A Doe in Fall (part 10)
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦
Part 2 - Liar smut💦
Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦
Part 4 - Enough
Part 5 - Too Much
Part 6 - Learning smut💦
Part 7 - Recognition smut💦
Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵
Part 9 - Shiny Things
Part 10 - Good Deeds 📍
Part 10 Good Deeds
Alastor takes you out as promised, but work/hobbies call him away. Not that you mind, you have your own hobbies to pick up.
「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, references to racial violence, reference to a word that’s now very much a slur, Hate for Aubrey, inaccurate portrayal of how easy it was to drink, oh yeah murder, mentions of a dismembered body, bloody shoes, physics hijinks with a corpse, these idiots in love, gators aaaaaye baby, domestic fluff?? Kind of?? Did I do it?!」
I think about Emmett Till often. Though his heinous murder came after the time this story is set, what happened to him wasn’t an isolated incident. So it is referenced here in a sense, because I can’t stop thinking about him when I think about racial violence in the south both what it looked like before and what it looks like now. I don’t say anything explicit and change the act, but it is still important to warn you. If you don’t know about the tragic death of Emmett, here’s a site with links to articles and essays. Be careful, it is awful and his deceased and battered face will come up on some links, as his mother wanted the world to see what they did to her baby. It’s an image I cannot forget and I rightfully shouldn’t.
I know it’s off to have such a heavy topic before this love story but this case is the kind that would motivate such a killer as Alastor, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to remind us of Emmett’s short life even if it’s done in a silly fanfic surrounded by nonsense. So forgive me for perhaps an odd real life addition, I’d be disappointed in myself for not addressing it when Emmett has been on my mind every time I think about the era someone like Alastor could have lived in. An era that did exist and people did live and suffer in. An era not far removed from us, my father was alive when this happened.
Part 10 - Good Deeds
minors if you interact I will interpret that as a deep hate for me as a person so MDNI 👌🏼
“I’ve got to speak with the valet, go on ahead and find a table you like.”
You didn’t want to do that at all, but knew Alastor wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want it. Well, he didn’t really ask, did he? He was certainly in his element, the shining and towering hotel every bit as pristine as his own public image.
It was as if every head in the room spun around to look at you. Everyone’s hair freshly styled, jewelry shiny and heavy, clothes immaculate. Your dress was lovely, no doubt, but no one looks at the elephant in her tutu at the circus and proclaims, “A ballerina!” This was, rather obviously, not your scene.
Alastor had presented the dress to you so sweetly, though. You woke up to find it hanging on the closet door hook, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He had either waited for you to fall asleep to hang it or woken up before you for just the reason. It was red, his favorite color for you. The latest fashion, loose and straight. No corset. The neckline showcased a large, flat bow.
“Partly a gift for me,” he had said as his hands slid down your sides when you had gotten dressed, “Such softness shouldn’t be hidden behind rigid boning.”
You settled into a large seashell shaped booth, the back coming up and over like you were the speck of sand yet to form into a pearl. The table was small, a glittering pattern under its shiny veneer. Everything was…glistening. Even the darkness past the windows seemed to be sparkling back at you. A few people turned to look you up and down, smiling and beginning to speak to their group before even turning back to them.
You could wither, or bloom. So you learned back as if you were bored, legs crossed and feet gently shaking with anxiety or boredom, you hoped no one could sus out which.
It was so odd. In your usual haunts, newcomers were greeted with curious smiles and maybe the tiniest suspicions. You were being picked apart to the bone by sharp stares and even sharper tongues, no matter how silent their jabs were to you.
“They’re probably jealous.” Your head snapped up, when had Alastor made it in? “They look at you and know, ‘oh, that’s the kind of woman my husband would rather have a conversation with.’” You laughed, you absolutely could have stolen the attention and more from at least one of these women’s husbands.
“Perhaps they recognize these earrings, gone missing from their jewelry box earlier this year.” You weren’t above accepting a woman’s stolen jewelry. It was her husband's fault anyway, might as well enjoy it.
Alastor’s finger came to your chin, lifting your face further into the light, “Give em a good look, darling. I want them to eat their hearts out.” The blush that swept across your features was so fierce, the difference in temperature between your cheeks and your arms caused a chill to run down to your shins. He took a seat beside you, scooting up close and flashing that smile. A smile that had you chasing him into dark alleys and grabbing dead men by the ankles.
A waiter came by, placing a drink in front of Alastor and asking what you’d like. You were so used to being in such spaces with the kind of men who answered for you that you didn’t reply immediately. When Alastor brought his drink to his lips, you realized it was you who was expected to speak.
“Oh! A corpse reviver please.”
The man smiled and left with a nod. Alastor choked, hitting his chest with the fleshy part of his palm, “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”
You danced in your seat, “I’ve never been somewhere that has the stock for it that I was…allowed to order what I want.”
Alastor set his drink down and leaned back, shoulder pressing into yours teasingly, “I can’t imagine anyone disallowing you a thing.” With a sigh, you reminded him of the things you did to get your marks drunk and off their guard. You were surprised when he nodded like he remembered. “I saw that! You would sit so quietly on their laps. I remember thinking you were much more boring than you had initially made me believe.” You recoiled, and he shot you a look, “Who stalked who first, hm?”
With a huff, you let it go. You weren’t actually sure the answer to that anyway. Focus let free from Alastor, you began to notice the looks were back. But no longer cutting into you, but wide and devouring. A few smiled at Alastor, some tipped their heads to him and offered a look of recognition. “Aren’t you popular.”
“I haven’t been out in awhile. They’re probably curious.” He took another sip, “Should be, atleast.”
A prideful smile slid up your face. You uselessly tried to mask it by licking your teeth.
Something that happened when in public with Alastor that was unlike you was the tendency to become small. Not shrinking to provide him space; it was a turning in of your shoulders and touching of your knees in a subconscious effort to curl into a little ball of joy. Actively fighting the tug, you leaned back and opened your chest. An exercise in mental focus.
“It’s weird. How you can be friends with my kind of people and….well, whatever is happening here.” Your hand waved at the room before you both.
“My friendship with these people compared to our friends at the dives is…. A light bulb compared to a fire. One was manufactured to fit a need, one exists somewhat naturally.”
Tall and slim, body flat from collar bones to knees, a slip of a woman entered the room and you felt a shift in the atmosphere. Her hair was short and pitch black, fashionable to say the least. A few heads turned, a few upturned lips shifted into sneers. Side glances, hushed words, intentionally heard huffs. You turned to Alastor to find his face was as confused as your own.
“Who is that?” You said it low, not knowing if she was friend or foe.
“That would be Mrs. Aubrey Debreaux. Popular socialite and frequent hostess.” A sip of his drink, speaking about her like a character in a novel. “This icy reception is news to me though. She’s usually the life of the party.”
“She’s a real wet blanket now…Your circles seem really fickle. Always a bit of gossip.” You realized as soon as you said it that, well, that was the point. Alastor needed the gossip, and, well, he clearly enjoyed it.
“That’s what the wealthy do. Gossip and pretend the drama is as stressful as someone looking for their next meal.” Swirling his drink absentmindedly, his eyes followed Aubrey through the hotel bar. When you asked if he knew everyone there, he said it was his job to know people.
