#and today was the confrontation and i told him things from my view

[norrisainz33]

the call pt4 || gr63 & platonic grid

☆ summary: y/n finishes out the season and gets some big news

☆ pairing: driver!reader x george russell

☆ fc & warnings: suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

drivergirly posted to their story 🔒

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muppet4: now imma hold your hand when i say this…. none of us care how hungover you are. we need other details

drivergirly: well thats rude... don't even care about my wellbeing?

muppet4: don't put words in my mouth! i care i just care more about what happened with a certain british driver whos name rhymes with peorge mussell

drivergirly: call me 😔

yourbffpriv: oh! so you'll post this but not answer your whatsapp?

drivergirly: pls bestie this morning was a whirlwind! we left the hotel and essentially ran to the airport bc we have to be in qatar asap

yourbffpriv: blah blah blah call me now

sirlancelot: drinking isnt the only thing you did in vegas it seems

drivergirly: LANCE .. you right tho 🤭

sirlancelot: gross

sirlancelot: but it’s about time. you two have liked each other for too long

drivergirly: wait you knew he liked me?

sirlancelot: ………. not until recently

drivergirly: lance???????? what????

sirlancelot: he confronted me not long after i was caught coming out of your drivers room and went off all crazy and george like. he was going a mile a minute abt how he hopes i treat you right and that he hopes i actually like you for you bc ur so great and blah blah blah and i had to stop him and tell him you and i are just friends and that you may as well be my sister and then he got super embarrassed and told me he liked you

drivergirly: omg i can’t believe you didn’t tell me this ??? FAKE

sirlancelot: i promised him i wouldn’t and you know im a man of my word

drivergirly: ugh true

faxmewtrell: what happens in vegas doesnt stay in vegas y/n/n

drivergirly: clearly.... thanks for the reminder maxie!

kikakiks: i am offended that i found out through gossip pages and not from you?!?!?!!?!?!?!!?

drivergirly: im offended that the gossip pages got all those pictures that quickly BUT i was going to tell you at dinner tonight!!!

kikakikas: they’re shockingly quick! i’ll be on the edge of my seat till dinner

grussellsprout: hopefully the drinking is the only thing you regret about last night....

drivergirly: george i've wanted that to happen for years. i regret nothing

grussellsprout: i’m glad because i don’t either. in fact id love for it to happen more

drivergirly: me too

gaslyyyyyy: spill the tea NOW

drivergirly: ill spill over dinner in qatar tonight with you and kika dw

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, lance_stroll, landonorris, alpinef1team, carlossainz55, and 543,294 others

ynuser: tough luck but at least i looked good doing it. on to abu dhabi!

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alpinef1team: we keep pushing 💪🏻

user2: if y’all don’t announce her as a driver for next season im gonna sue

user4: where is the announcement!!!

user5: hottest person on the grid hands down

georgerussell63: abu dhabi will be good to you 🙌🏻

ynuser: oh i hope so!

user62: 👀 we alll saw that f1gossip post

user12: turn 1 incident wasn’t your fault y/n/n

pierregasly: yassss marina here we come

ynuser: let’s go girls 👏🏻

user19: brutal race but i know you are so much better than that!

user22: we love you y/n/n!

✿

“thanks for meeting with us today, y/n.” your team principal said sitting back in his chair. the room was filled with your entire engineering team, your manager, and just about every alpine pr employee that they had. when oakes had called this meeting you knew it could be about one of two things - either how they were going to drop you before you could step foot in the car in abu dhabi or they had a contract for you to most likely be someone’s reserve driver and as much as you wanted to believe it was the later… you felt is was more likely you were getting dropped with nothing to fall back on.

“of course! happy to.” you forced out with a smile.

“relax y/n.” oakes said gently, “i’ve got some good news for you. we’ve decided we’d like you to race for us in 2025.” he handed your manager a stack of papers that you could only assume was the contract, “i trust you will review our offer in detail but we would really like to keep you around, y/n. we as a team think there is a lot of potential to fight for podiums and points with you as our second driver alongside pierre.”

“we’ll carefully review your offer and get back to you within the day.” your manager said calmly. though you already knew as long as there wasn’t anything insane in that contract that you’d be accepting everything they had to offer.

you left the alpine hospitality feeling invigorated and on top of the world, you whipped out your phone and texted the first person you wanted to share your joy with - george.

✿

✿

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, and 12,836 others

f1gossip: based off these story posts from y/n (left) and george (right) … one might think the pair are on a date in abu dhabi. this comes after they sparked dating rumors following the vegas gp where celebrations seemed to take an intimate turn for the duo.

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user3: oh yeah this is a date

user4: sorry for the confusion guys she was actually on a date with me

user12: step aside george.. i got this 🫷😔🫸

user1: maybe they’re just good friends guys pls let’s not be weird

user3: user1 did you not see the video of them making out on the dance floor 😂

user1: well…….. no

user18: am i the only one who didn’t want her to end up w another driver

user2: yes

user4: uhhh yup

user19: i want both! oh wait sorry what was the question

user29: george! you have been promoted!

ynuser has made a post

liked by pierregasly, f1, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, landonorris, alex_albon, and 789,355 others

ynuser: elated to announce that i’ll be driving for alpine in 2025! dreams continue to come true and i am forever grateful for these opportunities. looking forward to seeing you in australia 🩷🥹

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user1: my shayla!!!!!

lance_stroll: incredible news! looking forward to racing with you more 🤍

ynuser: looking forward to it as well. see you on the slopes soon my friend 🫶🏻

user3: best news eVER. made my entire day

pierregasly: here’s to an entire season full of late night snack runs, laughing so hard you pee your pants (again), play dates with simba, opportunities to steal my gf and many more points. je t'aime mon ami 🩷

ynuser: i’m crying no one look at me

yukitsunoda0511: replacing me pierre?

francisca.cgomes: i shed a tear im ngl

user4: the best friendship in all of sports. imma need alpine to not mess this up

landonorris: looking forward to more battles on track my muppet

ynuser: more battles on and off track like in padel

user24: it’s not lost on me how much every driver loves y/n

georgerussell63: forever proud to race alongside you gorgeous

ynuser: likewise

user63: GORGEOUS???? are yall clocking this??

user22: oh my god

user18: feeling very very parasocial about this

✿

george let out a boisterous laugh as the snow gently tapped against the window of your chalet. with your legs draped across his and his hand gently resting on your knee, you couldn’t help but smile. it had become a yearly tradition for you, george, lance, lando and max f to go skiing at the end of the season and this year, pierre and kika were joining. for the first time in a long time - everything just felt right.

"last time we were here i was still in f2," you recalled and that last time felt like a eternity ago even though it had only been 12 quick months.

"a lot has changed," george replied, tracing his finger around your knee causing a shiver to go up your spine.

"just about everything has. i mean i'm an f1 driver with a full blown seat and well... us.."

george smirked looking up at you, "us?"

you rolled your eyes, "yes. i mean we aren't exactly just friends anymore unless of course thats what you think we are."

"no y/n - i don't think we are just friends anymore." george grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. "in fact, i've been meaning to ask you something." he brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and said, "do you want to make things official?"

your heart skipped a beat, "yes." and without another word, you kissed him.

✿

ynuser has made a post

[tagged: georgerussell63, lance_stroll, landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourbff, francisca.cgomes and pierregasly]

liked by yourbff, landonorris, alpinef1team, ruben_diaz, erlinghaaland, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 984,139 others

ynuser: winter break tradition lives on 🎿 🤍

p.s. pls don’t tell 8 year old me that she’s dating her biggest opp (that big headed diva in the last 2 slides)

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user2: oh my god

user1: big headed diva i’m screaming

landonorris: i can confirm 8 year old you did try to bribe me into bullying george off the track tho 9 year old you was asking me to ask him if he had a crush on you so……

lance_stroll: 10 year old y/n was asking me to ask george the same thing

maxfewtrell: i think 11 year old y/n was the one who paid me twenty quid to ask george out for her

alex_albon: don’t worry 17 year old george was asking me if i thought y/n liked him

lewishamilton: can confirm george from a couple months ago was also asking people if they thought y/n liked him

ynuser: i might have to block all of you

georgerussell63: whelp this is embarrassing

user33: i stood up and applauded in my living room

georgerussell63: my girl 🤩❤️

ynuser: my man 😘

alpinef1team: glad to see you enjoying break 🩷

iamrebeccad: pretty girl

user43: my roman empire

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: it took me an eternity to finish this final part. i hope you all enjoy!! likes and reblogs appreciated as always 🤍

tag list from first 3 parts: @yawn-zi @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @divagreymare @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ferakillia @stressed-cherry @sassyangel16 @mxdi0 @awritingtree @danielricciardoslut3 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @seasonswinter @rawr-123s-stuff @grussellsprout @belncaldern @ellelabelle @tall-tanned-tattoo @chelseyyouraverageluigi @tellybearryyyy @wosof1 @poppysrin @lanadetails @freyathehuntress @evie-119

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[mimimui]

hellooo i saw your 'genshin men asking for a kiss' and i loved it sm your writing is amazing <333

can i request relationship headcanons for the genshin men. specifically alhaitham but idm who else you add

stay cool and have a good day/night :)

genshin boys as your boyfriend

includes: alhaitham, scaramouche, kazuha, diluc, kaeya, childe, xiao

tags: established relationship, endearments, fluff, not proofread, non-mortal/adeptus reader in xiao's

a/n: thank you so much ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡ aaaah i am back after being mia..! the writers block is beating me up so hard rn + its 3am :') i wrote each part in different time frames so the writing might seem inconsistent aghuahgu i hope its still ok :( anyways, as always .. enjoy !

ALHAITHAM

he asked you to be his s/o while you were playing tcg together. you were in the middle of your turn when he asked you, and it'd be an understatement to say you were shocked.

(y/n): i'll use this support ca- alhaitham: will you be my s/o? (y/n): what? (shocked) alhaitham: what? (questioning)

while alhaitham is a bit aloof, he does loves teasing you. he would hide your things and help you look for the lost item like he doesn't know where it is.

when you're eating outside, he would step on your feet under the table. you can confront him about it all you want, but he will keep acting innocent.

if he's standing behind you, be wary because he might just throw his coat over your head as a joke, and then act like he did nothing.

alhaitham: do you want help putting on my coat? (y/n): seriously, haitham? alhaitham: yes? i'm seriously asking if you want my help.

when it comes to cooking, he'd leave you to do it. alhaitham would rather look forward to a meal you cook rather than a meal he helped make.

dinners are usually quiet, but if you want to tell him about the person that skipped in front of you in line today, then he's all ears.

the first time he told you he loved you, you were giving him a gift. you were smiling so brightly when giving it to him that he didn't know whether to be thankful for the gift or for you.

or at least you think that was the first time he said he loved you.

it was actually when you were asleep the first time you slept over. a very meaningful "i love you" was whispered softly in your ear.

SCARAMOUCHE

he brought you somewhere with a nice view. he grabbed your hand without warning, and when you asked him where he was taking you, he said, "no need to be nervous, just want you to see something."

(y/n): thank you for bringing me here, scara. scaramouche: you're my s/o, there is no need to thank me. (y/n): i'm your s/o...? scaramouche: are you not informed about that or what?

it turns out that scaramouche planned to ask you a long time ago, and from the amount of times he's rehearsed in his head, his mind convinced him that he already asked you.

you laughed at him when you witnessed the moment he realized he forgot to actually ask you. he huffed at your reaction.

he acts annoyed whenever you ask to try on his hat, but his actions contradict his words as he places it on your head.

scaramouche: there are a lot of places where you can get hats, i don't even know (places hat on your head) why you want mine. (y/n): :D scaramouche: if it falls, i'll laugh at you. (y/n): >:(

scaramouche would make you food if you ask him to. he's glad to do it, but he wouldn't want you to thank him. he thinks thanking him for things he's happy to do is a waste of effort.

it's somewhat his unspoken rule to never leave you alone at the table. even if he doesn't join you for the meal, he'd sit down just to accompany you while you eat.

he denied it when you heard him tell you he loved you. the three words escaped his lips when you were busy picking fruits together. or, rather, you were the one picking fruits while he holds them.

you asked him to repeat what he said, but he was quick to reply with "it'd be a waste of effort to repeat what i said."

but he knows. and you know. you both know he loves you.

KAZUHA

while he was out on sea, he wrote you a letter asking you to be his. along with all the other letters he wrote you, he made sure this was was sent out especially.

(y/n): welcome back, kazuha! about your letter... kazuha: yes, what about it? (y/n): my answer is yes. kazuha: i'm glad. thank you, (y/n).

he loves taking you out on adventures. even when he doesn't have a certain goal in mind for the day, kazuha will always find an excuse to bring you along with him.

you will always find him surrounding himself in nature. thanks to his extraordinary sense of hearing, he enjoys being outside even more. the world has a lot to offer.

one day, you ask him what his favorite sound of nature is. immediately, without fail, his reply is 'your voice', which you're flustered by.

(y/n): that doesn't even make any sense... i asked about your favorite sound of nature. kazuha: the world is full of nature, correct? (y/n): your point being? kazuha: you're my favorite sound of nature because you are my world, (y/n).

you both take turns cooking, always excited to try each other's new recipes. it's become sort of a competition of who can suprise the other one more.

his reaction is the cutest when you compliment his dish. if you're happily chewing the food he fed you, watch out because his hands will pinch your cheeks.

you two were hanging out one night, and you asked him to create a poem for you on the spot. he liked the idea, and immediately got to it.

without any hesitation, without thinking twice about it, he ended his poem with a very sweet "i love you."

when you stayed silent afterwards, kazuha got nervous. but his nervous expression soon washed away when you wrapped your arms around him, complimenting his impromptu-poem-writing abilities.

DILUC

he was closing up the tavern for the day, and you two were the only one there after work hours. he decided to take his chances and ask you right then and there.

diluc: can you pass me the wash cloth? (y/n): sure! diluc: can you fix the chairs? (y/n): sure! diluc: can you be mine? (y/n): sur- wait.

he's never said it outloud, but diluc actually enjoys having senseless conversations with you. just last night you told him he reminded you of an owl, which he found amusing, and he asked you to explain why.

whenever diluc takes shifts at the tavern, you'd be somewhere around helping clean tables or wash dishes. he has enough staff at angel's share, but he appreciates your assistance nonetheless.

if you know how to play chess, he would regularly ask you to play against him. he thinks it's a great game to play while also being able to converse with others. he loves talking to you.

(y/n): the main character realized—check—his feelings too late, and lost the love of his life to someone else. it's sad. diluc: what happened—oh, good move—to the main character after that? (y/n): he was never able to express his true feelings to her. he should've taken the chance. diluc: hm.. i agree. he was too coward when he had the opportunity. and checkmate, by the way. (y/n): wh- hey! i didn't see that move! diluc: better luck next time, my dear.

when you offer to cook dinner for him instead of the maids, diluc doesn't try to hide his smile. you've prohibited him from entering the kitchen, wanting to cook something for him all by yourself.

he will always stand by the archway and watch you cook. you go over to him occasionally, asking him to taste some parts of the meal you're making. these are some of his favorite moments with you.

it was when you were eating dinner that he first told you he loved you. you had just finished cooking a meal, and you were sharing details from your day with each other while eating.

halfway through the meal, he says, "i've been wanting to tell you something all day. may i?"

as you nod your head, he tells you he loves you. or, rather, he tells you he's in love with you. but what's the difference? diluc is all yours.

KAEYA

you brought klee back to the knights of favonius' headquarters after playing with her outside all day. albedo and jean thanked you, but kaeya wanted to express more than just gratitude.

kaeya: klee always returns happy whenever you're the one bringing her back. (y/n): she's precious. i'd do anything to keep her smiling. kaeya: likewise. but i also want to keep you smiling, sweetheart. (y/n): what do you mean? kaeya: be mine, (y/n), and i promise i'll always make you happy.

you, klee, and kaeya are always seen running around mondstadt. not only in the city, but also around the mountains. you'd all go find a big, empty space for klee to blow up.

rest assured he will always invite you for a drink, even if it's the morning. you've rejected about 90% of his offers, but he will always, always, make sure to invite you.

he is one call away when it comes to you. you have something urgent and needs his help? he's on it. you simply just miss him? he misses you too, he's on his way to see you.

