know, I don't care," he says with a grin, and you laugh at how Hyunjin is more annoyed than Minho. Minho and you had trust and he didn't mind you spending time with others, but Hyunjin was a dramatic baby whenever he wasn't involved. Realistically he just had a bad case of FOMO.

"Anyway," Chan claps, steering the conversation in a different direction. "We're all happy for you Binnie, right guys?"

There's a collective mumble of agreement which you laugh at, watching Changbin get up off of his chair. "On that note, I'm gonna call said girlfriend before the time difference gets too ridiculous. Peace out sluts."

You shake your head at him with a smile, watching as he bounds along the sand towards his room.

"That's it," Jeongin whines. "We've lost another one."

"You're just jealous since you're single," Jisung prods the younger boy, which he shrugs at.

"Yeah," he sighs. "So real."

You drown out the guys conversation, discussing relationships and what not, as you pull out your phone, scrolling your instagram feed. A photo Seungmin posted of you, Felix and Hyunjin pops up - the two boys cracking dumb poses as you laugh at them. You like the photo with a smile, continuing your scroll. The next photo that arises is of Sooyun - a ring adorned on her finger.

Her and Doha had broken up not long after she'd come to your dorm. You'd spoken to her a couple times since then when you'd bumped into each other on campus, though your friendship had never resumed. It was for the best, to stay civil yet cut ties, because she'd hurt you badly and you'd never have trust for her again.

Yet, you were happy for her. She'd gotten into a relationship with one of her family friends from your hometown a couple months after her and Doha had broken up. They'd grown up together, and you'd always suspected they'd end up with each other. You weren't surprised when you heard they were together, and after a year they'd gotten engaged. She beamed in the photo, her fiancé looking at her adoringly as she held up her hand for the camera.

You like the photo, commenting 'congrats!' before showing the photo to Minho. He smiles, knowing you were over the drama and genuinely happy for your friend.

"Maybe it's a thing," he says, tapping your knee with his fingers absentmindedly. "After someone ends their relationship with Doha, they find the love of their life."

You shake your head at him with a smile, knowing he was probably right. The last you'd heard of Doha, he'd dropped out of university and was reputably known as a cheater in your area. Luckily, you hadn't seen him since you'd broken up with him, confirming the theory that when someone isn't meant to be in your life, you'll never see them again.

"I'm fucking exhausted," Jisung yawns, stretching out his limbs. "Should we call it a night, since we're up early to swim with dolphins tomorrow?"

Hyunjin nods, standing up. "Yeah, agreed. Felix, don't you dare let me sleep in. I can't wait to swim with dolphins!"

Felix rolls his eyes, joining Hyunjin as the two of them wave before heading off to their room. Chan starts getting all of your things together as the rest of you help, folding up the chairs and taking all your rubbish from the beach. You all say goodnight to each other as you part ways, you and Minho heading back to your room.

"I love it here," you say as soon as you close the sliding doors, locking them for the night and staring out at the view. "I never want to leave. It's like paradise."

"You know," Minho says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms round your torso. "I was thinking, after you finish your degree next year, would you want to go travelling with me for a bit? By then I'll have a fair amount of money saved, so we could go wherever you want before you settle down to work."

"Really?" You ask, turning in his embrace to blink up at him. "You want to?"

"Of course. I've thought about it for a while. It would be fun, just the two of us, exploring."

You grin, kissing him on the lips. "I'd do anything and go anywhere as long as I'm with you, you know that, right?"

He chuckles, moving a strand of hair behind your ear. "And I you. Who would have thought friends with benefits could end up like this?"

You playfully hit his shoulder before pulling him into a hug, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Who would have thought," you agree, sighing into his embrace and thanking the universe for letting your friends with benefits situation turn into the most beautiful love.

And friends with benefits, after a year, is fully complete. I hope you all enjoyed the epilogue, even though you had to wait forever for it. This story will always have a special place in my heart - it’s the reason so many of you read my fics and found my account. Thankyou always for the interactions on this series, love always 🫶🏻🫶🏻

taglist

@skzgallll @tangerminie @nepytune @jeyelleohe @judeduartewannabe @endzii23 @vixensss @odhnlzl101 @yoonguurt @trashieforchannie @xcookiemonsteer @kingsoowolves @woahsehun @laylasbunbunny @sahazzy @hyukastuffies @multifandomtrash-dree @sherlockholmes08 @iam2out @jisungxident @amnmich @linoots @galaxleeknow @kpopwh0r3 @fixation-dump @mal-lunar-28 @zerefdragn33l @i8rsie @strayluvr @yoontaethings @lomllino @biribarabiribbaem @downbadreading @where-is-innie @djeniryuu @lethallyprotected

[simple-seranade]

“Critter City has defenses, and once we rebuild-“

Jimmy laughs, a high sound tinged with slight hysteria. It makes Lizzie’s fur stand on end. “Rebuild? Rebuild? You only to have to rebuild a little bit of stone!”

He spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the debris around him, the world, the universe, every single spark of existence that only seems to be against him. He can still hear the other’s voices ringing in his head, and it only makes him want to talk louder and louder and louder, because he will be heard for once, damnit.

“I have to rebuild my whole life!” Respect might as well be buried under bedrock or tossed into the void below with how far out of reach it is, and on top of it all he has nothing to even try to reach for it with. All of his things, all his tools, the results of hours of hard work of finally collecting some sort of payment for what he does around here, gone. Lost forever.

Just like he lost his deputy. His height. His humanity.

His sanity.

“My whole life and you’ve taken it away from me! MY WHOLE LIFE!” He isn’t just in Critter City now. He’s standing in his own railroad tracks as the people mock him, he’s coughing on the potion particles floating in the air as he shrinks, he’s covering his ears as he tries desperately not to make a sound and alert the wandering warden. He’s back on the bridge, Fwhip and Gem and Sausage laughing at him before the Princess of Peace slices a sword through his chest.

He’s reliving every moment of his life here, and it only makes him angrier.

“You lot think I’m the villain?” He isn’t. He just wants to help. He’s only ever wanted to help. He’s only ever wanted to be a person.

But they denied that of him.

They stripped him down to a joke, a punching bag, some little thing (not person, not human) to look at when life felt miserable to feel better about themselves. Called him corrupt for simply doing his job. Made his life a living hell.

“You’re the villain.” He spits out, and he’s not just talking to Lizzie now, he’s spelling it out for all the universe to see.

He’s the hero of this story.

And everyone knows heroes are always in the right.

(Now if only there was a single hero who was happy.)

[ghosthunterbuck]

different now

(buddie) (719 words) (6b spec) the rest of what i posted earlier, featuring eddie waiting for buck to wake up and calling the universe out on its bullshit

Buck’s name has been stuck in his throat for days now and Eddie’s starting to choke on it. 

Buck died. 

He died. 

He’s not dead, but he died, and he could die again and Eddie wants to start screaming all over again. Needs to, he thinks, because how else is the universe going to understand that if it takes Buck away from him, Eddie’ll never be whole again. 

I thought you didn’t believe in the universe, a mocking voice that sounds just a little bit like Buck says in the back of his head. 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie replies aloud, “you do. That’s got to mean something.”

He clasps Buck’s cold, still hand between his own and presses his forehead against it, bowed in a strange caricature of prayer. 

“You know, Hen told Christopher you were here, not me. The hospital kept me overnight for observation, so she picked him up from Carla. First thing he asked was where you were.”