“Your job is in radio. You host a show, Alastor.” You laughed through your nose.
“Well, my other job.”
“I’d call that a passionate hobby.” Your hand came to rest half on his and half on the booth bench low and hidden, not wanting to monopolize, but he quickly took it and held it on the table. Another struggle to keep your shoulders from drawing inward.
The room moved on, forgetting you both were there and eventually about Aubrey too. Or so you had thought. When you drink was starting to mellow you, you turned to Alastor to admire the view. You’d come to enjoy that silence, the kind that only existed between people comfortable enough to know they didn’t need to entertain each other to enjoy each other’s company.
He was scanning the bar still, elbow on the table as he rested his chin there. From a distance of space or familiarity it could be seen as boredom. But up close and personal, you could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes.
“Golly, when in Rome!” Alastor hooted and grabbed you by the hand with one of his and carried his drink in the other, “Let’s go gossip. Bring your drink.”
He pulled you into a group of four people in a circle talking. They opened and let you both in, smiles warm. A clamor of excited ‘how long has it been’s, ‘how are you’s, and ‘you look well’s.
You’d expected him to ask for gossip like he’d said, but realized that’d be pretty conspicuous. Instead he waited, and when Aubrey passed by one of them rolled their eyes and he had his opportunity.
“What’s that look for?” He asked.
Everyone got quiet and passed a glance between them. Finally a woman in a beaded dress and finger wave bob piped up.
“She reported a young boy touched her on the street.” Alastor watched Aubrey cycle through the groups as the friend spoke. “Grazed her hip with his hands, made a comment about white women as he did it.”
Alastor’s head whipped back around. “He got taken away that night.”
You gasped, hand coming to your mouth in sincere horror, “Just for touching her? Is he still in jail?”
The woman’s lips pursed together, no one looking at you.
“Bless your heart. He didn’t touch her and he didn’t make it to the jailhouse, sugar.”
Suddenly the way everyone was looking everywhere but at each other sunk in.
Panicked, you looked to Alastor. His expression was still, like the calm waters of a deep and foreboding bay. What horrors lie underneath? His tongue wiped across his teeth, and you reached out to take his drink from his hand. The action snapped him out of his daze for a second, expression softening a tad as he nodded a thank you.
If he shattered that glass now, people would remember. And when Aubrey went missing they may recall Alastor’s dramatic reaction. You knew his smiles intimately, the ones that were true and the ones that were illusions. The expressions of joy and the mask for his rage. The smile painted on his face now was nothing short of shallow.
You spent so many days in a bubble with Alastor, shielded by his grace or by the accepting and illegal circles you ran in that you sometimes forgot the reality of life. A dark privilege you hadn’t seen until you were the one looking naive for once.
That’s right. The world was a bad place, of cruelty and injustice. Not just for you, or for parts of you, or for sides of you. Not just for women with smart mouths or a love of dance. No matter how safe the comfort of your friends and the dark halls you all commiserate in, no matter the like minds and mixed complexions of your peers, you were all just one cruel voice from being dragged into the night. Just a single accusation from being a whispered story in a glittering hotel bar. A headline no one would write.
And some of you would be mourned more than others.
You took a second, blinking rapidly to dry your eyes.
“Apparently, she did it to get Hubert to leave his mistress’s apartment and come home.” A short man whose name you never got took a drag of his cigarette, “Worked. He’s been yapping all week about the state of New Orleans society and the importance of protecting the fairer among us.”
Alastor was quiet still, lips tight. You’d seen the photos in his home. You’d never discussed it, no need. Things can’t become normal if you’re always pointing them out. Plus, that was his piece to share.
“Glad to see most of us here aren’t too keen to welcome her. I’d hate to have to find another bar.” Someone said, glancing around the room. “George just started making my martinis right.”
“Care to dance?” Alastor abruptly turned his entire body to you with a slick swivel on his heels.
You nodded, offering small polite goodbyes and setting your drinks back on the table before turning to him.
His open palm was outstretched and offering you a dance. You spread your hand over his and felt him hold you firmly before pulling you into him.
He held you so close, much closer than anyone else on the dance floor. A scandalous lack of distance between you two. Quiet, Alastor’s eyes were distant. You were in front of him but he wasn’t seeing you. You let the song carry on a little longer for appearances before sighing into a smile.
“Why are we dancing when you have work to do? You have your tools.” Looking up at a man was rarely a view you enjoyed but the way his eyes slid down his nose and landed so sharply on you made it worth it. A look that said he’d devour you if he didn’t adore you so much. Your hand snaked behind his back to touch the hidden outline of this trusty little knife. He briefly wondered if this could be considered foreplay, the way he felt your hand on his lower back and running over his weapon. Much more intimate than he’d ever let anyone else be.
As your bodies swayed, the lights slid across the curve of his eyes and lit that bright honey brown color like a diamond twirling in the sun. The facets of his irises mesmerizing you.
How terribly did you love him?
How far would you fall for him?
“This would be a long one. You’d be waiting… could be a couple of hours. I need to be out of sight before she leaves.” A chill. Oh, you’d forgotten for a second, Alastor was a killer. He didn’t do it for ‘justice’ alone, he enjoyed what he did. Immensely. His voice had a note of giddiness and anger that didn’t mix well, but was oddly arousing.
“Correction, I’d be dancing for hours. Drinking. Letting handsome men waste their money on me.”
“Oh? Can they buy me a drink, too?”
You brought up your pointer finger, “You remind her of her humanity, and I’ll get a man to buy you a drink.”
He linked his finger with yours. “I’ll need to give her special attention. She’s earned it.”
You loosely understood this wasn’t attention like you’d be given. This was attention that ran opposite affection.
“I’m not here to be in your way, Alastor.” A quick kiss to your hand, one you hoped no one else saw. While no one here would be bothered by Brady, you still wanted to keep some semblance of confusion on what you two were to onlookers.
His laugh was louder than you expected, a few heads turning, “Impossible. I’m always going wherever you are, dear.”
Would you never get up again?
“I’ll stay at the bar. If they close, I’ll just go to Beth’s.” Your fingers lingered in his, “Be careful. The best good deeds are done in the dark.”
A kiss to your nose. So gentle despite the topic. You could imagine it, the violent death of a woman. You could hear the sounds. Hers, his, the knife’s. A pang of guilt set in before you could remind yourself why this woman was going to die. A tiny smile settled on your face, he offered you a gentle command in return, “Understood, honey. Be safe.”
You let him kiss your hand again and bow out of the dance. You were doing it, it dawned on you as you watched him walk away. Truly kissing him goodbye at the door as he went off to work. The closest you’d ever gotten, atleast.
He stopped by a group and said some quick goodbyes, apologies for leaving early, and left the hotel bar.
You knew he had killed women before, Alastor was all for equality, but a part of you worried. Women tend to scream louder, and be heard more often, than men. A man screams and people just…keep walking. What would he do? Where would he do it?