(y/n): kaeya, aren't you supposed to be working right now? what would acting grandmaster jean say? kaeya: i missed you. that should be enough reason. (y/n): kaeya. kaeya: what? just wanted to see your face, sweetheart. i- ow! okay, okay, i'll go back now!

kaeya really enjoys when you cook for him. of course, he'll step in to help you, but the thought of you making him his favorite food is so heartwarming.

he insists on feeding you, even embarrassing you sometimes by pretending the spoon is a crystalfly and your mouth the cave it's about to fly into.

he first told you he loved you immediately after you agreed to be his. after you said 'yes' to his confession, he was quick to tell you those three words, and your heart fluttered at his boldness.

he will never forget to tell you he loves you. when he greets you good morning, when you drop by to pick up klee, when you come back to drop off klee, and so many more instances.

there was never a moment you doubted his love for you. he constantly reminds you of it, and kaeya will never let you forget it. he loves you. so much.

CHILDE

he had it all planned out when he asked you to be his s/o. he made restaurant reservations at your favorite place, and even made sure it was on a day where not much people visited.

childe: (y/n), will you be mine? (y/n): are you serious? yes! childe: you are the only one i've ever been serious about. (y/n): you're so corny.

whenever he gets back from missions, he always makes sure to bring you back a little gift or a souvernir. one time, he brought you back a ruin hunter eye because "you're the light of my life" he says. it didn't make any sense.

the first time he brought you to snezhnaya, he wrapped you in so many layers that you were better off rolling on the ground than walking.

he absolutely loves it when you play with his siblings. when he comes home tired, he'll immediately be energized if he sees you and his siblings spending time together.

(y/n): ajax, join us! we could use another person to play tag. childe: do i get a kiss if i win? (y/n): ...i was just kidding, you don't have to play with us anymore. childe: hey! okay, okay, i'll join. no kiss needed, i swear!

cooking is one of his favorite activities to do with you. doing something so loving and domestic as cooking with someone he loves is heartwarming.

no matter how much you try to keep yourself clean, childe will find a way to get you messy. he says you can't blame him if you can never catch him wiping his hands on your shirt.

he wasn't the first one to tell you he loved you. his siblings did it for him, actually. well, who was going to stop them? childe was asleep, and you weren't.

he brought you all on a camping trip outside snezhnaya, and he promptly passed out first after story-telling time. as you were cleaning up the campfire, his siblings all walked over to you.

"(y/n), our big brother loves you very much."

it was very random, but very sweet. you smiled at them as you gave them a hug each, asking them why they were suddenly telling you this.

"if you leave him, you leave us, and we don't want you to leave. he loves you a lot, we swear!"

XIAO

being uninterested in relationships, neither of you ever asked each other. but you've been together for as long as you could remember, and your memory goes back for centuries.

(centuries ago) (y/n): xiao, can you promise not to leave me by myself? xiao: that's a hard promise to keep. (y/n): but you'll try? xiao: ...yes.

xiao has never been the type to express much of what he was feeling—if he felt anything at all. unlike you, he has never bothered to fully understand mortals.

you thrive around the people of liyue harbor, and xiao will always find you casually strolling around or stopping to pet a cat you found on the sidewalk.

when xiao rests at wangshu inn, you find yourself accompanying him, staying with him on the highest balcony. this is the only time you accompany him though, as he has his duties to eliminate evil.

(y/n): need any help? xiao: you always ask, and i always say no. (y/n): well, you might need me one day. xiao: we've been together for centuries. you know i'm capable enough. (y/n): i know. you always have been. xiao: rest easy, (y/n). i'll be here. (y/n): good night, xiao.

food has never really been a problem for either of you, but if you want to treat yourself to a mortal meal, xiao will come along with you. with enough convincing, of course.

you eat at wangshu inn, and chef yanxiao prepares your meals. eating with xiao is quiet, but if you were to start a conversation, he will always reply.

he's never told you that he loves you, at least not directly. his actions will speak for him—one of them being always ridding the path you're taking of monsters.

whenever xiao has to leave you at the inn, he will never fail to tell you to "rest easy" before he leaves. he has sworn to himself to protect you, and eliminate all evil that might affect you.

his duty is to protect liyue, but it wouldn't hurt to make you his duty as well, right?

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[iwacura]

okay so stl 61 !! this chapter has laid out ujie's worldview: there are those in this world that are liked, accepted, popular, —and those that will always be shunned. only a limited amount of people may be the lucky ones.

and turns out, shima's worldview isn't so different. for him there are those who take, and those whose things are taken away from.

either you are born a shunned monster or the doctor that created it. no nuance is accepted. it's essentially a reaction to being socially shunned, you end up resenting the people you deem guilty of your misfortune so much that you deny them their own depth of being. they are the fortunate, they could never understand your suffering. it's a feeling quite common among teenagers, i think.

if i were to point out something, it'd be that for ujie this classification into fortunate-unfortunate is unmovable. he has no hope of changing his social fate. for shima, however, it isn't set in stone. he's determined to get out of it and get back the things he's been robbed of.

ujie just seems...very bitter about the way he's been treated. when both mitsumi and his unnamed classmate say 'you shouldn't criticize someone who's giving it their all', his eyes just seem to say yeah, but who's gonna empathize with me? no one gives me grace when I'm giving it my all.

he's essentially jealous of the good treatment he thinks shima is getting from their peers. to him, shima's fortune is the cause of his own misfortune.

but along the way he's denied shima any humanity, shima cannot have any depth or trouble in his eyes. i think this is especially easy to see in the ending pannel, after shima confronts him, when he says so that guy is human too — implying he thought before that shima wasn't human because he couldn't understand struggle.

it's a type of ideology that, though an understandable defense mechanism, is very unfair to the people around you.

what specially gets me though, is that ujie tells shima he's ARROGANT for taking the monster role. this is shima, we know he has been behaving against his wishes to please others since he was little. we know he performs to be liked, but despises the attention he gets because they like him for his appearance, his performance, never truly him. when ujie calls him "arrogant", he's implying shima enjoys the empty attention he gets from his peers. and to be told that you enjoy the very thing we know troubles shima the most...i can understand why he got mad.

here's the thing though — ujie understands that the attention shima gets has nothing to do with what he actually does or with who he truly is. he understands it's an empty sort of acceptance, but regardless to ujie it still looks more desirable than his own situation. it might be impersonal but that also means it's unconditional. shima will always be liked because he's attractive.

(to shima though, it's not unconditional at all. he thinks the moment he starts acting truly like himself everybody will despise him)

so yeah. closing thoughts. i think this was truly a beneficial encounter for the both of them. for shima, it helped him get out of his self pity spiral for a bit and acknowledge ujie's point of view. and also he was assertive for a change ! shima exhibiting an emotion that isn't a fake smile or resignated indifference?? what?? i can't believe he actually....got things out of his chest for a change.

and for ujie, i think this has broadened his worldview. he understands know that people as seemingly perfect as shima can indeed struggle as well. the world isn't cleanly divided into Blessed By God and Doomed Forever.

i also hope this helps him get rid of those awful thoughts that he'll never be accepted. if shima is an anomaly, —like he found out today — maybe he can be too. if that little smile in the last pannel is anything to go by, his bitterness might just start to crack :)

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXVI

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

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chapter word count: 10,791

“What the hell did you say to Hongjoong?” 

Seonghwa is quick to start grilling you as soon as San leaves the two of you alone, glaring at you across from the dinner table. It takes you a few seconds to even remember what he could be referring to, that conversation with Hongjoong taking the back seat in your mind to everything else that had happened today. 

You set your spoon down, resting your elbows on the table, “I could be asking you the same question.” 

Seonghwa scoffs, mirroring your actions. He leans over the table, though, getting closer to you, “Well I asked first.” 

Frowning, you look him up and down, trying to make him squirm a little bit. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t seem to find you very intimidating. In fact, he only leans closer to you, his face basically taking up your entire field of view. “What did Hongjoong say that I said?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flit to your lips, but you pretend like you don’t notice. “He said that you told him we had sex. Among other things.” 

“I said no such thing,” you glare back at him, “I only heavily implied it.” 

“Why?” Seonghwa wets his lips, “do you want to get me in trouble, Princess?” 

You don’t want to be the one to back down from this confrontation, but being this close to Seonghwa without him touching you might actually make you insane. His stupid fucking hot ass fucking face. It’s too distracting. 

But… you’re more stubborn than you are uncomfortable. “Only if you want to get me in trouble.” He smiles a bit at that, but you continue, “if you must know, though, I had to use you as a bit of a scapegoat. I figured you wouldn’t mind, considering the lies you’re telling him about San and me.” 

“Lies?” Seonghwa says sarcastically, “what ever would I lie about?” The question is clearly rhetorical.

But you answer it anyway. “You told him that San and I are together.” 

Seonghwa’s smile grows, “and is that a lie? Aren’t you?” 

“Frankly, it’s not Hongjoong’s business, and it’s not yours, either.”

He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, shrugging his free shoulder. “Difference of opinion. Why should I lie to Hongjoong for you?” 

“Well, San and I aren’t together,” you shrug as well, hoping he’s not picking up on the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. It’s actually a bit… uncomfortable to lie about it like this. You don’t want to have to deny… whatever it is that you have going on with San, but that’s just how it is. You suck it up and hope that Seonghwa can’t see your internal battle as you spit the words out.

Seonghwa bites his lip, “is that so? So he wouldn’t mind if I…” 

You do lean back, then, smacking his elbow out from under him so that his head falls, hopefully shocking him back into reality. “You wish, pervert.” 

He catches his head before he actually hits it on the table, gaping at you, his eyes wide as if he can’t believe that you really just did that. Honestly, you’re kind of surprised that you did it, too. Seonghwa is so fucking tempting. But you’re stronger than that…

“Plus, what would he think,” you tip your head in Hongjoong’s direction, not surprised to see him already staring directly at the two of you. He had been congregating with some of the Followers, but his attention is now clearly occupied, a sneer appearing on his face when he catches you looking. “He already thinks we had sex, no?” 

Seonghwa looks back over his shoulder to glance at Hongjoong, quickly spinning back to face you when he sees the look on his leader’s face. “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. I had the time of my life trying to explain that I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.” 

You shrug, “I needed some way to get his mind off of the fact that someone told me about Haneul. It worked.” 

His eyes really go wide, then, “Haneul? Who the fuck told you about Haneul?” 

“You did.” You smile, finally picking your spoon back up to eat some more of your soup. This is a damn good soup, you have to remember to compliment Wooyoung on it… if you guys are on speaking terms. You’re not sure about that. 

Seonghwa groans, also resuming eating his dinner. “I’m going to get my ass handed to me, Princess. Why wouldn’t you just tell him the truth?” He pauses, dropping his spoon back into his soup, “ wait, let me guess. San told you?” 

You shake your head, taking another bite, ignoring his eyes.

“Who else have you been alone with?” 

You shrug again, just to piss him off. 

It doesn’t work. “When San attempted to help Haseul with the escapade last night, did he have someone watch you?” Seonghwa smiles in disbelief. “He really covered his bases. Who was it?” He searches your face as if the answer will be plastered on it. 

It might be, frankly. “It had to have been Wooyoung. Am I right, Princess? Wooyoung watched you? And told you? How on earth did you get that out of him?” 

Staying silent, you opt to keep eating your soup. Wooyoung is the obvious choice, looking at the people that San is close enough to trust with such a secret, so it makes sense that Seonghwa would be able to guess him so easily. But you’re not about to tell Seonghwa that he’s right, so you do your best to keep your face plain. 

“Oh, this is quite fun information. What else did he tell you? Did you see his back?” 

That must be what Wooyoung had been referring to, where his scars are. But, again, you’re not going to ask questions or make Seonghwa believe that he’s right. The last thing that you want to do is throw Wooyoung under the bus for spilling cult secrets that he clearly shouldn’t have. 

Seonghwa leans closer again, whispering, “if I promise to not tell Hongjoong, will you tell me? I’m very curious.” 

You also lean in closer, putting your spoon down once more, “absolutely not. But will you tell me about Haneul?” 

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into his original position. “No, I won’t. She’s quite a sore subject around here.” 

… Yeah, you could’ve guessed that. “Can you at least tell me about Jongho and her?” 

“No?” Seonghwa looks at you like you’ve really lost your mind, “that’s not your business, Princess.” 

“Oh, so their relationship isn’t my business, but my relationship with San is yours?” 

“So you admit to having a relationship with San, then?” Seonghwa smirks, pleased to have finally gotten something out of you.

You sigh, “if you’re jealous, you can just say so.” 

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “why on earth would I be jealous of Choi San? If I wanted you so badly, you would be with me.”

You try to make yourself look disgusted at the mere prospect, “that’s bold, even for you.” You say this like the two of you had never been intimate. 

Seonghwa shrugs, looking you up and down before leaning closer once more. “If anything, I’m jealous of his ability to disregard Hongjoong’s orders.” The meaning of this admission isn’t lost on you.

You can’t resist returning the look, letting your eyes linger on the way the sleeves of his shirt strain around his biceps. Personally, you don’t give a damn about Hongjoong’s “orders,” but you’re not about to let Seonghwa win this by giving into him. And you have San to worry about. You lean in closer as well, smiling at Seonghwa. 

“You’re a pervert,” you whisper, keeping the smile plastered on your face. 

Seonghwa smiles, too, despite scoffing at your comment, “that’s really cute, coming from you, Princess.” 

“What is?” San’s voice appears from your side, making the both of you jump backward from each other. 

Seonghwa keeps the nasty smile on his face, looking up at San, “perfect timing, San. If you’d left her alone with me any longer…”

San gives you a puzzled look, sliding onto the seat next to you. He doesn’t get himself a meal, which is… a little strange, but you ignore it, going back to eating your own. 

He ignores Seonghwa’s comment easily. “I couldn’t miss the announcement, could I?” San asks Seonghwa, smiling tightly across the table. 

“Announcement?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

Seonghwa holds a hand up before San can start explaining. “You’ll see, Princess.” He smiles at you like you’re not going to like this announcement at all. “But, San, pray tell, where did you just run off to?” 

San gives you a sideways glance, and you can only imagine that he probably was doing something that you wouldn’t exactly care for. “I had a conversation that needed to be held, privately.” 

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows, “is that so? What ever about? Whomever with?” He asks these questions as if he knows perfectly well their answers, but wants to hear San admit it anyhow. “Why couldn’t your dear (Y/n) be in attendance?” 

You honestly aren’t really sure what San means, but the only explanation that you can think is… he apologized to Mingi? That would honestly make you rather happy, though, so you’re not sure why he wouldn’t want to say it in front of you. Maybe Seonghwa truly doesn’t know, and he wants to keep it that way? You’re honestly not too bothered by the fact that he doesn’t want to say. 

Before San can respond, the cafeteria falls completely silent. 

You twist in your seat to face the front of the room, not at all surprised to see Hongjoong standing there, his hands folded behind his back. He still has that weird outfit on, the ties of the robe dangling down, brushing against his knees with each small movement he makes. 

He looks to you, then, giving you a sideways smile before turning back to address the room. 

“It is with great joy that I make this announcement tonight.” The cafeteria is just as silent as the chapel. You look around, not at all surprised to see that not a single pair of eyes aren’t on Hongjoong. “Finally, we are prepared to start our harvest season.” 

A gentle applause starts, much like the kind you would expect at some sort of… gala, or something. Hongjoong holds a hand up and it immediately halts, everyone in the room once again waiting with baited breath. “Of course, this indicates the start of prosperous times for our group,” he gives you another glance, “but it also invites upon us some of the most troublesome ceremonies and events, as well as opening the door to… unwelcome possibilities.” 

… Yeah, whatever the hell that means. 

“As harvest will commence in the morning, our first event will happen during our morning gathering. I expect everyone to be in attendance, including children and those otherwise excused. It’s important that we are united as a group, as you all very well know.”

Everyone? Does that include Haseul? Surely it does, even if she hasn’t had a Choosing Ceremony. You want to believe that you’ll get to see your friend, but… You’re not sure. Hongjoong probably will keep her from you as long as he can; keep you on his little leash until he’s decided that you’re obedient enough again.

He waits, holding the attention of the room for a second longer, a tense look on his face. “You all must know that I don’t say these things to scare you. But the harvest season is trying for the Sign, and our connection is in peril every second that…” Hongjoong clears his throat around the words. “That we leave it unguarded. Those participating in the morning ceremony will be notified tonight.” 

With that, he turns away from the center of the cafeteria, eyes locking onto your table. Conversation picks back up as he strides toward the three of you, a smile replacing the tenseness. 

“Let me guess,” you say to neither Seonghwa nor San in particular, “I’m about to be notified of something?” 

