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biisexualemma · 3 years

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boys ain't shit. oscar diaz

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing, lots of just angst and angry feminist energy and if this doesn't align with your beliefs, feel free to leave!

requested: 'Hey!! First I want to say that you are an amazing writer so talented! So I was wondering if I could request and imagine with spookyxreader and she overhears Oscar speaking about her or something like maybe she is to clingy or anything you think will fit and then she sort of starts to leave him alone does t opposite of what she heard he doesn't like drifts a little he sees the change questions her and she tells him why- and so angst to fluff If you hate please disregard And thanks anyway ❤️'

a/n: thank you for this lovely request, i only apologise that it took me so long to write! but i'm also glad it did because i kept re-writing this over and over again and it never came out right, but i really love this version! i changed it slightly from the request lol i was listening to 'your power' by billie eilish on a loop while writing this and a lot of anger and preaching came out-- oop-- but also not mad about it. i really like this and hope you do too! enjoy 🤍

on my block masterlist / main masterlist

anger bubbled in your chest but your cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment. your stomach lurched, a mixture of emotions swirling through you. you were angry at him for being such an asshole, but mostly you were embarrassed that you'd found yourself in this position and hurt that he would think to treat you like this. he was an asshole, he always had been, you knew it before you started dating but, somehow, he still managed to worm his way in. mainly because when you were alone he was careful, and sweet, and kind. he cared about you, he told you any chance he got, and you believed him. you were always convinced he meant everything he said, which is why this stung all the more.

"nah, it ain't even like that— she's everywhere man, how you s'posed to shake a hyna like that?" their laughter rang through your ears as you stood, feet frozen in place, out of sight to them. "shit's ridiculous. she's always on top of me."

"man— if i had a hyna that fine on top o' me all the time—"

"the things i'd do—"

you shook your head, blocking out their vulgar comments and trying to rid of oscar's shrewd laughter filling your ears. you were sick to your stomach hearing him talk about you like that, to hear him encouraging his friends crude jokes about you.

you couldn't stop yourself as the small scoff left your lips, catching one of the boys' attention. sad eyes, his smile faltering when he spotted you tucked around the side of the house, listening to every word. "shit," you heard him mumble, nudging oscar whose back was facing you.

oscar always had a thing about keeping up his reputation, which you understood, to some extent, but this had nothing to do with that. this was his friends, talking about you as if you were an object to satisfy their needs. and he was encouraging them. this was you they were talking about, when he claimed to love you.

this wasn't a side to oscar you ever wanted to see, or believe existed. you knew how his friends could be, but to hear him condoning the shit coming out of his friends mouths, made you feel unbelievably uncomfortable.

not to even mention that he was being downright mean, and sleazy in talking about you. you could feel your anger growing the longer you stood there. oscar glanced over his shoulder, his face falling when his eyes met yours. your hands clenched into fists, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

you shook your head, finally knocked out of your state of shock, turning and stomping away from the group of santos. your breathing grew heavier, sweat dripping off you as the sweltering heat started to get to you. you were so angry you could cry. you trusted oscar with everything, it took you a long time to get to that point, and this is how he treated you.

you could hear his muffled calls from behind you getting louder as you continued to march away from the house. you yanked your wrist away when you felt his hand latch onto you, and carried on your walk home.

he sped up, jogging so he stopped dead in front of you, holding out his hands when you tried to manoeuvre around him. "i don't wanna talk to you right now," you spoke calmly, trying again to move past him, his hands latching onto your shoulders to keep you still.

"just— hang on will you—"

you shook your head repeatedly. "no—"

"i don't know what you heard but—" his grip tightened when you tried to wriggle free.

"no," you repeated harsher.

"y/n— c'mon— that was nothing—"

"oscar," you raised your voice, cutting off his ramblings. his eyes never left your face, his eyebrows unknitting when your frown deepened. he scrunched his eyes shut for a second, frustrated he'd upset you. he was annoyed with himself for being so stupid. "no," you repeated once more. his hands slowly released their grip on you, letting you walk passed him. you heard his curse under his breath, walking away from him.

you felt your lip quiver, a lump now growing in your throat as your anger turned into heartache. you weren't sure you wanted to forgive him. but, for now at least, you were going to give him exactly what he wanted. space.

hours later and you were stood in the middle of a crowded party, your teeth clenched around the rim of a red solo cup, biting nervously. you hadn't wanted to come, you would much rather have been at home with a pint of ice cream. but your friend convinced you that getting out of the house tonight would be better for you than wasting away your life thinking about boys and eating ice cream. so far, you weren't so sure she was right.

you'd lost count the amount of times you'd heard loosen up and, you should smile more, thrown at you tonight. you weren't in the right headspace to be surrounded by people who were drunk out of their mind, constantly telling you to cheer up. you wanted to shout out to the entire party, fuck off, so everyone would know to just leave you alone.

so when you spotted his familiar face across the room, having just entered the party, you almost lost it. "no," you muttered to yourself. "not happening," you shook your head. he had been exactly what you came here to get away from. you let out frustrated sigh, shoving your cup into your friends hand and pushing yourself out of the crowd of people.

you hoped to god that oscar hadn't spotted you. you could not hash this out with him right now, that pint of ice cream in your freezer at home was calling your name, and you were ready to claim it.

"fuck me," you felt a hand graze the small of your back. you shivered away from the unwanted touch, turning with a deep-set frown on your face, towards the stranger who'd touched you. "you're hot when you're angry like that—"

"i'm also a fucking psycho when i'm angry so back off," you spat harshly, pushing away the hand he held lingering on your skin. "and don't touch me again," the man backed up, his hands held up in front of him. you huffed, continuing to the exit.

you wrapped your arms around yourself as the cool night air hit your bare skin. you'd left your jacket inside, turning to retrieve it, you saw oscar walking right at you. deciding it wasn't worth the effort, you left, you'd rather freeze than have a conversation with him right now.

"i know you hate me," you heard him call from behind you, his pace quickening as he tried to catch up with you. "but you can't walk home by yourself."

you ignored him, hastening your walk so you didn't have to do this with him. you knew he was right, you knew how incautious you were being walking home late at night alone. but you also desperately wanted nothing to do with him right now.

"ma," you shook your head, trying not to lose it on him in the middle of the street. "c'mon—"

"no— you c'mon oscar," you halted your stride, not able to ignore him any longer. you might as well get it out of your system if he was going to keep persisting. "i have had it with men today. i never wanted to have to include you in that."

he ducked his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows you noticed now you'd stopped to look over him. his eyes rolled, letting out a heavy sigh he'd clearly been holding in for a while.

"c'mon," he tilted his gaze away from yours for a second, trying not to cave under your stare. "you know what the santos are like— it's not my job to keep 'em in check."

"it is when it's me they're talking about," you gritted your teeth, looking at him in disbelief. you'd expected that this was how the conversation was going to go down. which is exactly why you tried to avoid it, you simply didn't have the energy to stand here and explain basic human decency to him. "not to mention— it is literally your job. you run the santos."

"it's not that simple," he ran his hand over his face, taking a small step closer to you. his eyes meeting with yours, begging you not to run off again as he held out a cautious hand towards you. "they didn't mean anythin' by what they said— you think if they did i'd let them 'in an inch of you?"

"you're perpetuating a violent cycle of sexism and objectification by letting your friends talk about any girl like that," you felt your throat tighten, tears had, at some point, welled in your eyes. "and that's not even mentioning what you said about me."

he closed his eyes for a second, his hand dropping back to his side. he turned away from you for a moment, releasing a deep breath he'd been holding. "i didn't mean it," he shook his head, swinging round to face you again. his brown eyes, that you'd always been a sucker for, were literally boring into you. if you hadn't been so angry you would've done anything for him. "i wasn't thinking and i never thought you'd ever hear—"

"that makes it ok then?" you frowned, eyes narrowing at him. "god knows what else you've said about me when i haven't been around to hear it," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep up your appearance despite the tears threatening to fall.

"s'not what i meant," he threw is arms up in frustration. he had, in all honesty, been talking without thinking about what he was saying. he was tired and stressed about how stretched out his time was at the moment. he was taking on more and more work, and therefore, more and more stress and he wasn't dealing with it well. he clenched his jaw when you sniffled, wiping under your nose with the back of your hand. his eyelids drooped. "nena.."

"i just, don't get it," you let out a shaky breath, holding out your hands to stop him moving any closer to you. "if i was being too much, all you had to do was say."

his chest tightened hearing you talk about yourself like that. he shook his head, trying again to reach out to you but you only stepped further away. "you're not too much," he spoke quieter this time. oscar loved you, more than he'd ever loved a girl before, that much was true. he might be bad at showing it sometimes, maybe he let his frustration get the better of him a lot, and maybe he didn't simply tell you enough how much you meant to him. but he loved you, much more than you were aware of.

"then why would you say it?" your voice was soft, breaking when you spoke again. exhaustion was starting to get the better of the both of you. you didn't want to fight with him, you just couldn't get his words out of your head. why would he say it if he didn't mean it?

"it's not you," he reiterated, his lips pursed. he used his forefinger and thumb to unknit the crease between his brows. "it's everything else. with cesar fucking around, shit with the prophets, cuchillos— and then you," he ducked his head, pressing the palm of his hand into his forehead. "i don't know how to manage everything and make time for you."

"why didn't you just tell me?" your features softened, eyes watching him move under your stare. "it's what i'm here for."

he scrunched up his nose, shrugging. "i don't want you involved in santos business," you understood more than you did five minutes ago, but you were still holding yourself back.

"i'm already involved, oscar, it's too late for that," this caught his attention, his brown eyes focused on yours again. you weakened a little. "but if you would just talk to me instead of keeping everything to yourself, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

he nodded faintly, almost uncertain of where you were taking this conversation. last thing he wanted was to lose you because of something so stupid on his end. he reached out, you letting him come close enough now so he could take hold of your hands in his. he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, tugging you closer.

"you know, i love you," you mumbled now he was only inches away from you. "i don't wanna do this again so talk to me, please."

he nodded again, giving your hand another squeeze of reassurance. "i'll try," the way his brown eyes stuck to you made you believe he meant what he said. "i'll do better. promise. i'll keep the santos in check, too. you don't need to worry."

you sunk into his chest, letting him engulf you in a tight hug. you released a shaky breath of relief. his arms wrapped around you, your face squashed against his chest and your arms tightened around his torso. "love you, too, by the way," he mumbled, his mouth pressed into your head of hair. "so much."

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shycoconutt · 3 years

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I Found My Light (Kakashi x Reader)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

A/n: Sound the alarms! It’s my first ever writing post! I’ve had this written for a while tbh, and I feel like I’m ready to start getting into this.

Summary: A late-night walk turns into a rekindled friendship.

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but might not be later lol)

You opened your eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight. Staring at the white ceiling, you sighed. Sleep seemed to evade you recently, a side effect of the recent dreariness of your life. You found yourself living the same days over and over again. Because of this, the line between day and night started to fade.

The moon was full tonight, you noticed as it shined brightly through your open window. It was the perfect temperature out, warm but chilly enough to feel comfortable wrapped in your blankets. You love listening to the occasional sounds that occurred outside, the noise of leaves rustling in the wind being your favorite.

Your gaze left the moon and landed back on your ceiling. Why is something as simple as sleeping so hard? Gods, all you wanted was an escape. With a huff, you pushed the covers off of you and sat up from your lying position. Trying to force yourself to sleep would do more harm than good right now.

You make your way to your dresser and pull out your favorite pair of black joggers. You love them because they are tight on your ankles, loose on your legs, and have a cinched band at the waist. They are perfect for any lazy day. You slip them on over your underwear, you never go to bed with pants on, and exchange your sleep shirt for a cropped black hoodie made from the same soft, elastic material as your pants.

You turn to face your large standing mirror in the corner of the room to assess your appearance. The all-black look was your favorite, especially since it will help you blend into the night. Your hair was a mess, so you decided to put it up in a loose bun on the top of your head and pull out some strands to frame your face. It felt good to not look so polished and put together. Your jonin uniform was not the most comfortable piece of clothing, especially with the way it hit your figure.

You walked out of your bedroom and across the kitchen to the front door of your apartment. One foot after the other, you slide into your sandals and grab the key to your apartment hanging on the hook next to you. With that, you leave your apartment and head out into the night.

You walked the streets of Konoha at a gingerly pace. It was probably around 3 a.m. at this point, and there wasn’t a single soul on the street with you. You make your way past the line of shops on the main street, including your favorite bakery where you'd treat yourself to a lemon square after coming back from a long mission. You thought about that lemon square a lot when you were out risking your life, embarrassingly enough.

A couple of turns later and you found yourself heading towards your favorite place in all of Konoha, a little area of woods towards the perimeter that contained this amazing koi pond. Although it was nighttime and the fish wouldn’t be as active, you still want to check to see if you can watch any. To your surprise, your favorite koi, who you nicknamed “Nishi'', was out and swimming around by himself. You sit criss-cross in the grass and watch as he glides through the calm water, almost putting you in trance. Nishi didn’t look or act like the others; He was black with white, almost silver-looking spots and he was less frantic in nature. You sway from side to side as you watch him, thinking to yourself about how you would like to be more like Nishi.

“You look cute watching the koi.” You heard a soft, yet unwavering voice declare behind you.

“Holy sh-” You almost jump out of your pants at the unexpected presence. Surprised, you quickly turn your head around to see who’s voice that could possibly be. To your disbelief, there lies a figure perched up by a tree a couple yards away from you. Their feet were crossed, legs extended, one hand in the pocket of their pants, the other holding up what looks like a copy of Icha-Icha, head turned towards you, and wild hair moving with each passing breeze. How did I not notice him?

“Oh I’m sorry (y/n), I didn’t mean to startle you. I figured you knew I was here because you walked right past me.” He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head and let out a small chuckle. “Guess I should have made my presence known right away.”

Still in disbelief, you get up and slowly make your way towards the figure, stepping into the shadow of the tree to see him more clearly. As you approached you immediately recognized the silver-haired jonin.

“Kakashi?” You say confused. “What are you doing out here? It’s late.”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He states, closing his book and setting it down next to him on the grass. He looked different. He looked… quite hot actually. The jonin uniform you usually saw him in was traded for a pair of comfortable-looking grey sweatpants and a tight, black tank top that connected to his mask. He wasn’t wearing his headband either, just keeping his left sharingan eye shut in a permanent wink. As you observed him, you couldn’t help but notice that he was doing the same to you.

“I suppose you're right.” You smirk and let out a small chuckle. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured that if I was up I should take a walk around the village to clear my head. This is my favorite spot, so I guess I just naturally ended up here.” You exclaimed, still standing in front of him.

“It looks like you and I are having the same issue,” he states plainly, “I came out here a little while ago after tossing in my bed for an hour. I hate trying to force myself to sleep; It’s a battle I never seem to win.” His eyes averted your gaze and moved to his now empty hands in his lap. You couldn’t help but notice a hint of pain in his voice and it tugged at your heartstrings.

You know about the things Kakashi has been through, as it was pretty common knowledge to all jonin in your mutual age group. You were pretty close with his friends, Gai, Kurenai, and Asuma, but Kakashi always seemed to keep everyone at an arm’s length. He also was an Anbu for ten years, which didn’t help the disconnect either. Fortunately, he was relieved from his Anbu position a couple weeks ago, and gradually you have been seeing him a bit more here and there. Though, this is the first time you are able to have a conversation with him in what seems like forever.

“Well,” you sighed, “I guess we have lost the battle together. We must be pretty shitty jonin.” You stated flatly.

Kakashi squinted his eyes and you both laughed. You couldn’t help but take a mental picture of his face at this moment. You really enjoy seeing him happy, as it makes you happy too.

You can’t kid yourself, having a chance to talk with Kakashi alone feels like such a treat. Little genin (y/n) would be ecstatic right now. Of course you had a crush on him back then, who didn’t?

“You’ve always had a natural talent for connecting with people,” Kakashi mused, “I haven’t talked to you since we were teenagers, and here I am laughing with you like we’re long-time friends.”

You could feel your eyebrows furrow at that statement. Yeah sure, you weren’t at his apartment every week for Sunday brunch, but you did have a history.

“Kakashi,” you started, “You are my long-time friend. Just because we drifted apart doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. To be honest, I was relieved when I found out you were no longer going to be a member of the Anbu. It wasn’t good for you.” You stepped closer and sat down next to him, leaning back on the tree stump. The grass felt cool under you, sending a small shiver up your body.

“I suppose you’re right,” Kakashi stated, quoting your words from earlier. “It amazes me that none of you gave up on me. I feel like I am undeserving of everyone’s effort.” You were baffled by his honesty; Kakashi wasn’t known to be much of an open book. It upsets you so much that he feels this way as you couldn’t imagine not caring about him or any of your other comrades in the village. The faces of your closest friends flashed through your mind and you grimaced at the thought of losing them.

Not knowing if you should, you felt compelled to reach over and hold Kakashi’s hand in yours. It's cold compared to the warmth spreading from your fingertips. Hmm, I wonder how long he has been out here. Giving his hand a small squeeze, you look at him in his onyx eye. “Trust me, Kakashi. You are deserving. You are deserving of a great life and people who care about you. I know the world may seem dark, but I promise that a light is always glowing. No matter how small or dim, it’s there.”

You stare at each other in silence for a moment before he changes the position of his hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. The change was small, but it ignites a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t describe. Slowly, you felt your cheeks flush and you turned your face to look towards the sky in hopes he wouldn’t notice. You knew this action was him telling you that he accepts your words, and thanks you for them.

You spent the next hour sitting under the tree together, you looking up at the stars and him looking at you. Your intertwined hands fell between your bodies, resting on the cool grass. You felt him start to graze the back of your hand with his thumb, sending a tingling sensation up your arm. It felt so good to be touched by him, even in such an innocent manner.

A strong breeze ran through the air and hit you suddenly. You began to shiver at the quick change in temperature, realizing that you should have dressed warmer if you were going to be out this long. Yet, you couldn’t have anticipated the situation you are currently in.

“Are you cold?” Kakashi questioned with a hint of concern.

“Yeah a little bit,” you answered honestly, “but I don’t want to go back home. I’m not really tired yet.” Truthfully, you didn’t want this little moment of shared bliss to end. You started to feel like you found your escape, and you refused to be torn away from it so soon.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, “Come here.” He released his hand from yours and slid his position higher up on the side of the tree. He then spread his legs and patted the ground in between, inviting you to sit.

You felt your face get hot again, as the position he was offering you was a very intimate gesture. There was absolutely no way you could refuse his offer. One, because you were freezing and, two, young (y/n) would never forgive you.

You got up and sat down carefully between his thighs, leaning until your back met his chest. He then wrapped both of his arms around you, one around your shoulders and the other around your waist with his hand resting on your stomach. The outsides of your legs met the insides of his and you felt an immediate warmth there. Lastly, your head tilted back and rested upon his left shoulder, with his face nuzzled against your temple. You both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, no part of you feeling any discomfort against his strong body. Engulfed in his smell and warmth, for the first time in a while you felt completely relaxed.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” You looked up at him with a warm smile.