With a sniffle, you let the jealousy of just what he would need to do to get her alone flutter away. Taking a seat back at your table, you sipped your drink and watched the others dance and chat. How odd, they could sway in such large places with big windows and bright lights with no fear of cops. Your scenes were dark, dusty, never seeing the sky.
“He left ya?” One of the earlier women came by, someone you vaguely remember him nodding a ‘hello’ to at some point in the evening.
Thankfully you were still quick on your feet. “Well, we came separately, of course we’d leave separately.”
A laughed, “Of course.” She leaned down, touching at your hair for a second, curiously, “Don’t hold your breath. But, it is nice he got you in here, huh? Must be a treat for you.”
Your own laugh was just as abrupt as Alastor’s earlier, your hand coming to hide your smile. All you could muster was a nod. Yes, you stood out. Yes, you didn’t fit in with these people for many reasons. But, it wasn’t your first time in nice spaces. First time not pressed into a man who’d been made to believe he was more important the whole time, but still.
It took two more drinks for Aubrey to leave. But there was a problem. As she was trying to bow out of the room, a man kept hooking his fingers under the loose belt of her boxy drop waist dress.
With practiced skill, you took note of where her eyes lingered on him, how her hand came to his arm but didn’t actually press him away. Not earnestly.
The pushy man saw it too, every little soft ‘no’ was a half ‘yes’. And Aubrey seemed to like that. It was almost ironic, given what she had done, how she egged on the younger man before her now by pretending she didn’t want him. His hand landed on her hip forcefully, her hand on his chest gingerly. He leaned in close, she pulled away barely.
The next act was the most classic to women of your era. The false exit.
Aubrey whispered something, he nodded eagerly and his many hands returned to himself.
She smiled at the back of everyone’s heads, as nearly no one would look her way, and she slipped out the doors.
You couldn’t stop yourself from shimmying as you slid from your booth. Barely a step away, you leaned back and grabbed the last sip in your glass. You swished it around your mouth like listerine, and swallowed it. Before you got too close, you pinched your cheeks until your eyes began to water.
You’d just found a way to make yourself useful.
“Whoopsie Daisy!” You giggled, shoulder colliding with the man’s chest as you stumbled past.
“Watch - ooh, hey,” the free hand that had come to keep you from getting closer quickly softened, curling around your waist. The same hand that’d just been on the socialite. You were sure to look up and sigh into him, your breath soaked in alcohol. “You okay, doll? Had a bit too much?”
With glassy eyes you nodded, closing them and letting your head nod lazily, “I lost my thing!” You laughed, hitting his chest.
“Your what? I happen to be a thing.”
How quickly he forgot his target when easier to pick fruit appeared.
“No, silly!” A practiced hiccup, “my little…”
“Your little…?”
Your fingers wiggled in the direction of your hip.
“Purse!” A beaming grin. He asked if you needed help finding it. “Well, how else am I gonna get another drink!” The hand on your waist fell to your hip and slunk lower.
“Oh well, I could help ya with that.” He leaned in, looking around first as if he had a secret, “I have a room upstairs.”
You tutted, “No no, I am a married woman!” He lifted your left hand, turning it over in a dramatic search for a ring. “Well, engaged…” you diverted your gaze. He lifted his hand to his brow then and scanned the room like a sailor to the horizon. “He’s working late.” You whined.
Why did his kind of man always want the taken woman? Did they think the chase was more meaningful then? Did they feel like they’d won some tug-of-war with an invisible, unaware opponent?
Maybe they were hardwired to hoard resources.
You let him seat you at the bar, and when he ordered you a drink you asked to know your savior’s name. William.
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Alastor was none the wiser, smoking a cigarette under the streetlamp just off to the side of the hotel awning. He didn’t smoke often before you, but he found the lure of sitting on the porch passing a pill between you both too hard to fight. And soon enough the habit grew from a drinking pastime to just… something to do with his hands.
As Aubrey appeared, waiting for her driver to retrieve the car, Alastor tossed the butt to the street and walked up on her.
“I’m quite cross with you, Aubrey.” His tone was smiling as his hand slid behind her neck and tugged her away from the safety and lights of the awning.
“Oh! Alastor, I’m actually waiting for my car.” She struggled to keep up with his pace in her heels, weakly pointing back to where the valet had stood earlier. She resisted a little, the palm on the nape of her neck silently shutting her down.
“Nonsense. We have business together.” Alastor let his hand fall to her upper arm as he yanked her into the closest side street. “I hear you’ve been a very bad girl.”
Aubrey huffed, pulling back against him once, then twice, but ultimately acquiesced when she could see his car down the street.
“Fine, you can drive me home then.” A misplaced giggle, her survival skills dulled by ego.
He tossed her roughly against the car, hand gripping her face tightly. She tried to say his name, but his hold was so firm her jaw was locked.
“You’re going to get into my car now.” Alastor’s eyes had lost their pupil, an expanse of a seemingly endless dark brown in the heavy shadows left by the lamp’s light. When he let her face go, she rolled her eyes and pulled open the back seat door.
That wasn’t what he had meant, not there, but he closed the door behind her and got into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t brought the tarp tonight, not expecting to need it, so maybe the backseat was his best option regardless.
When he pulled away, she reminded him he didn’t know her address.
“I’m not taking you home. I told you. I have a bone to pick with you.” Alastor found himself incapable of putting on a ruse for her. His patience was entirely lost in his unraveling anger.
“Oooh? A bone, you say. Well, well.” Aubrey leaned forward onto the front seat, hands snaking down his shoulders and chest so she could nip at his ear, “Finally letting me have a ride.”
He had to set his right hand in the darkness of his lap to hide the tremble, a disgusted rage manifesting in uncommon ways.
As her fingers found the buttons of his waist coat, Alastor struggled to see the road in front of him. His vision was going white, and then red. His blood pressure was so high he was nearly blind.
And when two hot fingers broached the small space between buttons of his dress shirt and touched the bare skin of his chest, the car came to an abrupt halt. The force threw her into the backseat.
Alastor slammed the front seat door shut before opening the back and caging her in. “I can’t stand another second of your existence.” She crawled backward, making room for him. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Aubrey settled her back against the opposite door, “Oh, the petit mort.”
His head hung low in frustration, a growled “No, the big one.” as he raked his fingers through his hair to keep from punching his own car seat.
“So I’ve heard.” She pulled up the hem of her dress slowly.
“For fucks sake Aubrey! I’m not using double entendre!” His hands wrapped around her neck. “Must I really remind you of what wrongs you’ve committed?!”
A brief panic finally came, “Wrongs?? Excuse you.”
He could have sworn the snap in his brain had been audible to her as he lost his last bit of patience.
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“Excuse me.” You settled back into the seat, having taken a bathroom break to down some water in secret. You weren’t trying to actually end up blacked out.
“Anyway, that's how we secured the riverside house.” William leaned into you. You tried to sip your drink and found it empty, having managed to finish it absentmindedly while he rambled on about himself earlier. As you stared at him you let your eyes lose focus and drift into plans for the morning. You’d like biscuits. Alastor had some sausage he’d picked up the other day, maybe a little gravy and some eggs. It’d be like a Sunday meal nice families ate after church. You assumed. Out of the peripheral of your daydream you saw him tap the bar twice and hold up two fingers. “Charge to 1033.” He said. With the clarity of someone who wasn’t pretending to be drunk you quickly held up three.