Seonghwa smirks, “you can be so bright sometimes.” 

“(Y/n)!” Hongjoong calls your name when he’s a few feet away, closing the distance enough to rest a hand on your shoulder before asking, “Are you excited for your first harvest?” 

You blink up at him, amazed that he still even bothers, “you just made it sound like something to be weary of, rather than excited for.” 

He shrugs, squeezing your shoulder once before releasing you to sit next to Seonghwa. “We haven’t covered the Guardians yet.” 

“The what now?” 

Hongjoong waves his hand in the air to dismiss your question, “you’ll learn in due time.”

For a second, you think that Seonghwa even rolls his eyes, but that would be truly unfathomable. You’re happy enough to write off whatever the fuck the ‘Guardians’ are. The last thing you want right now is another lesson in cult lore.

“Anyhow,” he clasps his hands, resting them on the table. “You’ll be participating in the ceremony tomorrow. Its a fun one, too.” 

You look at San, though he’s looking anywhere but at you. Turning back to Hongjoong, you ask, “do I get to know what this ceremony entails ahead of time, or are you going to surprise stab me again?” You’re honestly surprised by how bold you feel, given everything that’s happened. Maybe seeing him cry reduces him a little bit… no, that’s not it. Whatever it was, you’re just not feeling particularly intimidated by Hongjoong at the moment, surprisingly.

Hongjoong waves a hand in the air, “there’s no need to be so dramatic, (Y/n).”

Honestly, you still think it was a fair question. But you feel lucky that he’s clearly in the bantering mood as well.

“You’ve already been Chosen; you won’t have to prove yourself again,” San offers, albeit rather quietly and more so to himself than to you. 

“I feel that its best that you’re prepared for the ceremony,” Hongjoong ignores San’s comment, “Seonghwa can cover it with you.” 

Seonghwa jerks his head toward his leader. “I can? I thought I wa—”

Hongjoong smiles, stopping Seonghwa in his tracks. “You’ll do as I say.”

He only nods in response, turning away from Hongjoong. To your relief, he doesn’t lay a glare on you once more, returning to his meal instead. 

“San, let’s talk privately for a moment,” Hongjoong rises, beckoning San to follow him. San furrows his brows, but stands anyway, following Hongjoong until they’re out of earshot from your table.

You turn your attention back to Seonghwa. “Let me hear it.” 

He drops his spoon again, looking annoyed at the prospect of having to spend anymore time with you. “I need a copy of The Answer to properly explain it.” 

“You’re telling me you don’t keep one on yourself at all times?” 

Seonghwa blinks at you. Leaning back, he unbuttons his jacket, reaching a hand to the inside pocket. Low and behold, he pulls a copy of The Answer from the interior pocket, gently placing it onto the table between you two. 

You had been half joking. 

He buttons his jacket again, sliding his tray away from himself. Wordlessly, he picks up the book, flipping to the back pages before landing on whatever page he was searching for. He turns his wrist, showing you the page.

Highlighted in yellow and underlined maybe five times is the title:

HARVEST PRACTICES

The chapter that follows is broken into a few different sections, from what you can see on the pages in view. The first subtitle reads:

INVOCATION AND PROTECTION

“Your hand is shaking too much for me to read that,” you complain, grabbing the book from Seonghwa’s hands. You slide your own tray away, setting the book on the table to read. 

The text continues.

Perhaps one of the most strenuous times a year comes during harvest season. Though the crop can be bountiful and the blessings many, there are also dangers that follow. This implicates the necessity to instate a protective guard around our group; a ward to protect ourselves so as to protect our Clones. 

On the first day of the harvest, the following ceremony must be conducted to insure safety throughout the season. The steps are outlined here; however HONGJOONG may adapt these provisions as he sees fit per the requirements of the year. 

Typical ceremony regalia should be worn by all Followers. Ten Followers are chosen at random to participate in the ceremony.

Participation is mandatory once selected; certain Followers may be required to participate every year due to their given role in Universe One. 

At 6 A.M. The ceremony begins. The ten Followers link hands in a circle.

They recite the following incantation, taking three steps to the left following each break.

On this day we make our vow.

The Answer is near; we shall not wonder or fear.

I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew

The barrier is weak.

United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.

Following the incantation, each member shall raise their hands. The ceremonial blade is presented, and each Follower shall gently open their left palm, letting the blood drop into the center of the circle while reciting:

I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.

At the completion of each vow, the final words will be said:

We call upon you to stay away.

The Sacrifice will then be presented. It is to be left on the altar for one day.

This is the conclusion of the ceremony.

This ceremony is not infallible. Should trouble arise before, during, or after, HONGJOONG and designated Followers will resolve the issue. 

You stop reading, looking up at Seonghwa. “Sacrifice?”

He nods. 

“That’s, like, pretty cliche,” you frown, “and that rhyme sucks.” 

“Be more respectful.” Seonghwa mirrors your frown, “Hongjoong isn’t a poet, he’s a prophet.” 

“Really? I thought he was God?” 

Seonghwa only gives you a more exasperated look, rolling his eyes.

You scan over the ceremony again, trying to make sure you’re getting the details correct. “What’s this about ‘calling the evil towards me?’ And the blood? Is that really necessary?” 

He glances over your shoulder, a relieved expression gracing his features, “San, you have a knack for perfect timing today.”

You turn to look back and, sure enough, San is approaching your table again. 

San looks between you, Seonghwa, and the copy of The Answer in your hands, putting the pieces together. “Questions?” 

“A few,” you mutter, suddenly not very interested. You don’t mind pestering Seonghwa for answers to all of your questions, but you aren’t keen on asking San the same way. “But it can wait. What did Hongjoong want?”

San takes his place next to you again, shrugging as he does so. “He was just letting me know the plan for tomorrow.” 

Seonghwa reaches for his book, plucking it out of your hands before you can respond to San. “I trust you won’t be needing my copy, anymore.” 

Resisting the urge to mock him, you respond to San instead. “Such as…?”

“When to be there, how to help you dress, so on.” 

So on… Why does it feel like there’s a lot more emphasis on the ending of that list? They had been gone for a good five minutes, there had to be more than that, surely. Why wouldn’t San tell you the whole truth? What good would that do for him? 

You stay quiet, trying to ignore your suspicions. If you can’t trust San, who can you trust? 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

It turns out that you have to wake up significantly more early than usual.

San shakes you awake at four, ignoring your pleas for five more minutes. “I waited as long as I could, (Y/n).” 

You grumble and moan, but find it in yourself to get out of bed. For Haseul. That’s what you tell yourself. All of this is for Haseul. Your cooperation is for her. Had she not been here, you’d be kicking and screaming the whole way. 

But, unfortunately, Hongjoong figured out how to play you like a damn fiddle. So here you are, tugging on the same black dress pants that you had put on… what, three weeks ago? A month ago? Longer? You have no idea. 

You manage to button your shirt correctly this time, though your face burns at the memory of Seonghwa having to help you dress. What had happened to you? You never would have thought that the day would come where you would voluntarily wear this… cult regalia. 

San watches, already fully dressed by the time that he woke you up. You have to admit that he looks handsome in all black, the clothes clearly tailored to fit him. Two or three silver necklaces hang down his chest, matching rings gracing his fingers. He hasn’t put his mask on, yet, or his hat, leaving his features exposed in the security of your apartment. 

“Let me help,” he offers, squatting to his knees to help you tie your boots as you pull them on. He ties your right shoe as you tie your left, lacing them with the deftness of well-trained hands. 

Of course, he finishes before you do. He takes over tying your left shoe, smiling up at you as you yield the laces to him. “Thank you.” 

He only pats your knee, standing back up and offering his hand to you. You take it and rise as well, glancing at the clock. 4:29. 

The ceremony starts at 6. You’re not really sure why you have to be in positions so early, but… whatever. You’re not going to fight it. You can do this, you’re sure of it. For Haseul, you’ll do it. 

San opens the wardrobe, grabbing your two hats off of the top shelf. Had you ever noticed them sitting there? You’re not sure. Maybe someone had brought them in. 

He hands you yours, swirling his around on his finger instead of putting it on. “How are you feeling?” 

You put the hat on. “Fine.” 

“You sure?” He sounds genuine enough, and you don’t doubt that he’s at least a little worried for you. And, obviously, given the circumstances with Haseul… 

“I just hope I don’t fuck up.” 

San frowns, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. 

“Everything will be fine,” he promises, rubbing your hand with his. “It’ll be over before you know it!” 

Forcing a smile, you nod. He’s probably right. If you just grit your teeth and bare it, the whole thing will be over as quickly as you can say the stupid little incantation. There’s no reason to be afraid or worried. 

… That’s what you really want to believe. But you can’t bring yourself to think that it will actually be that easy. Something is going to happen. Something bad. You’re sure of it, now, in this moment. You’re more sure of it than anything else. 

Hongjoong won’t just let this happen. He won’t just let this pan out easily. He has something planned, and you’re sure that it’s something terrible…

The sacrifice mentioned in the steps… you had never had the chance to ask about it. Something is going to happen then, you’re sure. At the moment of the sacrifice or the moment that it’s presented, it’s going to be something beyond even your imagination. 

Hongjoong’s insanity knows no bounds, and that is something that you know for a positive fact. He can’t just have something go well or normally when you’re involved. He will have to stick his fingers in the pie, have to meddle to make something happen. 

Your stomach flips as you consider the possibilities. You suddenly feel woozy. 

“Hey,” San calls your attention back to the moment at hand, grabbing your other arm with his free hand. “Are you alright?” 

You blink at him, “Just a little lightheaded is all.” 

“Do you want something to eat?” He starts to pull you toward the kitchenette, but the thought of eating only makes your stomach feel heavier. 

Planting your feet, you shake your head. “No, no, I’m fine. I just want to get this over with.”

You’re not lying. If something is going to happen (when something is going to happen), you would rather just have it be done and have it be over. 

Whatever it is, you’re sure that you can survive it. You’ve made it this far without losing your wits or dying, you’re sure that you can make it through a ten minute ordeal. Even if it is particularly nasty or horrible. 

Fuck, you just hope the sacrifice isn’t a person. You’re, like, sixty percent sure that it won’t be, but… that forty percent is still a question mark. At least you know it won’t be you. 

That’s probably not the right mindset. But, hey, that’s life, isn’t it? 

San looks between you and the clock, looking disappointed. “I guess we don’t really have time, anyhow. I’m sorry.” He apologizes, dropping his hands from you. 

You brush off the apology, following him as he leaves the room and approaches your door. 

“You’re sure that you’re okay?” San asks again, pausing by your front door. “I can make up some excuse if I have to.” 

You don’t have to force a smile, this time. “I’m going to be fine as soon as this is over.” 

He nods in acceptance, opening the door and holding it open for you.

The two of you head to the chapel in silence, other Followers wearing their all-black regalia crowding the hallways and stairwells. A few people smile and wave at you, though you can’t really say that you recognize them. 

As you squeeze through the halls, you wonder where Haseul is being kept. In one of the single rooms, you’re sure, but which one… 

You almost have the urge to start knocking on every door on the women’s floor, jangle each doorknob and greet each person until you find her…

But that would be silly, and you know that. You’d only be punished if you went looking for her. Worse, she would probably be punished for your stupidity, too. 

That’s not going to happen. 

So you fight the feeling, just as you fought your panic. Your stomach is still a wreck as you follow San. You don’t hold his hand, not in public, but you wish that you could grab him for some semblance of comfort. 

He would take your hand if you tried, you realize. Clearly, he doesn’t have much of an issue speaking about your relationship, at least with Mingi. 

The memory of their argument brings a sour expression to your face. You’re still not very pleased with how San had acted, or with how Mingi had, either. Even after the apology… 

And San never confirmed that he apologized to Mingi. Well, you had never asked him. 

But whatever. That has to be a problem for another day, for another you. Or at least for the you of three hours from now. You can’t go into this being pissed at basically the only two people that you like here. 

That doesn’t give much credit to Nayeon or Yunho or Wooyoung or Yeosang, you realize, but whatever. You don’t need to be debating who your friends are and who your friends aren’t.

After what happened with Wooyoung, anyways, would you really consider him a friend? Had you really processed any of what he had told you? What the fuck.

Your head swims with the reality of everything that has been happening to you in the past couple days. You’ve experienced enough goddamn trauma to let Dr. Phil run another 12 seasons on you alone. Fucking hell. Literally what the fuck.

You finally reach the big doors, relishing the feeling of stepping into the cool outside air. The hallways had been stuffy with the weight of all of the Followers, and the sudden breeze is refreshing; especially given your fucking outfit. 

The sun hasn’t even poked above the horizon, yet. You wouldn’t even call it dawn. But you don’t have to squint to make out the chapel in this distance. 

The sea of Followers in front of you lead the way to the holy place, a swarm of black across the farm. 

You wonder how many of them there really are. If Hongjoong said that everyone had to attend this ceremony… fuck. There’s a lot of people. Just the people you can see outside seem to outnumber what you would have originally thought. 

How in the world had Hongjoong recruited so many people? 

How many of these people actually believed every word that he said? You’d have to assume most of them. What would they do to make him happy? To keep him happy? 

The thought sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine, only making your stomach worse.

The walk isn’t long, and you soon find yourself passing the doors that are being held open by the swarm of people crowding through them. 

It’s fuller than you’ve ever seen it, the chapel. Some people are already seated in the pews, chatting with their peers. The majority of the Followers, however, are still standing, mingling in the aisle.

You follow San’s lead, presuming that he’ll take you wherever you need to be. He goes about halfway to the front of the chapel, stopping in a less-populated area of the aisle in what you assume is an attempt to make you calmer. You’re not sure that it helps, but you appreciate the gesture, anyhow.

You wonder who the other Followers that were chosen for the ceremony are. Will anyone that you know be up there to comfort you? It probably wouldn’t make a difference, but at least one familiar face would be welcome. 

As you glance around the room, you find your eyes tugging toward the Sign of the Answer, the huge one on the wall. Hongjoong’s chair is gone in preparation for the ceremony, so you’re able to see it in all of its glory. Per usual, the chapel is lit by candles, and the light glints off of the Sign exactly how you remember it looking the night that you had been Chosen. The memory makes you more nervous.

San puts a hand on your arm, calling your attention back to him. You glance at his face first, only to see him looking ahead as someone approaches. For a split second, you’re worried that its going to be Mingi. 

But it’s only Wooyoung, you realize. 

He stops in front of you, two glasses in his hands. “Hello,” he greets you, looking between the two of you.

San returns the hello, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. Something about the sight of him disturbs you. And the glasses in his hands.

He gets straight to business.

“Drink this,” Wooyoung holds out a champagne glass filled with something that is decidedly not champagne. Instead of sparkling, yellow liquid, this is a flat, blood red. 

You hesitantly take the stem, tilting the glass to watch the liquid move. Thankfully, it doesn’t actually seem to be blood. You take a sniff, not all that surprised to smell the familiar red wine scent. 

“It’s just wine. For the nerves.”

Shrugging, you take a sip. He’s not lying, but… “Last time you fed me in this room you also drugged me.” 

Wooyoung mirrors your shrug. “Don’t drink it then.”

You glance at San, who also shrugs. 

“Well fuck it, then.” In an action reminiscent of your college days, you down the glass; ignoring the bitterness as best you can. 

Wooyoung takes the glass back from you. “Good luck, then.” 

He excuses himself, wandering back into the crowd with the other glass. You assume that he’s handing them out to all of the participating Followers, but you opt to stop watching him to look back at San.

“Do you think that was drugged?” You ask San, rubbing your palms on your jacket. 

His eyes go wide, “I wouldn’t have let you drink it if I thought it was!” 

“I’m not sure I trust Hongjoong that much.” 

“I do.” San puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently. His words don’t offer you any comfort, but the hand is pleasant enough.

Well, you’ll know soon enough, anyhow. Maybe this would all go a lot more smoothly if you were drugged, somehow. Your heart feels like a damn jackhammer in your chest.

You try to look around, wanting to spot any familiar face in the crowd for any sense of comfort. It’s just so damn hard with everyone dressed like the fucking grim reaper. You think that you spot Nayeon, briefly, her long brown hair contrasting beautifully to the fitted black of her coat. 

Yunho is hard to miss, his height only exaggerated by the hat atop his head. You’re not entirely sure where you stand with him, though, given your place with Mingi. If Mingi’s still pissed at you (which, to give him credit, you’re not sure if he is), Yunho probably is too. 