Buck, predictably, says nothing. 

“Is that how you felt when– when I…” Eddie continues. “I don’t think I understood before. I thought I did, but… god, Buck, it’s different now, isn’t it?”

Eddie gently sets Buck’s hand back down on the rough hospital sheets and rubs his eyes tiredly. 

“I’m terrified,” Eddie admits. “What am I supposed to do if–” the lump in his throat cuts him off. 

His eyes catch on the scar peeking out from beneath the collar of Buck’s hospital gown. Unconsciously, Eddie reaches for his own burn, flinching when his fingers make contact. 

When he dreams, Eddie’s skin is pristine. There are no twin scars on his shoulders, no burn on his arm. Buck, too, is free from any permanent reminders of his wounds, past or present. The thin scar that’s sat at the base of his throat since the day Eddie met him is gone, and the skin of his left leg is creamy and smooth. 

Eddie wonders who those people are, the versions of him and Buck with no scars between them. Are they still… whatever it is that they are to each other? Or have they never even met. Maybe the only version of Eddie who never had a scar is the one who was lost to the desert. Maybe the version of Buck without scars is the one who never stopped wandering. 

A wave of anger crashes over him. 

“Why us?” he bites out. “Or– why him? He was trying to help someone. He didn’t deserve to be hit out of nowhere by some unseen force of the universe!”

Neither did you, the Buck-adjacent voice reminds him. 

“I know,” Eddie says quietly. He takes Buck’s hand again and squeezes it. “I also don’t deserve to watch another person I– I don’t deserve to watch you die. So you have to wake up, okay? For– for Chris, and for Maddie, and Bobby, and everyone else who loves you, and… and for me, okay?”

Buck’s hand twitches and a jolt of hope zips up Eddie’s spine. 

“Yes, Buck, yes,” he says, nearly jumping out of his chair. “You fight to come home to your family, okay? We need you.”

Eddie leans forward and brushes his thumb across Buck’s cheek. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispers. 

A small groan escapes Buck’s lips. 

Eddie freezes, not even daring to breathe for fear he might send Buck tumbling back down into whatever black hole his mind created to protect him.

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, then finally, finally, they open.

A tear slides down Eddie’s cheek. “Buck,” he breathes. 

Buck blinks a few times, gaze unfocused, until something seems to shift and his attention lands on Eddie. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but all that comes out is a soft rasp. He swallows and tries again. 

“Eds,” he barely whispers. “Hurt?”

“Yeah Buck,” Eddie says quietly, “you got hurt.”

Buck frowns and squeezes Eddie’s hand. “No. Are… you?” he asks, slowly, painfully. 

“No,” Eddie says in a rush of air. “No, Buck, I’m okay. Everyone’s okay. You–” Eddie closes his eyes. 

“M’okay too, Eds,” Buck says. 

“You are,” Eddie says. “Thank you.”

Buck’s brow furrows. “F’what?” he asks.Eddie shakes his head and laughs softly. For bringing him back to me, he thinks in the general direction of the universe. “For coming home,” he says aloud.

[hexbimbo]

DBD Random Hc #1

*Got a little carried away the post-fog ~lore~. I have so many ideas I’m probably gonna have to do separate AU post for all scenarios.*

General

Everyone hungers and thirsts normally in the fog. Survivors try to salvage/ forage what they can. A river deep into the woods provides water for both sides, though requires sterilization.

Survivors are slowly transforming their shitty campground into a small village. Older survivors live in shared, rinky-dink cabins and newer survivors stay in hand-me down tents until materials can be sourced to build them a home.

Killers reside in their personal grounds and freely roam the forest. Common knowledge, they are not permitted to enter the Survivors encampment. Should a survivor exit the camp, they’re free game.

More levelheaded killers set up trade deals with the survivors. Med kits/ toolboxes/ and maps can be traded for food/ safe passage to the river/ materials. Of course, survivors can always just take the items when they get sent to a map but most prefer not to piss off the killers.

Survivors are forbidden, by their own rule, from traveling outside the camp (excluding the trades and water trips in which they must always go in groups of 4.) Can they really inforce this rule? Nope. But they’ll scold the fuck outta you if you get caught.

If negations ever happened between the factions, Dwight and Trapper would be the representatives.

Killers aren’t sociable like the survivors. A few might be cordial here and there but mainly avoid each other. Reasons include: violence against each other, different morals or ethics regarding how killing is done, disdain, or a general adversity to people. Example: Albert, Herman, Sally would tolerate each other based on similar ethics but would never, ever be buddy-buddy.

If the Survivors escape the Fog, their lives would magically be better. All their trauma, hardships, and rejections never happened. (Similar to Scooby Doo MI/ IT). Unsure if they’d all be sent back to the time/place they were taken, possibly all sent to a generalized time.

In that case, Gabe/Vittorio would be fucked.

In addition, I’m unsure if Survivor’s would retain memories of their time spent in the fog. If they didn’t remember, they’d continue their life like they didn’t suffer for eternity. They’d probably even pass each other on the street and not bat an eye! If they did remember, how ever, they’d be dumbfounded by their “perfect life” and desperately try to shed light on what they went through. I also imagine that they’d search for each other to reunite, to acknowledge to each other the trauma they went through.

Same goes for killers but they would be sent back to their original time and place they were taken. Unlike the survivors however, they wouldn’t retain memories of the fog. They’d magically become better people over night. This would be due to the Entity no longer spreading evil in the world. ( “The evil is gone!” - Dr Loomis.)

Survivors

Most of the survivors don’t have kids ( excluding Felix, Ash and maybe Tapp). The Entity did this with the intention of lower the chances of people looking for them. In the case of Felix however ( who is noted to be close to the Entity) it would cause him the most emotion (Hope to see the kid again, and despair he can’t see his child grow up.) which the Entity then feeds off of.

On that note, the rest maybe are undecided or simply didn’t have the opportunity to have kids yet. The only decided childfree I head-canon are: Jeff, Yun-Jin, Ace, Bill, Élodie, and Jake.

Dwight is definitely the guy to break up a fight with : “Staph guys!!!! This isn’t who we are 🥺🥺🥺.”

Felix and Élodies reunion: “🤨…🤯 …😬”

Lady survivors still have periods. Started their own “Red Club” for period support and materials (homemade pads, pain meds, slipping each other a little extra food).

Jane likes to host a mock-talk show to cope with the Relm. What’s starts with a simply “How are you doing today?” can become “How did that affect your childhood?” In addition, she’ll sometimes hosts “segments” for survivors to demonstrate their talents in an effort to cheer them up.

Meg and Gabriel get the zoomies. Meg will inch towards the fire, slowly but surely. When caught, she’ll take off for the tree line. Rinse and repeat.

Nea is very cat-like in her mannerism. ( Pretty much a given.) Curls up when she sleeps, blinks slowly, stretches a lot.

Mikaela makes and sells hygiene products with ingredients sourced from Claudette. You’ll never know how much you’ve missed a bath until you’ve gone eternity without one.

Bill’s a hard ass with male survivors but tends to be a bit more lenient with the girls. Will chastise the them when they play too roughly or don’t show the proper manners in a lady’s presence. It’s just how he was brought up.

Killers

Charlotte is a hoarder. Can’t part with anything. Yes, she needs that used tissue. Yes she needs that rotten head of lettuce.

Legion recognized Jeff immediately. “ Guys! You’ll never believe it- this fat fuck is Jeff! How you been man???”