William shot you a confused look.
“One for my darling.” He made a show of looking around, the bartender pausing. You gave him a confirmation nod, “Three, please.”
“And is he in the room with us now, Helen? I’m beginning to think he’s imaginary.”
It seemed a fine enough name to give him.
“No! But I made a promise. Or…,” you returned the lean, head resting on his shoulder, “are three drinks a little steep for you?“ With a huff, he pulled out a pair of C notes and set them on the bar. The bartender nodded, reaching for the top shelf. You whistled at the sight. Too much money for the total seven drinks he’d ordered, if you weren’t somewhere Alastor frequented you’d have slipped them under the lip of your stockings when the man wasn’t looking. He was charging the room anyway, the large bills were just for show…
“One reviver for the miss, one brandy for the sir, and a rye whiskey neat for the beau.” The bartender set the drinks down on red napkins. The whiskey sat between you both, and after a beat you realized you hadn’t actually told him what to make for Alastor. And come to think of it, your last drink hadn’t been a reviver at all but a brandy ordered by William.
“Ya know I stood up another woman to help you,” he said it into your cheek, stealing your attention by breaking your line of thought. His arm around your shoulder curled to hold you closer, “Don’t I get a reward for that?”
His breath reeked of sickeningly sweet brandy, the taste sticking to the back of your throat. Your head tilted back so you could look at him down your nose, right hand coming to rest on his thigh.
The heat of his body was radiating through the fabric of his pants and made your stomach turn. How many hot and sweaty bodies had you had the pleasure and displeasure of touching?
A smirk painted your face, remembering seeing sweat sticking to Alastor’s forehead the last time he fucked you. What had you done for that reward? Ah right, the somehow shocking act of not withholding praise for how well planned out his greenhouse was. How impressive he was to you in so many ways. You could have lingered on that recollection, on how Alastor set down his coffee and kissed you. And how he didn’t stop until you were both left undone and flustered. But movement stirred away the pleasant memory to bring you back to an unpleasant reality.
His hand roamed down your arm, uncomfortably warm palm on your exposed skin.
“Oh, I know you did.” You said.
William chuckled, absolutely no idea what you were talking about and not particularly giving a shit. “Did I mention I have a room here?”
“Ten thirty three.” You repeated.
He looked genuinely shocked, “How’d you know that?” The man was absolutely mystified.
“I— you just…,” your mask slipped in the face of such abject stupidity, “Lucky guess.” William drank his brandy slowly, mentioning you should bet on the ponies together. You nodded.
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Alastor didn’t care for strangulation. It took so much time and wasn’t particularly satisfying. No pleading, no screaming, no blood and gore. Just…. someone flailing beneath you and turning purple. Boring.
He brought up the accusations before he began to squeeze, and her panic transformed to relief. “Oh that?” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down, “Are you really miffed at me about that?”
“Yes, Aubrey! You condemned an innocent child to a horrid death!” His hands loosened, all of his neurons firing off to feel pain in his own heart.
She rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t call them children. You seem so upset, hun. Did you have a mam-?”
The rest of the word was barely squeaked out of her, he couldn’t let her finish it. He wasn’t sure what face he made. But whatever it was, it scared her. The carefree way she’d been handling the interaction finally died, and he could register actual fear in her eyes then.
But the rage just … withered. How many children had his mother loved and doted on before her last, much kinder position? How many Aubreys had she raised. It was nothing short of an overwhelmingly violent sadness that laced his finger together around her neck and tightened, the full weight of his body coming down to crush her airways. He wanted such sentiments to be smothered out of the world like the air in her lungs. If he killed enough, could he make a dent in their influence? He could try. For her. For his mother.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“Ya know, I could take real good care of you. If that’s what’s stopping you from coming upstairs.”
With a deep breath, you gulped the drink halfway down. “Your fella doesn’t need to know. I could even get you your own place, you could wait for me there when he’s late with work. Have dinner ready. Slip off my shoes like a good girl.”
“Trust me; you’ve got a better chance of her smacking you with your shoes than slipping them off like a maid.” Alastor was resting his elbow on the bar behind you, head leaning on his hand. “Hey doll. That one mine?” He pointed at the glass.
“Oh? Alastor is the fiancé?,” William gave off a snide laugh as he was interrupted, Alastor standing up and walking to come between you two, “This guy?! Everyone knows he’s a frigid bitch. You must be a dive alley-cat if you’re—,” Alastor’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crack. He needed both hands to keep himself from falling down with William as he was knocked back out of his bar stool. Alastor’s feet slipped on the spilt brandy, causing him to seize the stool for momentary support.
Alastor took the glass of whiskey with his non-dominant hand and downed it. He cooed, “Top shelf, Georgie?” The bartender nodded. “Good choice. Picked a worthy sucker, sweetheart. Ready to peel?”
You watched William try to stand, glass stuck to his palm. He did manage to get on his knees, shouting at the staff who stood motionless and unphased behind the counter. They didn’t say anything at all, oddly, until Alastor extended his swelling hand to you.
“Have a good evening, sir.”
Alastor flashed his signature smile and guided you out of the hotel bar. You only got a few steps before quickly running back and snatching one of the 100$ bills from the counter. William would’ve taken it back from the bar anyway. What a waste!
When a waiter offered Alastor a warm and familiar look you had to wonder, did people really not know what he did in the darkness of the New Orlean’s alleys? Did a part of them not feel some kind of debt to him? Or was he just painfully friendly when socializing?
“Just to be clear,” Alastor let the doorman open the lobby door, “It’s not the accusation of sex work that compelled me to sock him. It’s the implication you’d be cheap.” He waved the valet from the car and opened the door for you, “If you chose to sell your companionship at true worth, his daddy’s money couldn’t even buy him a kiss.”
“Aww,” you smiled at him through the thin windowpane, “Would you really be so cavalier about such a job if I did?”
“Would I? Gosh that’d make retirement much quicker for me.” He slid into the driver's seat and the door shut with a sharp ting. As he took hold of the wheel he reclined to let his hand settle behind you on the backrest, and then you three were off.
“Oh by the way, Aubrey’s in the backseat.”
You turned slowly, first coming into view were her tiny, shining silver shoes. Your eyes kept traveling; stocking covered calves and then the bottom of her dress just past her knees.
Alastor’s coat draped over her torso and shoulders caused you to flit to him, confirming his jacket was gone, and back to her.
Her face looked like that of a sleeping passenger.
No blood.
When the car was a few blocks from the hotel, you leaned back and lifted the jacket. Her abdomen was clean, the white of her dress pristine. At first her neck seemed clear of cuts or abrasions until you rode past a streetlamp and a beam of light revealed the slowly forming collar of bruises.
Special attention.
For a hair of a moment you began to gently cover her again, before remembering her crimes and dropping it on her unceremoniously.
“Trunk not good enough for her?”
“Got interrupted. Booked it back to you.” He shook his head and patted the seat in tandem.