Speaking of Mingi, he approaches Yunho, his own height rather hard to miss in the crowd. He grabs his friend’s shoulder, exclaiming something that’s a bit too quiet for you to make out. But you know Mingi’s voice when you hear it. 

After this, you have to talk to Mingi. Even though you might be a little… upset? Disappointed? At his outburst and his childish behavior, you have to make things right by him. Yunho, too, you suppose. 

You still hold out hope that Haseul will make an appearance, though you’re sure Hongjoong made arrangements to keep her away. Though… if Mingi is here, who's watching her? It probably wouldn’t be hard to find someone else, but someone else that Hongjoong trusted that much… that’s a different story. You know that you should probably just drop it, but there’s something in you that feels like she’ll show up… you certainly have a lot of feelings, this morning. 

A hand wraps around your elbow, startling you. You don’t have to look to recognize Hongjoong, his touch alone enough to identify him, burning hot even through your jacket.

“(Y/n),” he purrs, holding you close to him, “how are you feeling?” 

You try to pull your arm away, to no avail. “Like I’m going to be sick.” 

Hongjoong laughs, “you’ll be completely fine. You’re not the sacrifice.” 

That doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves. That’s not what you’re worried about. And you’d rather not have to play one of his stupid games. “I have a sense that some anvil is about to fall on my head.” 

“Hmmm,” he hums, “maybe. Maybe not. It depends on what you’re picturing.”

“I’m picturing what you wrote in The Answer.” You force the words out through gritted teeth. It’s so fucking annoying when he does this; when he doesn’t just speak his mind. You’d much prefer him telling you that, yeah, you’re about to be grievously harmed than have him just dangle the thought in front of your eyes.

“Well, either way, I’m sure you understand what will happen if you disrupt the ceremony.” Hongjoong’s voice is laced with that sickening smile of his, “or if you fail to complete your part in it.” 

He’s right, he doesn’t need to remind you in the slightest. You can only imagine the fear that Haseul is in right now, but your own fear for her must be ten times worse. The idea of Hongjoong putting his hands on her makes your gut churn.

The fact that he backed you into such a perfect corner is almost sickening. It pisses you off to no end. Why did he have to bring her into this? Not that you would want him to use this treatment on Mingi, but, like, fuck, he at least already had him here. Was it really necessary to involve a completely innocent girl? 

If you didn’t care what happened to her, you might just spit in the man’s face at this very second. 

“I get it, Hongjoong.” 

“Then you’ll do great!” He releases your arm, opting to pat your shoulder a couple times. “Simply stick to the outline. Do your part. And it’ll be over quickly.” 

You take a deep breath, “Hongjoong,” you hope that saying his name will make him listen to you, “can I see her, afterword?” 

His hand stops on your shoulder, squeezing. “Let’s see how you fare, first.” His voice seems harder with these words, more sharp. Hopefully that wasn’t some sort of huge overstep to him. 

He cuts off the conversation at that, leaving your side to rejoin the crowd of Followers. He’s wearing the same outfit he had been wearing yesterday, the shiny material catching the light of the candles ever so as he moves. 

“San,” you turn toward where San was standing, only to find him gone. You whirl around in a circle in a way that must look comical, searching for where he could have gone off to. He doesn’t appear to be in your near vicinity, somehow completely, wordlessly disappeared. 

Dread swirls in your stomach. You were going to ask him if he knew what the sacrifice was going to be, finally reminded.

As if commanded by some outside force, the majority of the Followers suddenly stop their conversations. The room falls silent as people make their ways to their usual pews, sliding silently into their seats. 

Per usual, you’ve been left out of the loop. 

Without San to guide you into place, you really have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing. You look toward the front of the chapel, expecting to find Hongjoong glaring at you, but not even he is there to tell you what to do. 

Looking around to the other Followers that are still standing, you’re mildly surprised to see Yunho only a couple feet away. He catches your eye, tipping his head toward the front of the room in signal. He starts walking, so you start walking. 

You’re hyper aware of the sound of your footsteps on the wood floors, your boots clicking with each step. Yunho’s do, too. The steps are the only sound in the chapel. 

With bated breath, you reach the front of the room. You glance toward your usual pew, hoping to see San sitting in your spot. He’s not, however, only making the rock in your stomach that much heavier. 

Yunho steps up onto the little stage, offering you his hand to help with the step up. You take it, joining him and turning toward the congregation of Followers. From this angle, you can see… it takes you a second to count the heads… eight other Followers approaching the stage. You try to find Hongjoong among them, but he’s not there. Neither is San.

After what feels like forever, Yunho and yourself are joined by the others. You read this part, you feel okay about it. Well, not okay okay, but, like, you know. At least you know what to expect. 

Yunho grabs your left hand, as someone you can’t recall the name of takes the place to your right; taking that hand into theirs. 

The ten of you link into a circle, hand-in-hand. 

You had kind of expected there to be more guidance from Hongjoong in this process. A narration or a sort of sermon over the top of your actions, but Hongjoong remains unseen and unheard as the Followers around you start their recitation. 

“On this day we make our vow,” you don’t jump into the speech until the next sentence, unsure of how they knew that it was time to start. “From henceforth we pledge ourselves.”

You take three steps to your left. The Sign of the Answer twinkles in your peripheral vision. The Followers in the pews have their heads bowed. 

“The Answer is near. We shall not wonder or fear.” 

Three more steps. 

“I myself am mighty and true. My blood will protect and provide anew.” 

Three more steps to the left. This time, you almost step on Yunho’s toes. You try to look at the other Followers in your circle, but their heads are similarly bowed. You look back down at your feet. You’re lightheaded. 

“The barrier is weak.”

Your hands float upwards, along with the rest of the circle’s. Still connected, everyone’s hands hang in the air of the center of the circle. 

“United, we cast away the evil that would do us harm. We uninvite the spirits that dance between this Universe and the next.” 

Someone, you’re not sure who, breaks the circle first. Your eyes are closed, you realize. You open them only when Yunho’s hand leaves your own; barely hearing his hushed whispering at your side. Before you know it, the knife is in your own hands. 

It’s already sparkling with blood. At least Yunho’s. The lowlight makes it hard to see, but the Sign of the Answer does a beautiful job of illuminating just enough to reawaken your nausea. What the fuck is happening, right now? What the fuck are you about to do?

Yunho’s blood drips down the blade and onto your hand. It’s warm. 

You’re sure that you’re going to faint. 

But you hold the blade to your left hand, anyways, saying the words as quietly as you can. Surely, this is all just some batshit insane cult ceremony, but the weight of speaking them outloud is still sickening. 

“I offer this vessel of myself for the betterment of the community. My blood banishes the evil from them, and calls it toward me. I swear this today and everyday.” 

You swipe the blade across your palm, handing it off to the Follower next to you as fast as you can manage. You close your eyes again. Your hand burns. You almost think that you can hear your blood, dropping from your palm and hitting the floor.

At some point, the last person finishes. The knife clatters to the floor, the only sound in the chapel. You know to take three more steps to the left. And to finish the words. 

“We call upon you to stay away.” 

The scream makes you open your eyes. 

Disorientated, you realize that you’re facing away from the crowd, staring directly at the Sign. But it’s not glowing anymore. 

You turn around, blinded. Every candle in the chapel has gone out.

Was that the source of the scream? The lights going out? What the fuc—

The door behind the stage slams open. You jump again, spinning back as though you’d be able to see anything, anyhow. 

Someone in the audience wails. 

Are they seeing something that you’re not? Your heart pounds hard, so so hard. Is this panic? The spell? A heart attack? 

You need to sit down. Yunho grabs your hand before you can stumble off of the stage. He pulls you behind him, keeping the arm behind his back to hold you there. 

You fist the back of his coat, probably soiling the material with your blood, but it’s all you can do to keep yourself standing upright. The urge to vomit hits you again, but you prevail, closing your eyes as tight as you can. 

Is this supposed to happen? This wasn’t in the outline. Are you meant to feel like such shit right now?

How did all of the candles go out?

Who the fuck is interrupting? 

Something, or someone, drops in the middle of the circle. 

You open your eyes again, peering around Yunho. The rest of the circle had stayed in place. 

At the center of your circle, now, is a head. 

Not a human head, thank God, but a pig’s. Your stomach still revolts, still tumbling over and over itself as you slide back into your spot in the circle. You clamp onto Yunho’s hand like its the only thing that you’ve ever known, grounding yourself the only way that you can. 

Its still so dark. You close your eyes again

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do now. Is it over? You hope to God that its over. You can’t take another goddamned minute of thi—

You open your eyes at the same instant that Yunho yells. Everything happens so fucking fast. 

Yunho falls backward, off of the stage. You process this secondly. Chiefly, however, your attention is caught by the figure now in front of you, where the pig head had been seconds before. 

It’s huge. You can’t comprehend it entirely, what it is that you’re seeing. It doesn’t even look human. It grabs your now vacant hand, pulling you away from the Followers. 

There’s a collective scream behind you, and you’re not surprised to realize that you’re also screaming. 

You try to look into the face. But it doesn’t have a face. It’s nothing. Is this death? 

You’re falling backwards, now. Before you know it, you’re on the ground, curling in on yourself.

Someone turns the overhead lights on. You cradle your hands to your chest, aware of the fact that you’re crying. The tears are hot on your cheeks. The blood is hot on your hands. The feeling of that, that, fucking thing making you want to retch. 

What the fuck was that? What the fuck? 

Hongjoong appears at your side, his face blurry. From your tears, from the panic? You’re not sure. 

He asks if you’re okay. You can’t answer him. You close your eyes again.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

In your sleep, you see it again. 

Even in this instance, you can’t tell what it is. It’s shaped like a person, but you can’t look directly at it. You know that if you look, it won’t have a face.

In your dream, it’s even bigger than it was. It towers over you, grabbing you over and over, your screaming and begging doing nothing to appease it. 

You can see its hands as they reach, as they latch onto you. They’re white. But they’re not skin. It’s cloth, you realize, gloves. 

The rest of it is white, too. But it certainly doesn’t look like clothing. You couldn’t ever explain it to someone if they asked, and you’re much too terrified to go digging into the details. 

All you know is that it doesn’t have a face. It’s not natural. Every part of you hates every part of this thing. 

You want to wake up.

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

And so you do, in the infirmary. 

The first thing you see are the familiar ceiling tiles. The second thing is Hongjoong.

You startle awake, twitching in on yourself as you try to sit up. 

Hongjoong sucks in a breath, though he doesn’t get to his feet to help you. He’s still wearing that outfit. 

You’re still wearing yours, you realize. The pants rub uncomfortably against the blanket laying over you. You’re able to sit up easily enough, and you’re relieved to realize that nothing hurts. You feel fine.

“So, do you believe me now?” Hongjoong asks once you’re up, but he’s not smiling in triumph as you would’ve imagined.

“What the fuck was that thing?” 

Hongjoong sighs, “Exactly what I was trying to protect us from. A guardian.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. There’s literally no fucking way in hell that Hongjoong has been right about any of this. He’s insane. He is fully, entirely, batshit insane. 

You can’t explain away whatever the fuck just happened, but you’re not about to accept that he’s been telling you the truth. That there are alternate universes and demons that can jump between them. That’s not real life. That’s not how the world works. 

Whatever just happened, whatever that was, there’s a reasonable explanation. Surely. 

Though you can’t imagine what that explanation would be, it must exist. The last fucking thing in the world that you’re going to do now is believe in Hongjoong. Like, what the fuck? What the fuck? Why would you fucking believe in a fucking religion that has fucking faceless demons fucking running around freely? You wouldn’t. You refuse. You will not. 

Even if that is the only explanation for the thing in white, you are not going to believe it. You would sooner believe that you have a hallucination disorder than accept that Hongjoong is right about anything. 

Thinking about it, you probably would have to have some sort of psychosis to accept any of this. But, then again, this is exactly the sort of thing that would trigger psychosis… 

You’re thinking way too fucking hard about this. It is simple. Hongjoong is a freak.

“Where’s San?” The question is natural. 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, “Interesting follow-up question. I thought it best to separate you two for now.” 

“Why?” 

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he stands up. “How is your hand?” 

You had honestly forgotten about it. Holding it up, you examine your bandage. “Fine.” 

The two of you stay in silence. Hongjoong seems mad. 

“Is that really all you’re going to ask?” He asks, almost sounding whiny. Like a child. 

It’s certainly all you’re going to ask him. He’ll only lie to you. “Can I see Seonghwa?” You ask instead.

Hongjoong scoffs. He brushes his hair back, looking around the room as if he’s expecting some live studio audience to empathize with him. “I know you’re not fucking him.” 

You shrug. “Are you okay, Hongjoong?” 

His face falls flat. He crosses his arms over his chest, turning to fully face you again. “I’m great.” The words are strained. You’ve never known Hongjoong to be a bad liar. 

“You seem kinda pissed.” 

“I am not—” He closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to his forehead. “I’m fine. I’ll have Seonghwa come visit, since you clearly won’t be speaking to me.” He says this like he expects you to apologize. But what the hell would you apologize for? 

Hongjoong leaves without another word once it becomes clear that you won’t be giving him what he wants. You’re sure that he expected more crying, more fear, more begging and pleading for answers. 

You save that for once you’re sure that he’s gone.

Trembling, you pull your knees to your chest. Your fingers twitch with fear, your hair feels foreignly heavy, your wrist burns and burns where the thing had touched you. 

You refuse to believe that it was real. It cannot be real. None of this can be real. There was some trick, some show, some plan that you weren’t privy to. Seonghwa will tell you. He’ll have to tell you. He’s honest, most of the time. He’ll explain it away, he’ll tell you how Hongjoong did it and why it seemed so real. 

Where was its face? 

How had they done that? Where the fact should have been, there was nothing. You couldn’t even say that it was a color. It was a void. An emptiness. There was nothing there. 

The memory makes you dizzy. You lean back against the pillows, praying to God that you’re not going insane. Had you really seen that? You couldn’t have. Because that’s just not something that’s possible. 

If Seonghwa can’t explain this, you might go crazy. You might. What else is there to do? It wasn’t real. But the fear that you’re feeling now certainly is. 

What if it comes back? What if they make it come back? What was it? Where was its face? 

Even though whatever the fuck that was wasn’t real, the memory certainly is. You’re going to be lucky to sleep soundly one night for the rest of your damn life. What the fuck. 

Seonghwa lets himself into the room only a few minutes after Hongjoong had left. 

“You like me so much that you ask for me now?” He smirks, approaching your side. 

His face falls flat when he takes a good look at you. “Stop that. Why are you crying?” 

“Seonghwa.” You feel that it’s quite obvious why you’re crying. 

He only blinks at you. 

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice shakes with the question. 

“I—” He starts, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Its complicated.” 

You cover your face with your hands. “Was it real? Just be honest.” 

You can’t see his reaction to your question, and he doesn’t answer it, either. 

“What was it?” You moan, hardly able to even spit the words out. To basically admit to Seonghwa that you were scared.

“I think it would be better if you talked to Hongjoo—”

“I am not talking to Hongjoong!” 

You take your hands away from your face, needing to look at him. You hate him. You hate him more than fucking anything. Why can’t he just be honest? Why is he Hongjoong’s little fucking doll? Why does he worship him to such a degree when he’s this fucking evil? Where would he draw the line? 

Seonghwa is stunned into silence. He only stares down at you.

“All I can say is that I didn’t know it was going to happen.” 

He looks blurry through your tears, only making you angrier as you recall Hongjoong looking the same way.

“Stop bullshitting me, please, Seonghwa,” you beg. “I think I’ll go insane if you don’t fucking answer me.” 

He turns away from your bed, striding to one of the medicine cabinets in an attempt to look anywhere but your face. He rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead momentarily. 

“What do you want to hear?” He asks, turning back toward you, though he keeps his distance. “Would you rather know what Hongjoong is capable of or would you rather keep the comforting thought that he’s right? Wouldn’t that just be easier for everybody?” 

“You’re saying that Hongjoong can do things scarier than the thought of fucking interdimensional demons being real?” You throw your hands out in front of you, almost yelling in frustration. 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Yes!” Seonghwa matches your tone. “He’s only going to come at you harder. He exists to make you break! Just fucking accept the truth for what he says that it is, and everything will come easily!” 

“I’m not going to do that!” 

Seonghwa laughs bitterly. “I’m sure you believe that, too, Princess.” 

You stare back at him, sure that you look insane. “Can you be genuine for one fucking second?” 