Anna sometimes can’t bring herself to hurt female survivors if they bare a child like appearance. For example, she’ll hesitate with Feng/ Sable/ Cheryl in a colorful, soft outfits but will otherwise descimate Feng/Sable/ Cheryl if wearing more mature clothes.

Herman is so overstimulated, no sensory input stresses him out. He can’t NOT be sitting or thinking.

Blight gets withdrawals if gone without the serum for too long. (A given.) However, during these withdrawals his thoughts get a little clearer and can hear the whispers of the Entity, the screams and demands for more blood. The serum makes it nice and quiet again.

Philip and Sally have meetings near the river. They never talk or touch, nor remember how they first started doing this. Being together feels like before the Fog.

Adris holds mass for the Entity in her temple. Does anyone show up? Not really, though she convinced the more devout killers to leave offerings on the temple steps.

Trapper knows his “power” is outdated and doesn’t really care. He’s doesn’t have the blood lust that other killers have and certainly isn’t imaging other people when he kills. When someone steps on a trap: Cool. When they escape: Also cool.

Unknown will have whole conversations with itself. These conversations are crudely put together and if listening closely, what it says doesn’t quite make sense.

“ Beautiful day…for it.”

“ Pain…my eyes are in…pain.”

“Do you…like candy?”

[writingforatwistedworld]

Hi ! Glad to see your asks open (not for long methinks lolol) Could I ask how would Leona/Jamil/Vil react to a player that is the definition of a Disney princess ? Animals flocks to them, they sing and dance, they're sickeningly sweet, pure and naive, and to top it off they're Neige level of beautiful and charming. The whole Disney protagonist™ package, of which everyone know that they should be in RSA.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, kidnapping, imprisonment, violence, murder, blood, obsession, poison, death

Leona Kingscholar/Jamil Viper/Vil Schoenheit-Player is the definition of a Disney princess

Someone hand hm some sunglasses. He might go bling from how bright you shine

Haha funny joke- No! This is no joke!

He just can't deal with all that purity and fairness thingy surrounding you

Leona already sees people as a pain so imagine him having to interact with someone like, idk, Aurora

But you aren't just some polished mindless pretty face that fell out of the sky one day

Oh no, you are an otherworldly being that is known across the world and also viewed differently depending on where you look at

And you are perfection themselves in the Shaftlands so... mum ok makes sense

And it's no wonder you see everyone equally with how naive and kind you are

Laziness incarnate over here is actually afraid of getting close to you

Like, you are everything and more than they had ever been taught all their life, with all the sparkles and rainbows surrounding you, and he is just the (metaphorical) fleabag of the oh so honorable Kingscholar family

Is that cat sitting on your lap mocking him right now??!

But imagine, you, our charming little cookie, approaching him out of the blue

And congrats, you made him speechless (which is an achivement in itself if we are being honest)

And since I am a yandere blog, he of course will despise it if someone would dare to interfere in the time you spend together or, oh goodness no, come close to you

You naive, way too trusting little thing! Of course people will come close and take advantage of you!

But maybe that mark on your wrist will tell them to whom belong, him having gripped it once too tightly whilst telling you that he is the only one you can trust

Someone pls get him sunglasses Pt.2

But besides him also being exactly as baffeled as Leona he is also low-key in truth very afraid of you

He already has a naive prince to look after but for some reason he wasn't as annoyed as he should be when he saw your sparkling eyes for the first time

He should have lost all belief in you back then

You? An almighty scholar??! Nah!

But then you reveal to them that you know historical facts about the great seven lost in time so... mum that belief is back so fast it was never really gone

But he is still reluctant

What if you are in truth cunning and are just waiting for the right time to backstab him?

And before he knew it you were giggeling whilst braiding flowers into his hair

Him? Ever disgusting you??! Pfff Author! You are funny!!!

And this is where all the darker things start

Oh no! Don't talk to them! See? Those flowers they just gave you are in truth poisonous! (They are not but you don't need to know that)

Want to go out for some fresh air? Why not go on a walk in the desert? Only with him. With him. And with him. Oh, did he mention himself?

And he is so sweet and kind as well! Always bringing you delicious snacks which make you so... drowsy... and... ti... red...

Don't worry about anyone never visiting you and waking up in a unfamiliar place. He will take good care of you!

Usually he is the breathtaking one but whops, seems like he is this time the one who's breath got stolen away

You are perfect! The stories are true! You are perfection in person!

Oh what joyful day! Finally he is being able to bask in your light!

Was this how the fairest Queen felt when she was within your presence?

But those rotten, ugly, disgusting potatoes just are always so close to his dearest apple!

And then there is also Neige who for some annoying reason just turned up at his rival school

Seems like it's time to test his potion-making skills once more

Certain poisons and most of all love potions are very complex and complicated after all

A day later and you have never felt so happy like right now right at Vils side

And he is so caring too!

Every day, exactly right before eating dinner he is handing you a bright red apple, telling you that it is infused with a potion which is there to keep you healthy and happy

Someone just spat out blood after eating an identical one? Oh dear... that one wasn't from him! *cough*

But some potatoes never learn, even after their fellow students fall ill from poison after interacting with you

Seems like only the most perfect people are capable of being close to you or how could you explain Schoenheit standing right next to you?

So here he is his room a mess, his usually well-polished mirror shattered to pieces... and you in the dorframe, worried after hearing sounds from his room

“Oh my dear apple! I am so sorry for letting you see me this way. How neglectful of me. But I had been experimenting lately, creating an apple that will keep you young and healthy forever! You wouldn't say no to a gift of mine, would you?”

These were the last words before you tasted something acidic mixed into the sweetness of the apple, falling into an neverending slumber

dear, you are too naive and kindhearted! But don't you worry, now that you are asleep forever, preserved in this glass coffin, nothing could ever harm you or, goodness forbid, take you away from him!

But he has to admit, he misses your voice and watching how your chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm isn't exactly what you would call being social...

[vollmond-laboratory]

In Love with this Noche of Imprisonment — Part 1

(Northern Tundra)

[Flashback starts]

Bradley: “You’re pretty damn persistent, Mia.”

Bradley: “Y’here to try and kill me again?”

Mia: “What if I am, huh?”

Mia: “You’re my prey, trash. This’ll be the day you take your last breath.”

Bradley: “Jeez, calm down for a minute, would’ja? Look here. I’ve brought you somethin’ good today.”

Bradley: “Somethin’ you’ll wanna eat almost as much as my mana.”

Mia: “What?”

Bradley: “Lookie here.”

Mia: “…Are you mocking me right now?”

Mia: “You must think I’m an idiot, trying to gift me the mere fruit of some common tree.”

Bradley: “Hey now, don’t jump to conclusions. My chef told me spoils like these are damn near unobtainable.”

Bradley: “It ain’t exactly easy to come by fancy sweets up here in the North, and these don’t taste half bad.”

Bradley: “Y’like sweet things, don’tcha?”

Mia: “…!”

Mia: “…”

Mia: “…I do like them.”

Bradley: “Glad t’hear it. We found it mixed in with some shit we stole a while back, but me n’my men don’t have any use for somethin’ so cutesy.”

Bradley: “If I’m rememberin’ right, it’s name is—”

[Flashback ends]

Mia: “…Bradley…”

Mia: “How long has it been since you were separated from these Northern lands…”

Mia: “…Ugh. Dammit, I’m furious… Just remembering it makes me so mad I want to scream.”