What luck that just as he felt sure she was too far gone for revival, he let go over her neck and sat up in time for someone to notice him. Fishing in his jacket draped over the seat, he found his cigarette case just as—
“What exactly are you two doing?” An officer was flashing his light through the passenger side back window.
Alastor froze, Aubrey motionless between his legs and a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips. “You startled me, officer! We were just canoodling. But she’s gone and fallen asleep before the main event.”
The officer’s brass light shone down but couldn’t reach the dead woman’s face past the shadow cast by the car door and glass. “She alright?”
Alastor’s eyes drifted down to the deceased socialite, “Truth be told sir, she’s had a bit too much of the giggle water.” Fishing your lighter from his waistcoat pocket, he lit this cigarette before setting the jacket over Aubrey like a gentleman.
“Alright y'all better get lost. Tell your moll this ain’t ladylike.” The officer tapped the window with his knuckle and when she didn’t stir just left with a huff.
Alastor was quick to leave the backseat and drive off, circling around at the next block to head back to the hotel.
“Is… everything alright?” You asked, very obviously concerned.
“Peachy! I just said we were necking before she passed out drunk.“ he leaned over and kissed your cheek, “Anything exciting on your end?”
Patting his leg you beamed up at him, “Always so quick on your feet! I don’t know why I worry so much.” His face lit up and you wanted nothing more than to launch into a praise filled rant that fueled his smile. But, you moved on to the question at hand. After a moment to think, you remembered ‘the best good deeds are done in the dark’. “Nope! Just got tipsy on William’s dime. An odd woman did touch my hair…,” you recounted every second, leaving out why you chose William, to Alastor. You hadn’t meant to, and he hadn’t actually asked, the evening’s events just seemed to flow out of you. The way he always added little comments and nodded made it feel like a conversation and not just you rambling.
When the car was pulling into the driveway, you asked Alastor if you could drive it behind the house. Puzzled, he put it in park and let you sit between his legs. You started slowly, but quickly began to accelerate. As you approached the house you turned sharply to the left, right side tires ever so slightly leaving the ground. A sharp correction to the right to straighten out. One of his hands clutched you at the waist, the other gripping the seat.
He tried to form some kind of words but they came out a jumbled and panicked mash of sounds as you barreled toward the greenhouse.
You slammed your foot on the brakes and Aubrey flew off the back seat and hit the floor with a loud thud.
“Ha!” You slapped the wheel, “I’ve been wanting to hear that sound the whole drive!”
He used both arms now to squeeze you appreciatively, “You’re just the bee’s knees.” Alastor nuzzled into the back of your neck, truly feeling his heart flutter. You made him skip a beat. So many days and nights not even imagining such a pairing.
The best scenario he could think up was a partner who wouldn’t ask questions, who didn’t care to know, who was maybe a little too naive but otherwise capable. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t dared to think someone would exist who could support him.
And not just in the killing, which was a hurdle of course, but the other parts of him. The little sacrifices you made for him without complaint.
What did he do for you, he worried. Your body was his on the occasions he wanted but never did you ask for him. You shared the housework equally. Yes he drove you around but your skills with the car were still new. Insignificant things, like making your coffee when he awoke first and waiting for you after work. With the detective still looking for connections, he couldn’t even properly introduce you or flaunt you around to his circles.
Like a flash of lightning taking down a tree, insecurity shook him. What on earth was keeping you there? Of all the people in New Orleans, how was he any more worth your time than the next?
If anything, he was nothing short of troublesome. His hold on you twisted from thankful to desperate.
Even the lovely evening out he had promised you, he’d left you alone in a strange place. A stranger had bought you more drinks than he had.
“Would you like to go to the woods with me tonight? To dispose of Aubrey?” His lips swiped across the fabric of your dress as he said it.
The sudden advancement into his hobby took you by surprise. You hugged his arms against you, “Really? Are you sure?”
“If you don’t want to…”
“Is that what I said?”
“Well, no….”
“Don’t put words in my mouth! I absolutely want to go!” Your arms squeezed his.
He chuckled into your shoulder and gave your hip a pat, “Let me get her packaged up. You go rest your feet and I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go.”
You watched from the kitchen, the light he hung from the greenhouse ceiling setting the entire space aglow. When he finally emerged, his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hair was falling into his face, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose before he could push it back into place. He waved from the porch, and when you made it out to him he was already pulling out small bundles.
“We’ll bury the pieces in separate places.” He dragged out a small trash tin with the lid already clapped down. “And this goes into the water.”
The packages were like Tommy’s, but smaller. They fit easily into the trunk, and beside them he snuggly fit the metal bucket.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The Ford was parked down a dirt road far from sight, taking a parcel at a time and a shovel, you followed him into the woods.
You had to ask, why not just his land? Wasn’t that safer? Easier?
“Well, a skull found out here is easier to act shocked about than on my property.”
The ground was still soft, but you could imagine it was rock solid in winter. “Isn’t this dangerous? Aren’t you slowed down in the colder months?” You kept your eyes open wide, adjusting to the pitch black of the forest. The trees were too close and too full still to see the stars. But soon they’d brown and die, revealing the sky’s light. Revealing Alastor.
“Eh it’s mostly busy during mating season because the hunters come out in numbers. But in general I avoid being here in the very early morning hours.” He paused and you reached out for the shovel for your turn, “It’s not too bad overall.”
“They mate in fall. It’s almost fall now.” You widened your stance for balance and began to dig.
“Yeeees but I’m not alone!” He chirped.
“Fine… just, don’t come out when I’m not able to join you. Just wait or, I don’t know, burn them or something.” You tried to dig fast, wanting to spare his injured hand another turn.
“Very ineffective, brings too much attention and the body never burns all the way. It’s still identifiable in many cases.” Alastor said it quickly, as he’d had nearly a lifetime to think of these things and test them.
You huffed, “Well, fuck. Okay. Still.” You leaned over and offered your index finger, not looking at him as you did. He laughed before wiping his hand clean on his pants and hooking his with yours.
A small scream erupted from you, startling him. Your short heel sunk into the dirt when you leaned to lock fingers. The sudden loss of balance startled you. “Sorry… flat shoes. I need flat shoes…these are gonna be the death of me.”
Alastor’s hand came to his heart, pounding in his chest, “Of us. My heart nearly stopped.”
You dug many holes, all of them quite small in radius, just wide enough to slip in what you needed to. After each was deep enough by some standard you didn’t know, he would untie the twine around the package and let the contents spill out and down into the little cylinderical pocket of dirt.
The first package had her hands. Then next was her feet. Her arms in pieces and then later her legs. The hips, the chest and shoulders, and finally, her head. You were grateful for the darkness, not wanting to see her face now that it was no longer attached to her body.
The brush was so thick and the woods so dense that you found it hard to distinguish the burial spots once they’d been filled in and covered up. He explained most people came out there with a purpose, not really noticing some disturbed dirt here and there. It’s not like they’re people sized.
“You’re just something else, ya know that?” You said it into the shadows and didn’t see him wince. But you somehow, accidentally, knew to clarify, “I’m always so impressed by your way of doing things. You’ve really thought it out well huh? I know I should worry less but it’s hard.”