“Anytime.” He breathed, voice muffled by your hair. You wondered if he truly meant that. I mean, after all, this is the first time you have interacted in a while. Yet, the connection you felt towards him was unquestionable.

Does he feel the way I feel?

“Hey,” you began, “are you tired at all?”

He flexed his arms and held you closer to his chest. “Not really,” he answered, “I’m enjoying this moment too much to be tired.” You smiled, and there was a pause.

“Isn’t this odd?” you questioned again.

“What? You and I snuggled under a tree in a random corner of the village alone at 4 a.m. after we haven’t interacted with each other in years?” he questioned sarcastically, “Not at all.”

“Kakashi!,” you laughed, gently nudging your elbow into his ribs as he laughed along with you.

“Yeah it’s a little odd,” he answered honestly, “but I’m not going to question it. I found my light, and now I’m enjoying it.” He nuzzled his face into your hair and breathed deeply.

Completely and utterly relaxed, you let yourself succumb to the heaviness of your eyelids. Truthfully, this has felt like the longest day in the world and you are happy to end it this way. The sound of Kakashi’s breathing and the rise and fall of his chest acted as your personal sleep machine. It’s priceless.

Before you completely drift off, you swear you could feel the soft, pillowiness of Kakashi’s lips graze the skin of your temple, a soft hum escaping from them.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

~~~

Queue Hilary Duff’s “What Dreams Are Made Of”. This kind of feels like the beginning of something. Should I continue? Idk if my writing is even good. If you read this, PLEASE let me know if you have any feedback. Again, this is my first story and I would greatly appreciate any feedback, advice, suggestions, etc.! I can’t believe I’m uploading, ah! - Klara

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi fanfic #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi #kakashi fluff #kakashi imagine #naruto fanfiction #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi one shot #kakashi x yn #kakashi sensei #i found my light

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years

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youtubers: “don’t touch her” ₊˚ ⸝ corpse husband x reader

❝i don't wanna think about, think about you. drink up, drink up i'm so fucked up, all i want is you.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - sex money feelings die

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: corpse husband x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, drinking, smoking, violent language, and minor mentions of anxiety.

summary: i can’t make summaries rn hhh just read it (:

“Sean, there is no way in hell I’m going!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Ugh, you and Corpse are so stubborn. At least I was able to convince him to show up! You know what you need? To get out of the house more often and come hang with us.”

“Uh huh, yeah, y’all have fun, I got some stuff to finish.”

“Yeah? Like what? Your ten hour nap?”

“HEY! Excuse me -”

“7PM, [club address], you’re showing up.”

“Sean - !”

With that, Sean hung up. You let out an exasperated huff, crossing your arms and pouting like a toddler who was just denied a toy. You were invited, or more accurrately forced to celebrate whatever the hell Sean and his friends achieved. With lives like theirs, it seemed like there was always something to celebrate.

You, on the other hand.. Well, you were just little old you. You met Sean by mere chance. It’s a very long story, but you shared some things in common, like your love for video games. However, that was about the only thing you could relate to with Sean and his little friend circle. You were more passionate about writing, as well as reading short horror stories.

Now, that’s where you clicked with Corpse Husband.

He was an underrated YouTuber, whose main uploads were narration videos on creepypastas and horror stories. That’s until he blew up with his Among Us gameplays, collaborating with big names like PewDiePie, Jacksepticeye, and CrankGamePlays (EEF!!!).

You met over an Among Us stream with said YouTubers and immediately hit it off. You shared a dark sense of humor, love for horror, and music. You knew of Corpse before, but only then did you discover that he produced music, which you absolutely enjoyed (and blasted in your house for days on end).

When you found out you lived not even twenty minutes away from each other, you’d occasionally meet up, mostly at his house considering he only went out once in a blue moon. You’d sometimes even spend the night at his place, staying up late, gazing up at the stars, getting deep into conversation and opening up about things you never blurted out to people. But when you were with Corpse, everything just came naturally. You felt safe with him, and hopefully, he felt the same.

Night approached, the clock striking 5PM. You figured you’d get ready since Sean was dead set on you coming to the party. You showered, did a minimalist glossy makeup look, and chose an outfit, which consisted of a half neon green and black skirt that stopped mid thigh, and an oversized distressed band tee which you tucked into your belt. You slipped on a pair of ripped, striped thigh-highs with mismatched colors, (white stripes on one and neon blue on the other), and your platform boots that made you look like a Bratz Doll. You didn’t bother with your tangled hair. You teased it with a brush but didn’t put any effort into styling it, since it’d get messy anyways. To finish your look, you clipped on a choker and dangled a couple of layered chains around your neck.

Corpse would tease you, saying you had a “dog collar”, but you knew he secretly liked it.

All dolled up and ready to go, you hopped into your car and followed the GPS to the address Sean sent you. Drunk couples stumbled out of the club, dates headed inside, and old wasted guys were thrown out. Oh boy, you were not ready for this.

You were the anxious, anti social type. Not because it was edgy or cool, but you simply didn’t know how to handle social situations. However, it comforted you to know Corpse would be there by your side so you didn’t need to chat and flirt with strangers.

It’s not like you wanted to meet anybody new, anyways. Though nobody was aware of it, you had feelings for Corpse. Cliche, right? You knew you shouldn’t have, but you developed feelings for him. It made you feel strange and weird, considering you haven’t caught feelings in a while.

You came up with the bright idea of slowly drifting away from Corpse to maybe help de-escalate these feelings, but you were going to run into him at the club, so what the heck.

You headed inside, your eyes scanning the crowd and pushing through, searching for your friend group. You spent a couple minutes cluelessly looking around the club, but to no avail. Then, it was as if a light bulb clicked on over your head; you never thought to phone Sean.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You reached into your purse to get ahold of your phone when a pair of strong, manly hands and cold metal which you assumed to be rings wrapped around your shoulders, gripping you tightly.

“Boo!”

You felt your heart stop and ran out of the man’s grasp, spinning around to look at who it was.

“Oh, did I scare you?”

The man’s deep, monotone voice rumbled above the sound of the music and shouts. Then you recognized that unique and distinctive voice.

“Corpse!! What the hell?”

His nose and jaw was covered by a black mask, with a print that looked like Frank from Donnie Darko, which was also Corpse’s signature look, seen in his channel art.

Despite Corpse being a faceless YouTuber, only very few people have seen his face, including you and Glam&Gore who he featured in his narration videos. You thought he was very handsome, his baritone voice matching his appearance. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed he chose to wear a mask. You loved seeing his facial expressions, especially his precious smile that would light up the room when he’d let out little fits of laughter. But you got over it and respected the fact that he wanted to remain anonymous.

“You dickhead,” you scoffed, smacking Corpse lightly on the shoulder. Corpse towered over you, looking admittedly both intimidating and seductive. If you were a stranger, you’d probably be running off, but you weren’t scared of Corpse. He was a big softie and a teddy bear.

Corpse chuckled lowly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to Sean’s group. He was protective like that, even if you were just friends. Now you could see why Sean, at one point, speculated that you and Corpse had a thing going on.

“So, Sean forced you to tag along, too?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s Sean for you.”

“Hey, there’s my favorite couple,” Sean joked, patting your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at his drunk antics.

“Shut up, don’t make me choke you like I hate you,” you mocked in return, eliciting a fit of laughter from the group.

“Remind me to never hang out with you losers again,” Corpse mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The night went by in a flash. Sean, Thomas, Felix, and everyone else was blackout drunk. Luckily, Mark was there to assist them. Since Mark couldn’t drink, he would be the designated driver that night. Corpse hung out by himself, sometimes getting approached by women who he politely turned down.

You, on the other hand, were downing alcohol like your life depended on it. For you, it would take more than the average number of drinks for you to get wasted.

“Y/N, don’t you think you should slow down?” Corpse questioned cautiously, resting a hand on the small of your back.

“Does it really look like I’m thinking right now?” you drunkenly slurred, following with a giggle. You waved to the bartender, calling for another shot, which he slid over to you, but not without hesitating after noticing your state. You pushed Corpse off of you, probably more harshly than you intended, and took the shot.

“Okay, Y/N, fuck this, I’m taking you to my place. We can’t stay here and you certainly can’t drive back home when you’re drunk,” Corpse scowled, stepping closer to you. Again, you shoved him back.

“No.. No..” You sighed, holding your pounding head in your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, you’re drunk -”

“I’m not letting you of all people take me.”

Corpse blinked. “What does that mean?” He knew you were drunk, of course, and you were probably just blurting nonsense.

All of a sudden, tears escaped your eyes, racing down your blushy cheeks.

“No.. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” You began to shake and tremble as tears started to uncontrollably spill down your face. Corpse didn’t waste another second to take you in his arms, hushing you. “Your hugs are so warm.. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. It’s all my fault.”

“What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

Your heart ached when you heard his pet name for you.

“I think I may like you more than you like me.. I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” you sobbed into his white tee, clinging onto him. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I shouldn’t have!”

Corpse stopped for a moment, processing your words.

You.. felt the same?

Corpse had to tell you. You were drunk, but he needed you to know.

“Y/N, I -”

Suddenly, you had a moment of clarity. Realizing how close you were to Corpse, you backed away, wiping away the mascara tears under your eyes.

“I - I think I had too much to drink.. I just need a smoke..”

Without giving Corpse the chance to protest, you ran off into the crowd, struggling your way through.

Corpse began to get worried when you didn’t come back. He waited impatiently on the barstool where you left him, anxiously playing with his rings.

He was just about to get up and look for you, when he caught a glimpse of you stumbling out the exit with another man who guided you, gripping your arm tightly.

Corpse fumed, his face going red and heartbeat speeding up. He went after you, knowing damn well you didn’t know this man.

The man took you to his car, placing you atop the trunk, your legs dangling over the edge. He stepped in between your legs, caressing your face. Everything was a blur. If your mind was clear, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust this random guy, who was probably ten years older than you.

“You’re too pretty to be crying,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, until a yell stopped him from proceeding any further.

“Hey, asshole, she’s drunk! Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“C-Corpse?” You hiccuped, hopping off the trunk to get a look at the approaching figure. It was indeed Corpse. His eyebrows were pressed together angrily at the sight.

“You know this dude?” the man said loudly and smugly, just to get a reaction from Corpse. “Relax, my man, I’m just tryna take this pretty girl home.”

“Well this pretty girl happens to be mine, and I won’t let you take advantage of her,” Corpse growled.

You stood by the stranger, clinging to him as you watched Corpse’s face twist into an expression of heartbreak when you didn’t budge. He then noticed the bruises around your arms and wrist, supposedly from the man’s strong grip. He was unbelievably furious.

“Ha, doesn’t look like she’s your girl anymore.” The man’s lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, only pissing Corpse off some more. Oh boy, was he ready to snap. He reached into his pocket, when..

“Wait,” you managed to slur out, breaking up the argument. You reached out towards Corpse like a child. His facial expression immediately softened. He gave you a loving smile and immediately took you into his arms, holding you protectively.

“Now, I suggest you get in your car and never come back,” Corpse threatened.

“Oh, yeah? Or what? I’ll kill you and take your girl, you motherfucker!”

Without hesitation, Corpse took out his switchblade, looking the man in his eyes.

“Say that again?”

You watched as the stranger’s whole tough act fell apart. Without another word, he ran to the driver’s side of his car, fumbling with his keys.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Corpse mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man until he reached his own car. You held his hand the whole way, processing what had just happened. Corpse noticed your distant expression. You got into his car, shutting the door and slumping back into your seat. He tore off his mask, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he looked back to you.

“Princess?”

You looked to Corpse, your eyes teary. “Hey, Corpse.” You didn’t seem to be as drunk, your mind a lot clearer after the incident. “D-Did you mean anything you said back there? About the..”

“About you being my girl?”

Corpse took your hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. He leaned forward and cupped your face with his free hand. “Absolutely.”

With that, you leaned towards him, hesitantly pressing your lips to his. Your lips tasted of alcohol, but Corpse didn’t care. He was admittedly taken back, his breath hitching, but he released the tension from his body and kissed you back, pulling you over to the driver’s seat atop him. There wasn’t much space, forcing you to press closer to Corpse, deepening the kiss.

Still being a bit drunk, you were clumsy and kind of ‘out of it’.

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Corpse mumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily to guide your hands to grip his shoulders. But you were impatient and reconnected your lips with his, no doubt causing him to blush even more than he already was.

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled into the kiss, causing Corpse to chuckle along with you, departing from the kiss again and resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking adorable when you giggle.”

You hummed in response, offering Corpse an innocent grin as you pecked all over his face.

“I’m so glad you’re mine.”

859 notes · View notes

klbwriting · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 8

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: the trio finally make it to the resistance to see who of their friends is alive

Note: this will probably be the last chapter for today, I hope you like it!

Taglist: @mcntsee

Y/N nearly cried when they finally saw the settlement that the resistance had set up. She was freezing, tired, and in pain from being on a horse for two days straight. As much as she liked Jesper she was a little tired of him being her main companion. He talked non stop and as much as she loved to hear about Ketterdam and their adventures as the Dregs, including some embarrassing stories about Kaz, she still felt guilty about what had happened to their home and every story brought the memories of its destruction flooding back. Also, she was pretty sure if he told one more story about Kaz screwing up a job that Kaz was going to start hurling his cane around and she really didn’t want to watch him beat his friend to death.

As they approached the camp a small group started walking towards them so they dismounted to meet them face to face. She saw the relief flood to the other’s faces as a young Suli woman approached with a few others of various nations.

“Inej!” Jesper cried, running up and hugging the smaller girl. She smiled just as bright as he did, clearly happy to see they were alive. Kaz wandered up and Y/N fell back to let them have a reunion. She walked over to the others that had come up with Inej.

“ Y/N!” a man said, moving and hugging her, picking her up and spinning her.

“Mal!” she said, clearly happy to see him. She hugged him back. The last time she had seen Mal was at the battle with Alina. He was devastated by her death and last she had heard he had retreated to the mountains for some unknown purpose. She was elated that he had found the resistance and was fighting again. He set her down and she found she was crying a little.

“O tears for me?” he said. She nodded still laughing.

“Last I heard you were still working with the Darkling” he said, frowning. She nodded.

“I was for a time, then I saw an opportunity to truly help the resistance and I brought them with me,” she said, motioning to Kaz and Jesper. She was surprised to see Kaz staring at Mal with absolute malice in his eyes. She would talk to him later, right now she needed to focus on sharing her knowledge with the leaders. “Can we talk?” Mal nodded and he led her into the camp with the others.

Kaz assumed that the man Y/N was hugging was from the war, someone she was close with clearly. He had felt jealousy well up in him for a moment and then it subsided with the realization that she loved him. He smirked to himself as he turned back to see Inej eyeing him. Great, now more people were going to be asking about him and Y/N.

“What?” he snapped. She smiled at him.

“I see you still have your sunny disposition,” she said. Kaz rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile on his lips. It was coming easier to him and he couldn’t stand it. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Y/N, she was in the Darkling’s inner circle, she betrayed him to get us out of prison and bring us here,” he explained. Inej studied him again and nodded as if she understood something. “Don’t say a word, I already had to threaten Jesper to keep his mouth shut.

“I will keep this to myself but I am sure everyone will know the minute you look at her,” she said. “Good for you Brekker, finally found a soul.” He snarled and she was a little taken aback. “A soul I see that only appears for her. Come, we will get you food and a place to sleep. Mal and the others will want to talk with Y/N for awhile you might have to wait until tomorrow to see her.” Kaz didn’t much like that option but he didn’t have a choice. They were here now so the time he had with Y/N was going to be more limited now. He would busy himself with something.

“Are you doing any jobs here?” he asked as they walked into the camp. As soon as they were through the makeshift gates Jesper ran and nearly tackled Wylan and Nina to the ground. They all gathered around, the Dregs back together and Kaz felt at home again.

“We are the crew that steals supplies here,” Inej explained. “They’re trying to figure out where to attack the Darkling but its hard considering he’s always moving and always heavily guarded.”

“Maybe we can help with that problem now that I’m back in the picture,” he said. Inej nodded.

“I know that is probably why Y/N broke you out, when we arrived they asked about the plan to get into the Ice Court, how we got so close to the parem without being caught. We all knew pieces of the plan but not everything, we needed you for that,” she said, motioning for him to follow as Jesper went off with the others. She led him towards a small tent. “This one is empty, Jesper will probably sleep in the one next to yours.” Kaz wanted to ask about where Y/N was sleeping but he didn’t want to answer anymore questions about her or see another of Inej’s looks so he just nodded and went inside. “There should be clothes for you.” He heard her leave and laid down, intent on taking a quick rest. However, exhaustion from the journey finally overcame him and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Y/N had always hated meetings and that hadn’t changed during her journey north. She sat at a table with Mal, Inej, and other leaders of the resistance mostly listening. They were trading ideas about how to get the Darkling vulnerable, how to corner him or weaken him. She sighed.

“He thinks I stole a vial of jurda parem. If we can get a plan in place I will let it slip about where I will be and he will come looking,” she said. They all stopped and looked at her.

“You are not going to be bait for him,” Mal said. She shook her head.

“It’s the only way, he knows I took it, he just doesn’t know that I smashed it,” she said. “He also knows I would never trust anyone with that vial but myself. He may be expecting me to bring the full army we have but he is cocky if we tell him to come alone he will. He won’t think we are worth the effort of the Second Army.” Silence fell over the group.

“That could work,” Inej said. Others murmured their agreement. The only person still not convinced was Mal but in the vote to start planning he lost. After the meeting it was nearly 11 bells and she was exhausted. She was about to leave when she saw Inej approach.

“Inej, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, offering a smile. Inej nodded and shook her hand.

“I wanted to thank you for freeing Jesper and Kaz, they are dear to me,” she said. Y/N nodded.

“I understand, I’m glad I could get you all back together.” She looked around, the rest of the group had disappeared so she took the opportunity to ask, “do you know if a Pekka Rollins is here? Did he survive the Ketterdam assault?” Inej looked surprised at the question.

“Yes he survived and yes he’s here,” she answered. Y/N nodded. “Why did you want to know?”

“Kaz asked me about him, I was just getting an answer before I went to find him,” she said. She would be searching tents all night but she had grown used to having his presence near when she slept and she wasn’t going to sleep well unless she knew he was there.

“He’s in block 55b, tent 6,” Inej said. “And Y/N, I don’t know what you did to earn his soul but take care of him please.” Y/N nodded before heading to find his tent.

She found where Inej had said, peeking in and seeing him asleep on one of the cots. She took the other and moved it a little closer, keeping arms distance like she did when they camped. He must have heard her because his eyes opened and he sat up quick, cane ready to swing.

“Calm down Kaz, its me,” she said, moving to lay down. She pulled up the blanket and smiled at him as he settled to lay down again.

“You know you can’t sneak up on me,” he said, looking at her. “Can’t sneak up on anyone really.” She made a face at him and he smirked at her. O that smirk would be the death of her really. “So how did it go with…whoever he was.” She heard the edge to his voice and almost laughed.

“His name is Mal. He was Alina’s love and she was his. He was like a big brother to me. I’m happy he’s here. He just vanished after she died, I figured he had left to die in solitude or something, but he’s here fighting, which is great. He’s a tracker, can always use someone like him,” she said. Kaz nodded. “I met Inej, asked her about Pekka Rollins.” Kaz perked up some, leaning to his elbow.

“Is he here?” he asked. She nodded.