Mia: “…Ahh…”

Mia: “Bradley… If only I could see you again, just once more…”

Mia: “When that time comes, I’ll finally be able to—”

Bradley: “Achoo!”

Mia: “…!”

Bradley: “Tch, got sent flyin’ again… This fuckin’ injury…”

Bradley: “…Huh?”

Bradley: “Wait, ain't that…”

—

(Manor Dining Room)

Akira: “…Not here today either, huh…”

Looking around at everyone eating their breakfast that morning with Sakitty, I let my shoulders slump with a dejected sigh.

I could see Rustica gracefully drinking some tea…

Mithra stuffing his cheeks full of meat…

And even Mitile sipping at some delicious-looking corn soup — but still not the person I was actually looking for.

Mitile: “Are you looking for someone, Master?”

Akira: “Mitile…”

Akira: “To be honest, yes… Nobody’s seen Bradley around lately, and I’m starting to get worried.”

Akira: “It doesn’t seem like he’s out on a mission or anything, so I was hoping to see him show up today…”

Mitile: “Ah, I thought so! I’ve been worrying about it too.”

Mitile: “I’ve been up to his room a few times now, but he clearly hasn’t been there for ages… I was wondering if something might have happened.”

Mitile: “…He gave me some advice on my magic I forgot to thank him for the other day, so I was hoping to see him soon…”

Akira: (Diligently wanting to convey how he feels even though the moment has already passed… That’s really nice of you, Mitile.)

Mitile: “At first I thought maybe he’d sneezed himself somewhere far away again. But there’s no way he could’ve gone that far, right…”

Mitile: “What about you, Mister Rustica? Have you seen Mister Bradley around lately?”

Rustica: “No… I haven’t, regrettably.”

Rustica: “How about you, Mithra? Have you come face to face with Bradley recently?”

Mithra: “Now that you mention it, no, I have not. His presence has been gone from the manor for some time now.”

Akira: “So it’s true, huh…”

Akira: (I know that Bradley’s a powerful wizard, but still… I can’t help worrying when it’s been this long since anyone last heard from him.)

Akira: (There has to be some way we can find him, right…? Maybe I should ask Snow and everyone else for advice.)

Suddenly, a sweet and gentle scent tickled at my nose.

When I lifted my downtrodden gaze, Nero was there offering me a gently-steaming cup.

Nero: “Here, Sage. Why don’tcha drink this hot milk and take a breather for a while, yeah?”

Akira: “Nero…! Thank you…”

Nero: “Don’t mention it.”

Nero: “Uh, y’know… I’m sure that guy you were talking about just now is doing fine. He ain’t the sorta person who kicks the bucket that easily.”

Nero: “Could be worse, yeah? At least this time we can say he probably ain’t boiling to death in a pit of magma, or something like that.”

Nero glanced furtively over at Mithra as he spoke.

Then placed the plate of freshly-cooked meat in his other hand down in front of Mithra.

Mithra: “Oh, has something like that happened before? Whoever you are talking about must be having a hard time too, hm.”

Talking as if it had nothing to do with him, Mithra swiftly devoured his food. Somehow, despite his haphazard way of eating, he still managed to look like he’d be perfect for a picture.

Mitile: “Jeez…! It’s your fault that Mister Bradley is missing, isn’t it, Mister Mithra?”

Mitile: “He probably crashed through one of your doors in space while you were fighting a magical beast or something!”

Rustica: “Is that so? As expected of someone like you, Mithra. Always so magnificent.”

Mithra: “Is that so, indeed. I must say, I do not remember anything of the like occurring recently.”

Akira: (He really has no idea, huh…)

Nero: “…I understand why y’might be worried, and y’don’t have to try and force yourself to put it outta your mind or anything like that, but…”

Nero: “Y’gotta at least have something warm to drink to take the edge off once in a while, or you’ll end up wearing yourself out.”

Mitile: “That’s right… You’re always thinking about other people first, Master Sage.”

Mitile: “And anyway, Mister Bradley has always been fine no matter where he’s sneezed himself off to before. I’m sure he’ll come home unhurt this time too!”

Akira: “Nero… Mitile…”

Akira: “You’re right. This is Bradley we’re talking about, he’s probably doing just fine!”

As I spoke, I could feel some of my worry disappearing. Just as I thought about taking a seat to drink the hot milk I had in my hand—

Rustica: “If you’re looking for a distraction, Master Sage, why don’t you take a seat beside me?”

Smiling, Rustica pulled out the chair next to him. When I sat down there gratefully, his smile widened.

Rustica: “Oh, our kind and gentle Master Sage. I can only wonder how much distress and anxiety you must be carrying within your heart for our friend who has yet to return home.”

Rustica: “I hope this gift will help to clear away some of those clouds within you.”

Rustica: “«Amorest Viesse».”

After Rustica recited his spell, a small box appeared in my hand with a twinkle of light.

Inside the box were some beautiful looking truffle chocolates.

They were a gorgeous dark brown colour, adorned with something like pink topaz sculpted into the shape of a snowflake — or a magnificently blooming six-petalled flower.

Akira: “Wow…! This chocolate is so stylish!”

Mitile: “You’re right! They seem more like gemstones in a treasure chest than chocolate. I’d want to put them on display somewhere just so I could look at them all the time.”

Nero: “Hold on, there ain’t no way…”

Nero: “Issat Benedetta fruit?”

Rustica: “As expected of someone like you, Nero. You must already know all about the ‘fruit from the Tree of Victory’.”

Rustica: “Unfortunately, however, this is nothing more than an imitation — merely chocolate that resembles the fruit’s appearance.”

Rustica: “Please, forgive me for being unable to truly satisfy you.”

Nero: “Nah, it’s my bad for getting all flustered like that.”

Nero: “I was just thinking there’s no way an actual, real-life Benedetta fruit could be here with us right now, y’know?”

Mitile: “…Um, are Benedetta fruits really that rare? I’ve never heard about them before…”

Mitile: “That thing Mister Rustica said about them being from a ‘Tree of Victory’ is kind of cool, too…!”

Mitile: “Does eating the fruit make you stronger, maybe?”

Nero: “Haha… It ain’t anything as cool as that, sorry. It’s just some fruit off a tree.”

Rustica: “The nickname ‘fruit from the Tree of Victory’ comes from the guardian who once protected the Benedetta tree.”

Akira: “Eh? There’s a tree out there lucky enough to have its own guardian?”

Nero: “Yeah. If I’m remembering right, some kinda monster made the area around that tree its territory a long time ago. The sap it gives off is its favourite food.”

Nero: “Even if y’happen to run into some just laying on the ground, y’can’t try picking ‘em up ‘cause you’ll just end up getting attacked.”

Nero: “Besides, the Benedetta tree is a real rare species. It only grows up in Northern Country, so it ain’t exactly easy to find.”

Rustica: “Which is precisely why both the taste of the fruit and the process of acquiring it have so stubbornly remained in the minds of all that have tried.”

Rustica: “And so the nickname gradually spread. The fruit of the Tree of Victory, which only those who have defeated a terrifying monster may eat… You see.”

Mithra: “…Nom. Hmm. It appears to be nothing more than some sickly-sweet confectionary, however.”

Mitile: “Ahh, Mister Mithra! That wasn’t the fruit, it was chocolate…!”

Rustica: “Ahaha. I think it’s about time we all have an after-meal dessert too, hm?”

Rustica: “We’re all waiting eagerly for Bradley to return. So long as we keep our conversation going, the time between now and then will surely fly by.”