Because of the shade you didn’t see the way his shoulders relaxed. You never made him regret your inclusion.
Alastor carried the bucket as you slowly made your way through the darkness. You could hear the sounds of bugs, though you couldn’t see any. The water surprised you, his arm coming to stop you from walking into the bayou.
“In winter they’ll get really still, so I slow down then too. But we still have time, it’s not too cold yet for them.” He took off the lid, the smell of copper blossoming from the tin.
With practiced moves, he tossed the viscera as far as he could into the small inlet marsh of the river.
Within seconds the water frothed and rolled with the snapping of powerful jaws.
“Gosh they’re so neat.” You said, reaching out into the darkness for his hand. You couldn’t see him looking at you as you watched the prehistoric animals dispose of his crimes.
He wanted to kiss you. To confess every little happiness you filled his formerly hollow chest with. But he held back. He knew better. He’d tried before, once. When he thought settling was better than nothing. It ended terribly. It was better to just exist beside you for as long as you’d entertain his company. If you knew, he thought, of all the futures he imagined with you, you’d just feel tied down by his hopes. You weren’t a small bird he could hold in his home.
You promised to not get in his way. The least he could do was not cage you with his love. He wouldn’t hold you back.
“Alastor.”
“Yeah?” He said dreamily.
“I think… ” You fought the urge to scream at the sensation between your toes, “Aubrey dripped into my shoes.”
Alastor yanked the bucket away from you, the angle he haphazardly held at it with a single finger to hold your hand having caused the liquid remains to leak out.
“Ankle boots. Ankle boots, no heel.” You muttered, the shoe rinsed off in the water with a paranoid speed now squishing under your sole. The action was enough to draw attention to your shore, long and round snouts moving toward you in the night as you got rid of Aubrey. It was time to go.
The drive home was dark and silent. The bucket and tarps rinsed with the gas can full of water he always kept in the oversized, custom built trunk. It had taken longer than you had realized, which just brought up renewed worry for his sleep schedule.
When you finally made it home and into the bedroom, he mumbled it was too late to shower. A coordinated grumble between you that you’d both just wash the sheets in the morning. Alastor sat on the end of the bed and bent down, your hand coming to his shoulder to stop him.
Exhausted, aching, and quite confident you smelled of sweat coated dirt with the tiniest hint of dead Aubrey mixed with alive William (blood and brandy, respectively), you lowered yourself to your knees. You untied the waxed laces of the right shoe, made of a shiny brown leather, and slipped it off.
Alastor felt his throat tighten as he had to blink to keep tears away. You always seemed to listen when he spoke. Really listened, even when he was just being playful. Another tiny sweetness piled onto the mountain you were currently burying him under. Another ounce of inadequacy tipped on his self measured scales.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Hush, I don’t have to do anything.” You said it and he laughed breathlessly knowing he’d heard it before and praying he’d hear it forever. “I want to.”
You set the left shoe beside the right. When you didn’t stand but instead stared at him patiently, Alastor undid his pants and lifted his hips to push them down. You folded them neatly beside his shoes. Feeling up his legs as if you couldn’t see them there in front of you, you found his sock garters.
“Keep the socks, please. It’s getting chilly.” He undid his shirt and folded it on his lap.
When he was in just his underwear and socks, you looked up at him and wondered if he knew. That this was the closest to expressing “I love you” you had ever been. The act itself perhaps far louder than any words could be.
Sitting back, he patted between his legs like he had in the car. As you sat, he undid the buttons down the back of your dress. Why were so many women’s clothing items made in a way that required two people?
In the mirror above the dresser you took in the sight. When the dress fell to your waist he kissed your shoulder and met you in the reflection.
“Quite a pretty couple, if I do say so myself.” He rested his chin where he had just kissed and smiled at you. “What did I do to deserve your attention?”
“Affection,” you corrected. “Aubrey got attention.” He nodded slightly. “I think it’s karma.” You watched his brow arch. “You’ve earned me. Whatever that means, or looks like. We were put together for a reason.”
It was the sappiest thing you’d ever said and a year ago you’d have laughed in someone’s face for saying it. If a character in a novel spewed it out in a confession you’d have closed the book. But you meant it. Every single word was part of the fact this was supposed to happen. The idea that any timeline existed where your paths never crossed gave you the shivers.
Alastor closed his eyes, exhaustion catching up quickly as comfort opened the door for it. That didn’t make any sense to him at all. Why would anyone, god or the devil, give him something good just for the sake of being a good thing. He was very plainly bad. There must be a catch. That fear he felt before, the fear of wanting something too much, reappeared. Turning its ugly head to him as if called by name.
Why? He could feel something, someone, setting their sights on him.
When he opened his eyes, you were there still, looking at him. A smile too sweet. He felt the compulsion to tell you to run. That if this was his karma, it would end the way he deserved. And he didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve you.
But instead he leaned down, lifted your dress, and unclamped your garters. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to cling to what good he had now. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly get to keep it. His fingertips delighted in rolling down the delicate nylon. He watched the red stained end loosen around your toes, a mental note to burn them before he continued his undressing.
“Lift your hips, my love. I’ll get you all ready for bed.” As he pressed forward and bent into you so he could slip off the stockings he turned to look at the you in front of him, “And I’ll keep you warm.”
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:・
˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖
@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98
, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,
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, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000
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LOSING MY MIND OVER UNKNOWN EPISODE 8
Another week, another incredible episode of Unknown, another shout into the ether that they do not fuck this up for me in the final four episodes. Chris and Kurt are so good together as scene partners, but I am definitely dubbing Episode 8, The Chris Episode because holy hell was Chris juggling so many different emotions from Qian throughout the entire episode in all its tense and awkward glory.
I think I want to talk about eyes. Because I just recently rewatched Episode 6, and was losing it all over again at Qian’s complete refusal to make eye contact with Yuan from the moment Yuan says he’s suffering until he returns from the United States. Especially because in Episode 8, he barely makes eye contact with Yuan but for very different reasons.
Bedroom
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Qian wakes up the morning after Yuan’s return to find Yuan sleeping at his side. Now, knowing that Yuan is really only pretending to be asleep, and that he will continue to terrorize Qian throughout the episode, Yuan has positioned himself in such a way that the very first thing Qian has the ability to see when he wakes up is Yuan’s face. In the initial moment of wakefulness, Qian uses this private, quiet moment to study Yuan’s face, after years.
And similarly to the end of Episode 7, we look through Qian’s eyes via close up of Yuan’s face on screen only to hear Yuan say “seen enough?” Which is where we get a very good microexpression from Chris because Qian’s eyes go slightly wider, surprised that Yuan is a) actually awake and b) able to tell that he is Looking. But Qian does not look away.