His face contorts into a scowl. “I’ve never been anything but genuine with you. You’re the one that deludes yourself.” He strides back to the door, freezing in the frame. “Is there anything else you wish to fling at me?” 

“I’m taking this to mean that it wasn’t real.” 

“If that helps you sleep at night.” 

Seonghwa leaves. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Can you bear some girl time? You’re not sure as Nayeon lets herself in, walking casually into the room as if the literal antichrist of her religion didn’t just make a physical appearance before her. 

“How are we feeling?” She asks, dragging out the vowel sounds in her question. 

“Uhm,” you look at your hand, the only injured part of your body, “fine, I guess.” 

“Perfect!” She smiles, reaching out to put her hand under yours. “The bandage looks fine. I don’t think it’ll reopen.” 

Nayeon had found time to change her clothes. She’s back to her usual farm girl outfit, smiling and happy. 

“Are you alright, Nayeon?” You ask, curious to know what a regular Follower made of what the fuck happened. 

She frowns, and then shrugs, and then smiles again. “I mean, it was, like, a bit scary. But Hongjoong made it go away, and he’s always with us, so it’s not like it can come back to hurt us. I was definitely scared at first, but then he showed up and I knew it would be okay.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly. Nayeon has always been a valuable source of information for you. 

“It was just so valiant; do you remember how he saved you?” She giggles, “he still has it going for you. It’s amazing.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t say that I remember much…” Other than the fucking maw of emptiness. 

“Oh, well I got you.” She pulls up one of her rolling stools, sitting herself down right next to your bed. “So the ceremony went great. Textbook, really. But as it was finishing… I guess I’m not really sure how it happened, either. Like, one second everything was fine, and the next Yunho was on the ground— he’s fine, by the way; wind knocked out of him, but yeah, anyways— and the Guardian was there and everyone was screaming, it was so scary. I guess it grabbed you… and then Hongjoong appeared and it was like his presence just scared it away. I didn’t see what happened exactly… but the next thing I knew you were on the ground and Hongjoong was hollering for my help.” 

She shrugs. 

What you gather from that is that she didn’t see how it got there or how it left. Good signs, probably. She’d certainly remember seeing something… appear out of thin air. You almost want to smile. What a silly thought, that that could have all been real… haha… ha… yeah, funny…

“I see…” You respond, not sure what you’re supposed to say, “how much time has passed?” 

Nayeon looks at her watch, “like, three hours.” 

Great. Perfect, actually. It would be very unfortunate to find out that you had been unconscious for a week again, especially given the circumstances with Haseul. She’s probably already freaking out, but not hearing anything from you for a week… 

Is Hongjoong going to let you see her? After your brush with death? It wasn’t your fault that… whatever happened happened. Like, he planned that, not you. Surely he can’t hold this over your head. If anything, you basically almost just got kidnapped into a parallel universe, he should be treating you very kindly, right? 

Asshole. He’s probably going to bitch and moan for the next week about you not being scared of him. Fucking asshat. 

But… God, ugh, this is all so frustrating. On one hand, you’re pissed at him for, you don’t know, literally everything that he’s ever done to you, maybe? But on the other, you know that you’re going to have to play by his rules to get him to leave Haseul alone. Or, well, at least as alone as he can.

When is she going to have a Choosing ceremony, you wonder? Yours didn’t take very long… 

Well, if he doesn’t let you see her after this, at least you have that to… tentatively look forward to… ew, you don’t even want to be thinking like that. 

Nayeon stands at your side, bringing you back. 

You don’t realize why until you look behind her, only to spot Yunho standing near the doorway. 

He’s changed out of his clothes, thankfully. But just seeing him is enough to flood your mind with the thought of the thing, your stomach lurching over again as he welcomes himself into the room, clearing his throat. 

Nayeon pats his shoulder as she walks past him, excusing herself. Yunho stops at the foot of your bed. 

You have to admit that he might be one of the last people you would have expected to visit you, now. You had been thinking it before everything happened, but you don’t really think he has any lost love for you, given your circumstances with Mingi. 

“Thank you,” you break the silence, forcing the words out before you can think better of them, “for, uhm, trying to help me. And, I mean, actually helping me, too.” You can’t forget that he had kept you standing when the sacrifice was presented. How ruined is his coat?

He awkwardly looks at his hands, which are gripping the rail at the end of your bed. “Don’t mention it.” His voice is so meager that you barely can hear him. 

Yunho doesn’t look up. You’re not sure what else to say. So you speak without thinking, again. “How’s Mingi?” 

He peeks up at you, but then goes right back to staring down. “He’s… uhm, well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

He pries his hands off of the rail, but then stares at them like he’s unsure that they’re even his hands. Tucking his hands behind his back, he continues, though he still doesn’t look straight at you, “I, uhm, yeah. Mingi is worried about you, and I think his worry came off the wrong way to you and San.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, slowly, and semi-sarcastically. You could’ve guessed that. “He has an interesting way of showing it.” 

Yunho takes a deep breath, “He doesn’t know that I’m here. I just thought that I would try and explain his side of things. From his perspective, he is the reason that you’re here and he feels guilty for that; but he’s also pissed that you’ve gotten close with San so quickly, because he doesn’t like him and he feels like you won’t take his concerns seriously.” 

“I don’t see what there is to be concerned about,” you plainly state, “do you have something against San, Yunho? Any reason at all to believe that Mingi could have reason to suspect that he’s not what he shows me?” 

Yunho startles when you say his name, like someone barely inhabiting their own body. “I mean, no. I think Mingi is probably just projecting his fear onto San, but don’t tell him I said that.” 

“Exactly. So why should I have to cater to Mingi’s ego?” The words sound harsh even as you say them, but its a genuine question. You don’t have much reason to believe that San would ever do anything to hurt you… besides him being someone that Hongjoong clearly trusts, but, like, you’ve been over that a million times before. 

Yunho just shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that maybe you would hear me out, since I know it’s hard for you to be alone with Mingi.” He stops his nervous fidgeting, finally looking directly at you. “I wasn’t nice to you because I harbor any sweetness towards you, for the record. I don’t even care that you’re the new object of Hongjoong’s affection. I only tried to help because I knew that, if I didn’t, Mingi would have.” His voice is harder than you’ve ever heard it; a shocking contrast to how he had been speaking just moments earlier. He maintains eye contact with you, his eyes dark. 

You’re the one to look away, this time, disturbed by what he said. What a very random and slightly disturbing thing to say. 

When you look back up at him, Yunho is already nervously looking around the room. His hands are in front of him again as he plays with his fingers. 

“Well,” you clear your throat, “thanks anyways, Yunho.” 

“Yep,” is all he says before leaving your room, basically running. 

… That was strange. Very strange. 

Nayeon doesn’t return. You’re left alone, puzzling over that entire interaction.

What… what was the point of that? Like, okay, sure you can get him wanting to try and vouch for Mingi. But… uhm??? The last part? What? Why was that so ominous? Huh? 

You had never known Yunho to be particularly timid… or… rude… This all is just very weird. Maybe even weirder than the fake demon situation. 

No, scratch that, definitely not any weirder than that. That one is gonna keep you awake for a while. A good while. But Yunho’s behavior was definitely not his usual, which is almost concerning. Almost… only because you suppose that you don’t really know him that well. Maybe he’s only really nice and outgoing to strangers… 

That wouldn’t make sense, either. 

Whatever, you really can’t be worrying about that right now. You have priorities. 

Priorities of which you would list, at least in your head, if San didn’t come barreling through the door the next moment. 

You startle, shocked by his sudden appearance. He’s changed, but he doesn’t look great. His hair is a mess, his lip is split, his shirt is untucked in places.

He reaches out for you, and you reach him halfway, grabbing his forearms as he grabs yours. Wordlessly, he looks over your face hastily, pressing his lips to yours before you can ask what happened. 

Your lips part, and he puts his forehead on yours. “We need to get out of here. As soon as possible.” 

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[jaidens]

The sand from your hair is blowin' in my eyes Blame it on the beach, grown men don't cry

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : crying, anxiety, death, drinking | angst with comfort!

a/n [s] : requests are open!

Bradley sits on the beach, but he feels a million miles away from everything.

You sit next to him as you tell him about work recently and how your coworker did something. Admittedly, he wasn't listening like he usually did, but he stares at the breaking waves and the wind that slips through his cloth Old Navy t-shirt and the shorts he brought to swim in.

Bradley grew up without a father figure after he was five years old. He only had the distinct memories of Goose, his Uncle Maverick, and his mother. He craved the feeling of being able to hug his dad one last time, not just staring at the picture of his Little League team and his father's dumb mustache and Ray-Ban Caravans that sit on his nose.

Bradley sits next to him with a dumb, blond bowl cut and a huge smile as he sits with Goose in his arms. He craves that feeling of being a kid, without worry. He's beside himself as the tears blur the sunset and ocean out of his view, striking like a broken mirror.

“Bradley..” A quiet voice is let through to his ears, as he covers his face with his hands and curls in on himself. “Hey, hey what's wrong?” He can't pull himself to look at you, the person he truly loves as you let your hand touch his arm softly.

Bradley found love, and was able to tell his mother as she laid sick that he was happy. After his father's death, he couldn't live for himself to love. Until Carole had slapped some sense into her son, telling him to find love and that everything will start to make sense. He heard all the stories growing up about Goose's romantic gestures of singing Great Balls of Fire; dedicated to his lovely wife.

When he found you, sitting at the bar sipping on a Sprite and eating one of Penny's famous dinner foods, he knew he was in love. He was freshly out of the Flight Academy, young and dumb when he met you. His mustache barely growing in and still wearing his college baseball shirts.

“Brad, don't ignore me. I know you can hear me.”

One thing about Bradley was his ignoring of problems. His therapist had tried to work him out of the habit, after the dangers of almost getting hurt in the plane after he disregarded Maverick’s commands. It also stood for emotionally ignoring. A year ago, Bradley would have never talked and would've let it out with anger and crying if he was confronted with a problem he wasn't sure how to solve.

“I—I–...” Bradley begins before that frog in his throat appears, biting on his tongue. The tears well up in his eyes, as he takes his hand and wipes them away. The feeling bubbles up inside of him like a Coke shaken with Mentos inside.

“It’s okay, I'm here.” You remind him softly, making sure to hold his hand to help him further in knowing you weren't leaving him alone.

“Hangman— today he mentioned Goose. Told everyone. Maverick didn't even do anything either, I almost fought him too. Then, I remembered Dad. He would've despised me if I used violence.”

“And– and, Maverick keeps bugging me about just fixing my relationship with him. I have no reason too! He pulled my papers!” Bradley stops when he starts practically sobbing, tears running down his face and hands shaking. The anger mixes into his sadness and fear of everything.

He feels embarrassed acting like this in front of you— a grown man crying in someone's arms about another grown man. Bradley feels the weight of his body falling off of him as you rub his back with your hand, and keep on hand raking in the curls of the back of his head.

“Bradley, whatever Hangman said, was unacceptable. Hopefully he apologizes because you do not deserve that at all.” You said. “Maverick loves you Bradley, he basically raised you. What he did as well was horrible, but from what I know about Mav, it was probably meant to happen.”

Bradley takes your words to heart, holding onto your hand now with an actual grip. His lip quivers while he feels your thumb trace over his knuckles. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffles quietly. You smell like salt water and coconut as he lays in the curve of your neck and shoulder. “Thanks.” Bradley says a few minutes later.

Bradley stares at you, the soft smile you have and his big Ford Bronco t-shirt you have on. You look ethereal in the golden and pink hues that collect in the San Diego sky. He feels your connection that wraps your souls together. He's so in love with you, and he thanks whatever big guy is up there, that puts you and him together.

“Why?” You ask him back, looking down at him at where he lays.

“Because. You're always there for me. Always say the right things.” Bradley admits softly. Messing with the towel you have laid on the ground. “It’s why I love you so much.”

His words are anything but foreign to your ears. You smile at him and see him still finding his breath after the cry that he needed to get out of him. “I love you too. I will never stop loving you.”

He feels closer to everything, you as well as himself. Bradley hopes his mother can see him now, holding the person he loves in his arms.

[twodogs-twocats]

We Fall Like Stars - A Sleep Token Novella

chapter 9

the summoning

WFLS Masterlist [READ ME for cw] I chapter 8 I chapter 10 (coming soon)

Read this chapter on A03

For an old man, John was full of fire. The fog of his breath gave him away, crouching low on his front porch with a pump action shotgun, larger and more powerful than Noa’s own, pointed towards the smoking mass of alien metal. 

Noa slowed the truck as she approached, not wanting to spook him. When John looked up, his eyes flooded with recognition, quickly followed by panic. He began to wave his arms, warding her away from the property. Today, his frazzled gray hair was covered with a thick cap, but it did little to soften his agitation.

“That’s John,” Noa said to Vessel. He still looked nauseous, but whether that was from Noa’s driving, or from the anticipation of confronting whatever was in that ship, she could not be sure. “No mind tricks, okay? He’s a good guy.”

Vessel nodded, although Noa could have sworn he rolled his eyes. 

The spacecraft in the distance was still. Fortunately, it had missed anything important, landing in an empty stretch of icy gray earth. From this distance, she could tell it was similar to the one Vessel had crashed in, although this one remained in one piece. Still, the trail of smoke coming from it was concerning.

“Wait here,” she instructed, parking far enough away from John’s house that he would not be able to discern Vessel. 

“Noa, I cannot wait. I need to get to the ship.”

“John is going to freak when he sees you. The last thing I want is for you to get shot.” Noa grabbed her own shotgun from the backseat. “Just give me thirty seconds to warn him and then you can do whatever you need to do.” 

Vessel, on the edge of his seat, clearly disagreed. Yet when Noa got out and ran to John, Gus following close behind, Vessel remained in the truck.

John was still waving his arms wildly.

“Noa, get outta here right now,” he shouted, his gaze darting back and forth between her and the ship. “I dunno what that thing is, but I know that ain’t no plane.”

Noa was panting by the time she reached him. She crouched down next to him behind the fading white porch rails. From here, she could just make out the Vessel’s figure in her truck. It seemed John had not yet noticed him.

“No, it's not a plane. It's an alien spaceship.”

John’s brow furrowed

“What do you-”

“John, I don’t have much time to explain,” she interrupted, “so please listen to me and promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

A small tilt of his head indicated he agreed, although his eyes continued to flicker toward the ship. Any minute now, something, or someone, was bound to emerge. Noa forged ahead. 

“I’ve had an alien living at my place for the past couple of weeks. His name is Vessel and he won’t hurt you.”

To his credit, John did not react, aside from a slight widening of his eyes.

“I think he knows whoever is in that ship. He’s going to help us, but when you see him, I need you to relax, okay? I- I really care about him, and I don’t want either of you to get hurt.” 

John opened his mouth to answer, but his words were cut off by a sound like steam issuing from a busted pipe. John and Noa both turned toward the ship in time to see one of its doors slide open. Dense smoke obscured any view of the inside of the ship. 

Suddenly, a figure cloaked in black sprinted across John’s property. Vessel moved like the wind, and for a second, Noa worried he was using his powers, but there was nothing unearthly about his movement - only the prowess of a body tamed by years of deliberate use. 

With a loud bark, Gus chased after him.

“Shit!” Her nerves frayed as she watched the two beings closest to her run toward the ship. Noa cursed Vessel. She had told him to wait, but he seemed to have a penchant for self-destructive situations. Now, he was bringing her beloved dog along with him.

“Stay here John.” Noa grabbed her gun and darted down the steps. Ever since Vessel’s arrival, Noa had run more in the last month than she had in the past several years combined. Noa hated running. The cold air burned her lungs. Her stomach cramped. Just another bone she would have to pick with Vessel, but for now, she needed to get to him and Gus. Behind her, she heard heavy breathing louder than her own. John was following close behind. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she huffed. The next time one of these stubborn males in her life didn’t listen to her, she was going to lose it. John kept a slow but steady pace, carrying his gun with both hands. Ahead of her, Vessel and Gus halted a few feet away from the ship. Noa reached them just as a clatter sounded from inside the spacecraft.

“Vessel, I’m going to kill you if whatever is in there doesn’t do it first,” she wheezed, coming to stand next to him and Gus. 

John arrived shortly after. He stared wide-eyed at Vessel, taking in the black skin and the eyes so different from his own. Vessel was a solid foot taller than John, yet he looked at the man with a reciprocal amount of curiosity and wariness. John was, Noa realized, the only other human Vessel had seen.