Akira: “You’re right…! Thank you, Rustica. I’ll eat this together with the milk Nero gave me.”

Indulging in the warmth of both Rustica and Nero’s care, I carefully picked up one of the glossy, shining chocolates. Right as I was about to bite into it, though…

Figaro (offscreen): “—Therefore, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

Snow (offscreen): “You’re such a meanie, Figgypoo! Ozzy is already out on a subjugation mission, there’s no one else left I can turn to!”

Mitile: “Those voices… Is that Doctor Figaro and Lord Snow?”

Nero: “Sounds like they’re having some kinda spat.”

The two of them were clearly arguing as they walked into the dining room together. It seemed as if Snow had something he needed from Figaro.

Akira: “Good morning, you two. Is something going on?”

Snow: “Ah, Sage. You, at least, will listen to me, yes?”

Snow held a piece of paper out towards me.

Snow: “‘Tis a subjugation request. According to this, there is a monster rampaging among the snowfields further north than the City of Ice.”

Snow: “Its appearance is that of a gigantic snake, and its power is of considerable concern — or so I have heard. As such, the plan was for us Northern wizards to deal with the matter.”

Snow: “But, alas, I have seen neither hide nor hair from Bradley as of late. And so I am asking Figaro to fill in for him in his absence.”

Mithra: “So that is how it is, hm. Well, good luck with all of that, substitute Bradley.”

Figaro: “Hold on a sec, I haven’t agreed to anything yet — and you’ll be the key player there, Mithra, not me.”

Mitile: “Um… But, even without Mister Bradley there, Mister Mithra and Mister Owen are both incredibly strong, right?”

Mitile: “Even a horrible monster like that is no match for them combined.”

Mitile: “So why bring Doctor Figaro along at all? …He’s only a Southern wizard, isn’t he?”

Snow: “Ah, well, both Mithy and Wenny are terribly naughty children, you see.”

Snow: “If either of them were to realise someone who should be working isn’t, they would claim the circumstances to be unfair and vanish on us as well…”

Snow: “Even if we could get them to stay, ‘twould only be a matter of time until they decide to waste their energy fighting each other instead, neglecting the monster they were supposed to be dealing with in the first place. The fallout of such an event would almost certainly impact the City of Ice, too.”

Snow: “‘Tis situations such as those where having your dear Doctor around would be wonderfully beneficial to us, considering his social aptitude. Simply speaking: we want to take it easy!”

Figaro: “…So that’s how I ended up getting asked to help out, kind of. You’re really putting poor Doctor Figaro on the spot like this.”

Mithra: “You know, I suddenly find myself feeling as if I do not particularly want to go after all.”

Mitile: “I–I see…? So in other words, um… You’ll be supporting Misters Snow and White?”

Snow: “Yes, exactly! Normally we rely on dear Braddykins for that sort of thing, as he’s usually rather good at it.”

Snow: “Good grief. Where in the world could that boy have possibly disappeared off to for so long? I shall have Oz search for him when he returns, I think.”

At that moment, a sound suddenly reverberated through the dining room.

Rustica: “Oh? It sounds as though there’s someone knocking on the windowpane.”

Mitile: “Did something hit the window, maybe…? …I’ll go take a look.”

Mitile: “...This is…”

When Mitile turned around, what he had in his hand was a small cork, like the kind used to seal bottles of alcohol.

[popsicle-parfait]

Spontaneous Pierro Headcannons!

Theme: Pierro with a Snezhnayan Reader!

CW: Mentions of guns, mentions of violence, a little suggestive(?)

Requested?: Nope!

A/n: I'm spoiling y'all again, this is longer than the last one I made so be a little patient! I don't think this one is as bad as the first so I can't exactly tag anything as yandere but there's definitely a partners in crime kind of feel to this one.

You were on a mission given to you by your superior who requested you eliminate a Fatui Harbinger of all things.

You declined at first, telling your boss that you’d need sufficient funds and supplies to cover the losses during the mission, and your superior agreed.

This was going to be tough, you couldn’t be merciless and fast like in your other missions. You had to be careful and particular with the way you worked this time. This calls for learning your opponents habits.

You had watched him for about a week before you could figure out his name, everyone else kept calling him "The Jester" until a loud and bold harbinger called Tartaglia addressed him with vigor.

You knew the man wasn’t someone who acted chaotic unlike his fellow harbingers, he took time and consideration into his plans and worked efficiently. While the average person played darts, he played Snezhnayan-Roulette.

It was sort of..appealing, you guess to see his work ethic; Some might even say attractive, but you don’t have time for romance anyways.

Although you do have to admit, him commanding his underlings and taking charge during scrimmages with Treasure Hoarders who didn't know any better was a bit fascinating to watch. 

One day however, the two of you were out in the snowy forest, it seems like your target was tracking someone with valuable goods, much like you. What you didn’t expect however, was the small fox that came by to sniff your snow boots.

Despite your cold heart you just couldn’t resist petting the small creature, unaware of a pair of eyes watching you. 

Pierro knew who you were, he hadn't made it obvious but he knew you were there watching his every move.

He knew you were there to make an attempt on him, it wouldn’t be the first time; but he kept you around for a reason. He found you interesting.

At first, when his informants gave him the run down on you he thought he could recruit you for his own, but as you spent more time around him he learned of the little habits you had.

For instance during a mock battle with Pantalone the dust from the arena flew up into the air, causing a dirt wave that had wafted in your direction; you sneezed and even though it was quiet he found it a bit endearing. 

He couldn’t help but notice how your eyes would drift every now and again to a local rodent jumping in the snow.

But what tipped the bucket was when he heard your footsteps stop behind him, only to see you petting a small fox while in a dazed state. He couldn’t help but speak up; “Ah, how interesting.”

Your head shot up quickly as your eyes narrowed in defense before you sprung in action and pulled out your vision powered gun. You, being abrasive, pulled the first shot only for Pierro to dodge to the left and move forward.

A brawl had begun with you on the defensive and Pierro on the offensive, trying to keep him as far as possible so you could take your shot. You had taken a moment to reload only to find the man gone and a weight pounding onto your back.

You had fallen forward with Pierro putting his body weight onto your back into the harsh cold; You had been caught. You were ashamed to admit that you slacked off on an important job, but you wouldn’t admit that to anyone; you wouldn’t allow it.

After all those tries to get rid of a thorn in your superiors side you had failed, and all because you couldn’t keep your eyes off a simple creature. However, when he turned you around and pulled down your scarf, that’s when real embarrassment came, as you felt exposed to your enemy.

A small blush faintly appeared on your face and despite how hidden it seemed Pierro still caught it anyways. He had teased you at that moment, and in a fit of annoyance you answered back with a slight stutter; This was the start of your relationship.

He loved you. He loved your cold hearted nature, your will to complete any task given, and your skilled hands handling any weapon used on your foes. You didn’t tell your superior the details of what happened that day, as of now nobody knows the two of you are in a romantic relationship.

However, when the doors are closed you two collide in a storm of touches and kisses like no other. It felt comforting that despite the tasks the world asks of you two there’s still room for peace and retirement. 

You two couldn't always be together but when you were there would be little moments like sharing a weapon or confiding in the warmth of each other’s body heat. Every now and again you’d catch Pierro taking one of your rings for himself and when someone asks, he just replies that it was taken from a recent debt collection. 