With that confirmation Kaz was ready to start doling out revenge immediately. He started to get up when he felt a hand on his coat sleeve, just gripping the fabric and not his arm. He looked at her and once again noticed the lack of disgust at her touch. He had been jostled by Jesper on the way in and had nearly vomited then, his aversion had become selective apparently. He trusted Y/N and her touch, making it ok for her to get closer than anyone had before.

“Don’t go Kaz, he’s not in the camp anyway, I asked around on the way here. He’s on a job in Fjerda trying to gather some of the encampments of refugees and lead them here,” she said. He sighed and laid back down again. She left her hand out in the air between them. Kaz sighed and suddenly felt itchy. He realized he had been in these clothes for two days and needed to change.

“I’m going to change into the clothes they left…” he said, standing again. She nodded and closed her eyes. He chuckled, shedding his jacket and shirt. He got cleaned up and redressed. He was about to put his gloves back on when he looked back at her hand hanging between the cots. He set the gloves down and laid down again. “Are you awake?” he asked. Her eyes drifted opened.

“Yes, I probably won’t fall asleep for awhile even though I’m so tired,” she said. He looked at her face and then her hand again.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. She looked confused but stayed still as he reached out with his bare hand and took hers. He held it gently, feeling the rough skin, every cut and blister from riding and foraging on their journey, and he found he was alright. He didn’t know if he could do more than hold her hand but he wouldn’t push himself tonight. She was staring at him and he gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. “You said you would keep a memory of my touch…I wanted it to be real.”

“Kaz…” he held up his hand to stop her.

“Go to sleep Y/N, you’ve earned a rest. I’ll make sure no one bothers you in the morning and I’ll be here when you wake up,” he said. He saw eyes close slowly as she now seemingly curled the hand he touched to her chest, holding it as if it were treasure.

#six of crows #kaz #kaz brekker #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kazbrekker #unexpected allies series

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sugachaes · 4 years

Text

Blue Hour

A/N: Soooo this is like... the first fanfic I’ve ever written lol, I don’t usually write stuff like this, but it was fun! I should have more coming at some point in the future, but for now, here’s what I’ve got! My other socials are in my bio if you wanna see more of my work!

This fic has been cross posted to AO3 here.

Word count: 10k+

Content: Mutual pining, some light smut?, childhood friends to lovers, some angst, Jimin is either the best or worst life coach, no one is sure which, Hoseok is always drunk but I think he’s neat, Jungkook and Taehyung share one brain cell but it’s shaped like a heart, Shownu best boy

Jungkook is running late.

He’s rushing to exit his dorm building, not even waiting for the elevator to make it to his floor, rushing down the stairs in hopes that it’ll take less time. In his haste, he still manages to have time to regret choosing the top floor of the four story building.

Upon exiting the building, Jungkook takes off in the direction of his lecture, thanking his lucky stars it isn’t too far away from where he lives. He weaves his way through other students, trying to cause as little damage while also moving as fast as he can.

At last, he’s made it to the right building, bursting through the first door he sees and hoping he’s in the right place.

When he enters, the class has gone quiet, all eyes turned in the direction of the disturbance. The professor, after giving him a quick once over, decides to let the interruption slide and continue her presentation.

Jungkook makes his way through the lecture hall, hoping his seat hasn’t been taken by someone who was actually on time for the class. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that no one has taken his beloved spot from him, and plants himself there before moving to pull out his materials.

“Dude, what happened to you? I don’t think you’ve ever been late for anything.”

Jungkook looks up and meets the eyes of his best friend, Taehyung. The two of them go way back, all the way back to middle school when Jungkook had moved from his small town to the big city. After watching the boy desperately try to find a place in a school that was much larger than what he was used to, his constant confusion attracting stares from already established students, Taehyung decided he would help this clueless stranger for as long as he could.

“I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm last night,” Jungkook says, finally pulling out the book he was looking for.

“That’s not like you. Maybe it was a glitch?”

“Maybe.”

Taehyung turns his head to face the front of the room, having gotten the answers to all his questions. Jungkook follows suit, deciding he should at least pay attention to what was left of the class and hope he could piece the rest of it together on his own.

Though, his eyes can’t help but drift over occasionally, stealing glances at the boy next to him.

He’s not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, between the late nights watching movies together, Jungkook had fallen for Taehyung. Naturally, he pushed those feelings down, afraid that they may make him act selfishly, or worse, ruin their friendship. As much as he would like for things to turn out like they do in fanfiction, where it turns out the two of them have been pining after each other the whole time, he knows better.

So instead, he hides his feelings away, hoping that one day he’ll be able to go back to seeing Taehyung as nothing more than a friend. Though, it’s becoming harder to keep his emotions at bay lately. He finds himself relishing in Taehyung’s touch, whether he means to or not. Hugs when something goes good or bad for one of them, touches that last just a bit longer than they would for others, Jungkook takes advantage of each of those little moments.

Even though it causes him to fall deeper each time.

Once the lecture ends, the students begin filing out, likely off to more stress-inducing classes. As Taehyung and Jungkook are leaving the building, Taehyung decides this is the perfect opportunity to ask his friend a very important question.

“Hey, Kook?” Jungkook turns to offer his full attention to his friend. “So there’s this party-”

“Absolutely not.” Taehyung lets out a groan.

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“Tae, you know how I feel about parties.”

“I do! But this one will be different.”

“Last time you said that I ended up carrying you home.” Taehyung scratches the back of his head, recalling the incident himself.

“Ah, I’m a different person now!” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Besides that was like… a year ago?”

“Four months.”

“It’s in the past!”

“Barely.”

“Please just come this one time? You only have to stay for an hour.” Jungkook stares at him. “Do it for me?”

A sigh leaves Jungkook’s lips.

“Only for an hour.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother putting too much effort into what he’s wearing, throwing on jeans and a T-shirt and deciding it’s presentable enough.

“Good enough to get me bye for an hour,” Jungkook says, looking at himself in the mirror briefly.

As if on cue, Jungkook hears a knock at the door. He exits his room and goes to open the door, revealing a similarly dressed Taehyung. The only real difference lies in the leather jacket Taehyung has thrown over his shoulders.

“You don’t think you’re a bit underdressed?” Taehyung asks, taking in Jungkook’s work, or lack thereof.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” Taehyung reassures him. “You look fine. Let’s go.”

The two of them head out, deciding to walk to the party given that it’s relatively close to their campus. As they grow closer to their destination, they can already hear the faint sound of music in the distance. They follow the sound until they arrive at the source of the music.

The house, no, the estate, that the party is taking place in is practically vibrating on its foundation as the bass flows through it and out into the air. There’s a few people loitering outside, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol wafting through the air. Someone is already passed out on the lawn. They likely won’t remember anything once they wake up. Taehyung takes a big inhale.

“I love the smell of regret in the evening.” He turns around to look at Jungkook, who already looks visibly sick as he takes in his surroundings. “Hey, are you good?” Jungkook appears to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’s in.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright,” he says, moreso trying to convince himself than he is trying to convince Taehyung. “Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Will you be alright?”

“I think so. I’ll just find a corner to hide away in.” Though he knows it’s just because he’s a good friend, Jungkook’s heart can’t help but flutter at Taehyuns’s concern for him.

“Nah, you don’t have to do that! I’ll stay with you the whole time.” At this, Jungkook gives him an incredulous look. “I’m serious! I want you to have fun, too.” Jungkook considers his words for a moment.

“If you disappear on me you’re buying me lunch for a week.”

“Deal.”

The party is well underway when Taehyung and Jungkook walk in. Bass coming from the speakers pulsates throughout the house. There’s a crowd of people on the dance floor, some swaying to the beat, others moving wildly. It’s not hard to tell who only has a slight buzz and who’s clearly overdoing it. Jungkook expects to see more people scattered across the lawn by the end of the night. As his eyes continue to sweep over the crowd, taking note of the guy currently hunched over and about to let loose every toxic brew he’d ingested hours prior, he hears a call of his name.

Following the direction of the sound, he turns his head and is met with the sight of a (very drunk) Hoseok.

Hoseok was one of the first people Jungkook had befriended when he first started attending school. When Jungkook had joined the campus dance team, Hoseok had welcomed him with open arms and a warm, inviting smile.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok slurs slightly. “I thought you didn’t like coming to these things.”

“I don’t,” Jungkook confirms. “I’m here against my will.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” Taehyung chimes in. He turns his attention to Hoseok. “I knew he’d just hole himself up in his room all night, so I dragged him out for some fresh air.”

“Calling this air fresh is a little misleading, don’t you think?”

“Ah, it’s really not that bad!” Hoseok says. “This is pretty tame compared to other parties here.” Hoseok stumbles a bit, and Jungkook reaches out to steady him.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Dunno. Stopped counting after four, though.”

“Aren’t you a bit of a light weight?”

“I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this.” Hoseok begins to walk away. “I’m off to get another drink!”

Jungkook watches his friend drunkenly stumble away, presumably to get even more wasted than he already is. He briefly worries if he’ll get home safely, but Hoseok’s done this before, he’ll be fine.

“Whose house is this, anyway?” Jungkook asks, taking in the valuable looking artwork displayed on the walls.

“Kim Seokjin’s.” Jungkook gives him a confused look. “Richest guy on campus. Only met him a couple times, he’s cool.”

Jungkook looks around again.

“I’m only staying for an hour.” Jungkook reminds himself. “I can last that long.”

“You’ll be fine,” Taehyung reassures him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends.” he takes Jungkook’s hand and drags him further into the party. Jungkook’s lips can’t help but turn upwards in a small smile at the gesture.

Much to his surprise, Jungkook finds himself getting along with Taehyung’s friends. They seem to be much more outgoing people compared to himself, specifically Taehyung’s friend Jimin. He’s seen Jimin around a couple times, but never talked to him, the two of them existing in different social circles. It seems that a lot of time has passed since the two of them began talking, when really it’s only been about twenty minutes.

Jimin is in the middle of a story, dramatically waving his hands around to add to the narrative, when a song that some of the group, including Taehyung, recognize. They’re quick to rush to the dance floor, not wanting to be seated during what is apparantly the most well known song to most of the partygoers. Jungkook supposes he can let this one slide.

It’s when one song shifts into another, and then another, that Jungkook becomes nervous. He’s in a strange house surrounded by people he doesn’t know, all of which are a different level of inebreiated. He decides to look around for his friend, ready to remind him that he’ll now be feeding him for a week.

It doesn’t take long for him to locate Taehyung. He’s still on the dance floor, though he now has a drink in hand. He moves to get his attention when he notes that he isn’t dancing alone.

He’s not sure who the guy is, he’s never seen him before right now. He just knows the way he runs his hands along Taehyung’s body, the way they sway sensually to the song currently playing, is making him sick to his stomach.

He finds himself running to the door, hoping that Taehyung didn’t see him standing there, intruding on the moment he was sharing with this stranger. The longer he stays, the harder he finds it to breathe. He eventually makes it out onto the front porch, catching his breath as if he’s just completed a marathon. Once he calms down, he begins his walk back to the dorm, unable to get the images out of his mind. He checks the time. 10:47 pm.

He didn’t even make it the full hour.

Like Jungkook often does when he’s upset, he holes himself up in his room. He spends the entirety of the next day hunched over his computer, completing assignments before he turns to video games to ease his mind. While in the middle of a particularly tough fight, his phone dings. He groans before pausing, picking up the device to see who could possibly be disturbing him.

He visibly deflates when he sees that it’s Taehyung.

Not long after he left the party last night, he had seen a flurry of messages sent from the man in question. He elected to ignore them, deciding he had been through enough for one night. Now, though, he feels that he should at least let him know he’s okay and that he made it home safely. Sighing, he opens the text thread.

Tae Tae: Whered u go

Tae Tae: I thought i saw u

Great. So Jungkook’s staring didn’t go unnoticed. He drags a hand down his face before he continues reading.

Tae Tae: Were u not having fun

Tae Tae: m sorry

Tae Tae: :(

Jungkook finds his resolve cracking, if only a little. That is, until he reads the next message.

Tae Tae: I wanted u to neet someone

Well, this confirms everything he needed to know. His feelings were completely one sided. All the moments he worried he was reading too far into were just that, his own hopes being projected on to his friends. With his heart now heavier than it’s ever been, he finally reads the most recent message, though it barely registers in his mind.

Tae Tae: Hey, I’m sorry I left you alone last night. Time kind of got away from me, but I wanna make it up to you. Please let me know that you’re safe.

Jungkook finally responds, a half hearted “I’m okay,” and shuts his phone off immediately, not wanting to hear Taehyung’s apologetic messages that likely came in after.

It’s been days since the party, and Taehyung is beginning to worry.

He knows he messed up. He knows he promised Jungkook that he wouldn’t leave him alone for too long, but he ultimately wasn’t able to keep that promise. No, it’s not that he wasn’t able to, but rather he didn’t.

He told himself he’d return to Jungkook’s side after one song. That one song turned into him grabbing a drink, and ending up back on the dance floor with his friends. One more song, one more drink, one more song, one more drink, he cycled through these until an hour had passed since he left. He thought at one point he’d seen Jungkook, watching him in real time as he failed in doing the one thing he promised to do. He thinks now that it was likely just his imagination, his mind’s way of making him feel guilty.

He feels that he’s missed an opportunity. He wasn’t lying about wanting Jungkook to have a fun night out, that much is true. He’s always tried to push Jungkook out of his comfort zone from time to time. The other reason, the one he planned on surprising Jerry with, was introducing him to the guy he’d been seeing. He’d been friends with Shownu for about a year now, and they’d just recently decided if they wanted to explore being something more.

He thought this would be as good an opportunity as any to introduce the two of them, but he’d gotten carried away, and now Jungkook wasn’t speaking to him.

He felt a bit better knowing that Jungkook had made it home safely, but the coldness in his answer told him that he wasn’t out of the woods just yet. He’d really messed up this time.

Jungkook wasn’t only not speaking to him, he was even avoiding him.

He knows that Jungkook has been going to his other classes, if Jimin’s word is to be trusted, but for some reason he’s been absent in their one shared class. He’s likely been asking to be sent any work that he’s missed, being one of the proffesor’s favorite students. It’s unlike him to stay upset for this long. Soemthing must’ve happened before he decided to leave.

He decides that today, he’ll go and apologize in person. Somtehing he probably should’ve done in the first place.

He visits Jungkook’s dorm on a Wednesday afternoon, knowing that he’s in between classes right now and likely taking a nap. He makes his way through the small lobby and to the elevator, and suddenly he finds himself getting nervous. What happens if Jungkook doesn’t answer the door? Or worse, what if he does answer the door, but tells Taehyung he wants nothing to do with him? Or what if he knocks on his door and it creaks open slightly revealing Jungkook’s lifeless body and he gets framed for his murder only to suddenly be transported back in time-

Taehyung shakes his head. That’s the first episode of Erased. He’s spiralling.

The elevator dings, signalling that it’s almost time to either get his friend back or become the protagonist of an anime.

He should really finish Erased.

He makes his way to the dorm, operating purely on muscle memory after having been here so many times. When he arrives, he doesn’t bother hesitating, knowing he’ll think too hard and talk himself out of doing this, as he often does. He hears shuffling on the other side of the door, and suddenly, it swings open.

Taehyung doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jungkook in such a disheveled state.

His hair sticks out all over his head, he’s got on sweatpants and a hoodie, covered in wrinkles and mismatched. If Taehyung looks close enough, he can see a slight red tint to the skin around Jungkook’s eyes, signifying he’s been crying.

Taehyung feels something within him stir at the sight, but he ignores it.

Jungkook’s eyes are directed at the floor when the door first swings open, and when he looks up to meet Taehyung’s eyes, his own widen in disbelief.

They stand there in awkward silence for a few brief moments, not sure how to approach each other after how their last encounter had gone. Jungkook sighs, a tired, sad sound.

“Why don’t you come in?”

Jungkook is at a loss for words.

He was fast asleep when he’d heard the knock at the door, the sound waking him from his restless slumber. He drags himself out of bed, tossing on the first hoodie he sees lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and tosses it on.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he opened the door.

Taehyung looks like he usually does, sweats and a hoodie with hair that was perfectly tossed. “People like the effortless look,” Taehyung had explained one day. He thinks he understands what he meant now.

After the two of them stand there akwardly, not sure where to go from here, Jungkook decides to invite him in. He decides if they’re going to stare at each other and say nothing, he’d prefer to do so within the comfort of his dorm.

Taehyung seems to look around the room, likely taking note of the mess that Jungkook currently resides in. A wave of insecurity washes over Jungkook at this.

“I wasn’t really expecting company,” Jungkook explains weakly.

“I didn’t think so,” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry I showed up unannounced like this. You’ve kind of been…”

“Avoiding you?”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence goes by before Taehyung speaks again.

“Look, I know I said I wouldn’t need to-”

“It’s okay.” Taehyung pauses, confused.

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I don’t need to. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Then why-”

“I just needed space, that’s all.”

“So you’re not mad anymore?”

“Nope.”

“Promise?

“Yup.”

“Does this mean I don’t still have to buy you food?”

“Oh, no. You’re still buying me food.” The two of them share a laugh. The air feels much lighter than when Taehyung first arrived here.

Truth be told, Jungkook had forgiven Taehyung as soon as he opened the door. He’d started to feel bad about ghosting his friend, knowing that he would worry. He felt even wrose knowing that it wasn’t really Taehyung leaving him that had made him so upset, but rather his own feelings that were getting in the way.

If putting his own feelings aside would ultimately make Taehyung happy, then that’s just something he would have to do.

Taehyung coaxes Jungkook out of his dorm with the promise of greasy food from the campus diner, and he happily accepts.

A week has gone by since the two of them made up.

It hasn’t been mentioned yet, but Jungkook has a feeling that Taehyung will ask to introduce him to that other guy again. He knows it’ll happen eventually, and despite his dread, he just wishes Taehyung would ask so he can get it over with.

The two of them are at Taehyung’s apartment, claiming to be “studying” when in reality this was just an excuse for them to lounge around and watch reruns of Hell’s Kitchen. It’s when Taehyung keeps glancing over at Jungkook thinking he’s being subtle that he knows something is up. He grabs the remote and pauses, just as Chef Ramsay has finished calling someone a panini head.

“Okay, you’ve been watching me like you’re waiting for me to explode.” Taehyung chuckles, having been caught.

“Alright, you got me. You are so observant, you know that?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I would never!” Taehyung puts his hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“Please just spit it out already, you're making me nervous.”

“Fine, fine.” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I want you to come to a bar with me this weekend.” Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, but Taehyung cuts him off. “Before you argue! I’ve been to the place before, it’s really chill. It’s like a grill and bar place. Not a lot of people go there, so don’t worry about crowds. It’s totally fine-”

“Now you’re rambling.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just really wanted you to be comfortable.”

It’s a sweet gesture, and Jungkook’s heart flutters against his will. He does his best to ignore it. He pretends to think for a bit about Taehyung’s proposal.

“You promise we’re not gonna get there and immediately be met with a huge crowd like we’re in some old tv show?” Taehyung lights up.

“I’ll see what I can do!”

“Then I’ll be there.” At this, Taehyung lets out a sigh of relief.

“I was worried you’d say no for a second.” Jungkook picks up the remote and resumes the show. “I think you and Shownu will really get along.”

Jungkook freezes. He’d never heard the other guy’s name before. Now, reality is starting to set in. This is real. He’s meeting the guy that’s in the place he’s wanted to be in for such a long time.

He has a feeling he and Shownu will not, in fact, get along.

Jungkook doesn’t ever think he’s taken longer to get ready for something in his life.

He’s still going to go, of course. He wouldn’t just stand his friend up after he did everything he could to accomodate him and his mildly crippling anxiety. He just wouldn’t pretend to be enthusiastic about it. At least, not until he had to.

He decides that this time he’ll follow Taehyung’s advice, throwing a leather jacket on to add to his otherwise plain outfit. He doesn’t know why he does it, maybe just to keep himself grounded, but he finds it comforting in a way. Like when he was a kid and he believed hiding under the blankets would protect him from whatever creatures may be lurking in the night.