Introductions would need to wait until later, however. More commotion emanated from the spaceship. The sound of footsteps thudding against metal. Then, a hacking cough. 

The ship was the same dark gray metal, but while Vessel’s ship was a round pod clearly built for one, this ship was more cylindrical in shape and much larger. Red runes, just like the ones on Vessel’s mask, decorated its hull.  

John and Noa raised their guns, but Vessel held his hand up in a motion for them to pause. He took tentative steps toward the ship, his stockinged feet soundless on the snow. Noa kept her grip tight. 

Vessel peered into the open door. Then, to Noa’s dismay, Vessel smiled. Laughed. He opened his arms wide to receive the three figures that emerged from the haze of smoke.

In the faint sunlight, Noa finally perceived the ship’s owners.

The first was tall and lanky. He had a shock of ice white hair and wore a long red trench coat. When he saw Vessel, he broke out into gregarious laughter. 

Another was short and stocky, wearing a heavily decorated leather jacket and some serious looking boots. As he stepped into the sunlight, his skin seemed to glitter. 

Between the two of them they supported another figure who emerged walking with a limp. This one was dressed the most simply, his clothing similar to a modern sweatshirt and sweatpants. Although he was clearly in pain, he too smiled when he saw Vessel.

Noa could not help but gasp. These were the same three figures she had dreamed about. Sleeps’ soldiers and Vessel’s…friends. 

Vessel cupped each of their faces one at a time. They spoke quietly to each other, but even if Noa could have heard them, she would not have been able to understand. What she could hear in bits and pieces was the same sound of ocean waves and insect-like chirping that Vessel had spoken in before he swallowed the translator. 

They were clearly happy to see each other, but as Noa glanced at John standing still as a statue, as she glanced at Gus who was eying the aliens warily, she could not help but feel a sense of dread. On her own home planet she was outnumbered by extraterrestrial beings. 

__________

Noa, John, Vessel, and the three strangers gathered in John’s living room. Strangers didn’t seem like quite the right word, however, as Noa was struck by how much she already felt like she knew them. Her dreams – Vessel’s memories – had been vivid enough to create a sense of familiarity. 

Living in the middle of nowhere South Dakota, Noa had never experienced such quiet as she did now. John sat alone in an armchair. He sipped at a beer while he eyed the aliens warily over the top of the bottle, bushy eyebrows furrowed.

Vessel sat on the sofa along with the blond and the one with the injured leg. Like Vessel, they all had the same black skin, but strangely they had the usual single pair of eyes. The fourth alien stood behind the couch, his gaze roaming around John’s home, taking in every detail. At first, Noa had thought it had been a trick of the sunlight, but now in John’s dim living room incandescents, she saw that he did, in fact sparkle.

Noa sat alone on a wooden chair near the fireplace. She had hoped Vessel would start the introductions, but after the initial excitement of seeing his friends, he now seemed as nervous as she was. He gnawed on his lower lip in a way that both irritated her and made her stomach flutter. She would have given anything to be alone with him for a moment, just to gather her bearings, but instead they found themselves sitting in tense silence.

Noa cleared her throat. 

“So, um- I’m Noa and this is John,” she gestured to her right. John didn’t take his eyes off the aliens across from him. “I’m not really sure how to start this but, -”

“Noa.” Vessel interrupted her. “Just a second. They do not understand you.”

He spoke to the injured alien on his right in their native language, a sound that was quite literally unearthly. Noa noticed that this alien's arms were decorated in subtle patterns, almost like there were tattoos beneath the black of his skin. Although she could not see them clearly from where she sat, the effect was beautiful nonetheless.

 From his pocket, this alien produced three of the little translators Vessel had 

used. He swallowed one, and distributed the remaining two to the others. 

Vessel looked at her encouragingly. 

“So as I was saying, um, I’m Noa, this is John, and this here is Gus.” The dog sat calmly at her feet, as though his friendship with Vessel meant the other aliens posed no threat. “And obviously you know Vessel.”

She was rambling. She knew it, but she had no idea how to have this conversation. This was so different from when Vessel had landed. At the time, she had determined him to be a threat, and that was something she knew how to handle. But these new visitors were not quite threats, and yet not quite friends. She looked to Vessel for help, but it was the alien on Vessel’s right who spoke instead.

“I am two,” he said. His voice was soft and musical. As he spoke, he produced from his pocket a piece of parchment and a hunk of black charcoal. On it he drew two thick lines.

“This is three -” the blond, “- and four -” the glittery one behind the couch. He drew three long lines, and then another line and a v. Noa understood. Their names were not simply numbers, but roman numerals - II, III, and IV. 

“And yes we know Vessel, but the question is, how do you?”

His icy blue eyes locked on hers. Although he spoke softly, it was clear this II held some authority.

Stumbling through her words, Noa attempted to explain as best she could her relationship with Vessel – how he had crashed on her farm, how she had cautiously taken him in so she could help him fix his ship, how their friendship had developed and she had come to trust him. Vessel interjected occasionally, but to Noa’s annoyance, he let her do most of the talking. It wasn’t until she began to speak of the moment on the hill when Vessel and Noa saw the ship crash, that Noa realized why Vessel was so nervous. Vessel was fleeing Sleep, and his friends did not know.

“I was taking Vessel for a drive, just to get out of the house,” she lied. “We went up to the top of a hill nearby. A favorite spot for me, I went there all the time when I was a kid. And anyways, that’s when we saw your ship crash. And Vessel freaked out and then I did too because I saw it was heading for John’s farm and we came straight here, and… yeah.”

What an utter mess, but hopefully her word vomit would cover up everything she wasn’t saying: the kiss, their heart to heart in the truck, and Vessel’s confession that he was trying to leave his old life behind.

She looked at Vessel, and recognized her own emotions mirrored in him. Nerves, yes, but also a touch of sorrow. It seemed that Vessel’s old life had found him anyway. The little bubble she had created, just the two of them and Gus, was bursting, and she was not sure she was ready for it. Only when she had just started to let him in, now there was a new dynamic to navigate, new personalities to color their relationship. 

“Seems like you were well taken care of, mate,” the tall blonde, III, slung his arm around Vessel’s shoulder casually and winked at Noa. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, causing III to chuckle. This one had an undeniable swagger, and a tinge of mania in his eyes, but there was also something about him that was rather… hot. Noa willed the flush out of her cheeks.

“Sounds like we don’t even need to worry about fixing your pod. We just do a couple repairs on our ship, and we can head back home yeah?”

Vessel shifted uncomfortably.

“How did you find me here?” he asked.

“Well that’s the funny part of the story,” III continued. He flung his long limbs around as he spoke. “When you didn’t come back when you should have, we just sort of took off without a plan. Off into the stars. We thought we would maybe pick up your trace on our navigation chart, but then our ship lost power and we crashed. Next thing we know, we’re walking out our ship only to run into your ugly mug.”

Behind the couch, IV snorted.

Vessel turned to II, his face grim.

“How can that be? How is it we both crashed here on the same planet?”

II’s expression was similarly crumpled. 

“I- I am not sure, but it is concerning. How were repairs going on the pod?”

Again Vessel shifted. “It’s been… slow going.”

“How is that possible, Vessel?” This time IV spoke. His voice was low, rumbling like thunder. “You have been here for weeks.”

“I- well…” Vessel stammered. “It’s my fault,” Noa interrupted. “When Vessel first landed I was afraid of him. I kept him locked up in the barn for quite a while. It was impossible to make any repairs without the proper tools.”

Vessel glanced at her appreciatively, and IV shrugged and resumed his perusal of John’s knick-knacks. II, however, eyed her warily. He was clearly a hard one to fool. Then he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It may be more difficult to fix our ship than I thought. It is no coincidence that we both crashed here. Perhaps this planet's gravity interacts with our ships strangely, or perhaps some other unknown force is at play. Either way, I will need some time to plan.”

Noa wasn’t sure if this statement made her want to celebrate or crumple into a ball. Vessel would be sticking around it seemed, but they would have to keep up their charade a bit longer, which was sure to be exhausting. She found herself recalling their kiss, and wondering if that first kiss was destined to be their last.

“Noa, John,” II spoke to them now. “I must ask you to open up your home to us a bit longer. We will not need much, only some space to rest and perhaps a bit of food and water. We will repay you however we can.”

Vessel still said nothing. She needed to speak to him alone and try to understand how much she could trust his friends, how much to tell them. She was about to ask for just this, when John spoke first.

“Well Noa,” he said, and when Noa faced him, she was shocked to see what could only be described as a playful glimmer shining on his face. Good lord, this man was excited. “Your house or mine?”

[its8amlol]

♫ ᴀ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs ♬

∙ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Erik Destler (2004) x female reader

∙sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Orphaned young Charlotte finds solace and purpose in the world famous Opera Populaire , following in her late parents' footsteps as a budding musician and dancer. Charlotte finds herself under the care of her mother's dear friend Madame Giry, a ballet teacher, and her two children, residing within the opulent Opera House. Haunted by grief and the promise her late father made - that the Angel of Music would guide her - Charlotte clings to the hope that her musical talent, inherited from her composer parents, will be nurtured. Unbeknownst to her, a disfigured musical genius resides beneath the opera house, posing as her promised angel and tutor, providing secret lessons while simultaneously wreaking havoc on the theater's inhabitants. As Charlotte blossoms into a young woman and gifted but obscure opera singer, her mentor falls deeply in love and obsessed with her. When her childhood friend re-enters her life, he ignites a rivalry that threatens to jeopardise Charlotte's future and force her to confront the darkness that dwells beneath the glittering facade of the Opera house.

Her voice became his passion. Her love became his obsession. Her forced refusal became his rage.....

•ʟɪɴᴋs: {wattpad} {a03} <- coming soon!

∙ᴀ/ɴ: I do not own the phantom of the opera, I only own my original characters. This story will not be accurate to when the original story is set because it is an AU where the events of the opera house take place in the 21 century. However, for some elements of the story (like the view of marriage for women and 'belonging' to her husband) things from the past will not change so don't be alarmed if in the 21 century they start talking about debut balls and women dressing modestly lol.

A big thank you for giving this book a go! I hope you enjoy <3

The stage of the opera house was tense. It had been three weeks since the catastrophe. With no sign of Charlotte, the hope of her return began to dwindle and fade. Dancers, singers, and stagehands alike began to congregate onto the platform. A drape with the word DELICATE printed in big black letters lay over something so grand it was unnerving, and a few workers from a glass company stood around the gargantuan object, inspecting it. Whispers of confusion and fear spread amongst the crowd like wildfire. A man, finely dressed in a suit and adorning a mustache, stepped onto a podium and cleared his throat.

The lead soprano of the opera house, Carlotta Giudicelli, clung to her lover's arm for comfort, and he returned the gesture in equal measure. The two had not yet forgotten the pain of almost being separated by death on that fateful night three weeks ago. They never would.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please!" The loud chatter echoing through the auditorium silenced. All eyes were on the distinguished man before them.

"Thank you-" he began. "First and foremost, let me say how deeply relieved I am that no one was seriously injured. That is, above all, what matters the most. The chandelier- yes, it crashed. Yes, it was dramatic. But you, this company- you are the soul of the opera house, and you're all still standing here today."

Not all of us.

"Now, I won't pretend this hasn't shaken us all. A three-ton structure crashing down mid-performance is not exactly the evening you advertised." Some in the cluster felt a shiver crawl up their spine at the memory of the fear they felt when the chandelier hit.

"I do not wish to bring more horrid memories back to the surface, but I'm sure that all of you will remember the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. A mystery left unexplained."

In the far corner of the stage, a young man watched this scene unfold, remembering everything that the girl he wanted did to him. Denying his love, and then choosing to marry a deformed lunatic. A monster. Over him? A freak of nature over a rich Vicomte?

"We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster." He gave a questioning look to no one in particular, but to confirm his suspicions, a few nodded.

The man now seemed even more fascinated by the chandelier- if that were even possible.

"Our workshops have repaired it. Improved it. Made it stronger, and most importantly, safer. We have wired parts of it with a newer, longer-lasting light. Perhaps, if he never left at all, we can frighten away the ghost that taunted you for so many years with a little... illumination." He let a lighthearted laugh slip from his lips before turning to the two men standing by the covered light fixture.

"Gentlemen."

And with those fateful words, the velvet cloth was ripped from the chandelier, and a surge of electricity waved through the air. Sparks exploded like fireworks, illuminating horrified faces as the great metal frame trembled to life. The two employees staggered backward, arms raised in vain against the sudden wave of heat. Gasps rippled like thunder through the crowd- some shrank behind their companions, others could only stare as chaos bloomed before them.

Bulbs bursted to life in sharp, blinding flickers. The massive structure groaned, creaked, shuddered, as if awoken from a century of slumber. Thick black wires yanked it upward, dragging it skyward to its perch in the ceiling... where it had rested when it all began.

Four months before Charlotte vanished.

Four months before the disaster.

Four months ago.

September 6th, 2024.

[kwills91]

Make Me Write

As usual, pick one or more of the emojis below that is assigned to one of my WIPs and for each emoji I will write 3 sentences and send them out. I know my omegaverse fic fans might be disappointed it's not on the list right now but that's because the chapter I'm currently working is a lot of smut since it's actually getting into the bitching of it all, and god knows what's actually going to be suitable to be posted on here 😂 but I promise I am working hard on it (chapter 2 will actually be up later today)

I just really need to get back into the swing of things because writing has been <i>hard</i> lately, so send me some emojis pleeeaaasse, see if I can knock my word count back up to where it typically would be this time of year

Capped at 1000 words per request

Buddie

💔 - Stick Season Album fic - Forced to confront a part of his past he'd rather forget, Eddie decides to drive through the night to El Paso to be open with Christopher once and for all. However, halfway there he gets into an accident leaving him trapped and stranded and hidden from view of the road and Eddie must face all of his past demons and traumas to realise that there's a future waiting for him where he can finally be happy.

💚 - Concerned/jealous Buck freak4freak fic - When Eddie comes out as gay and starts dating a man, Buck becomes concerned (and, yes, a little obsessive) about the fact Eddie keeps showing up with marks. The rest of the team attempt to put his mind at ease and Eddie's reasons seem plausible enough, but Buck can't shake the sick feeling he has in his stomach, much to his own boyfriend's annoyance. When Eddie shows up to Buck's apartment with bruises on his neck that look distinctly finger shaped, Buck has no choice but to confront him, but when Eddie explains that they are a matter of taste, Buck's concern quickly turns to jealousy and an eager to prove he can match Eddie's freak better than anybody

📨 - Epistolary Where Rainbows End/Love Rosie AU - Childhood Friends to Lovers spanning from the age of 7 to 30s told in notes, texts, postcards, emails, IMs, letters, cards, invitations, etc in the style of Where Rainbows End (the original title of the book that Love, Rosie is adapted from). A series of heartbreaks, missed chances, not actually unrequited love, and an eventual happy ending

Jayvik

🔬 - Modern, older, second chance AU - inspired by @arctvros gorgeous artwork: 15 years following a lab accident that tore their partnership apart, Viktor returns to Piltover to ask the council for funding in his research toward treatment and preventative measures for the ways The Grey continues to affect Zaun. When the council votes against it, Jayce suggests that he use Hextech Industries resources since he is still a co-owner of the company and together they discover the ways in which they have changed in their time apart might be the very reason they are able to come back together to build something more than what they had before.

🎮 - Modern/College/You've Got Mail AU - Jayce and Viktor are both postgrad students who view each other as rivals thanks to the prejudices they hold, and find solace in friendships they have forged online that remain mostly anonymous. Jayce is the first to discover that his rival and his friend are one and the same, and he has no idea how to navigate it.

Steddie

🚬 - One Foot In Your Bedroom - Steve and Eddie meet following the events of season 2 and their turbulent relationship forms and breaks and forms and breaks until the aftereffects of Vecna's assault on Hawkins forces them to figure their shit out and be open with each other once and for all. It won't be easy, but it might be worth it.

No pressure tags: @cal-daisies-and-briars @rainbow-nerdss @j-j-k @missyousofar @epicbuddieficrecs

@spotsandsocks @prettysophist @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @idealuk @thelikesofus

@hotshotsxyz @henswilsons @fruitandbubbles @fedzzzart @dylaesthetics

@clusterbuck @viviseawrites @bilosan @namesnamesandmorenames

[hyperfanfictions]

Yet another royalteeth fic

The au this time is the wonderland au by @obamerzslop! Let's have a look into how these goobers met.