Yuan opens his eyes, and Qian shifts, lifting his head up slightly as if he’s dialed in…but he is only able to maintain eye contact with Yuan for (literally) 2 seconds, before snapping himself out of it and sitting upright to take himself out of physical line (or plane) with Yuan. But he immediately looks back down at Yuan looking very dazed and at least slightly confused, and from my perspective a lot of that is informed by the fact that Qian is having to adjust to Yuan being back home. But the longest Qian can bear to look at Yuan is approximately 5 seconds.
gif by @thecasualfkfan
Qian, man of few words, tries to cut the thick silence with a caregiving question ‘are you hungry?” cut to the mirror where we see a reflection of only Qian, a jarring site because typically when Qian and Yuan are in the same room, they are framed together. “I’ll take you to the hotpot place,” and Yuan says nothing, so Qian tries to cut the tension again by saying he’ll message San Pang and Xiong.
“No need for the trouble. We can eat at home.” Yuan replies, and it gives Qian pause. Years have passed since he last saw Yuan, Yuan is established in his adulthood, successful, independent, confident, and sure. Qian has not been coping well, and the easy relationship, the familiar dynamic that he once had with Yuan is gone, he has no idea how to exist around Yuan right now. Qian turns his head slowly, to look at Yuan once more, but Yuan is up and out the door, leaving Qian to just stare at the space he left behind for a moment.
We get the second isolated framing of Qian in the mirror as his eyes move from the space by his bed where Yuan sat towards the door that Yuan just walked through.
So what I love about this episode is that Yuan knows his feelings, and I think he has a pretty good understanding of where Qian’s feelings rest now that Qian has called him home. Yuan has a goal, Yuan knows what he wants, the distance has very much helped to calm the storm of feelings that Yuan was having a hard time keeping a handle on when he was younger. Qian on the other hand, has a few more crises to work through before he can feel grounded in his changing feelings for Yuan. Which is what I think we are watching him parse through right before the intro when his eyes follow Yuan out the door and then close accompanied by a deep intake of breath. A moment to process what just happened.
This episode is very aptly titled The Distance Between Us and Love because Yuan is doing nothing but playing with distance. He is being petty, he is pushing buttons, he is- I would claim -essentially edging Qian by getting just close enough to inspire physiological responses in Qian without completely closing the distance.
Dinner
And that distance also includes a demonstration to Qian about how Yuan is capable of maintaining an emotional distance from him now that Yuan’s priorities have changed and he is no longer blindly, overwhelmingly devoted to Qian. And it’s funny in the show because it feels petty, because it is a little petty, but under the surface there is a lot of richness in understanding that Yuan’s position as an adoptee, as a traumatized child, as someone that was saved and probably felt the need to maintain his place, who didn’t have the same level of security in the household as Xiao Bao has had, Yuan has made Qian his number one priority for a significant part of his life, so much so that Qian has fallen right back in to the routine of anticipating being cared for by Yuan upon his return, but it is subject to change. To me, this entire episode reads like Yuan telling Qian “you have the choice not to engage in a relationship with me, but the emotional distance and deprioritization you are experiencing right now will be the new normal, can you bear that?”
gif by @ueasking
Qian walks up to the table and sees a truly impressive layout of food in front of him, and he looks somewhat shocked between the food and Yuan, the food and Yuan. Yuan has always been a helpful person, he has been trying to ease Qian’s burdens his entire life, but he’s an adult now and thus his reciprocated care means actually being able to provide for and support Qian holistically. Yuan walks out of the kitchen with a hangover cure, and Chris performs an inspired bit of improv and reaches for the glass, because Qian has slipped back into a world where someone cares about him first. But like I said, Yuan isn’t acting that way right now.
I love that Qian looks to his right to see if San Pang caught his #awkwardmoment and that is sustained throughout the dinner as Qian keeps stealing glances at Yuan, but looking away before he can have any silent interactions with Yuan at all. My favorite part of this scene is Yuan’s interaction with San Pang who is also absolutely awkward with Yuan. In this scene we get a massive dig from Yuan to both San Pang and Qian, and on the surface it’s petty but if you look in an additional layer, there is so much disrespect behind Yuan’s words.
gif by @ueasking
“San Pang. Thank you. I’ve thought a lot during my time abroad. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the chance to go to the US and get what I have now. I’m grateful to you. Thank you.”
It is important, in my mind, that the end of this statement is followed with a cut to Qian’s face and not San Pang’s because it wasn’t San Pang that sent Yuan to the US. He was the one who delivered the news for sure, but it was the money Qian had saved over the course of years that sent Yuan abroad. There is soooo much disrespect in this statement because Yuan is ignoring Qian’s contribution to his time abroad and he is telling San Pang, essentially, that anything that happens between Yuan and Qian moving forward is directly because of him.
And now, a commercial break for the funniest scene in the show to date:
Bedroom 2
Here we start with the hands :) Yuan enters Qian’s room and immediately moves behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Qian is mad about San Pang and Lili and he is fully not making eye contact with Yuan, barely even turns in his direction when he enters the room, puts as much distance between himself and Yuan as he can in his room.
“Ge. Have you ever thought that we can’t accept changes because we’re too used to the way things were?”
gif by @ueasking
And we get Qian finally and slowly looking in Yuan’s general direction, Yuan moves to the bed, to Qian’s side and over the course of the conversation Qian looks towards Yuan about three more times, but he never turns completely, he never looks directly. Not even when Yuan calls him “Wei Qian” which was a brilliant fucking move on his part when he’s trying to drive home the point that the nature of people’s relationships to one another can change. Yuan leaves and the camera cuts to him leaving exiting Qian’s room and entering his own and a few seconds later, Qian opens his door, standing in the doorway in a similar fashion to how we saw him at the end of Episode 6 right after Yuan had left the house to go to the States.
At the Computer
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
As time continues, and Qian has not verbalized his own feelings for Yuan, Yuan starts pushing him a little harder. At first there was distance, then touch, and now he is getting bolder, literally getting in Qian’s face when he isn’t paying attention so that Qian is forced to look on in surprise and he’s asking Qian a question with his face so close there is literally no where for Qian to turn to. And Qian responds not only by looking at him, but by scanning his face, eyes flitting down to Yuan’s lips two separate times. Yuan lets the moment hang long enough for Qian to show his uncertainty around what is about to happen (is Yuan going in for a kiss?) before he breaks the tension by asking Qian a business question. But he’s been successful in shaking Qian because Qian looks back at Yuan twice in ten seconds, while Yuan just continues to stare directly at Qian to prevent Qian from stealing glances.
Being Fed
gif by @ueasking
We cut to probably my favorite scene of the episode with Yuan feeding Qian, mostly because Qian has no fucking idea what to do about it. Also because it has absolutely one of my favorite blocking moments when Qian reaches for the bowl in Yuan’s hand at the same time Yuan leans forward to feed him. I love this moment a) because the execution of the motion is so smooth and b) because of the concept of food as love. Qian here is trying to take the food from Yuan while Yuan is reaching out with the spoon to feed Qian his love. Qian takes the proffered bite apprehensively, and then rejects the continued action by taking the bowl from Yuan.
And Yuan as he usually is, spends all his time staring straight at Qian, so that Qian is forced to catch his eye if and when he looks in Yuan’s general direction. Qian is really struggling with his feelings for Yuan this episode so he rushes to finish his food and get the fuck out of dodge. Between each bite he looks to Yuan for just a second before turning his head further and further to the side so as not to catch Yuan in his periphery.