Only this time the creatures are his stupid feelings. His stupid feelings which won’t go away no matter how many blankets he piles onto himself to burrow away from them.

The universe decides to break him out of the rabbit hole of overthinking he finds himself peering over the edge of, as there’s a knock on the door.

He opens the door and comes face to face with Taehyung once again. He manages to find humor in his current situation, the similarities to the diasastrous night that began all of his inner turmoil uncanny.

“I see you decided to take my advice,” Taehyung remarks, looking at his leather jacket. “It looks good.” Jungkook offers him a small smile.

“We should go before the crowd gets there,” Jungkook teases.

“There won’t be a crowd!” Taehyung says, exasperated. “You keep talking about them and you’re gonna jinx it.”

“If it means I get more free food, I think I’ll manage.” Taehyung playfully shoves him, and the two of them head off.

The bar doesn’t seem particularly busy tonight, much to Jungkook’s delight.

There’s a decent amount of cars, but given that it’s a Saturday night it could be much worse.

Entering the bar, it’s clear to see that this place is much different compared to the other bars Jungkook has been dragged to over the years. There’s tables and booths scattered arund the building, along with an actual bar for the people who would prefer the more traditional experience. There’s music flowing through the speakers, much lower in volume compared to the likely heavily packed clubs spread around the city, but still loud enough that the lyrics can be heard. The smell of food floats through the air from the kitchen in the back, the enticing scent having Jungkook almost floating in the air like he’s in a cartoon. There’s a few groups of people sitting at the tables and bars, chatting away, others on the small dance floor.

“This is the nicest place you’ve ever taken me to,” Jungkook says as the two of them make their way to an empty booth. “Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Taehyung chuckles.

“Oh don’t be like that, the other places weren’t even that bad!” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, they were bad, but I can go to nice places too!”

“A broken clock is right two times a day, I suppose.” Taehyung ignores Jungkook’s thinly veiled insult.

“I invited Jimin to join us as well since you two seemed to get along.”

“For what?”

“I just…” Taehyung trails off for a second. “I didn’t want you to be a tird wheel.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jungkook hadn’t even considered that before agreeing to come. He’s glad he’ll have at least someone else to focus on to keep him from curling in on himself entirely.

As if on cue, Taehyung spots the two in question and, in an extremely embarrassing fashion for anyone else, waves both his arms at them to catch their attention. Jungkook hides his face, hoping that no one other than the two people now coming over, if Taehyung’s satisfied smile is anything to go by, will recognize him.

“Sorry we’re so late! Lots of traffic tonight,” a voice that Jungkook recognizes as Jimin says. Jungkook looks up to greet him, when his eyes drift over to who he assumes is Shownu.

The first thing Jungkook notices about Shownu is that he’s significantly more built than what he was expecting. The second thing he ntoices is that Shownu could easily drop out of college and pursue a modeling career. This is possibly the most beautiful man Jungkook has ever seen, and he finds himself fixing his hair because of it.

Jungkook has already decided that Shownu is his mortal enemy.

The animosity doesn’t last as long as Jungkook would have liked.

Shownu is funny, well put together, and just an all around nice guy. He does his best to include them all in conversation, and even offered to pay for the first round of drinks.

He’s almost distracted, not expecting to actually enjoy himself tonight, until Shownu plants a kiss on Taehyung’s cheek while Jimin tells a story. He feels his stomach start to turn at the sight, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to to ruin everyone’s mood with his jealousy.

The night goes on, the increasing alcohol in his system making Taehyung more and more affectionate as time passes. He’s leaning on Shownu more now, the latter seeming to enjoy the attention while also signalling to the waitor to serve Taehyung water in place of alcohol.

Jungkook sighs. He really can’t bring himself to dislike the guy.

Taehyung decides that he wants to dance, so he drags Shownu away and begins leading him to the dance floor, a few other couples having moved that way as hell.

Once the two of them leave, Jungkook lets out a breath, now feeling like he can breathe while the two of them are off being all over each other in a place outside of his field of vision.

“So how long have you had feelings for Tae?” Jimin asks casually, taking a sip of his wine as if he’d just made a remark about the weather. Jungkook is, understandably, caught off guard. He does his best to maintain his composure.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook says after what felt like way too long to be an honest answer.

“Dude, you can drop the act. I won’t tell anyone,” Jimin says. “Though I’m surprised you haven’t told on yourself just yet. You’ve been trying to stare daggers at Shownu since we got here.”

“Trying?”

“Yes. And failing. Because you don’t even hate Shownu, you barely know him. You’re just jealous he’s in the position you wish you were.” Jungkook sighs.

“Y’know, I didn’t come out tonight to be read like this,” He says with a chuckle.

“It’s part of my charm. Consider me your traumatizing life coach.”

“Did you steal that from a TikTok?”

“Hey, I’m the one doing the reading here.” The two of them share a laugh. “But between you and me,” Jimin starts, suddenly sounding serious, “I don’t think their relationship will really go anywhere.” Jungkook’s interest has peaked now, and he turns to face Jimin fully.

“What makes you say that?”

“Can’t say. I’m sworn to secrecy.” Jimin thinks for a moment. “Besides, it’s best you don’t hear it from me. It would probably cause chaos otherwise.”

“You’re beginning to worry me.”

“Also part of my charm.”

“Is Shownu like…. A murderer or something?” Jimin shakes his head, an amused smile gracing his features. “A bank robber? A secret agent?” Jungkook goes silent for a moment, and then gasps. “Is the government after him for committing tax faud?” Jimin begins to laugh.

“Nah, nothing as interesting as any of those.” Jimin says, and then leans in. “He’s an alien.” When Jungkook’s eyes widen, Jimin laughs again. “I’m kidding! Just kidding. He’s just a normal guy.”

“Should I just move on then?” Jungkook asks, his cheerful demeanor starting to fade away.

“That’s up to you to decide,” Jimin says. “But.. don’t lose hope just yet. That’s all I can tell you.” Jungkook sighs for the umpteenth time tonight. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But what about-”

“They’ll be fine. They probably won’t even notice we’re gone.”

The two of them wave a passing waitress over to pay their tab, and head out the door.

The drive is quiet, save for the soft melody coming from the radio. They arrive at Jungkook’s dorm and, though the end of the night left him confused, he still had a good time. He thinks he and Jimin will be really good friends one day. When he opens the dorm of the car, he turns to face Jimin.

“Hey, um,” Jungkook starts, “thanks for talking to me.”

“Ah, no problem,” Jimin insists. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” Jungkook nods before stepping out of the car and heading to the dorm, thoughts floating through his head as he tries to figure out what Jimin knows about Shownu and Taehyung’s relationship that he doesn’t.

Unbeknownst to Jimin and Jungkook, Taehyung did, in fact, notice that the two of them had left together, if the tears that flowed so freely were anything to go by.

The next week, classes are cancelled, most buildings on campus are closed, save for the necessities like the dorms and dining hall, and people all over campus have either gone home or decided to hibernate in their dorms.

There’s a winter storm coming.

The snowfall predicted is said to be a few feet at least, and the roads will be iced over. Campus slowly becomes a ghost town, with no one wanting to be trapped in their tiny dorms under these conditions.

Jungkook opts to stay put where he is. He likes the idea of there being significantly less people around, snow falling and turning the once boring school into a winter wonderland. It reminds him of when he was a kid, and he would get to stay home and play in the snow, until his mom would call him inside, worried he would get sick.

He’s in the middle of a game now, deciding today was a good day to do the most challenging levels of Super Mario Maker he could find, when he hears his phone ding on his bed. The noise distracts him, causing him to fall into an awaiting pit of lava, the sound signalling his character’s demise mocking him.

He turns around to grab the device, lighting the screen up and revealing a text from Taehyung.

Tae Tae: Wanna go get lunch?

Jungkook is about to type out his response when another message comes through.

Tae Tae: You’re never gonna beat that level

Tae Tae: Too many trick moves

Jungkook is almost shocked that Taehyung knows what he’s up to, before remembering he’d been struggling with this particular level for weeks now and had made that fact very known. He begins typing out his response.

Kook: I’ll have you know I’m an expert gamer

Kook: Where we meeting up?

They end up going to the same diner they went to just last week, having already formed an addiction for the unhealthy food they have to offer.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow in my life,” Taehyung says after they’ve placed their orders.

“Me either. Normally I like the cold but I think even I have my limits.” Taehyung laughs.

“Man, we’re getting old huh? We’re sitting here talking about the weather. I thought we had at least another ten years before we got to this point.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh now.

“Only ten?”

“Maybe not. I did just have to drag you away from a video game.”

“There’s no age limit on video games!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this rant before.”

“You keep calling me out and you’ll hear it again.” The two share a laugh.

“Do you ever miss being a kid?” Taehyung asks, suddenly sounds serious.

“Who wouldn’t? I didn’t even know student debt existed when I was a kid, now look at me drowning in it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Taehyung says, then pauses. “But what about like, I dunno, feelings and stuff?” This catches Jungkook’s attention.

“What like, hormones and stuff?” Taehyung chuckles.

“Kind of. Like, the only emotions we understood as kids were like anger and sadness and sadness. But not even like, fully either.”

“I think I get what you mean. When did things get so complicated?”

“Exactly. Everything used to be so simple.”

The two of them sit in silence for a moment. Neither of them usually discuss things like this with each other. Something has shifted between the two of them, thought what that shift might be, neither is sure. This is new territory for them, so neither is sure how to go about such a seemingly sudden change.

“Y’know,” Taehyung starts, “even with everything that’s changed, I’m glad you’ve stuck with me throughout all of it.”

“Of course I did,” Jungkook responds immediately. “How could I not after you were pretty much my guide throughout middle school?”

“You were wandering the halls looking for your next class for three days! I couldn’t just leave you hanging like that.”

“I totally could’ve managed.”

“And you’re also totally gonna beat that level you’ve been struggling with.”

“I was close!” Jungkook says, dramatically slamming his hands on the table. “I was so close, but then you dragged me away.”

“Oh sure, blame your lack of skills on me.”

The two of them continue to banter and bicker with each other, and things feel like they always did between the two of them. When their food arrives, they immediately begin trying to catch the food in their mouths, tossing it to each other and keeping score, and it feels like they’re back in middle school.

It feels like everything is simple again.

Once the two of them leave the diner, having filled themselves with unhealthy food that they’ll definitely regret later, they begin the trek back to Jungkook’s dorm. On the way, they pass by the school’s fountain at the center of campus. It’s frozen over now, coins that students tossed in for good luck rest at the bottom of the ice.

“Think we could break this and make some money?” Taehyung asks.

“It’s probably mostly pennies. Would it even be worth all the trouble?” Jungkook responds, looking into the fountain and examining the copper toned coins frozen in place.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Taehyung is turned away from Jungkook now, but goes unnoticed as Jungkook continues his search. He spots an old band aid among the coins, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“The same place the coins are.” He looks up and sees Taehyung is facing away from him, but thinks nothing of it. “Your ideas of adventure usually end with us getting in trouble anyway. You’d be in jail by now if it weren’t for-”

Jungkook is cut off when a snowball is hurled at him, hitting the side of his face. He looks up immediately, meeting the mischievous eyes of his best friend.

“What? Too mature for a snowball fight?”

“You don’t know what you’ve done.”

Jungkook scoops up snow and begins forming it in no time, and Taehyung’s eyes widen in fear.

It’s not long before a war has broken out in the quad. They throw what feels like hundreds of snowballs between the two of them, laughing and screaming with delight as they do so. Eventually, the two of them tired themselves out, lying next to each other and laughing, the absurdity of their impromptu snowball fight finally setting in.

“We haven’t hung out like this in such a long time,” Jungkook says through giggles.

“Yea, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you over the past week,” Taehyung agrees.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Jungkook says. The next part, he lets slip out on accident, lowering his voice so that Taehyung can’t hear him. “I love you.’

He didn’t lower it enough.

“What’d you just say?”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He couldn’t have heard him. He didn’t.

“I just said I missed you.”

“No, no. You said something after that.”

“I think you’re just hearing things. Did you get snow in your ears?”

“Jungkook.”

“I have to go.”

Jungkook stands from his spot and adjusts his jacket. Before he can make his escape and regret every life choice that brought him to this moment, he feels a tug on his arm.

“Say it again.”

“No. Please let me go.” He refuses to turn around and face Taehyung, and something in his chest aches at the realization.

“Don’t leave.” Jungkook says nothing, but he doesn’t move to get away either.

“I need to go.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes I do!” Jungkook yells, catching both of them off guard. “I can’t be around you. Not when I’ve felt like this for years.” Jungkook finally turns to face Taehyung, tears streaking down his face. “Not when I’m watching you fall for someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

Taehyung finds his hold on Jungkook’s arm is weakening, and he lets Jungkook walk away.

Jungkook starts back on his way to his dorm, moving quickly, hoping that the faster he got to his drm the faster the embarrassment he felt would disappear. Taehyung’s touch, he found, burned against his skin, completely different from the gentle warmth he’d grown accustomed to. Taehyung would go to Shownu, and after some time, he’d forget about Jungkook. That’s what he believed.

He would never know that Taehyung stayed frozen in place as he watched Jungkook’s retreating form, tears of his own staining his face.

Taehyung has lost track of how long it’s been since that fateful day in the snow.

A few days? A week? Two weeks? He’s honestly not sure anymore.

Jungkook’s confession had woken up so many things in him at once. Sadness upon realizing that his friend has been holding onto those feelings fornsuch a long time. Guilt knowing that he’d essentially been flaunting his new relationship in his face, blatantly letting his friend know that he wasn’t interested in the most callous way he could do so. The worst part, though?

It had brought back old feelings he’d thought he had moved on from.

There was a time where Taehyung was certain that he and Jungkook would end up together at some point. The two of them were inseperable from the time they first became friends to a few weeks ago. It always made sense to him that they would get together and stay that way for a long time.

But things didn’t work out that way.

Taehyung had taken Jungkook’s shyness about the subject of them as a silent rejection. As a result, he’d told himself he had to move on from him, and for a while, he did. That is, until they’d started college together.

Once their environment had changed, Taehyung had noticed a change in Jungkook..

He was still averse to parties, that was still the same. But he’d grown more confident in himself. He’d been exploring different hobbies, started getting tattoos like he always talked about doing, he’d even joined a few clubs. Even with his newfound confidence, he was still the same boy that Taehyung had helped create a place for when they were kids.

Against his better judgement, Taehyung found himself falling for him again.

He thought that now, since he’d grown as a person, surely now he would confess his feelings. But the confession never came, and Taehyung had to once again push his feelings away. This is when Shownu came in.

Originally, they were just friends with benefits. No strings attached, they had agreed. They got along quite well, and that was all there was to it.

But Taehyung’s feelings for Jungkook still lingered, and he decided he needed to take it a step further.

He was thankful that Shownu had been okay with getting to know each other outside of the bedroom. Eventually, the guilt of using Shownu for his own reasons had started to eat away at him. He was leading someone else on but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.

But when he’d noticed that Jungkook and Jimin left together that night at the bar, the dam broke.

That night, he’d told Shownu everything. The years of pining that had resulted in nothing, the reason he’d started their arrangement, everything, and Shownu had been nothing but understanding.

So here he was now. Cooped up in his room, sittting with the fact that he’d been casuing his friend so much strife, all because of his own selfishness. Even now knowing Jungkook’s feelings, he fears that he’s messed up too many times for them to ever have something more than they already do.

He’s in the midst of wallowing in self pity when he hears a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” he says, refusing to leave from the cocoon of blankets he’s buried himself in.

The door creaks open slowly, and Jimin walks in, rattling a bag of food like someone would do for their pet cat.

“I’ve got a piping hot bag of bad decisions with me,” Jimin says, approaching the vaguely human shaped pile he believes is his friend. Taehyung grumbles in response. “Still havent’ heard from Jungkook?”

“No.”

“You gonna reach out to him?’

“No.”

“You gonna stay in here and watch Bob Ross painting videos instead of facing your fears head on?”

“Yup.” Jimin sighs.

“You two are very similar, you know that?” Taehyung says nothing. “You guys really need to talk about… whatever it is you’ve got going on. That’s the main problem here.”

“What good will that do?” Taehyung asks, irritation present in his voice. “He probably hates me. And I don’t even blame him.”

“Well, at least we’ve crossed that bar.” Taehyung glares at him. “You’re not the only one at fault here, though. He bottles his feelings up as much as you do.”

“So what am I supposed to do, Jimin?” a sniffle. “I don’t know what to do anymore.’

Jimin’s heart aches at the pain in Taehyung’s voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the younger boy so distraught. He moves to comfort him, placing a hand on Taehyung’s back to try to calm him down, if even a little.

“I’m not sure,” Jimin says. “I think right now you should be honest with him. I think at this point, all he needs is for you to tell him how you really feel.”

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

“I do.”

Taehyung considers this for a moment. If he’d been honest from the beginning, years ago even, they wouldn’t be here. He just hopes that later is better than never.

“Okay. Then that’s what I’ll do.” Jimin smiles at him.

“Good. Now move over, Bob Ross’ voice eases the troubles of my soul.”

“What troubles do you have?”

“Two idiots not knowing how to communicate.”

“You’re sitting on the floor.”

Jungkook has never felt embarrassment as intensely as he does now.

It’s been long enough that any other person likely would’ve moved on, but this wasn’t something as simple as dropping your lunch plate in the middle of the cafeteria and having the entire room clap. Been there, done that.

He’d confessed to his best friend of several years that he’s in love with him. His best friend who he knew was seeing someone, at that.

He’s locked himself in his dorm once again, not even bothering to distract himself. Instead, he opts to just lie in bed and think about where everything had gone wrong in his life over the past few weeks.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let Taehyung talk him into going to that party. What if he hadn’t gone looking for Taehyung when he disappeared that night? Perhaps he shouldn’t have forgiven him so easily. He knew that last one wasn’t an option, though. He would’ve softened up eventually.

Now, things are different. He was okay with livivng with his feelings knowing that they would nver be reciprocated. He would still have Taehyung as a friend, and if he was happy, that would be enough for him, even if he wasn’t the one making him happy.

He’s been getting a lot of texts from Hoseok recently, likely wondering why he hasn’t been showing up to practices. Jungkook takes advantage of the weather conditions, claiming to have gotten sick. Hoseok had believed him at first, but the longer time passed, the more suspicious he got.

Jungkook has sent a couple messages in response, assuring him that everything would be okay, along with other vague promises.

He’s not sure what to do at this point. Maybe he hopes Jimin really has been lying so he can move on properly. He wouldn’t be shocked if Shownu showed up to beat him up at some point. He supposes he deserves it. Shownu hasn’t done anything wrong, and now he’s in the middle of this mess.

While Jungkook begins to spiral from regret to guilt, there’s a knock at the door. This time, he’s a lot less willing to deal with whatever this could be.

“Go away, no one’s here,” Jungkook says halfl heartedly.

“Hmmm, alrighty then,” a voice he recognizes as Hoseok says. “I guess I’ll take my snacks and Marvel movie box set elsewhere!” Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Fine, it’s open.”

Hoseok walks in, a smug smile on his lips.

“Knew that would work.” He places his bags down before taking a seat at Jungkook’s desk, turning to face him. “So what’s up with you?”

“I told you, I’m sick.”

“If you were sick you wouldn’t have let me in.”

“Maybe I’m in the mood to infect someone.”

“You also get sassier when you’re lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The two of them stare at each other, waiting for the other to break. A few more seconds go by.

“If I talk can we watch Iron Man first?” Jungkook says, not enjoying the silence in the room.

“Yes.” Jungkook sighs.

“Alright.”

Jungkook tells Hoseok everything, starting from how they met in middle school all the way up to what happened that day in the quad. He tells him about all the time they spent together in high school, how they had gone to prom with a group and ended up alone together in a park from their childhoof at the end of the night. He went through the details of Taehyung getting his first apartment, and how Jungkook had spent the first night there with him.

He talks for about an hour, and Hoseok lets him talk, not wanting to interrupt what appears to be the retelling of happy memories. Up until the current events that have him hiding out in his room, that is.

It’s only when Jungkook finishes that Hoseok decides to speak.

“It sounds like you love him a lot,” he says.

“I do,” Jungkook says. “I really do.”

“But it also sounds like he loves you, too.”

“Okay now you’re just making up things to say.’