Fic is under the cut!

Chattering filled the halls of the court. Kinger, in his red robe adorned with fluff, sat on an elevated stool high above the floor and the jury's seats. The current case today was about a burglary in the royal bakery, and it was to be settled if the current suspect was guilty or not. The jury had a feeling the latter would be chosen, considering the king's decisions in previous cases.

But something caught his royal eye: A witness to the event.

A magician was escorted into the court and to his pedestal where he would state his views of the event, but he was soaking wet. The rain outside the castle was especially pouring this particular night. Kinger couldn't help but feel something for the stranger. This only intensified when the stranger took off his coat.

After a grueling 10 minutes of chatter, the suspect was brought into the court and the jury fell silent. The King banged his hammer.

"State your name and age, suspect." He demanded, setting down his wooden hammer. The suspect stammered, "M-My name is Ruby Vilos, I'm 24 years old."

"Are you aware of why you are here in the royal court, Ruby?"

"N-No, not really. The guards told me about a robbery of some sort..."

The King clenched his fists in frustration. "You were accused of robbing the royal bakery behind the castle, Ruby Vilos." The suspect gasped and leaned forward in denial. "Your highness, I would never do such a thing!" She was pulled back by a guard.

Kinger looked at the witness, turning to him sharply. "You. State your name and age, stranger." The witnesses shoulders jumped, but relaxed immediately after. With a bow, he introduced himself. "My name is Caine Dante, and I'm 43!" The King felt honored by the polite gesture.

"You are aware you are a witness, correct?"

"Yes sirree, your highness! Though I don't think it was her in particular."

Kinger tilted his head curiously. "And why do you think that?" Caine examined Ruby closely from his pedestal. "Well, I remember the burglar wearing a striped pink and purple suit, and his ears were very long and strange."

Kinger sighed in disappointment, lifting his hammer. "That's all I need, really. Case dismissed." He banged the hammer. Ruby was set free of her shackles and escorted out of the castle, and Kinger commanded the guards to find the robber, who he named as "Cheshire Jax".

Caine approached the King, though hesitantly. "Could I ask who this cheshire is, your majesty?" The King jumped at the sudden question, but relaxed. "Oh, just a trickster. He pulls these so-called 'pranks' all of the time and it's pissing me off."

"Oh! Could I cheer you up with a trick, your majesty?"

"Sure, whatever."

Caine then proceeded to pull off his hat, flip it over, and reach his hand inside, rummaging for something. Kinger stared curiously. Caine grinned widely and pulled out a small white rabbit from the hat, surprising the King. He then handed him the rabbit.

"Wha... How?" Kinger stared at the rabbit in his arms. Caine giggled. "A magician never shares his secrets!" He began to walk away with the grin still present, but was suddenly pulled back and pinned to the wall by Kingers strong grip. His heart fluttered.

"If you are not to become my jester, I will have you beheaded." Kinger crouched to the magician's height. Despite his stern expression, he was panicking on the inside. Caine hummed nervously, attempting to wriggle his arm from his grip. When that failed, however, he accepted the offer. "Alright, I'll be your jester! When do I start?" Caines arm was freed, and Kinger began to dust off his coat. "Next week, Monday. I hope to see you there."

"Don't hope, my leige! I'll be there, guaranteed!" Caine ran from the court. Kinger lifted the rabbit from his feet, which he had placed to confront Caine. He began to pet it. "Little rabbit, what is this feeling? My heart is flying like a butterfly." The rabbit stared at him, twitching it's nose.

The King sighed, and left the court, his chest warmer than before.

[bagely]

SOMETHING ABOUT... SINCERITY

from my discarded university Au

Roier had been trying to convince him to join his language club for a week, which Missa saw as another silly excuse to skip a few classes for extra credit. All week she had been introducing him to member after member of his blissful club, and today was no exception.

"You're going to love this guy, he's kind of emo like you." Roier said, with that smile that wouldn't leave his face. "Ya'll get to listen to Green Day in the rain or whatever it is you guys do."

"It's alarming the endless new ways you find to insult me." Missa replied. "I'm not going to enter that stupid club."

"you are going to enter Cabron, we're all there, even your brother is in this club" Roier commented with an air of pride. "Do you know how hard it was to convince Spreen? This club has its things, you'll only see if you join."

"I don't want to join the weird social experiment Quackity is doing."

"Social experiment," He repeated as if it were a joke "Quackity can't even count."

Before Missa could reply into the room a person he hadn't seen before entered. The world felt on pause for about two seconds, as if reality would need a second to process his alluring aura.

He sat across from them with a captivating smile, Looking at Roier and then at Missa he introduced himself. "I'm Philza, nice to meet you.. uhm, Roier told me you were thinking of joining our cultural exchange club."

"I..." His mind debated for a second whether to accept, but I already had too many things on my schedule to also add, it wouldn't be a good idea. He simply had to turn down this offer. "Yeah, I'm thinking about it."

'Crap. I'm not thinking, I'm not thinking about anything at all. Why Missa, why' He thought, turning to look at Roier, and feeling like he read his soul Roier smiled, knowing that he won.

The conversation flowed pleasantly as his initial awkwardness was forgotten. Surprisingly his taste in music was indeed similar to Missa's as roier had said, though he still tried not to be persuaded by charisma alone.

"Oh, I must go now." Said philza shortly after they exchanged numbers. Missa nodded slightly disappointed, but Philza smiled at him that gesture infected Missa making him smile as well. "You do have a beautiful smile."

" Thank-what?" was all Missa could say before Philza left the room. Out of nowhere he became conscious of his own breathing.

"Are you joining the club yet?" Roier asked.

"No. Callate - I'm going to class."

Similar little incidents began to happen in spurts. It seemed that at every corner he met Philza, and at first all their conversations were casual almost as if this one himself forgot the ways in which Phil ended their conversations which was usually compliments from Missa's point of view excessive out of nowhere.

The strangest- and most frustrating thing for Missa was that nothing was happening afterwards. If he liked him, he just should ask him out or something but he didn't say anything apart from exaggerated compliments. he had even told him on one occasion, literally; "You're so funny, I have to go now. I love you." And then he was gone - who the FUCK just does that out of nowhere?!

He was starting to wonder if he had started dating at some point and for some reason erased all memory of that moment. Or maybe it was a strange way Roier was trying to manipulate him to get him into his club, which seemed more likely every day.

But there was nothing else to do but confront him. Yes, he just had to wait for the perfect moment.

That came soon enough when he was invited to a party at Quackity's house, to celebrate something from the club which meant Philza would be there, and also alcohol which would be good for courage. The time for the party was not long in coming, and upon arriving at the place he was greeted by Roier.

"Your absurd manipulation ends here." Missa said, as he entered the house.

"Yeah, whatever do you want alcohol? It's in the kitchen." Replied Roier ignoring him.

Missa felt surrendered and automatically went all the way to the kitchen where she grabbed some drinks that the host of the house was preparing.

"Missa! You came! You're finally joining the club?"

"It's not in my plans." Replied the black-haired man to Quackity as he continued to drink. He began to feel the alcohol rising in his head.

It wasn't long before he was intercepted by Philza after he went out of the house to the garden to try to get some air. Alcohol was not a good idea.

"Are you okay?" the blond said approaching him, and checking his face by cupping his cheeks. Philza let out a laugh " you're stunning."

Missa held his breath, staring at him. There was something about Philza that attracted him in an inexplicable way, like an irresistible magnet. Perhaps it was his warm smile, or the way his eyes sparkled with genuine kindness. Or maybe...

Shaking his head, Missa tried to dispel those thoughts. "Why are you always doing this?" he asked as he pushed Philza's hands away from his cheeks that were starting to turn red.

"What are you up to?" Philza asked with that smile that turned his stomach.

"You're confusing me..." He replied, but from his silence he sensed that Philza didn't understand what he was referring to. Which annoyed him. "Do you want a kiss or something? Am I hallucinating? Why are you always fucking flirting!?"

"Flirting?" He started laughing loudly Philza. Missa forcefully stomped on his foot. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I was just being sincere."

"Being sincere? Eres pendejo?" Missa felt his hair stand on end, and his face turn redder. Then he looked up into Philza's face who looked totally honest with what he had said. Then Missa started nodding.

"What, what's wrong?"

Missa said nothing and kept nodding as he entered the house again followed by Philza. "Roier!" He started shouting "¡Me uno al maldito club!"

[ywony]

Room 44 ⍟ Satoru Gojo

┊ Neighbors.

NOTE: this is my first time writing a fanfic… hope u enjoy :3

PAIRING: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

CONTENT: friends (started as neighbors) to lovers + sorry if this is too badly written and includes typos, english isn’t my first language and i wanted to write smth for fun..!

You live in an apartment complex, room 43.

You led a pretty boring life since graduating. Waking up early in the morning, getting ready and heading to the office for work. Yet no matter how many times you try to wrap up early you always end up coming back home late from work, it’s the same usual scenery.

The moon making her way to her place, the sky turning darker and darker, parents picking up their children from the playground beside your work place since it’s getting late and the chilly breeze reminding you that autumn’s arriving.

-

You think of dating as a waste of time, well atleast, you’re the only one who tends to think so… You can’t find the time to make new relationships or get into one, plus you only have a few people in your life that you actually interact with .

You go out with your best friend on sundays for a drink to release stress and keep her up with what happens in the office, though it’s a pretty dreary topic but she insists that you tell her everything and after it’s your turn to ask her about how she’s doing ; you’re more like sisters than friends, and it comforts you to have someone that you can seek for advice.

The day after, your mom visits you to check up on you and brings you your favourite dishes.

-

Your mom is always nagging you to get a boyfriend and marry him in view of you not getting any younger..

“Mom, i’m only 28 years old..” that’s what you always say to her at the end of each conversation about dating.

In fact, even your best friend insists that she sets you up on a blind date to find your someone, but you end up refusing each and every time with the excuse that you want to focus on yourself and your job for the meanwhile. “Just get married to your work then, you workaholic!” she told you once in a snarly tone.

As much as you appreciate their concerns for you, you feel as if it’s still not the right time to start dating, add to that, you wouldn’t bother putting in effort to meet new people. Well, atleast for now.

-

It’s a usual friday night. You get back home, exhausted from a long day at work. You were left to finish overtime as per your boss ordered… but in return you get to have monday off in reward of your hard work.

You change into comfortable clothes and out of that suffocating shirt and tie choking ur neck all day long.

You lay in bed seeking for rest and peace after a long tiring friday, but as soon as your head touches the pillow you hear loud banging from the room next door, room 44. “Room 44? But i’m aware that nobody lives there…” you wonder to yourself and sudden thoughts run your mind, maybe it’s a thief? But there’s nothing to steal… And so that leaves you with one last conclusion, someone must’ve moved in next door.

Your new neighbor is very noisy. There’s always banging coming in from the next room late at night and it bothers you a lot… you’ve finally decided to confront him soon about it.

-

Usually you would hangout with your best friend at her place today, but this time you wanted to watch your favorite TV series alone at home.

You felt a strange sensation as you realized how silent things were, you were relieved that your eardrums were given a break from the noise. But you spoke too soon… A deafening bang hits the wall next room “BOOM!”

You get up, furious and angry, stomping your way outside to find yourself knocking on room 44’s door.

-

The door slowly opens, and you suddenly realize that you let your anger get the best of you.

A tall, handsome man was leaning on the doorframe. White frosted fluffy hair, deep crystal eyes hiding behind a pair of round dark sunglasses, a perfect nose and a grin was making its way on his lips. He was wearing a light blue shirt and dark baggy pants.

You can’t help but admit that he’s exactly your type… You get carried away admiring the man, your cheeks turn red and you rudely stare at him to admire his features. You got lost in his beauty that you almost forgot the reason you’re standing in front of him.

He tilts his head, greeting you “Well hey beautiful,” You can’t help but blush at his deep voice that just complimented you. Still you refuse to get easily swayed, “I’m from the room next door, you’ve been making a lot of noise ever since you moved in and it’s very bothersome. I can’t even sleep the night in peace.” you huffed while crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

He chuckled, “Are you sure you can’t sleep the night? You look too pretty for someone who didn’t get an an ounce of sleep.” he began. You got a bit annoyed because he’s not taking you and your complaints seriously, Not to mention, it seemed sarcastic because you knew you look horrible these days.

“Quit joking around would you, sir? I’m not here to play around or waste time. You’d better keep the noise down or I’ll have to file a complaint..” you scoffed while looking up to find his eyes. Why does he wear sunglasses indoor anyways? And at 9pm for God’s sake…

Before finishing that thought he interrupted, “Alright I’m sorry, it’s because I had visitors these last couple of days and they’re pretty noisy and a bit.. chaotic let’s say. But I wasn’t joking when I said you’re pretty.”

That was a bit unexpected, you thought he would drag it on considering his immatureness at the beginning. A smile escapes your lips and soon you chip in, “Thank you sir, I’ll head back then. I hope you have a good night.” You get ready to turn around and walk back into your room, however you feel a hand pulling ur shirt gently. “It’s Satoru Gojo.”

“What?” “…Gojo, that’s my name since you insist on calling me sir… I don’t even look that old...” he corrected you while pouting.

You can’t help but let out a giggle, “I’m y/n, Gojo, it’s nice to meet you.” you hummed.

“Do you have plans?” he asked, “Hm, well for now, not really.” you responded and it didn’t take him a second to say “Would you like to come in? Let’s have a drink together. I’d like to get to know each other. We’re neighbors after all.” he suggested, taking his sunglasses off.

“Sure,” you replied. That came out so suddenly.. you knew better than to enter a man’s house especially one that you just met above all… However, you just couldn’t help refusing after clearly seeing his gorgeous yet sharp blue eyes, staring at you with an excited look.

“Come in!” he cheered, moving out of the way and holding the door open as you entered the apartment.

[fumbling-flower]

WIP Whursday

thanks for tagging me @funniestbitchinfaerun!! i actually saw it in time this time lmfao. i'll tag @jellyfishline and @bolognamayhem117 if you've got something you wanna show!!

from the WIP of ch. 17 of when the day met the night C: (spoilers!) things are finally looking up for my dumbass tav

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had taken him several days to recover from what he’d done to himself, but when he finally did, he found himself looking in the mirror in the bathroom, checking his appearance. Did the green of his sweater vest match the green in his watch? He thought it did. Had he shaved? Yes, he had. The edges of his beard were clean, and he’d meticulously removed any hairs in undesirable places on his face. He was ready. He was actually the farthest thing from ready, but if he said that he was ready to himself, then maybe he would be.

Maybe.

Filch picked up the expensive bottle of cologne—the one he barely used—and sprayed a bit of it onto his neck, then a bit on his wrists. He wasn’t sure why he was going through all of the trouble. It felt worth it, somehow.

I can’t do this, he thought. No, I can do this. He felt a weird sense of déjà vu as he thought it.

He left his apartment, bundled up in a scarf and a hat, the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head. It was snowing pretty heavily today, and his boots crunched as he trudged along the sidewalk and down the street. Snowflakes muddied up his glasses and made it tough to see. He scrubbed them off when he stepped inside of Waukeen’s, but then they just fogged up in the heat. What I can’t do is deal with this weather, he thought. It’s only Nightal, and I’m already sick of it. How he was so calm given the task he was about to confront was beyond him. He was about to do one of the toughest things he’d ever done, and here he was, bitching and moaning about the weather instead. It was almost refreshing. He ordered his two coffees—one hazelnut and one honey—and made his way back out the door.

It still gave him pause when the green and white awning of The Grove came into view. It was covered in a thick layer of snow, and the middle of the fabric was sagging ever so slightly. What if he doesn’t want to see me? Filch asked himself. He had blocked him, after all. But that hadn’t seemed to have been out of malice. Well, if he doesn’t, I’ll just leave, and that will be that. He tried to pretend that wouldn’t crush him in ways he couldn’t even fathom. Oh gods, and what if Jaheira is there? I don’t want to talk to Jaheira right now. It would have been a lie to say he wasn’t still a bit angry with Jaheira. If she’d known everything Halsin had told him, which it sounded like she had, she’d willingly set him up with someone who’d quite literally killed a prominent political figure—and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But that was a problem for later.

He had questions for Halsin, if he was willing to answer them. He had things he wanted to tell him, if he would listen. And maybe—just maybe—he could keep him from running away, and quit pushing him away. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He just missed him.

[captainjacklyn]

Making my first DOL post today..random game I got into, it's so easy to get invested.