Sparring together was another pastime you two enjoyed, it allowed your skills to not only flourish but the tension of your relationship surely rose with it if you catch my drift. Bodies panting and the next thing you know hot steamy kisses are shared on the battlefield. 

When the days are over and all that’s left is enough energy to stand, the two of you lie in bed together and trace each other’s battle scars, waiting for a new day to start and the cycle to fall all over again. 

[moongothic]

Was there a part where oda said crocodile was like Luffy in personality? I thought that when oda compared them he was referring to how quickly crocodile gained his bounty like Luffy

Though I would love to see a parallel of crocodile and Luffy. Imagine how devastating his life must’ve been in order to make someone like Luffy become someone like crocodile

Correct you are, the only time Oda's pointed out a similarity between Luffy and Crocodile was during that one SBS (vol 78, page 86), about how the two rose to fame as pirates really fast

So we don't really know what Young Croc was actually like, all we can really do is analyze his behaviour and make some guesses. And yeah. The poor bastard's had it rough, clearly 🥲💔

Interestingly, jaded as he is, there are these little similarities between Crocodile and Luffy*, and based on the conversation the two had during their final battle, he does make it sound like he might've been a bit less bitter etc before all his hopes and dreams were crushed forever. Which does make it sound plausible Young Croc could've been similar to Luffy

*(Willingness to make deals and the lowkey expectation to have a promise honored, agreeing about stuff like casulties being unavoidable and that there's no such thing as fairness in a fight between pirates, etc) (But then there's also those dark reflections where you can see how the two are different, like how Luffy's horrified of being alone while Croc was seemingly happy to spend like 14+ years of his life by himself etc)

But while it's plausible, whether or not young Crocodile was similar to Luffy just ends up depending on what kind of circumstances he grew up in. Like although he was lonely at times and had to fight for it a bit, Luffy was generally speaking surrounded by people who loved him and cared for him. Luffy was accepted by those around him. Meanwhile, Baby Croc (and even his Seraphim) does seem like a bit of a sour puss. And... what can I even say. If he was raised in an uncaring environment and was surrounded by people who didn't accept him, or would humiliate and mock him endlessly, that would explain Baby Croc's seemingly serious demeanor. And considdering the high likelyhood of him being trans... yeah, I dunno, not doing gender correctly as a kid is one way to get bullied relentlessly and get completely alienated by everyone else.

(And that's just A Suggestion, there's about a dozen other possible things that could've happened to Croc that could cause a child to get alienated similarly) (And this is just to get him off to a bad start, then there's All The Shit That Could've Happened To Him As A Young Adult that would just reinforce all his trauma etc)

And if he's been essenitially alone ever since he was a kid... I do find it unlikely he was ever SUPER SIMILAR to Luffy as a young adult, let alone as a child (if anything I'd almost imagine him having been a bit more like Ace)... But at the same time, I do feel like even now, deep inside him there might still be the remnants of a happier person

You probably can't undo all the hurt he's gone through to turn him into an absolute ray of sunshine like Luffy. But I think one could maybe get him to relax a little bit or something

[nerves-nebula]

I’ve been rotating your TMNeglectedT AU in my brain and read all your posts about it so here’s a dogpile of thoughts and questions (you don’t have to answer/reply to all of them):

I don’t know if you’ve answered a question like this before but- do your versions of the turtles deal with the idea of “my parent was nice to me once so they can’t be that bad-“? Especially Donnie, i feel like Splinter could be polite to him (or just acknowledge him) once and then he’d be like “well now I’m horrible for thinking he’s bad because he’s been decent before-“

do you plan to make this into a story (whether a comic/fic/etc.) with a plot or just a world build in a way-? (Sorry if i don’t make any sense-)

Would you say that Mikey uses Maladaptive daydreaming to cope/has Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder? In which his daydreams can often take over whatever he’s doing to such a degree that it effects him negatively- 

I hate Splinter for being so shaped, like i love his design but i VIOLENTLY hate him

Raph being afraid to cry/not letting himself cry is so me- you mentioned in a reply to an ask that he doesn’t cry for really long periods of time which is 🤝(i definitely think i experienced some form of emotional neglect when younger- and reading about this universe is confirming that to me)

You’ve mentioned Donnie having experiences with grooming, this adds another layer of trauma to him- Would he ever experience flashbacks/triggers to his uncomfortable experiences? For example if someone grabbed his arm a certain way would he experience panic from previous situations. How would him and/or his brothers react to that? (him being triggered and how he reacts because of/during the flashback) at this point i kin your Donnie and I might be projecting

Donnie 🤝 Me (intrusive thoughts)

If i were to make fan art and post it how should I tag it? Or should i tag you in the post?

Thanks for reading this long ask and again you don’t have to answer/reply to everything!

gonna answer these in order

yes, this is actually the hardest for Leo to deal with, since he was treated the "nicest." nobody wants to think their parents suck (unless you've gone full in on it like Mikey haha) so it's a rough road for everyone. it's like, he COULD'VE BEEN SO GOOD.

I plan to do a bunch of one of comics, and I'd like to either make one big fic or a bunch of smaller fics in the same universe. but right now I really only have time for posting on tumblr, since I've already got to deal with college and my ongoing personal comic that updates once a week.

I'm a little bit confused about what specifically maladaptive daydreaming is/looks like. I've watched a few videos on it but am still not sure what its actually like, so i hesitate to say yes, but he definitely spends a lot of his time in his head, sometimes to the detriment of himself/his brothers.

I also hate splinter <3 he's so The Worst

yea i actually cry really easy (or i used to before T) so that's something based off my oldest sister, who straight up could not cry for years hah. trauma's a bitch.

I think all of the turtles experience frequent flashbacks/triggers. they're all pretty heavily traumatized, so it just makes sense. Donnie is probably embarrassed about how his flashbacks/ptsd symptoms make him seem more "twitchy" than his brothers. but they all have ptsd/cptsd. he's just the one who's the worst at hiding his symptoms. that being said, the ways the brothers react really depends on the specific situation. sometimes they'll mock him, sometimes they wont even realize whats happening.

you can tag your post however you want but I'll only see it if you tag me, which I advise you do, cause I like seeing fanart :)

[dreamsallalongthewatchtower]

CH. 4 Conflict of Interest

Summary: Jake realizes he might actually like Maya. Phoenix is none to pleased with this.

Notes: Cursing, Fighting, Mentions of Alcohol

Word count: 2.8k

Jake rolled over and reached for Maya only to grab pillows and some of the blanket. He laid there for a second remembering the events that transpired. Jake could still smell the warm vanilla scent from Maya on her pillows. Still in his underwear Jake got out of the bed and looked around for something to cover up with. On a chair he saw his clothes from the night before folded up with a note on top.  There are some sweatpants and some old T-shirts in the closet if you want to borrow some more comfortable clothes. Jake crossed the room and opened the closet door. A plethora of oversized clothes hung neatly organized by color and style. Jake grabbed a pair of black sweatpants and a green shirt that had another band logo on it. Peeking his head into the studio to see if maybe Maya had gone in there Jake found no one. Upstairs he heard some noise. The daggers were all probably raiding the kitchen for much needed hangover cures. Walking up the steps Jake couldn’t help but be thankful he hadn’t drunk too much last night. Thinking he could start to give everyone shit for their hangovers, Jake emerged ready to let loose. The only person he saw was Bob. “Hey Floyd, have you seen Maya?” Jake inquired. “Yeah, her and Natasha went out for some supplies. They should be back soon.” Bob answered. Jake sighed; he had hoped to see Maya in the morning. That was something that helped Jake determine a next step with girls was how they looked in the morning. He thought about Maya in just a t-shirt with messy hair and a voice as soft as her blankets. Getting lost in his thoughts, Jake hadn’t noticed Javy and Mickey escorting the girls they had been with, out the front door. It wasn’t until Javy placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder that made him snap back to reality. “So, bro where did you disappear to last night?” Javy asked. “Come on, when have you known me to share my secrets.” Jake joked, not wanting to reveal he was with Maya. “Looks like you got lucky though?” Jake asked. “Yeah, Twins, but I had to take one for the team. Mickey was the one who got lucky. My twin just wanted to cuddle.” Javy responded. Before Jake could inquire about Mickey the front door swung open, a tired Natasha walked in with a couple jugs of orange juice. Maya followed right behind her with a couple grocery bags in her hands.