“No, I’m serious. If what you’ve told me really did happen then it sounds like he’s just as ass over tits in love with you as you are with him.”

“Don’t you mean head over heels?”

“I know what I said.”

“But that can’t be right. He literally invited me on a date with Shownu.”

“Are you sure that night was for Shownu? He went out of his way to find a place you would find the most comfortable. Did he even once mention Shownu liking the place when he was telling you about it?”

Jungkook thinks about this for a moment. He remembers Taehyung ensuring that he would have fun, that this was the most comfortable place for him. He’d even invited Jimin out to ensure he wouldn’t feel left out at any point.

“I mean, I guess. But I think he was just afraid I’d cut him off if he dragged me to some noisy club.”

“Maybe it was both?”

“Maybe. But there’s definitely something there. I know there is.”

“And if there is? What do I do then? I’ve already confessed to him. On accident, like a moron.”

“Well, you already know how you feel. You just gotta wait for him to figure his feelings out.”

“And if he figures out he feels nothing for me?”

“Then you move on. You deserve to be happy too, you know. You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself just to keep him happy. If he was ever your friend he’ll understand that and respect whatever decision you make.”

Jungkook considers his friend's words. It’ll hurt, but if this is what causes the end of a precious friendship, then this is where it ends. He does a lot for other people, never thinking of how that could benefit him. But maybe it’s time for him to do that. At least once.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll just have to wait until I hear from him again. And when the time comes to make a decision, I’ll know which one I need to make.”

Hoseok stands from where he’s sitting and crosses the small distance between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s frame. Jungkook returns the gesture.

“Thanks for being here, Hobi.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m always here if you need me.”

“Can we watch Iron Man now? That was emotionally exhausting.”

“You do know that Iron Man-”

“One emotional outburst at a time, please.”

Jungkook is feeling much better these days.

He still hasn’t heard from Taehyung, but that’s okay. He’ll reach out when he’s ready.

The school has reopened, the storm finally passing and the ice starting to melt. Life slowly but surely trickles back onto campus, musch like the way the fountain in the quad has begun to flow like it used to.

It’s when Jungkook is heading back to the dorm to change for practice that he recieves a message he’s been both apprehensive about and excited to recieve.

Tae Tae: Can you come to my apartment tonight? I think it’s time we talked.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to answer this time.

Kook: No problem, I’ll see you then.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Hoseok asks from the driver’s seat of his car.

“Yea, I’m sure. I’ll just catch a bus if things go bad.”

“Do not do that. Call me if you need to.”

“Okay dad, anything else?”

“Remember what we talked about.”

“I will.”

Jungkook gets out of the car and makes his way to the door. He turns around before knocking, seeing Hoseok shoot him a thumbs up to cheer him on. Jungkook turns around, takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. Almost immediately, the door swings open, scaring him.

“Were you like, right by the door?” Jungkook asks, obviously startled.

“Yeah. Sorry, I was just nervous.” He peaks over Jungkook’s shoulder and spots Hoseok in the driveway. Taehyung waves at him, which Hoseok mimics before he pulls away. “Do you wanna head in?”

“That’s probably for the best. It’s still pretty cold out here.”

Jungkook lets Taehyung lead him to the living room, despite having already been here more times than he can count. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, not sure how to start after how they left things the last time they saw each other.

“So, um,” Taehyung starts, “how’ve you been?”

“Oh, god, can we please skip the awkward small talk? My head might explode,” Jungkook says, chucling slightly.

“Sorry,” Taehyung says. “I’m just not sure where to start.”

“Do you want me to go first?”

“Please?” Jungkook nods. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m nervous too.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, I think it’s safe to say we both know how I feel about you.” Taehyung nods. “It’s okay that you don’t feel the way that I do. You aren’t obligated to do so just because we’ve known each other for so long.” He pauses. “But I won’t pretend this isn’t hurting me. I can’t keep doing that to myself. I’ll do my best to hold on to our friendship but it becomes too much for me… then I’ll just have to go.”

Taehyung can only stare at him in shock. He can’t believe the words that he’s hearing right now.

“You think… that I don’t feel the same about you?”

“I mean… you didn’t say anything when I confessed to you.”

“You kinda caught me off guard.”

“That makes two of us.”

“But that’s actually what I invited you over to talk about.” A pause. “I’ve been in love with you since high school.” Jerry’s eyes widen. “Maybe even before that.”

“Wait, but what about-”

“Shownu? I just started hooking up with him to try to get over you. We just tried the dating thing to see where he would go.”

“So you guys are-”

“Broken up? Yeah, we split after that night at the bar.” Jungkook is about to ask another question, and this time Taehyung beats him to it. “I kinda thought you left with Jimin so you guys could… you know.”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“In my defense I’d had a lot to drink that night.”

“You seem to do that a lot.”

“So I like a good cocktail, sue me!”

“You like several good cocktails”

The air feels significantly lighter than it had when they first sat down, now that their feelings are out in the open. The silence that settles over them after a bit more bantering is comfortable. They’ve moved closer to each other now as they catch each other up on everything they’ve been up to.

Jungkook decides he can’t help himself.

“Can I kiss you?”

Taehyung pauses immediately. He thinks he’s misheard him at first, until he sees Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to his lips. He’s certain his voice will betray him as soon as he speaks, so he decides to nod instead.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they inch closer to one another.

When their lips finally connect, there are no fireworks. It doesn’t feel like time has stopped around them, and it doesn’t feel like the rest of the world has faded away and they’re the only ones left.

It feels like coming inside and having hot chocolate after playing in the snow all day. It feels like your parents cooking your favorite meal after you’ve had a hard day. It feels like putting on an old, worn pair of shoes after spending the day trying to break in a new pair all day.

Kissing Taehyung feels like home.

One kiss turns into two, which melts into five, and eventually the two of them find themselves unable to separate from one another. Jungkook pushes Taehyung down until his back meets the cushion of the sofa, and Taehyung allows him to do so. Jungkook’s dragging his hands wherever he can reach, wanting to memorize every detail of Taehyung’s body. Taehyung slides his hands under Jungkook’s shirt, drawing small shapes in his skin.

It’s when Jungkook grinds his hips into Taehyung’s by mistake, a whimper being ripped from Taehyung’s throat because of it, that they realize the compromising position they’re in. Jungkook pulls away, his eyes drifitng down to Taehyung’s kiss swollen lips.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes.” Jungkook blinks.

“You didn’t even let me-”

“Don’t need to. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

“I just don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Ooooh, you think you could?” Jungkook squints at him.

“You think I can’t?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been with a lot of guys-”

“Can we please not talk you hooking up with other guys when I’m on top of you-”

“-and only one has ever been able to make me cry.”

“Wait, who?” Taehyung freezes.

“Forget I said anything,” he tries to lean up to kiss him again, but Jungkook pushes him back down immediately.

“Tell me who it was.”

“But-”

Now.” Jungkook’s demeanor has changed completely, but Taehyung can’t help but continue to tease him.

“Hmm I can’t seem to remember his name now. How odd! Bizarre, even”

“Taehyung.”

“Fine, you’re no fun. It was Shownu.” Jungkook tenses up. “It’s fine, don’t worry if you can’t-”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe a little.”

Jungkook captures Taehyung’s lips again, much more vigorously than he had before. He grinds into Taehyung again, his movements deliberate, rough. The action elicits another sound from Taehyung’s lips, and Jungkook wishes he could make it his ringtone.

“Be careful what you wish for, baby boy.”

It’s not long before clothes are shed, scattered about the apartment in a careless fashion. They continue their minstrations, touches evolving into grabbing, light whimpers turning into loud moans.

Sounds of skin slapping against skin bounce off every wall of the apartment. Breathy moans and whines blend together, creating a symphony of pleasure between the two of them. They continue on until the wee hours of the morning, their bodies having grown slick with sweat.

Jungkook is the second person to ever make Taehyung cry.

The following weekend, there’s another party held at Kim Seokjin’s house.

Taehyung convinces Jungkook once again to go with him, promising they could leave whenever he was ready.

Jungkook is much more confident now, his arm slung over Taehyung’s shoulder as the two of them walk in. Mirroring the last time, Hoseok spots the two of them immediately when they walk in. Much like last time, he’s drunk.

“Jungkook! You came! I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“You saw me two days ago.”

“Exactly. That’s practically years!” He leans in closer to try, and fail,to whisper to Jungkook. “So what’s up with him.” He very blatantly gestures to Taehyung, who’s watching the two of them interact, amusement written all over his features.

“Things are good. We’re good.” Hoseok smiles before directing his attention to Taehyung.

“If you’d hurt him I swear I would’ve destroyed you.”

“You cried in the mall because a bunch of middle school kids tripped you and called your shoes stupid.”

“Middle schoolers are mean, man.” Hoseok hears someone call his name somewhere in the distance, and stumbles in that direction.

“Is he gonna be plastered every time we meet?” Taehyung asks, watching as Hoseok turns to wave goodbye to them.

“Honestly? Probably.”

They find their way to the same area they had been the last time they were last time, occupied by the very same people as well. This time, Shownu sits among them. For the first time tonight, Jungkook feels nervous. Shownu sees the two of them coming and waves them over.

“Hey, Jungkook! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yea, Guess it has been a long time.” A beat of silence. “Listen, I-”

“No no, don’t you dare apologize. It’s completely fine. I didn’t expect things to get serious anyway.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“No, really. I’m completely fine. I’m glad you two are happy.” He smiles, and Jungkook returns it.

He decides he thinks Shownu is actually a pretty cool guy.

Taehyung and Jungkook stay for a while, laughing and talking with the other people seated in the area. Taehyung eventually begins drinking to the point of heavy intoxication, as he often does, and Jungkook opts to take him home. They say their goodbyes, and Jungkook carries Taehyung out on his back and all the way back to campus.

Though it’s only been about a month since they were last here, the walk home makes Jungkook feel nostalgic. The night that had ended so badly for him had resulted in a whirlwind of emotions and unfortunate events. Even so, he thinks he’d do it all over again if he had the chance.

He glances over his shoulder and is met with the sleeping face of Taehyung, him having dozed off halfway through the walk home. As he gazes at the view before him he thinks yes, he absolutely would go through all of that again.

As long as he ended up with Taehyung in the end, he would do anything.

#taekook #taehuyng #jungkook #btsv #bts smut #bts au fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic

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meigh-day · 4 years

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Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 19

———————————————————–

Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Guns, Knives, Excessive Violence, Blood, Torture, Threats of rape

Status: Complete

Word Count: 2k

———————————————————–

Epilogue:

The weeks that followed were filled with extremely busy days. Between meetings, dress fittings, rehearsals and so on, you found yourself exhausted at the end of each day. Though the bright side to that was that at the end of each day, you could retreat to the serenity of Tendou's embrace. By the time your confinement had finished you found yourself reluctant to return to your room, though you weren't the only one who wasn't keen on the notion. You had chanced to bring it up one afternoon and the look of misery that came over poor Satori's face had you regretting even thinking about it. However, you did find it reassuring to know that he also wanted the same thing. What you didn't know was that he had wanted you all to himself from the very beginning. The next day, with a little help from some obliging staff, the remainder of your belongings found their way to the room you two now shared.

The wedding, as a whole, was beautiful. It wasn't anything like the small intimate ceremony you had envisioned having one day but, to you, it was a small sacrifice to get to marry the man of your dreams. Even though the last few weeks had been a whirlwind, Tendou had made it all worthwhile. Despite his own busy schedule, he made sure to find time during the day to see you, even if it was just to sneak a quick kiss. If he woke up first, you might find a cup of coffee or some semblance of a breakfast waiting for you and if you were late getting back he'd make sure dinner was waiting. It was really touching just how kind and thoughtful he was being. Someday, when all this wedding nonsense was over, you were going to return the favor tenfold. He had taken such good care of you, making sure you were eating properly, checking in to make sure you weren't pushing yourself, and you wanted to do the same for him everyday.

Despite the hustle and bustle that the day brought, you still found it fairly easy to enjoy it. You were marrying Tendou Satori after all, the only person who had ever found a place in your heart. His beautiful red hair and matching eyes had drawn you in, but it hadn't been his good looks that kept you coming back. It had nothing to do with money or power or anything of the sort. It was Tendou himself that made your heart flutter. The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings had grown until they were so tangled within that you knew there was no hope of them ever being removed. It was that deep-rooted love you felt for the man before you, his eyes on yours and a smile etched on his lips, that made the traditional vows you recited suddenly seemed all the more profound.

in a flash, the ceremony was over and before you could take two breaths together the crowd descended. Suddenly there was a flurry of pictures, congratulations and a constant stream of people wanting to chat. Honestly, it wasn't until late into the evening, the reception now in full swing and the guests all busy chatting amongst themselves, that you were finally able to breath. You stood at the far end of the room, alone, watching Tendou and Goshiki talk animatedly about something all the while trying to pull a reluctant Semi into the conversation. The room was full of voices and music and it was making you feel a little overwhelmed. You felt warm and stuffy, no doubt partially due to the heavy dress you wore. A quick glance around the room confirmed the horrible lack of windows. Fresh air and a quiet space sounded like just the thing to help soothe your nerves.

If you thought no one would mind, you would have liked to steal Tendou away for this little adventure. Unfortunately, his little group had grown and you just couldn't bring yourself to disturb their merriment. So instead, you slink quietly out a side door and into the house. You didn't really have a destination in mind, just somewhere quiet and away from the gathered wedding guests. However, it seemed like your feet had a mind of their own because you soon found yourself standing in front of the garden door. The last time you had gone through this door had been the night you were abducted and it had been so busy lately that you hadn't really explored outside the house. It's not like you were forbidden from leaving the house per-say, you were allowed anywhere on the property in fact, but there was this small niggling hesitation that had kept you from venturing any further than the safety of a window. Now that you were here, the call of the cool night air was making that hesitation seem smaller and smaller. It only took a moment for your mind to find a happy middle ground. Instead of actually going outside, you'd opted to stand in the open doorway, thus allowing you to get your fix of fresh air while technically still being inside.

"There you are." You let out a small cry, flinching away at the sudden voice next to your ear. The surprise causing you to jump away from the safety of the doorway, landing on your feet in the soft grass. You knew whose voice it was the moment the words had reached your ears but that knowledge hadn't lessened the shock of your husband suddenly appearing from nowhere.

"Oh my god Satori. You scared the hell out of me." You look up at him with wide eyes, a hand on your chest as you suck in deep breaths to calm your racing heart. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

"Can't help it beautiful. You look so cute when you're surprised." He chuckles as he leans up and moves out of the doorway, closing the small distance between the two of you. Tendou was incredibly handsome on any given day but today, in his all black suit, he looked breathtaking. You thought so even now, your heart now racing for a completely different reason as he came to a stop in front of you.

"Well if you keep that up, you might end up a widower. Not sure my poor heart can take it." You let out a small laugh but stop short when he frowns down at you.

"I'd never do anything to hurt you, you know that, right?" Shit. Your smile falters when you see the uncertainty reflected in his eyes. Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your arms around his back, cheek pressed into his chest as you hold him tight.

"Of course I do! Satori, I trust you with my life." You pull back a little, just enough so you could peer up into his eyes, a small reassuring smile on your lips. "You did save it after all." He hummed in response, sliding his hands down your arms and interlocking a hand with yours. The two of you walk through the garden, surrounded in a comfortable silence. The last time you had been out here, the garden had looked ominous and eerie. Now as you looked around, the light from the moon illuminating the greenery, the garden was all the more enchanting. Whether by chance, or perhaps the skillful maneuvering of your husband, the two of you found yourselves under one of the wisteria trees, the low hanging blooms providing some small amount of privacy. He stood before you, one big hand cupping your cheek while the other held your hand. He looked thoughtful for a moment as he gazed down at you, a small happy sigh escaping his lips.

"How did I get so lucky?" His eyes almost glittered in the slivers of moonlight that shone through the branches and blooms above. "I've been in love with you for years but I never thought I stood a chance with someone as stunning and amazing as you." He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, pulling you against his chest. "Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the one they'd arranged for me to marry." His long fingers drifted up your back and up into your hair, gently brushing and twirling around the strands. "You had no reason to even like me but here you are loving me back."

You could feel your lips trembling with the effort of holding back tears but, with each tender word he spoke, your resolution crumbled. "I know I don't deserve you but-- " He loosens his hold on you, gazing down at your flushed face, tears sliding down your cheeks, a smile on your lips. He gently brushed away your tears, kissing your cheeks and nose as he did. Satori then paused, lips hovering over yours as he looked into your eyes. "I promise, I'm going to take such good care of you. I'll keep loving you everyday and if the last few weeks are any indication, I'm going to love you more and more every single day." With a final grin, his lips met yours, sealing his promise with a kiss.

As the two of you part, your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, gazing into his eyes with such adoration. "I wish you could see what I see when I look at you 'Tori. You are absolutely beautiful inside and out." A wide smile pulls at the corners of your mouth as your thumbs slide across his cheek. "I've thought so since the day we met. I couldn't have asked for a better man to become my husband and I feel so incredibly grateful that I get to be your wife." Tendou bit his lip as you spoke, trying desperately to hold back the tears that were starting to well. He leaned into your soft touch, basking in the paradise of your love. "If you'll let me, I want to do everything I can to make you happy. I love all the things that make up who you are and I want to be a haven where you can feel at ease and be yourself. I promise I'll always be here for you and if there are times when you can't love yourself, I'll just love you twice as much."

Legally the two of you had been married for several hours but, standing together under the shelter of a wisteria tree, the impromptu vows you'd exchanged were far more significant than anything you had said before the gathered crowd earlier. A few tears escaped down his cheeks but you were quick to brush them away. "You know I didn't come out here to cry." Tendou chuckles as he rubs a hand across his face.

"Oh? And I thought you just wanted to scared me half to death."

"No, but the look on your face was impeccable." He grasped your chin between two fingers and gave your head a gentle shake. "I was actually coming to tell you they finally gave us to okay to leave that damned party."

"Wait, really? You should have led with that! This dress is driving me insane." You glance down at your body, the offending dress greeting you. It wasn't like it was ugly or anything, far from it, it was however heavy, stiff and just overall uncomfortable.

"Is it now?" Tendou murmured as he tilted your face back up where you were met with his own dark eyes staring down at you. "Anything I can do to help?" His fingers trailed along your jaw and down your neck, leaving your skin feeling hot in their wake. You cheeks turned pink, his tone and expression turning the unassuming question far more provocative. Words suddenly became difficult to produce yet your body was happy to reply as you pressed up against him, a simple yes whispered through your lips. That seemed to be all the permission he needed because before you knew it you were off the ground and in his arms. You let out a squeal of surprise as he lifted you up and immediately began striding across the garden and back towards the house.

"It'll be a tough job, might take all night in fact, but I think I'm up to the task."

-The End-

#tendou x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou mafia #haikyuu #haikyuu mafia

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meteorstricken · 4 years

Text

Sephiroth Week, Day 7 Prompt: Rebirth

“Assimilation”

"Let me give you one last piece of advice, Ancient. No matter what you do, it's futile. It's all part of this Planet's system. Many foreign entities from the skies fall into the Planet's life cycle unknowingly and now Jenova’s in there. So where does its soul go? Even if you try to destroy it, it will never disappear. It has merged with the Sea of Mako, drifting through every part of the Planet through the Lifestream. One day, you will all have to live as part of Jenova. Hahaha... It's only a matter of how soon that will happen."--Professor Hojo to Aerith, 'Maiden Who Travels the Planet'