So here is my PC, don't be fooled- that's a boy he just likes his hair long cause an someone told him it looked nice.

Kinda felt like giving him a small description, how he views most of the LIs and other characters, maybe him as a person idk this really feels like a shitpost. I only recommend the game if you aren't a minor and have a strong ass stomach cause I almost vomited the first time.

!!TW!! mentions of SA, blood, gore, violence, human experiments, death, abuse (both mentally and physically), psychopathic behavior, murder, mutation, stalking, if I missed any other triggers please inform me immediately so that I may fix my mistakes. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable, I advise you to please ignore this post and find something else more suitable. !!TW!!

Degrees of Lewdity :

APPEARANCE :

The slender young man slowly stares back at you and returns your greeting. "Oh..it's you." his name is Elias, he's a resident at the local orphanage, he won't talk back if you try anything. Just avoid taking off his gloves unless he allows it.

PROFILE/MAIN INFORMATION :

Species - human, any hybrid Occupation - student Affiliation - orphanage, oxford street school Age - 18 years old Height - 178 cm Birthday - 04th of April Gender - male (can morph his system into changing sexe so female too) Marital Status - Dating Sydney, Avery's side hoe Zodiac Sign - Aries Best Subject - English, History Interests - Cross dressing, sunbathing, napping, gardening, makeup

PERSONALITY :

Elias is an unfazed and blunt yet somewhat gentle young adult who quietly cares for others from afar. At first glance, many would think that he only speaks up when others wish to converse with him, even then his answers are short with little depth. Though it is stated that his confidence becomes much more evident once he gets comfortable, Elias can tease his peers and act playful. Furthermore, he will occasionally invite friends to spend some time with him. Whether it be taking a nap together, walking along the beach shore or reading in the library. He can crave company and has no shame in asking for someone's attention.

Not only so, but angering/provoking Elias is a feat itself, he usually avoids confrontation by walking away and even when things get out of hand, the young man will still struggle for the sake of running off. Though reaching a certain state of insanity, he looses all control of reason and will attack the offender without limit. This livid persona gives him an animalistic instinct to kill, relentlessly harming the individual(s) who previously caused his senses to go a-wire. The way he does this can get more gruesome depending on the previously inflicted physical or mental wounds on Elias, from forcing himself on them to tearing their skin open and eventually creating a gash deadly enough to give them a slow painful end. He stops at nothing until he's satisfied with how much suffering his abuser lives through.

InGameAU/Canon

Note - The statements above is largely different to how he canonically behaves. I have a knack for 'book accurate' vs 'show representation' and wanted a similar concept for my character.

In the game itself, Elias is much less of a victim and instead finds himself to be in constant control (I've been wary of any nonconsensual interactions, making a save before every choice that could lead to gr*pe or getting..y'know v*red). He is manipulative, defiant and easily angered. Belittling any passerby who leaves him a crude remark, regarding his more manipulative tendencies, this does result in him being a bit of a player.

One ↦ Robin can only have a specific percentage of confidence, preferably leaning towards a hundred but never fully. There is the excessive guilt-trip technique, Elias takes care of him from time to time and the moment Robin says something that could waver the white haired boy's sense of control he half scolds him by reminding Robin of everything he does just for him.

Two ↦ Sydney's purity = max level at all times. He doesn't want to deal with the possibility of having a bratty little *sshole follow him around everywhere for s*x. Especially not if the church proceeds to act up along with his corrupted state. The two of them are dating in game, Elias mainly uses him for protection at school, status wise at least. Due to Elias' line of work and desperate need to pay off Bailey, my PC cheats on Sydney practically everyday, having intercourse with multiple NPCs who offer a good price in exchange for his body as well as acting as Avery's sugar baby.

Despite this, he does care, I promise that he does. But his way of thinking would be similar to Alicent Hightower from House of The Dragon. He isn't narcissistic and has never once acted that way, however Elias is heavily twisted by loneliness abandonment issues go brr, anxiety and peer pressure (e.g robin getting punished for not paying his rent, Bailey possibly selling him off to the farm, etc..). This causes him to appear collected and normal at one moment and then unexpectedly go nuts.

BACKGROUND :

Elias' past follows most of the in-game's PC backstory, he was raised in the orphanage by Bailey and supposedly lived within that town his whole childhood. Another NPC who is only present in Elias' story is Monika, an older sister-like figure who was also raised in the orphanage but soon adopted and taken away. She is said to have learned to read rather quickly and many youngsters would come to her for stories, including Robin. Monika was especially close to Elias, treating him like he was a blood relative than just another inhabitant, their bond grew strong as years passed and her depart created a rather detrimental impact on Elias. Who closed in on himself and ceased to socialize, a partial root to his present conduct.

However, there is a darker side to his story. This would also explain the truth behind his gloved hands which he hates uncovering at all cost, as well as his existence alone. Elias wasn't conceived naturally, instead he was created inside an artificial womb manufactured by a non-governmental laboratory which was currently exploring the nature of hybrids (e.g beings such as the Black Wolf or Great Hawk). A group of scientist took a step further, planning a project which was yet to be approved by their employer, and decided to combine several varieties of animal DNA along with human ones. Their goal was to revolutionize the science of genetic research. Unfortunately, the team was found out and reported to their boss, who visioned Elias' birth as a horrific mistake exhibiting complete disrespect to the laws of nature. The people who had fabricated the unnatural child were instantly discarded from further company work.

Up until that point, the infant mainly looked human and acted as such. So the executive ordered for the toddler to be dropped off at an orphanage and forgotten.

TRIVIA/BONUS FACTS :

Elias is rather fashionable, he sometimes goes into the supermarket to try on a set of clothes before leaving without purchasing a single item. (the art is in the savings)

It is stated by several NPCs that he has a bad habit of staring, this is actually due to him daydreaming/spacing out whilst looking ahead unconsciously.

His favorite drink is lemonade and favorite dessert is lemon tart, anything that has to do with lemons is usually enjoyed by Elias.

When adapting to an environment, his hands are the first to metamorphose. They also connect to his emotions/primal instincts, circumstances like these are what drove Elias to hide them.

His screams sound like a mix of Caraxes and Syrax, his sounds are more guttural than actual cries.

CREDITS FOR PICREW :

#1; #2; #3; #4; #5; #6; #7; #8; #9

[finalmemesx]

The Night Shift

By Alex Finlay.

“Can I go on break.”

“There was a survivor?”

“Thanks for coming, I’m sorry to interrupt your night.”

“I almost forgot, I made you something.”

“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated, you know.”

“You were buying ice cream?”

“What was that?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You tell them to take it easy.”

“What can we do to help?”

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“This used to be my office.”

“You can brief me on the way to the scene.”

“We’re glad to have you on board.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“It’s probably incomplete but it’s a good place to start.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’d better not tell them anything.”

“The cops want to talk to you?”

“Wanna get Starbucks?”

“You the lawyers?”

“Wow, stalker much?”

“You’ve had no contact with him.”

“You need anything, you tell them to come to me.”

“We’re just customers.”

“You’ve never been to a strip club for a bachelor party or something?”

“Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“Want me to come along?”

“But I do need you to stay over there, where it’s safe.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

“You told the detectives about this today?”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“I understand you were the only one able to get through to the survivor.”

“Any idea what it means?”

“I’m in some trouble and I need someone to come.”

“I didn’t fucking steal anything.”

“They’re good guys, if you get to know them.”

“You’ve just seemed quiet since the party.”

“Would that have been worse?”

“You lied about what?”

“You broke his nose.”

“Shall I make up the guest room?”

“Where the hell are we?”

“I went to the store to confront her.”

“You got plans tonight?”

“Ow, that looks like it hurt.”

“If I suck your dick, will you get me another Cherry Coke?”

“Then what’s with the frown?”

“I can drive you home after.”

“We’re gonna hang out after shift. You can come if you want.”

“And who do we have here?”

“One thing I’ll never forget is the crime scene.”

“What was the motive?”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I’m told you have more than a million views on YouTube.”

“I’m sorry but we have nothing to say to you.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You have your work cut out for you.”

“You don’t have to believe me, no one else did either.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“We’re sorry to drag you in like this.”

“Well, this is humiliating.”

“Got a crowbar?”

“Want me to show you around?”

“I didn’t threaten anyone.”

“Don’t you dare back down.”

“Why were you researching the case?”

“Maybe you can start from the beginning.”

“What is it you wanted to show us?”

“How do you know all this?”

“Who was the father?”

“Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?”

“Woah, you need to take it easy.”

“How do you know I’m not dramatic?”

“Never mind, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Maybe we should go to the door.”

“What are we waiting for?”

“Is there a reason you remember it so clearly?”

“Can you give me a ride?”

“They’ve released you?”

“You understand what your lawyer is telling you?”

“Can you turn the fucking light off?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“They’re digging up the garden.”

“How did they find out where you were?”

“So you’d best leave them the fuck alone.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“As sure as I am that you’re a badass.”

[pei-na]

@rhaazt cont. from x

“ you’re always jealous. ”  rhaast's foot nudges a crumpled, dirty hoodie on the floor, sending it flying to the edge of the bed. it clings to the unmade sheets for a few moments before dropping back down, hit and missed. at least rhaast had tried. sort of. he’s leaning back in the gaming chair next to kayn’s desk, the chair creaking every time he shifts. it’s more accustomed to kayn’s weight than his, but it’s still the most comfortable spot for rhaast when all he wants to do is distract himself with a bag of snacks. this time, it’s something sour, something he found in a drawer in kayn’s room. if kayn had been attempting to hide his candy from the entity that lives rent-free in his head, then he must be a fool. or at least, that’s how rhaast sees it, though it wouldn’t be surprising if it were true.  rhaast is known for his restless hands, or so he’s been told, and his habit of picking up everything kayn owns, handling it, and weighing its importance as if it were his to control. in some ways, it’s his own jealousy manifesting. new guitar picks are bent until they almost snap, borrowed clothes are stretched out when rhaast forces himself into them or wraps them around his arm, distorting the fabric beyond recognition. even gifts from others are treated with little regard, as if rhaast is waiting for them to break in a way he would call a happy accident. nothing kayn owns is safe from rhaast’s grasp. it's always been like that and if rhaast could have it his way, it'll always be like that. “ he listens to me. you’ve fucked off to god knows where the last couple of times i’ve tried having a conversation with you. ” ezreal is a good listener, sometimes, and a surprisingly amusing little thing once you really get to know him. rhaast isn’t typically this intrigued by humans, but the heartsteel house has become a refuge for a group of individuals who don’t quite fit anywhere else. ironically, kayn blends in with them far too easily. on any other day, that might spark another wave of jealousy in the darkin’s mind, but today, rhaast has opted for stubborn defiance, the kind that digs at kayn’s patience until they’re both forced into this conversation. hell if rhaast understands why it has to be like this. and if rhaast is stubborn, kayn is worse. rhaast grunts, swivels the chair he’s perched on, and reaches for a trinket, toy, or whatever else is sitting on kayn’s desk. it feels smaller in his palm than it did when it was sitting on the surface. normally, he’d find it amusing, but right now, all he wants to do is crush it and flick the pieces toward kayn. “ i didn’t lose my shit when you ditched me last weekend only to stick your tongue down some dumb fucking whore’s throat and then be too tired to write the next day. oh but nooo, me having one conversation with one of your bandmates is where we draw the line ? fuck you. ”

// always jealous is one way to put it. possessive is a better word, that kayn would prefer to use. but both of these are unreasonable in the face of the circumstances rhaast poses: and he knows this, just as well.

everything in kayn's room belongs to rhaast. and so, by extension, he at the very least views rhaast as one of his own possessions as well.

nothing gives him more of a headache than being confronted with his own faults. he rolls around on the bed, onto his back, eyeing the other upside down. " oh, is a conversation what you wanna have? " , he says, after leaving rhaast at least a few seconds of silence, huffing a breath past his bangs.

pink hair picks up slightly, then lowers itself back onto his lips, that he presses together like some stubborn child.

finding a place to belong is something that kayn never really expected of himself. if he was honest, he still wonders if this place is truly where he belongs, but it's been better - more comfortable - better. rhaast invades every space he spreads himself out into, squeezes into it, possesses every part of his life and sometimes he has to admit he needs a break. then, he leaves, distracts himself with whoever'll have him, and then he comes back, expecting comfort.

needless to say, rhaast isn't the greatest at comfort.

kayn clicks his tongue, rolls onto his stomach, and picks up a sock. after only a short consideration, it's tossed at rhaast, with an annoyed groan. " takes a bitch to know one, don't it? I didn't even say shit. go make out with ezreal, or whatever you two were doing. "

stubborn words accompanied with an expression that speaks of even more stubborness. there's no civil air. no rational thought inside of kayn's head.

" when's the last time we spoke without yelling? "

[themagnusbane]

I swear, in all these Only Friends discourse that has been raging since the finale dropped on Saturday, I wonder if anyone actually took a second to be like: this story is being told through the eyes of 20-21 year old college students. They are the mouthpiece through which this story is being narrated. Is it possible therefore that their age, their lack of experience, their slightly sheltered lives, might play a role in how they navigate their friendships, the world at large and how they react?

Like @jojotichakorn has started several times, and I agree a 100%; this story isn’t a morality lesson. Nobody is saying casual sex bad. You are evil if you’re non-monogamous. Blah blah blah. As a graysexual polyam person who just uses the term queer cuz it’s easier than me having a 30 mins convo with a stranger about my orientation and how everything intersects for me, this show was everything. Cuz PEOPLE ARE MESSY! People are messy and judgemental and annoying. Just because they’re queer doesn’t mean they WON’T be messy. I was especially a fucking shithead at 21. Hell, I was a virgin until I turned 22 (not quite as sanctimonious as Mew, thank SPIRIT!!). Who I am now at 33 is vastly different from who I was over a decade ago. I moved out at 22. Been living on my own for that time. The person I am today is a product of all I have seen and experienced. I lost the black and white lens through which I viewed the world, in that period of time.

And you know what? I do feel that these kids (cuz they are kids to me. I haven’t sat in a university class in almost 13 years 🤷🏾‍♀️), will grow, and learn and evolve. Boston I think will do fantastically well in New York. He will continue to come into his own. Will figure out what kind of relationships work best for him (both in regards to his friendships and his sexual and romantic—if he wants any—relationships), and he will thrive.

Mew will eventually get that stick out of his arse and get off his high horse. He will realize that people are messy, imperfect, and make mistakes, and that he too is flawed. And that is okay. That he doesn’t need to be burdened to replicate the perfect home life he had with his mothers. That hell, just because he fancies himself better than others, doesn’t mean that he isn’t as capable of the depraved things the human mind can conjure up 🤷🏾‍♀️.

Ray will probably battle with his addiction all his life. Will realize that battling addiction is a life-long process. Will lean on the support he has. Will probably learn to forgive his mum, and come to terms with her frailty as a human being, and what that meant with regards her suicide. He will also probably let himself admit that as much as he loved her, and wanted her to hold him and love him, he is justifiably angry at her that she did neither of those things, and then left him. He will probably confront his dad about the role he played, and didn’t play in all of this. He might decide to break up with Sand later. And they will still be good friends. Or Sand might be that ex he hasn’t spoken to in years, yet he still thinks of and smiles when he hears I Wanna Be Yours.

Same goes for Sand, and Top and Nick as well.

And who knows, at some point Cheum might realize that she can be quite the shitty friend. That she’s been a shitty friend. She might reach out to her now former friends, and honestly sincerely apologize. Or not. That’s another thing. Some people take forever to grow. And some don’t learn a lick from their experiences. And when time has passed and they looked back at all their burned bridges and try to reconnect, they are left with hands fluttering in the wind, and everyone they love out of reach 🤷🏾‍♀️.

But yeah. I don’t know about y’all. Maybe you were well adjusted uni students who were always right and knew the right words to say, and didn’t fuck up every other Saturday, and whose lives were peachy. But I was a dumbass, making dumbass choices, being a sanctimonious dumbass, and being an absolute menace. And that was how I watched the show. Knowing that this is a story of these kids, told to us by THESE kids. P’Jojo was just the conduit for their story. But it is ultimately THEIRS. I just watched it for them. Not for any moral lessons (this isn’t a parable or a fable. And I say this as someone who has been fascinated by mythology since I was 7), but to be entertained by the lives of these messy kids, crash-figuring their way to adulthood, and thanking the universe that my early 20s are way behind me, cuz fucking hell. That era of my life was some shit-show!