“Good morning, everyone. I’ll be making some breakfast and we have the stuff for mimosas. Little hair of the dog for those who need it.” A cheerful Maya said walking into the kitchen. “Do you need any help?” Bob asked. “You know I think I got it, but if you want to help, I could use a good back popping, I think I slept on it wrong or something.” Maya said. Jake couldn’t help but smirk. Whether Maya was telling the truth or just covering up the real reason, he knew her back was hurting because of him. Bob walked over to Maya and had her cross her arms over her chest, embracing her from behind Bob picked up Maya and squeezed her. A couple pops rippled through Maya as a look of relief washed over her. “Thank you.” Maya said as she unpacked the rest of the groceries. As the last two woke up, Jake’s wish of getting Maya alone again wasn’t going to happen any time soon. He resided him at the counter across from Maya watching her cook. Natasha finished making a mimosa for everyone; their first drink of the day. “So, I have to go to work here in a little bit, until three. There is an extra car, the keys are hanging up by the door in the garage. Go get your things and I’ll meet you back here.” Maya said to Natasha. “Okay, is there anything we need that I can grab while we’re out?” Natasha asked “Uh! NO! Hello, are you still drunk? What did we just do?” Maya shouted. Natasha mocked her friend quietly and stuck her tongue out at her when she wasn’t looking. Jake couldn’t help but notice how the two women did act like siblings. After a while Jake drifted out to the back patio joining the men of the dagger squad. “I hope we get to go to a strip club soon, I have a wad of cash that is burning a hole in my pocket.” Javy threw out. “Javy you wouldn’t know what to do if a beautiful women came up to you asking for a dance.” Mickey joked. “Okay, here you go. Green chili, eggs, potatoes and bacon. There are also tortillas in the kitchen. I have to go get ready and head out.” Maya said making herself a small bowl of food. The daggers wasted no time getting their plates ready. “Mm! Who knew she could make chili. I might make her mine just on the promise of her cooking alone.” Rueben said. “I might have already beat you to it.” Jake said, thinking it would pass over. However, Natasha caught the remark. “What did you say?” she asked sharply looking at Jake. “Nothing.” Jake remarked. Tension started to build in the air. Jake finished his second plate and disappeared into the house. Even with Jake out of sight the energy coming from Natasha could not be ignored. While the rest of the daggers departed into the house to get ready Natasha stayed outside trying to plan what she was going to say to Jake. She knew once he had his sights set on someone it was hard to talk him out of it. However, this was Natasha’s best friend in the entire world. The person she could call to help her hide a body. There was no way Natasha was going to let Jake do what he was known for to her person. As the rest of the men came back outside, Bob, tried to talk Natasha down from the ledge he could see her ready to jump from. “Your friend looks like she could chew Jake and spit him out. Don’t fight him, let him make a fool out of himself.” Bob said. “It’s not that, I just don’t want him to have the chance to make a fool out of himself.” Natasha said. “Let’s just go to the hotel, pick up our things and cool off?” Bob suggested. “Okay, but I need to say something to him, so he knows to stay away from Maya.” Natasha finished. Bob just nodded his head and walked away from Natasha. Before long the daggers took the extra car left for them back to their hotel to grab their bags. To much of the relief of everyone Natasha was settled in the back of the SUV and Jake was the one driving. Pulling into the hotel, Jake was blissfully unaware of the chewing coming his way. As the daggers went to their rooms, Natasha followed Bob into the room he checked into with Jake.

As the others grabbed their bags they piled into Bob and Jake’s shared room. Natasha felt she needed to make it known to the whole group that they were to stay away from her friend. “Okay, I need to make you aware of some things.” Natasha started. “While she has been a ray of sunshine and a gracious host, Maya is not one to play with or fool around with. She has been through too much and needs someone who will stick around. Not a quick fling.” Natasha said looking exclusively at Jake. “Phoenix” Mickey started. “No! This is not up for discussion. She’s my friend and you’re my friends as well and I don’t want to be in the middle of it. I will always pick Maya over you guys, no offense.” She let out. “Calm down Nix, no one is going to make you pick.” Jake let out, still oblivious that Natasha was addressing only him. “Listen Bagman. Stay away from my friend. She is not your plaything while we’re out here.” Natasha retorted. “Well, that might be too late. We might have slept together last night. But I promise I’m not going to hu” Jake was cut off by Natasha lunging at him. The room erupted into chaos. Natasha on top of Hangman trying to land a blow, she was being pulled by Mickey, Rueben and Rooster. The three men held Natasha back and guided her to the window. “Natasha calm down okay, just calm down.” Rooster said. “Seresin, you end it now or I will do it for you!” Natasha shouted. “I don’t need this. Javy, will you grab my bags, I’m out of here. I’ll be on the strip; I’ll find my way back to the house.” Jake said as he exited the room. Walking out into the hot day, Jake couldn’t help but curse himself and the hot day. Walking to The House of Blues Jake didn’t know where Maya was but he figured he could start where he first met her and try to pry some information out of those who knew Maya. Walking into the club, Jake was one of three people in the place. With no server in sight Jake sat at the bar. To his luck the same bartender was working this morning. “Hi soldier. What can I get you?” Lola asked. “The number of Maya Atwell.” Jake replied flatly. “Still working on that one huh?” Lola said. “Yes and no. Her friend is a friend of mine, and we are staying at Judy’s place, and I just want to let her know we got separated. She went to work this morning and she didn’t say where.” Jake said half telling the truth. “Well if you’re out at Judy’s place then you actually know Maya. Let me write down her number for you. It’s Saturday so she is probably at The Mint Tavern.” Lola said as she wrote down ten digits. “Thank you so much Lola.” Jake left a ten on the bar for her. Leaving The House of Blues Jake hailed a cab and let the driver know to drive to the tavern where Maya worked.