~~~~

Spring

The planet's personality was changing. Spring brought forth flora in vibrant, unnatural colors--purple spiny fronds where long, gentle gold and green waves used to grow. Giantism emerged in some of the smaller creatures. A house kitten born the previous winter might be confused with one of the big, feral carnivores, because that's what it had become. Chocobo teeth were novelty for country fairs, once their keepers learned how not to get bitten. And, incidentally, once they figured out that the birds no longer craved greens. A herding dog or two was lost to that discovery.

Although the change brought fear, for the most part, people learned to live with it. Smaller villages put up fences. Hunting became a popular pastime once more, granting some of the elderly a renewed sense of purpose as they trained their grandchildren. Cuisine and medicine transformed by leaps and bounds. At times it was a struggle, but adaptation allowed everyone to continue living their normal lives for the most part.

What had brought on this change? What had so influenced the planet's idea of itself? Most--from the subsistence farmer to the W.R.O. expert reporting directly to Reeve Tuesti--believed that it was simply the growing pains of a world that had been through way too much in too little time. Jokes of planetary puberty abounded.

No one could say for sure, but there was also no evidence to the contrary. Wily though the world was, there seemed to be no deliberate villainy afoot, and the last Mako reactor had been disabled years ago.

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

Summer

They were once members of Shinra-endorsed fanclub called the Silver Elite, which also served as an arm of the old company's propaganda efforts. Although long since disbanded, many remained friends, and they journeyed together to Icicle Inn that Summer to get away from the abnormal heat that had cloaked much of the world, binding it into one shared season. It was unusually warm here as well, but pleasantly so.

Under a full moon they gathered around a fire, black-cloaked and nervous. All at once, they'd felt the urge--no, the need-- to dress that way. It was comfortable, they said to one another, but they couldn't define it any further than that, and they didn't try to. A hush fell over them. One woman began to hum a directionless, unknown tune. Two more joined in with her. Then, all together, they somehow achieved a perfect, united harmony.

"Do you remember Sephiroth?" one of them spoke when they'd ended the mysterious song.

There was laughter at first. Of course everyone remembered. The only reason most of them knew one another was because Shinra had convinced them to lust after its prided SOLDIER. Not that much convincing had been needed--the man had been a living masterpiece.

"But he was more…he became more than that, didn't he?" the eldest voiced. There was something desperate and pleading in her tone, as if she was trying to remember part of the doctored tales they'd all been fed that perhaps wasn't so made up.

"If Chairwoman H was right…maybe?"

"Whatever became of her? Did anyone ever actually meet her? Who was she?"

"Probably just another company shill."

Another long, drawn out silence descended over the group. The fire snapped and crackled, and a chilly wind blew down from the Great Glacier--a rapid-melting mass that was said to have flooded the ancient ruins nearby. Small runoff streams had turned to pregnant, raging rivers. There was one they could all hear nearby, roaring as it raced out to the ocean.

"He's alive. I can feel it. We were lied to."

"He can't die. Not truly. He will always return."

Fearful glances rounded the flames. Some nature of spell had come over all of them; something far more potent than raving, pop culture-promoted thirst. What had started as a get away to remember the bad old days had turned to an impromptu cultish conclave, though not one believed they were making anything up. The words and tunes and rhythms surged through them from without--something magical and terrible.

There was no time to think twice. They had heard the call, and they'd all obeyed. What more was left to them?

"The Crisis and Solution, beginning to end to beginning again. Become now the cycle and the meaning, the life and the death, in aeternum, forever and ever," raised up an overlapping chant.

There was weeping. There was trembling. They all shouted the name. And they all threw themselves into the fire.

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

Autumn

When Fall arrived, it brought with it dying, pretty leaves and a stilted harvest time--the world had not yet adjusted to living the same season all at once. Supply chains were strained, but attitudes remained upbeat. The planet was healing, everyone agreed. They had to follow its lead so that it could complete the process. For all humanity had taken, a little sacrifice for a couple of years was a small price to pay to be able to witness the planet at full strength--something only the Ancients would have last seen. To live in such a time was a privilege.

And that remained the message, even as Rufus Shinra, his Turks and W.R.O. operatives in Midgar and Junon convened over video calls in darkest hours before dawn. It had now become mercilessly clear that the planet was not acting on its own.

"Yes, degradation, like SOLDIER," Tseng confirmed. "It was first observed in the Junon area forests."

"Which life forms appear to be affected? Is it a danger to humans yet?" Reeve asked.

"Everything our people have tested has come up positive, including crops and cattle. Anything that eats has it," Rufus broke in.

Reeve crossed one leg over the other, wiped his brow, and loosened his collar. "But degradation comes directly from…" He couldn't bring himself to finish.

"Jenova cells. The late Professor Hojo's Reunion theories never accounted for something of this scale, however," Tseng supplied.

"Reunion suggests a gathering together of infected organisms. This is just…it's a take over!" Reeve exclaimed. "How do we stop it?"

Eyes darted between one another. Heads bowed. Of course, there was no stopping it now. It was something that, if they'd not been distracted with everything else over the past several years--Sephiroth's second coming, Deepground and Omega, and the sheer labor expenditure it took to try to keep society stable and rebuilding through those setbacks--should have been researched and addressed immediately following Meteorfall.

But no one knew enough. No one even knew to ask if there could be such all-consuming consequences for the SRD's environmental failures like this. It was beyond imagining.

"We don't. We stay the course," Rufus finally answered.

"Accept that adaptation is necessary, and everyone has to do their part to live with it…" Reeve said, defeated.

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

Winter

Sephiroth opened his eyes. He could sense that a frigid cold had overtaken the surface world in its entirety. Mother's essence had at last permeated all things, causing the ecosystems to assimilate and the seasons to act as one. All plant life had returned its energy to the planet, and there its cycle had ended with him; one with him. He was the new living thing they were all to become.

The planet itself was a second skin for him now, one that he was gradually peeling back with each new death.

All fauna was at his fingertips to do with as he pleased--he needed only reach out. Whales, bloated and transformed beyond their bodies' functioning, beached themselves. Fish devoured one another in a feeding frenzy, each one poisoning the other. Bears that would have hibernated crawled out restless from their dens, fierce and hungry. They waded up streams to feed, restrained to the instinct that would have prepared them for the Winter months, freezing to death overly-gorged. House pets turned on their keepers, content to feed on the hands that had faithfully provided for them.

Spirit energy surged and surged into the planet's core, into him. He was rising, becoming…

Bleak despair shrouded the humans' domains as the months crept onward, and Spring failed to arrive again because he did not ordain it so. Some of them killed themselves; others relished blame and murder. Most of the time, they were inspiration enough for themselves, but that did not stop Sephiroth from amusing himself, pushing where hesitation plagued them. Riots and mini wars broke out.

A select few names, he withheld from the end until the very last. Cloud, Tifa, Nanaki, Vincent, Cid, Barret, Reeve, along with some who remained with Shinra were to see the world in its total desolation.

When that day came, he drew them together at the ocean's crimson-dyed shore and announced his presence in their minds. Yes, it was him all along. He had done this, and they'd accomplished nothing but to watch and wait. They'd allowed him to infect all things, and for a time, had taken joy in it. Now, all that was left of the surface was them, the corpse-littered ice-encrusted landscape, and its bloody waters.

As one, they fell to their knees, and he placed a weak, breathy proclamation on their frost-bitten lips--"The Crisis and Solution, beginning to end to beginning again. Become now the cycle and the meaning, the life and the death, in aeternum, forever and ever."

At last, he sent a tidal wave to crush them, and their souls were his.

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

Rebirth

A dead planet spun erratically off its axis, breaking orbit from its sun, and flung itself into the depths of space. Fragments broke off from the old husk until all that was left was the green orb that had incubated inside. Brilliantly glowing, it shattered into a million gleaming shards, and a living entity full of wings and eyes--the summation of all life that had ever lived on that world-- unfurled from it.

A god was born.

#sephirothweek2020 #sephirothweek #sephiroth #ffvii #my fics #day 7 #mild gore #major character death #graphic depictions of violence #lovecraftian shenanigans

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wherevermyway · 4 years

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i just want you to know who i am. // binchan // oneshot // 18+

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin | bang chan x hwang hyunjin (mentioned) rating: explicit | 18+ ⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ tags/warnings: graphic depictions of violence, transphobia/misgendering, trans male character, internalised homophobia, implied rape / non-con mention, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy relationships, explicit sexual content, slurs (like, two). word count: 8,229 also on AO3!

originally published: 31 october 2020

Bang Chan forced himself through almost three decades of shoving himself into the wrong box, being uncomfortably forced into whatever roles society deemed worthy for him. It doesn't surprise most people when he comes out as trans, but it bothers his boyfriend, Hwang Hyunjin, the most. Hyunjin is outwardly outspoken about Chan, too afraid of being labelled as gay when his boyfriend comes out, and he constantly lets Chan know this: talking down to him, misgendering him, calling him slurs, and deadnaming him. One day, Chan has enough. If nobody was going to accept him, what was the fucking point? He fully intends on taking his life one night as he angrily, desperately rushes to the bridge that overlooks the Han River.

He plans on it, that is, until a complete stranger comes up and saves his life. Literally.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

“I’m not gonna be fucking gay, alright?” A lanky blond man says with a scoff, aggressively carding his fingers through his hair as he nervously paces back and forth. “Look, Chun-hwa, I—“

“It’s Chan. Please, Hyunjin, I keep telling you, stop calling me that name. It’s not who I am.”

“Whatever,” the man grumbles. “You know what it’s gonna be like if the guys find out? If they think my girlfriend suddenly thinks she’s a dude?”

The brunette on the couch sighs, dipping his head into his hands. “Hyunjin, you knew. You’ve known for years. I don’t know why, all of a sudden, the medication is what’s causing problems. You handled my top surgery.” His voice breaks as he curls into himself, trying to hide from the situation at hand, make himself small. “I’ve tried to start this so many times, to tell you I was finally starting the medication, but I was afraid you’d react this way.”

“Chun-hwa, this is bullshit.” Hyunjin gritted through his teeth, deliberately using the wrong name again, which called Chan to wince. “I told you,” he threw his hands in the air and raised his voice, “I’m not gonna be labelled as some stupid homo for dating a fucking tranny. The guys are gonna fuckin’ kill me if they find out you’re not just a tomboy or some shit.”

Chan bites his lip back, his face scowling into a frown. “Hyunjin!” He shouts, finally snapping. “Why the fuck do you care more about what they think, versus how I feel? This isn’t something I can choose. If I could just live my life as a normal, heterosexual woman, I totally would. Trust me.” A deep sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head. “Life isn’t that easy, though. I’m never gonna be that woman you want me to be, because I was never a woman to begin with.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and pads off into the kitchen, digging around the refrigerator. He pulls out a bottle of soju and chugs nearly half of it in one go. Chan gets up, following him into the kitchen. He stands in the entryway, folding his arms as he watches Hyunjin. “Stuffing this down with alcohol isn’t gonna make you feel better in the long run. It won’t make it go away, even temporarily.”

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin grumbles, taking another swig from the bottle, and another one, until the bottle is totally empty. His face winces and he tosses the bottle into the sink, causing it to crash and chip, a couple shards of green glass flying upwards, some ricocheting and landing on the floor. He angrily opens the fridge again, grabbing a can of beer and chugging it. “I just want my friends to think I’m normal, that I’m fine, that I’m not stuck with some…”

Hyunjin pauses and the air grows tense. He nervously looks at Chan, then quickly darts his eyes to the wall, looking as if he was desperately trying to bore a hole into it. Hyunjin was about to say something he knew that Chan would hate, and he still had some semblance of respect to stop himself. Some, but not much.

“Say it.” Chan’s voice is dark, but calm. He knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Hyunjin was going to say, but he knew it was coming. Chan didn’t expect Hyunjin to actually say anything horribly offensive, but he tensed as Hyunjin took a long swig from the can in his hands. The blond man took a couple steps closer to Chan, his boozy breath nauseatingly permeating the air as he sticks his bony finger into Chan’s shoulder.

“Stuck with a fucking queer.” Hyunjin sneers, his voice quiet, but colder than ice. He gets closer into Chan’s face, staring him down, then moves back a bit and spits on his feet.

Chan sarcastically scoffs, turning on his heel and making his way towards the front door. “I can’t believe I’ve dealt with you for so goddamned long, Hyunjin.” There was no way he could handle such shitty behaviour anymore. He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t. Hyunjin was the last person he had, and he just broke the last straw that was keeping Chan sane.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin slurs after Chan, arms wide open in the air, beer sloshing to the floor from his open can.

“I’m done.” He lets out a nervous chuckle and grabs his keys from off of the wall rack, slipping a pair of flat trainers on. “I’m done with you, I’m done with this, I’m done with everything.”

“Chun-hwa—“

“Stop calling me that!” Chan shouts, grabbing a thick, heavy boot off of the shoe rack and angrily tossing it directly at Hyunjin’s head, the heel hitting him square in the forehead. The collision causes him to lose the grip from his can of beer, making it topple to the ground and spill its remnants all over the floor, the echoing ringing loudly in the apartment. “I’m not gonna be a fucking problem for you anymore, so just be happy for fucking once. You’ll never have to see me again, alright? Go meet some woman who won’t be just another ‘fucking queer’.”

Hyunjin grabs his forehead, staring at Chan for a moment, his face dumbstruck and mouth agape.

“Are you going to say something? Anything at all? Are you going to think about anyone but yourself and your shitty fucking friends? Think about your fucking boyfriend for once?” Chan shakes his head, but Hyunjin offers nothing in response. Chan desperately wanted his boyfriend to say something, but, like always, nothing came to fruition. He was always the one that had to put in the effort, and when things got tough, Hyunjin did nothing. He never did anything. “Fine,” the older man scoffs, grumbling under his breath and opening the door, letting it practically fly off of the hinge. “I sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, honestly hope you die alone, Hyunjin. Alone, cold, and in a bed of regret.”

Hyunjin continues to say nothing as Chan slams the door shut and runs down the stairwell, tears spilling from his eyes. Why nobody accepted him was beyond him. He told his parents two years ago, and he hasn’t heard from them since. He told his close friends, and they treated him like a leper, like he carried some sort of terrifying, incurable, transmittable disease. To be dismissed by someone like his boyfriend after all of these years hurt the most, honestly. Hyunjin was the only person he had left, even though their relationship was nothing more than toxic sludge.

None of this mattered. Soon, none of it would matter anymore, not to Chan, not to anyone. Nothing fucking mattered.

Tears sting, burning like battery acid, as they roll down Chan’s face involuntarily. He gazes far down the Han River, watching the city lights dance on the lapping waves, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. He takes in a deep, long sniffle, and digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands. A small tremble kept coursing through his veins, causing him to lightly shake as he stared. He just needed a little bit more courage. He could do this. He would drift his way down the Han River, and then he wouldn’t be anyone’s problem anymore, he just needed the courage to fucking do it.

The soft scent of acrid mint and floral tobacco pulls Chan from his thoughts. A shorter man with neatly trimmed, dark black hair is suddenly standing next to him, offering him a burning white stick. “You look like you could use this,” the man exhales, a puff of smoke escaping his lungs, deliberately rolling up through his nose. They didn’t make eye contact, but there was a form of nonverbal exchange going on between them. “Nobody comes out to the Seongsu Bridge at three in the morning with good intentions. Wanna talk about it?”

Chan gasps, a bit flabbergasted. He eyes the cigarette, then mutters a hushed “fuck it” under his breath, taking it and pulling a long drag off of it. “Oh, shit,” he sputters through coughs. “God, that’s bad.”

“Sorry,” the other man scoffs, sticking another cigarette between his lips. He pulls out a black lighter, flicking the flimsy metal dial a few times until white smoke billowed up from his mouth. “I was in your shoes once — well, maybe not exactly where you are, but close enough — a couple years ago. I sat on the handrail and waited. Not sure what I was waiting for, exactly, but I was waiting.” He sighs and scratches his forehead, turning to look towards, but not directly at, Chan. “There was a guy that came up and saved my life. He just came to talk to me, and I realized that this was a stupid, permanent way to fix a temporary problem. My job, and losing it, wasn’t my entire personality, even though society made it seem that way.”