“They say if you like someone, even if you wear a mask you can see it in their eyes” Qian cannot look at Yuan, because Yuan is bleeding his feelings for Qian. Qian cannot look at Yuan because Qian is bleeding his feelings for Yuan. But unfortunately for Qian, it is not just his eyes that give him away. Because he has not reckoned with his new feelings, Qian is incapable of interacting with Yuan without being the most awkward motherfucker alive. Because Yuan is confident in what he wants and Qian is still having to adjust. Qian finishes the food and hands the empty bowl back to Yuan, and just as he is about to remove himself from the situation, Yuan scoops up the very last remnants of the meal and starts to feed it to Qian.
gif by @coffeelover5eva
Qian for just a second jerks his head back, in the same way that he moved his head slightly backwards when he turned to find Yuan staring at him in his bedroom. Much in the same way that he will take a step back later when Yuan moves to fix his collar. But because Qian does have feelings for Yuan and is fighting a losing battle, that instinctual reaction to put some distance between them, to not be cared for, quickly makes way into a deflated submission as he lets Yuan feed him those last little morsels. Yuan walks away as Qian just sits in quiet, annoyed, resignation. Chris’ face throughout this entire scene is just absolutely hysterical.
Yet another commercial break, because I am dying at Yuan being a menace
I do think it is worth noting that Qian’s reaction to this is very similar to his reaction to Yuan saying he liked him in that first attempt where he physically and emotionally disengages, gives him a little pat and tries to remove himself from the situation at hand.
Car
gif by @ueasking
Absolutely the most normal and relaxed Qian has acted around Yuan for this entire episode is in the scene where Lili is bailing on the family trip and he and Yuan are discussing what to do next. Is that little hand stopping the trunk from opening all the way a little desperate? Yeah I think so. But holy shit is it the least tense Qian has been with Yuan in quite some time.
That does not last long though because once they get in the car, Qian sits there expectantly, waiting for the charged sexual tension that would come with Yuan reaching over him to buckle his seat belt. I love this show for giving us the parallel fishing trips, because Yuan originally tried to pull the BL Seatbelt Staple years prior without complete success, Qian does not get the luxury of a second chance to get butterflies in his stomach having Yuan that close. It’s fucking brilliant to have had the buckle before, because it means the audience very clearly knows what Qian is thinking and expecting when he makes no move of his own to buckle up.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
What I love so much about this moment is that Qian has been trying to avoid these feelings time and time again since Yuan returned. And here we know he’s lost because for the first time in the entire episode he is waiting for Yuan to make a move. He wants Yuan to buckle him in. He can’t say it out loud, it’s embarrassing for him to have Yuan not buckle him in while having Yuan passively calling him out on his expectations.
If Qian’s absolute inability to function with Yuan gone was not enough of an indication that Qian has lost this fight already, this is absolutely the point in which we know Yuan has won. Because after all the avoidance, those split seconds of jumping back, of adding distance, of trying to shorten the time the two of them are alone together, Qian doesn’t bail on the trip and Qian waits for Yuan to make a move.
Fishing
First, it must be acknowledged that under the sunlight, Qian’s hair is very red. In other words. The boy has uke hair.
“When did you get so good at fishing” Qian asks
“When I was abroad I used to go hiking and fishing by myself. I didn’t feel lonely when I imagined you were by my side,” Yuan replies
and Qian furrows his brow slightly because Qian did that too. Not the hiking-and-fishing part, but the curbing the loneliness by imagining-Yuan-was-there part. We can see it in Episode 7 when he smiles and toasts the air at his side with his beer can after Lili and San Pang leave for the Christmas market, and if you didn’t catch that moment the first time (I did not) we get it again in the flashback Qian has, remembering the brightness and the chaos of Lili and Yuan being in the house.
“Ge, do you have something to say?”
“Zhiyuan, don’t keep your feelings for me anymore. Nothing will come of them” Yuan chuckles, which like…valid buddy, cause that is fucking hilarious. Not because Yuan doesn’t have feelings for Qian, but because something will definitely come of them. Because this is Qian’s last attempt at trying to maintain the status quo. Trying to be responsible and keep their feelings for each other at a non-romantic level. But it’s too late, Qian, you’re a goner. Qian looks at Yuan, but only in his peripheral vision, he dares not look at Yuan flat out at this point.
“What makes you think I still have feelings for you?” Qian looks at Yuan immediately after he says that, and not just looks at his face, but down his body, and then out in to his own thoughts.
“Ge, do you remember a long time ago you asked me what I would do if the person I liked got married?”
“You said you’d go crazy”
“My answer’s changed.”
And with that Qian has the sharpest, fastest head turn we’ve seen from him all episode but for the first time in the entire episode, Yuan is not looking a Qian. He is giving Qian the space to look, to think. He tells Qian that he will be happy as long as the person that he likes is happy, and we immediately see this tension release itself from Qian’s forehead. Qian is looking pensive throughout the conversation, and his eyes only move once Yuan moves again that Qian’s eyes follow the motion of the lid. Yuan moves to sit on the container, which places Qian not only below him, but the camera angle shrinks Qian down so he appears even smaller than usual next to Yuan.
Qian looks at Yuan when he sits down
“Wei Qian. Don’t you like Wei Zhiyuan?” Yuan asks, and the moment his question finishes, Qian looks away, because Qian has been incapable of maintaining eye contact where any romantic feelings are involved, but he is actually thinking here. You can see that question weighing heavy on Qian’s mind. And he can’t just run away from it so he closes his eyes and looks away again.
“If you do, is it only because we’re brothers?” and Qian’s jaw tenses considerably as he processes the question. You can see his lip move, you can see the twitching of his cheek as he clenches his teeth. But Yuan is done teasing Qian. Qian has become increasingly more obvious in his reactions to Yuan and now that Yuan has successfully riled Qian up over the past few days and they are alone where they had their first conversation about Yuan’s crush on an unknown boy. @romchat has already pointed out the reverse imagery for the parallel here but Yuan reaches out and clasps Qian’s cheek, the same way that Qian has done for Yuan countless times.
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
When Yuan’s hand first makes contact, Qian looks at it but keeps his eyes trained downward. But the second time that Yuan’s thumb slides gently across his cheek, Qian looks up, looks straight into Yuan’s eyes. He does not tense any further, he does not fight against it, he does not shy away from Yuan’s touch or Yuan’s gaze. (@respectthepetty has a very lovely little breakdown of this scene herself here)
“This thing about us, is it that you don’t want, or you don’t dare?” Yuan asks and we move back to a wide angle shot that closes out the episode with the little title card. But Chris doesn’t stop acting just because there isn’t a close up on his face, oh no. No. Instead Qian’s face relaxes eeeeeever so slightly, and you can see him swallow hard. This is not a question he wants to be faced with because we all know what the answer is, and the answer is that he does want, but doesn’t dare. And the second that his fear of losing Yuan for a second time becomes stronger than his fear of changing their relationship? Game over.
This show is putting so many worms in my brain, I love it so much, and I am so looking forward to episode 9 where I get to see my boys being put through hell at the hands of the gang. Torture my boys! They don’t have enough angst!!
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