The short ride to the tavern gave Jake enough time to wonder what Natasha meant by Maya has been through a lot. As he paid the cab driver, Jake was still wondering what Maya had been through. Walking into the nearly empty tavern, Jake couldn’t immediately see Maya. He once again settled at the bar. Waiting for a bartender Jake was starting to lose hope that he was in the wrong place. An older lady came out of a door with Maya following behind her. Both were carrying cases of wine. Jake knew Maya hadn’t seen him yet, so he cleared his throat. Both women looked at Jake. The older lady said something to Maya and disappeared behind the door. Maya walked over to Jake. “I thought you were supposed to be at the house or hotel?” Maya said. “Yeah, well I needed to get away from those guys. You never gave me your number, so I had to track you down. Your friend Lola gave it to me.” Jake let out waiving a napkin around. Maya let out a chuckle. “Well, I have to help set up our new part of the bar if you want to help, or I could have Joan make sure your glass is never empty” Maya suggested. “I’ll just sit here for a few. I have a few things I need to mull over.” Jake answered. Maya nodded and walked away. Joan came out and studied Jake before she asked him for his drink order. “I’ll take a long island iced tea.” Jake answered. Joan whipped up Jake his drink and went back to help her counterpart. Waiting for Maya to get off work Jake had a total of four long island iced teas. A little tipsy Jake knew he had to ask Maya about her past. Saying goodbye to her friend, Maya headed in Jake’s direction. “Okay Ken doll you ready to go back to the house and get ready for a concert?” Maya asked. “Yeah, let’s go before I get too drunk.” Jake said. Walking to her car Maya could help but ask why Jake was on his own. “Phoenix yelled at me for getting involved with you and I left because three of the boys held her back and I didn’t want to be around the rest because I didn’t want to answer their questions.” Jake said. “Oh, I see. Well, you have to understand Natasha is like my big sister. You have to take what she says with a grain of salt. Don’t let it get you down fly boy.” Maya stated. “What else did Natasha have to say?” Maya asked. “That you have been through a lot and you need someone who will be around. What have you been through Maya? I know about your ex, kind of. But she made it sound like your life has been nothing but tragedy.” Jake uttered. Taking a second to unlock her car and getting into the driver’s side Maya knew this would come up. Jake slipped in the passenger side waiting for an answer. “First off, she has no right to tell you guys that and second, I have had a lot happen to me and some people might chalk it up to be tragedy, but it made me who I am, so I like to think of it as character development.” Maya answered. Her reply was enough for Jake. Pulling out of her parking spot Maya turned her radio to a classic rock station. The ride to the house was filled with Jake and Maya singing along to Aerosmith, Guns n Roses, and Journey. As the two walked into the house they didn’t think about what was waiting for them. A silence fell over the house when Jake and Maya walked in.

Studying their faces Maya noticed one was missing. “Where’s Natasha?” Maya asked. “Right here, we need to talk.” Natasha said, grabbing her friend by the arm. Walking to Natasha’s room Maya couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she was being dragged. Sitting on an unmade bed Maya braced herself for the lecture she was about to receive. After Natasha shut the door, she sat across from her friend. “What the hell are you thinking?” Natasha asked. “What do you mean?” Maya said coyly. “You know what I mean. You and Jake? I mean he’s not a bad guy, but he’s not made for long term relationships. Do you really want to get hurt again? Because I can guarantee Jake will hurt you.” Natasha let out. “Nat, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself, besides who said I was looking for a serious relationship?” Maya responded. “Maya, I know you, you don’t do flings, but if you say you can take care of yourself than who am I to say anything. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Natasha finished. The women exited the bedroom. “Okay!” Maya shouted. “Let’s get ready and head over to The Chelsea for Florida Georgia Line!” The daggers jumped up and went to their respective rooms to get their best looks together. Maya and Natasha got ready in the basement together. “What are you wearing?” Maya inquired. “I have this cute crop top and a jean skirt, or I have these jeans I could wear with my cowgirl boots.” Natasha said unsure. Two women looked over the outfits. “I think you should wear your jeans, but I have some shirts you can go through.” Maya suggested as she pulled back her hair. “What are you going to wear?” Natasha asked. “Ripped jeans, my black boots, a grey t-shirt and a flannel.” Maya said. “Wow, you are so sure of you outfit.” Natasha replied. “No, actually I had to try some on and get approval from their manager, this was the most suitable.” Maya said. After deciding on what to wear and pack with them the two women made their way upstairs. All of the men looked very handsome. Maya made them aware of this by whistling. Instantly they all smiled and blushed. Maya, who looked like she was in the middle of getting ready, had a couple backpacks in her hands. It was now four o’clock. Sound check was in 45 minutes. “Okay, let’s get into the SUV and head over there for soundcheck. Who has the keys?” said Maya leading everyone outside. Rooster shook the keys already getting into the driver’s seat. As the last person got into the vehicle Rooster started his drive to the venue.

[creative-time]

A proper fair well

Well… here we are, I’m actually leaving

I just want to be clear, I love dhmis. The original series, and the pilot, will always have a special place in my heart. I’m still a fan, just not so much of a fan that I would spend like 75% of my life dedicated to a tumblr blog about it anymore.

Maybe it’s just burnout, or the fact that I was so disappointed in the tv series that it finally broke me, or the fact that I started this blog when I was 14 at the beginning of 2016.

I started running this blog when I was 14, and I’m 21 now. For nearly 7 years now. We had some good laughs, I met some people that would change my life, for better or worse. And I could have never imagined that I would gather so many people together like this.

And I really hate to sound ungrateful, but, it still kinda makes me a little sad when people say I’m the dhmis news guy, because this blog was always supposed to be more than that. It was supposed to be ALL of the dhmis fandom. All the art, all the memes, all the conversations. This blog was about you guys! The people who made this fandom even possible! The people who built it from nothing, for everyone now to enjoy. I loved sharing news, but I loved sharing your, and my, creations even more…

I guess being considered the “dhmis news guy” just kinda made me think that I was easily replaceable in the fandom, like… if one day I stopped, someone else would just fill the hole that I was in super easily and no one would really notice I was gone.

I think a lot of people forget that… I’m a person… Creative-Time IS a person… I was a person this whole time… making sure this blog didn’t turn to dust and constantly being ridiculed, mocked, or straight up harassed and sent death threats to the point were I would sometimes cry myself to sleep. But I realized that all that just wasn’t worth the energy, this wasn’t worth the energy.

There’s probably so much more I could say here… I just wouldn’t know where to start. And maybe I’m saying all this super wrong and someone is gonna look through it with a fine-tooth comb and tell everyone that I hate them and tell everyone I’m a horrible person, which perhaps I deserve.

I would like to thank all the people that have actually tried to get to know me, I’m sure you know who you are. You all made running this blog a little bit more happier for me, and I hope you all are happy too, even if we never cross paths again.

I think the only thing that could ever get me back into the fandom and this blog is if there is more dhmis that is actually good, or the pilot get released in HD in some shape or form. Other than that, I think I’m done here…

I won’t be deleting this blog, but I would request no new followers or dms unless it’s the pilot in full hd.

If anyone really wants to ask any follow up questions, please send them to the ask box on my main @cosmicxd but I would like to remind you all, I’m an adult, my friends and mutuals are adults, so if your under the age of 18 I would suggest not following my main because me and my friends are… UNHINGED and we have a whopping ZERO filters. I really don’t want to block any of you but if I know you are a minor and you follow my main anyway, I will not hesitate to block you, so just don’t. thanks I’m advance.

Now, a few things that I should wrap up in a bow.

Here’s what might be the final piece of artwork I do for TeVi and Purple Girl, I will try to make a series to put them in in the future but I want to work on another original series right now so it might not be for a while. So there are not really consider dhmis ocs anymore I guess. Just puppet ocs now

Also, a final update for Mini Mean Steve: Finally found some model magic and Mod Podge glad to say he is finally complete! He will be my most treasured possessions

Thank you for reading all the way through this, and for one final thing

Here a sketch of me kissing icehell Tony and Paige. (Because if im going out, I’m going out with a hell-freezing, earth-shattering BANG!!!)

Thank you all once again, and I’ll see you on the flip side!

-Creative Time