Chan lets the cigarette burn between his fingers, transfixed in the way the white smoke softly danced its way up into the sky, eventually completely evaporating and disappearing. “My existence is a mistake.” He didn’t mean to be so blunt about it, but it fell from his lips before he could really think about it. “My family hates me, my friends think I’m diseased, and my boyfriend,” he scoffs, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and takes in a deep inhale, “I guess he’s my ex-boyfriend, now. He’s more concerned about his appearance to his friends and what they think about him compared to what I actually think and feel.”

The mysterious man cocks his head to the side briefly and offers a noncommittal grunt. “Sounds like ‘ex’ is a good title for him, then.”

A soft chuckle puffs out from Chan’s lips. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s not a good person for a lot of shitty reasons; should’ve left him years ago.” They sit there for a few minutes, letting their cigarettes burn between their fingertips and eventually die out. “I don’t get it, man.” Chan tosses the end of his cigarette over the railing, watching it fall down towards the river, slowly getting smaller and smaller, until it’s completely invisible. Gone. Lost forever.

“Get what?”

Chan’s eyes glimmer as he looks up towards the sky, letting his hands drape over the fencing of the bridge, dancing so close to where the promise of eternal comfort lie ahead of him. “Why do people have such a fucking problem with what makes someone else happy if it doesn’t affect them, you know?” He finally turns his head to look at the man next to him. They make eye contact and just stare at each other for a moment, letting their emotions communicate nonverbally.

There was a layer of pain behind the stranger’s eyes, almost like he understood the pain and helplessness that Chan was feeling, all without saying a word. The man sticks an arm out, presenting an open hand. “Seo Changbin. I don’t have the answer to your question, but I suppose you’d at least wanna know my name.”

Chan looks down, then back up to Changbin’s eyes, grabbing his hand with a firm grasp. “Bang Chan. Nice to meet you, Changbin.”

The two men smile at each other warmly, keeping their hands grasped together for a moment too long, but neither of them react negatively. “I know we just met, but,” Changbin says, softly tugging at Chan’s hand, “there’s a coffee shop not too far from here that I love going to early in the morning, since there’s never anyone there and the coffee actually tastes good.”

Chan doesn’t stop the man from pulling him along, doesn’t let go of his soft, warm hand. A gentle smile slowly grows upon his face. When was the last time someone was so nice to him, anyways? “Alright, that sounds like a plan.” He might have come here to die, but he was walking away feeling, ironically, more alive than ever.

The two guys sit at a dimly lit table near the entrance of the cafe, inhaling the aroma of freshly-brewed pour over coffee. Everything suddenly seemed more vibrant since Changbin literally pulled Chan away from the brink of death. Colours were vividly radiant, scents were more prominent, the lights were brighter, uncomfortably so.

“Hey, Chan,” Changbin says, bringing the clear mug up to his face and taking a soft sip of the warm coffee, steam enveloping his face. “I wanna ask you something, if that’s alright.”

Chan drops a cube of sugar into his coffee and aimlessly stirs it around with a tiny spoon, gently breaking up the cube and watching it slowly dissolve. “Sure, sure, what’s up?” He never liked coffee. Should’ve ordered the tea, he briefly pondered, watching the liquid swirl.

Changbin looks away, staring out the window, watching the morning passersby move with purpose down the sidewalk. “You said your existence is a mistake.” The words cause Chan to look up at Changbin, whose eyes flit back from the window to make eye contact. He dips his head down and to the side a bit. “Why is that? Why do you think you’re a mistake?”

“Oh,” the older man bites his cheek, breaking eye contact and clearing his throat. “I just…” He wasn’t sure how to answer that, grazing his thumb against the indentations of the spoon’s handle. “I wasn’t born right,” he sighs, but doesn’t elaborate.

“You weren’t ‘born right’?” Changbin presses, setting his mug down on the saucer in front of him, folding his hands together and resting his chin on his fingers. “I know it’s probably a heavily-detailed, incredibly personal question, but, if you don’t mind elaborating, what do you mean by that?”

Chan brings the cup of coffee to his lips with his right hand, taking a long, deep drink of the lightly bitter, vanilla-scented liquid. For not liking coffee, he had to admit that it wasn’t actually bad. He sets the glass back down and looks directly at Changbin, taking in a long, deep inhale, and makes sure to speak in a hushed voice. “I was born a woman, biologically speaking. ‘Assigned female at birth’ is the more correct term, that’s what people keep telling me.” Chan studies Changbin’s face, which doesn’t falter, so he continues. “Neither my family, nor my friends really tried to understand it. They all abandoned me immediately. My ex, though, was the hardest hit by it. He tried to care for a while, but then he started to call me these terrible things, only worried about how my expression and appearance would affect him and his new friends.” Chan scoffed. “It’s stupid. Not fair. So, I always figured I was a mistake. Everyone treated me like I was a mistake.”

Changbin eyes Chan’s free hand and takes in a deep breath, letting his hand fall directly onto the hand on the table, loosely gripping it. “Chan,” he softly says, soothingly, deliberately looking the older man in the eyes, “you’re not a mistake. Nobody is born a mistake.” The two of them lock eyes and stare at each other, exchanging glances of pain, misery, and understanding. “We just blossom into who we really are, and sometimes, people can’t handle the real, true us. If they can’t handle who we really are, then what’s the fucking point? Why keep them around if it only ends in misery for us, and they lose nothing?”

It had been so long since someone looked at Chan with empathy instead of resentment, and the realization of that caused his stomach to burn uncomfortably. The strange warmth spread across Chan’s abdomen, and he glanced down to Changbin’s hand, then back up to his face. The way they exchanged glances was oddly calming, like Chan could be comfortable telling this stranger almost anything, and he wouldn’t be judged. Changbin made Chan feel alive for the first time in months. Years, actually. For the first time, he didn’t have to try to put on a façade of who he really was; it felt like Changbin accepted him for who he was with a single glance.

“Changbin,” Chan breathed out, knitting his brows together and mustering up the courage to grasp the younger man’s hand a little tighter. “You’re completely right.” The two of them exchanged a glance that spoke more than words could tell. It was an exchange that said ‘I’m broken, but thank you for listening, for trying to understand.’ His eyes started to water, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyelids. It hurt, but it was paradoxically relieving for him to feel this way.

“I’ve got a lot of problems, too,” Changbin sighed, but deliberately grabbed Chan’s hand a bit tighter. “It’s hard enough to come out as gay here. The guy that saved me? We became close friends, but he quickly regretted it when I misinterpreted the signals he gave off and I told him I had feelings for him.” His eyes rolled down to an insignificant stain on the table. “It’s been nearly a year, and I still haven’t heard from him, even though he saved my life. I thought he really cared, but he showed his true colours and then he was gone.” The younger man took a long sip from his mug, and stared into the ripples of the coffee as he set it back down.

“I’m sorry, man,” Chan sighed with sincerity, rubbing the back of Changbin’s bony hand with his thumb, but he did not relent. “Fuck him. Fuck him for not accepting you. Fuck him for not being a good person when you needed him most, not respecting you enough to at least politely turn you down.”

Changbin met Chan’s eyes again, this time with more determination, and he let out a quick huff before finishing the warm beverage in his mug. They stared at each other for a few moments, and it was like there was a silent agreement between them.

“Are you done with your coffee?” Changbin asked, but the true meaning of his question sounded more like “do you want to go home with me?”

The ‘yes’ that Chan whispered was a double entendre: it was a ‘yes’ to the question about his coffee, and a ‘yes’ to Changbin’s unspoken question.

“Honestly,” Chan muttered, inanely scratching the handle of the mug with his thumbnail, “I’m not a huge fan of coffee. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad, I just didn’t wanna say no.”

Changbin pulls Chan up by the hand as he makes his way to his feet. He steps around the table and stops right up next to Chan’s ear and whispers. “Don’t make yourself smaller or less than for anyone. Ever.”

It doesn’t take long for them to make their way back to Changbin’s apartment, only a block and a half away from the cafe. In fact, if Chan had actually looked out the living room window, he’d be able to see the streetlight of the cafe and the spot where Changbin saved him. Instead, he was too busy letting Changbin pin him up against the kitchen wall. The soft light of the start of daybreak illuminated the kitchen, spilling rays of orange and purple onto both of them.

“You look incredible,” Changbin whined, biting at Chan’s bottom lip. “Handsome. Gorgeous.” He panted, whined, dragged his fingers through Chan’s hair. “I want to drown myself in you, Chan, drown myself in you if you’ll let me.”

Chan forgets how to breathe for a moment, the tightness in his abdomen causing him to feel lightheaded. He was nervous, but the burning feeling of desire overwhelmed the nervousness. “Changbin,” he whines, allowing his teeth to graze against the bottom lip of the man in front of him.

“I only want to do what you’re comfortable with,” Changbin whispers, trailing his right hand down from Chan’s neck to his waist, finger hooking in the tip of his hipbone, causing the older man to buck into him involuntarily. “I want you to tell me to stop if you need me to. But I also want to hear you long for me tonight, to cry out my name, to piss off the neighbours.”

Something about Changbin’s words drove Chan insane. “I trust you,” he whines. He shouldn’t be so trusting after knowing someone for maybe a couple of hours, but there was something about this stranger that made Chan feel more comfortable in his own skin than his ex-boyfriend of several years did. He did, after all, save him from jumping off of a bridge. All bets were off for now; Chan had nothing to lose. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I want you, Changbin. Please.”

That’s all it takes. Changbin brings both of his hands to Chan’s hips and effortlessly, somehow, lifts Chan up off of the the wall. Chan wraps his legs around Changbin’s waist, dragging his tongue against Changbin’s bottom lip. The two of them haphazardly make their way towards Changbin’s bedroom together, lazily pressing their lips together.

“I want you, Bin,” Chan whines, peeling his hoodie and shirt off as soon as he hits the plush of the comforter. “Changbin. Please, please, please. I need you.” The pitch black enveloping him in darkness gave him an extra air of confidence, making him feel like he could fully lose himself within the moment as he ran his fingers down his torso, taking an extra moment to scan his fingertips against the scars on his chest, hoping Changbin wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t linger too long on his imperfections.

Changbin grumbles as he straddles the older man, pressing his lips against Chan’s neck. “Patience, baby,” he whispers, peeling his own shirt off, then quickly returning his teeth to Chan’s soft flesh. He lets his hands run up against Chan’s abdomen, paying special attention to how exactly Chan responded to each soft, gentle touch Changbin offered. He was so attentive, making sure that nothing was too out of place, making sure that nothing was too uncomfortable.

“Ah, wait, Changbin.” There it was, the tone of Chan’s voice. That was the protest that the younger man was waiting for. “Are you sure you want to do something like this with me? I’m not really…” Chan’s voice trailed off in discouragement. “I’m not a real—“

“Shut up,” Changbin counter-protested, his voice breathy and slightly annoyed, pressing his lips against Chan’s. “Don’t you dare try to tell me you’re ‘not a real man’ or some dumb shit like that.”

“But,” Chan whined, subconsciously rutting his hips up into Changbin’s pelvis. “It’s true, I’m not.”

“Chan,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, “please, just shut up. You’re as real of a man as you identify yourself to be.” He pressed a soft kiss up against the older man’s warm cheek, then nuzzled his forehead against it. “Don’t invalidate yourself like that, because it’s just going to make you feel like shit. If you don’t want to do this, then tell me. If you’re just going to invalidate yourself, I don’t want to hear it and I won’t do this.”

The brunette swallowed hard, his eyes nervously scanning the ceiling as he felt the younger man’s breath on his neck. “I don’t want you to stop,” he whispers, “I’m just nervous. It’s been so long, and I don’t like…” His voice trails off and he sighs. “Honestly, if we’re gonna do this, can you just, fuck — wow, this is awkward to ask — but, can you just fuck me like a normal dude? Pretend that all of the frontal anatomy just doesn’t exist? I don’t want to even think about it.” He shakes his head. “It’s too much.”

Changbin pulls back, bringing his hands to the sides of Chan’s face and deliberately making eye contact with him. “Of course. I told you, anything to make you comfortable. I’ll go slowly. I’ll admit,” Chan sees the whites of his eyes shift, as if he was looking away for a moment, “I’ve never been with someone that’s trans. So if I do something wrong, tell me.”

Chan sighs, not out of irritation, but relief. “Of course. Can we do this now?”

Changbin reaches over Chan, pulling his nightstand’s drawer open. He grabs a condom and a bottle of lube, then sits back on his heels. “Have you ever done this before?”

Finally, a bit of confidence, likely from the darkness of the room hiding his body, rushes through Chan, and he offers a bit of a cocky smirk. “I ride dick like it’s my last day on earth, every time. Trust me,” he sits up and grabs Changbin by the waist, “I’ve done this before. I’ve done a handful of freaky things before. You’d be surprised to know what I haven’t done, honestly.”

A breathy gasp leaves Changbin’s lips and he swallows hard. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting, not in the slightest. “You w-what?”

After some careful preparation and stretching, it doesn’t take long for Chan to take Changbin fully inside of him, causing the younger man beneath him to let out a small whine. “Fucking tight,” he whimpers, digging his fingernails into Chan’s hips. “You feel incredible. So good.”

Chan smirks. “I told you.” He puts both hands on the bed, on either side of Changbin’s neck, allowing him to roll his hips up and down slowly, in controlled movements. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I can, ah,” Changbin tightly closes his eyes and rolls his head into the pillow behind him, “fuck, Chan, I can feel that.”

The brunette dips his head down, pressing his lips to the younger man’s. Changbin responds by grabbing the back of Chan’s neck, pulling him in closer, and he aggressively jams his tongue in between his lips. They explore each others’ mouths with purpose, both of them still faintly tasting like coffee and menthol cigarettes.

“Changbin,” Chan whines, drawling out the last syllable of his name.

A grin is painted upon the younger man’s face at the sound of his name. “Say it again. It sounds so fucking good when you say my name like that.”

Chan complies. He complies repeatedly, grinding up against Changbin’s pelvis, his length filling him and causing all of the nerves in his body to light up. He’d never fucked like this before, nothing so passionate or romantic in his life. All of his experiences were lacklustre with Hyunjin, who never fucked him the way he wanted to be fucked. It was all about Hyunjin.

Tonight, it was all about Chan. It was all about how well he and Changbin blended together, and Chan couldn’t get enough of it.

A week and a half passes, and Chan can’t bring himself to leave Changbin’s apartment. The younger man doesn’t mind, of course, he’s happy to give Chan as much time as he needs to figure out what exactly he needs to do.

It was a bit awkward at first, since Changbin’s apartment only has one bedroom, and Changbin doesn’t keep a large enough couch for either of them to sleep on. “We’ve already slept with each other,” Chan pondered aloud one day while he was scrubbing some dishes in the sink, “why bother not sleeping in the same bed?”

Their relationship dynamic was strange, but it worked. They had spent several nights staying up far too late, going for walks downtown and talking about the complexities that life had to offer. Chan would link arms with Changbin, they would share a cigarette with each other, and all of Chan’s problems would just come spilling out.

Things came so naturally to both of them. They would usually get to the well-lit touristy spot in Cheonggyecheon, staring down the river, watching people meander about and the lights illuminating the ripples in the water. That’s where Chan would open up more and more about himself and the horrible experiences he had with his family, friends, and Hyunjin.

“You know,” Changbin took a long pull from the cigarette in his fingertips, then let the smoke lazily escape his lips, “if I ever meet this guy, I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“Changbin,” Chan pressed, half-serious.

“I’m not kidding, dude,” the black-haired man cocked his head, looking up at Chan over the rim of his glasses. “He has the balls to constantly misgender you, treat you as less-than, and now you’re telling me he would get drunk and beat you for fun? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?”

Chan sighed, taking the cigarette from between Changbin’s fingers and putting it between his lips. “I know, I know. It’s bad timing, but,” his voice trails off, and he turns his head to look down the river, “I need to go back and get my stuff from his apartment. My legal paperwork and some clothes and stuff.”

“I’m going with you.” It’s a statement. Changbin doesn’t bother asking. He grips the handrail with both hands, his knuckles turning white. “I’m not letting you be there alone.”

“He’ll be at work, Bin.”

“I don’t care,” he spits out, a bit harsher than he intended. “He’s violent. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone in a space where you can’t easily get away from him.”

Chan bites back a retort; he knew that Changbin was right. The two of them stare off into the dark water for a few moments, until Chan deeply sighs. “Fine. We can go tomorrow around noon. I’ll text him tomorrow and tell him we’re coming over before we show up, just so he knows.”

“That’s a stupid idea, Chan.” Changbin grits his teeth and scowls.

“I know. But it’s the right thing to do.”

Changbin scoffs. “That’s typical of you, dove, always looking out for the greater good before taking yourself into consideration.”

Chan squints his eyes in confusion. “‘Dove’?”

“Oh,” Changbin chews on his cheek. “I didn’t even think about that, it just slipped out. Anyway, you know how there’s tales in the West about how seeing a dove with an olive branch is a symbol of peace?”

“Yeah, what’s that gotta do with me?”

Changbin turns his head towards Chan and smiles softly, light reflecting off of his glasses. “You’re too good for people like me, and especially Hyunjin. You’re calming, peaceful. Besides,” he reaches over and grabs Chan’s hand, interlacing their fingers together, “it sounds cooler than ‘baby’ or some other overused pet name, yeah?”

Chan chuckled and smiled, looking down at their hands, how well they fit together, how right it seemed. It had only been a week and a half, but he was starting to fall for this man.

Changbin grips the steering wheel of Chan’s car tightly with his left hand, softly grabbing Chan’s leg with his right hand. “Are you sure about this?”

“I need my belongings, Changbin.” Chan tried to sound confident as he stared at the car parked in front of them, but his voice wavers a bit. “I can’t keep wearing the same things and I can’t keep living off of you. It’s been nearly two weeks.”

Changbin sighs as he turns to look at Chan. “I’m going in there with you.”

“I can do this myself, Changbin, I promise.”

“I told you yesterday and I’m not changing my mind. He’s hurt you before, Chan.”

Chan bites his lip and looks down to his knees, subconsciously grabbing Changbin’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not asking. He could be there, react poorly, and try and kill you.”

Chan sighs, looking up at Changbin with tears in his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he relents, “just be careful. If he’s here, Hyunjin has a temper and he’s not gonna like this.”

“To be frank,” Changbin lets go of the steering wheel, undoing his seatbelt. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks, dove. I don’t know if this is the real thing or not, but I’m gonna protect you.” He lifts himself up off of the seat a bit, grabbing Chan’s face and pulling him in closely. He brushes his lips softly up against the older man’s, only for a brief moment, before pulling back and staring at him with purpose. “You deserve to be happy and safe.”

Chan furrows his brows as he stares at Changbin. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, dude, it’s a gut feeling.” The two of them sit there and stare at each other for a second, then Chan softly laughs.

“I’ll let you have that. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t even be here.”

“I certainly hope not.”

Chan turned his key in the door, unlocking it and pushing it open. Unfortunately for them, Hyunjin was there, and he was furious. The blond hastily undoes his necktie and lackadaisically discards it on the floor, reeling as he scowls at Chan, glowering at him.

“Chun-hwa, I had to leave work early for this shit.” Hyunjin’s voice was laden with venom. He took a couple of heavy footsteps towards Chan, gripping his fist tightly, until he saw Changbin step in to the side of Chan and he froze in his tracks. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He scoffs, his face wrinkling up in disbelief. “Who the fuck is this? You think you can just bring some manwhore into my house?”

“Back off,” Changbin dryly says, stepping in front of Chan and adjusting his shoulders, rolling them back. Posturing. “Chan is here to collect his things. You give him any problems, and you’ll be answering to my fists.”

Hyunjin looks at both of them and lets out a throaty laugh. “Are you fucking kidding, shortie? I could kick your ass just by looking at you funny.”

Changbin cocks an eyebrow up, placing his hands on his hips. A faint smirk curls up on the right side of his face as he slightly turns his head towards Chan, not breaking eye contact with Hyunjin. “Go grab your things. Don’t worry about this string bean-looking asshole.”

“He looks thin, Changbin, but Hyunjin is tough. And fast.” Chan takes a hand and places it on Changbin’s shoulder, but the younger man doesn’t react. He leans in closer, right up to Changbin’s ear, and whispers. “I told you, he’s beaten me senseless before. He’s more of a threat than you’d think.”

“Not worried about it. Go, Chan.” Changbin pops the knuckles of his fingers and rolls his neck around. “Ready to teach this motherfucker a lesson.”

Changbin’s quip causes Hyunjin to roll his eyes and dismissively shake his head. “Yeah, believe it when I see it, shithead.”

Chan takes a moment, contemplating if he should intervene, but he decides against it. He figures that Changbin is a grown adult, and he can make decisions for himself, even if that meant he was potentially going to get his face rearranged. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he whispers, then moves towards the back of the apartment, towards his old bedroom. The bedroom he shared with Hyunjin. The bedroom that caused his heart to drop into the pit of his stomach with every step he took closer and closer to it; old, negative memories resurfacing.

Hyunjin eyes Chan as he walks past. “You’re not just gonna walk past me and pretend like I don’t exist, Chun-hwa.” Changbin’s eyes roll down to Hyunjin’s feet, watching the micro-movements his toes were making. As soon as the side of his right foot twitched, his toes turning towards Chan, Changbin stopped paying attention to whatever nonsense Hyunjin was sputtering off. It was time to move.

He swiftly rushed forward, reaching his left hand out to grab Hyunjin’s collar, winding his right hand back in a tight fist. “What the fuck?” Hyunjin barely had enough time to react before Changbin’s fist collided into his cheekbone, causing the younger man to let out a strained groan. The blond regained his composure, then kneed the black-haired man in the stomach in response, causing him to curl into himself a bit, but he refused to falter.

Changbin’s grip on Hyunjin’s collar loosened only briefly. He reoriented himself upright and grabbed the other side of his collar with his right hand and threw him into the kitchen table just off to the right-hand side. The paraphernalia intricately placed on the table went flying, including a glass vase that clattered to the floor and shattered into what looked like a thousand pieces.

“You fucking dweeb,” Hyunjin grunts against the table, “you can’t do shit to me with those tiny arms.”

“You wanna fucking bet?” Changbin lifts Hyunjin up and rams him back into the table. “Looks like you’re the one in a compromising position here, dude.”

Hyunjin scowls, kicking the older man in the shin to distract him, then reaches up to his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and throwing his free fist into his cheek. “I’m gonna rearrange your fucking face, you prick.”

Chan sucked in some air through his teeth, physically cringing as he heard the men roll around, grumbling and shouting, their fists colliding into each other. He tried so hard to just ignore what was happening behind him. He shakes his head a couple of times before he starts haphazardly throwing his important belongings into some bags.

Hyunjin and Changbin wrestle around a bit more, a couple of fists to the face, a couple of knees to the stomach. Chan tries so hard to ignore the throaty grunts and the sharp cries coming from both of them. He just needed his important documents, his favourite sweatshirt, some clothing. He compromised: the photos of the family and friends that rejected him could stay behind. It would slow him down and he didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. Not anymore. Not when he knew they weren’t worth the mental energy, when he could fill that negative void with new people that accepted him and loved him for who he was.

Chun-hwa had finally died at the Seongsu Bridge the night he was saved, and a new, revitalized Chan was born from the ashes of the person he used to be. It was time to leave the negativity behind, once and for all. Let it all die in this shitty apartment with the remnants of the relationship with his shitty ex-boyfriend.

“Wait a minute. I’ve seen you before, I remember your name now.” Changbin wipes some blood off from under his lip, stumbling backwards a bit. “I finally realized who you are.” He punctuates his sentence with a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “How ironic.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wide as he holds the back of his hand up against his bleeding nose.

“That gay bar down in Itaewon. You hit on my friend, who was very much taken, and so were you.” A nervous scoff comes from Hyunjin. “Felix wanted nothing to do with you, but you kept hitting on him. Unlike you, Felix was, and still is, happily committed and out to his partner. Yet, you treat your ex-boyfriend like shit because you didn’t like him identifying as a man. If I recall correctly, it was because you didn’t want your friends to think you were gay. Interesting, isn’t it?”

Chan steps out of the bedroom, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “What did you just say? Did I just hear you correctly?” His voice sounds pained and confused. Changbin turns around for a moment, surprised to hear Chan come up from behind him.

This was his opportunity. Hyunjin grabs a thin, hardcover book off of the table from behind him, blood spilling down from his nose, and he runs up to Changbin and brings the book crashing into the side of his face. There was enough force to cause the older man to fall to the ground with a sharp cry. Hyunjin angrily throws the book at the wall in front of him and stares over at Chan as Changbin brings a hand to his face and whines.

“I’m not letting you leave this fucking place alive. You hear me?” Hyunjin’s voice is dark, but flat. All of the light in his eyes had evaporated, and Chan froze in place. He had been here before, seen that look in Hyunjin’s eyes. He so desperately wanted to run, hide in the washroom or the bedroom, but he was frozen in place, like someone had glued his feet to the floor.

“Hyunjin,” Chan softly whines, bringing his hands up to cover his face, to hide away from the impending attack he was about to receive, “Hyunjin, please, don’t do this.”

“Shut up, you stupid cunt.” Hyunjin spits out, taking a slow, deliberate step towards Chan. “Cheating on me with some stupid gay dude. Running away from me for almost two weeks. How fucking dare you bring another man into my house?”

Changbin shakes his head and snaps back to reality, managing to grab Hyunjin’s ankle before he walks out of reach.

“The fuck?” The blond stops, looking down to Changbin and he shakes his leg, but is unable to free himself from the smaller man’s grasp.

“I’m stronger than you. You’re going to regret treating Chan like shit.” That’s all Changbin says before he musters all of his strength to pull Hyunjin to the ground. The younger man loses his footing, colliding down to the ground with a thick thud. Chan pulls his hands away from his face, and his mouth drops as he watches the two of them.

Hyunjin may have been terrifying to Chan when he was angry, but seeing Changbin like this was petrifying. The black-haired man’s expression was flat, calculated, and a deep bruise was starting to form where Hyunjin crashed the book into his face. He crawled over Hyunjin, lifting his head up by his blond hair with both of his hands, then rapidly brought it down to the floor, a loud thud echoing throughout the room.

Hyunjin cries out as he rolls his head around on the floor. “Stop it,” he sputters out, “just fucking stop!”

“How many times did Chan say that when you beat the shit out of him?” Changbin’s voice is quiet, calm. Too calm for this situation.

“W-what?”

Changbin lets out an irritated huff and raises his voice. “How many times did Chan beg for you to stop? Every time you beat him? Every time you assaulted him? Wait a second.” He lifts his head to look at Chan, his eyes piercing him with a strategic glance. “You mentioned something a few days ago that concerned me, but I never pressed the issue. Did this fucking prick ever rape you, Chan?”

Chan’s eyes widen and he looks down at the floor. “I…” His voice trails off, clearly avoiding the question.

“Chan.”

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin’s voice is garbled and he spits some blood into Changbin’s face. “She’s a fucking slut and isn’t worth your time.”

Changbin somehow ignores Hyunjin’s prodding, letting the bloody saliva drip down his cheek. “Chan. Answer me.”

A tear slips down Chan’s face as he shrinks into himself. Memories started to come flooding back of nights where Hyunjin got too drunk. The nights where Chan would try and correct Hyunjin’s terrible behaviour, how he’d quietly plead with him to refer to him as the correct name and gender. The nights where he’d wake up and Hyunjin would be there, hovering over him, clearly frustrated with Chan not wanting to sleep with him and —

“Chan!” Changbin’s voice is angry, loud. It’s distracting enough to bring Chan back to the situation at hand.

He slowly looks up, scanning every detail on the floor, trailing his way up to Hyunjin. There was no emotion on Chan’s face, nothing in his eyes, as he stared at the bloodied blond. “Don’t kill him, Changbin.” His voice is soft.

Weak.

Tired.

A beat passes and the implication of Chan’s words causes Changbin’s nostrils to flare in fury, and Hyunjin’s eyes grow wide, staring at Chan as if he were betrayed. “You fucking—“ Hyunjin tries to speak, but Changbin brings his fist against the younger man’s face. He does this several times, before Hyunjin goes limp, and blood spills from his nose and his face.

Changbin breathes heavily as he stares down at the bloodied man beneath him. His entire torso trembles from adrenalin, fear, anger, and shock.

“Is he alive?” Chan manages to squeak out.

“I…” Changbin shakes his head rapidly, trying to bring himself back to the moment. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. I think. He’s still breathing.”

Chan’s hands shake as he anxiously wrings his hands. “What the fuck was that, Changbin? That was more than a fist fight. More than protection.”

“He hurt you.” Changbin looks up at Chan, his expression no longer confident. Strangely enough, he looked terrified. “Chan, he abused you. He raped you, for fuck's sake. What else was I supposed to do?”

Chan bit his lip and folded his arms, not in irritation, but as if he was trying to comfort himself. “Have you done this before?”

“This badly?” Changbin looks down to Hyunjin and brings himself to his feet. “Only once. I had to defend myself against a few guys behind a bar once. I had to protect Felix. You learn to protect yourself against a world that doesn’t want you to exist. Against people that want you dead just because you’re happy. It’s why I’m so adamant about working out.” He looks up to Chan, but doesn’t advance towards him.

Chan is aggressively chewing on his lips, pulling dead skin off of them and causing his lips to drip blood. He watches Hyunjin’s head tilt to the side, blood dripping down his face, his lips and eyes starting to swell. “Changbin, that was fucking terrifying.”

“I’m so sorry, Chan. I didn’t mean to make this situation worse.”

Chan breathes in deeply, then gets enough courage to to look up at Changbin. “No, no,” his voice is shaky, “Hyunjin deserved it. Just, please, promise me you’ll never do that again unless you absolutely have to.”

Changbin sarcastically huffs. “I don’t like doing this, Chan. I just get protective over people I care about.” His eyes soften, tears starting to well up. “I’ll do anything to protect you, dove.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He takes a shaky step forward, then another, his feet shuffling forward enough until he collides against Changbin’s chest. “Don’t hug me back,” he says as the younger man lifts his arms, “you’ve got blood all over your hands.”

The men stand in front of the kitchen sink, hastily cleaning most the blood off of their arms and faces. Chan gives Changbin a loose hoodie to cover his bloodied shirt. “Guess it’s a good thing I wore black pants today, huh?” Changbin’s quip causes Chan to roll his eyes.

They grab the hastily packed bags and two boxes and bring them down to Chan’s car.

“Is that everything you want?” Changbin slams the back door of the car a bit harder than he intended to.

“Yeah. I just wanna get out of here and shower. Get out of here before Hyunjin wakes up. Well, hopefully he wakes up.” Chan shakes his arms, trying to rid the nerves that were built up inside of them. “I want to go home with you and curl up in bed and forget all about this.”

Changbin says nothing as he walks up to Chan, he brings a hand up to his face, softly stroking his cheek with his thumb. They tiredly, longingly gaze into each others’ eyes for a few moments. “‘Home’, dove?”

“What?” Chan cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You said you want to go home with me.”

“Oh,” Chan bites his sore lip and softly smiles. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Changbin smiles in response and nods his head once. “We’re doing this backwards, you know. We’re not even dating, and we’ve already fucked. You beat the shit out of my ex, rightfully so. And now I’m going to be staying with you, almost like I’m moving in with you. You even have a cutesy pet name for me.”

Changbin lifts himself up on to his toes and gently, briefly presses his lips against Chan’s. He pulls back, bouncing back on to his heels. “I just want you to be safe and comfortable. Even if we’re just roommates. Even if it ends in heartbreak. Just knowing I got you out of such a horrible place is good enough for me. Knowing I saved your life and helped give you a second chance, a chance to actually breathe, to be comfortable with who you are. That’s all I need.”

A deeper smile slowly creeps up on Chan’s face as he blushes and looks away from Changbin. He sucks in a quick breath, then shyly, quickly gives the black-haired man’s forehead a soft kiss. “You’re my nightlight.”

“What?” Changbin cocks his head to the side and his eyebrows pull together in confusion.

“I’m your dove, your sign of peace. You’re my nightlight: guiding me through the darkness. Keeping me safe from the unknown.” Chan bends down and quietly whispers something in Changbin’s ear, and it causes his eyes to grow wide.

“Did you just…?” The younger man stutters, his words barely coherent.

Chan smiles, pulling his key fob out of his front pocket. “Let’s go home, Binnie.”

#skz fics #serious #trans male character #binchan #bang chan x seo changbin #seo changbin x bang chan #chan x changbin #changbin x chan #wherevermyway

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dindjarindiaries · 5 years

Note

Hey! 😊 can you write number one from the cliché list with javier please? That would be so awesome!

character: Javier Peña

prompt: 1. There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close (via this list of clichés)

note: translations included at the bottom

warnings: minor sexual harassment, guns/gunshots, sexual tension

rating: R

masterlist

Your night isn’t supposed to be going like this. You and Javier had only wanted to get a couple of drinks after work, to unwind after a stressful day at the embassy. Now, you’re running as fast as you can away from a group of armed Escobar supporters.

It’s interesting, how the tables can turn like that sometimes.

The unplanned evening had started as such: an invitation offered by you to Steve and Javier. The three of you had been cursing under your breath all day, trying to find something on Escobar and—once again—coming up empty handed. You’d been stuck in a rut for over a week, unable to uncover any new information on the drug lord or his associates. He’d practically disappeared into thin air after the raid of La Catedral, and the absence of any useful information was driving you all insane.

So, naturally, you’d proposed that you take a night to try to relax together and actually have some fun. Javier agreed—he was almost always up for a night out whenever work was slow and he wasn’t hunched over his desk in the embassy all evening—but Steve had to turn the offer down. He knew he needed to spend some time with Connie amidst her hesitance to stick around, leaving just you and Javier to head to one of the local bars after work.

The absence of Steve wouldn’t have bothered you as much had you not been stuck so far inside your head. You were close to both your partners, but there was something about Javier that was… different for you. Thankfully, you hadn’t slept with him—yet—no matter how many jokingly or serious flirtatious ventures Javier made on you. If you were going to have something with Javier, something that was frankly quite frowned upon in your workplace, you wanted it to be real, not fabricated by your physical appearances or your abilities in the bedroom. That’s why you would take the time on nights like these to try to get to know Javier, to see if you could peel back the layers of the broken man who tried so hard to hide beneath his stern and scandalous nature.

Though, it’s never been a secret that Javier cares. His concern for the safety of everyone around him comes first, no matter who the person in question is. You can’t help noticing that this is true particularly for you. Any endeavor you go on outside the embassy, Javier’s there. Whenever he hears that you’re heading out onsite, he insists upon joining you. If he can’t be there for some reason, he’s calling often, checking in to make sure everyone’s okay—but always specifying for your well-being. This is just one of the many reasons why you keep convincing yourself that maybe—just maybe—he’s starting to feel the same way you do.

Thus, it makes sense that as you both run like hell from these armed Escobar supporters who could care less if they kill a federal officer, that Javier’s sense of protectiveness would reach its maximum point.

You saw it come out when you’d first gotten to the bar. Javier had gotten a quick call he had to take as soon as your drinks came out, and so he stepped away as you started sipping your drink. Of course, a man who’d already been there for quite some time had stumbled over next to you, trying to catch your attention and your good graces. You’d played along with it in an amusing way initially, but soon grew increasingly disturbed by his hands-on nature. At one point, he’d come awfully close to palming your breast, and you were a half a second away from socking him in the face when Javier came back and immediately took care of it. He’d stepped in the small space between you and the stranger and snaked his arm around your waist, quipping a stern, “¿Puedo ayudarte?” The man left upon realizing that Javier was, what he thought to be, your boyfriend—which wasn’t something you were necessarily opposed to—but knew was just a tactic in protecting you.

After thanking him extensively, Javier had insisted that it was nothing, and he would’ve done much more if necessary. He finally got to sit with his drink and talk with you, having conversations that made you both laugh aloud or think deeply. You were lost in the good times you were having until Javier’s gaze had ultimately drifted past you, and his eyebrows had lifted in a familiar cautionary manner.

“What is it?” you’d whispered, starting to turn your own head.

Javier had stopped you by placing a firm hand on your shoulder, slapping down his money on the bar and sliding off the stool. “We need to go.”

You’d sighed as you also slid off your stool, feeling frustrated by his secretive nature. “Javi—” you’d started to protest, but cut yourself off when you heard the cocking of a gun from behind you.

“Fuck!” Javier exclaimed, reaching for your hand to start leading you out of the bar. Once you were on the Colombian streets, Javier had let your hand go—and you had found your panicked self extremely missing that reassuring touch as you followed along as closely as you could with him.

“What the fuck is going on?” you’d asked worriedly between heavy breaths.

You and Javier both ducked your heads when you heard a gunshot from behind you, and you turned to see that it was one of the three younger men chasing you. Javier had cursed under his breath as he kept leading the way through the twists and turns of the small barrio. “Escobar’s extended army,” Javier finally managed to explain, his voice ragged as he ran. “They recognized us.”

Your eyes had widened at that. It was then that you realized Escobar’s supporters didn’t have a fear of the consequences for taking down a federal agent—because they hadn’t been told what they were. They just knew that you’re trying to take down Escobar, and that’s all they cared about.

So, here you are now, still struggling to stay alongside Javier as you weave through the barrio in an attempt to escape the bloodthirsty Escobar supporters. You have no idea what you and Javier are supposed to do—you both have your guns on you, but you’re in no good position to be retaliating their shots—and you’re both evidently getting tired of running.

Suddenly, you see Javier disappear behind a wall. Before you can even react and ask him what the hell he’s doing, his arm pulls you in with him, and you soon find yourself pinned between him and the wall. His dark eyes stare at you sternly, one of his fingers pressing over his lips to tell you stay quiet as the other hand stays on your arm and secures you against the wall. You simply nod, watching as Javier’s gaze turns back out towards the street you were just running on.

The alley he’s pulled you into is small, leaving barely enough room for either one of you. It doesn’t take long for you to realize just how much space is between the two of you—and your answer is nonexistent. One of Javier’s knees is between both your legs, and the other is pressed to the outside of yours to keep you blocked off from the open street. His chest is just mere inches from pressing against your own, and you can hear his breathing as he tries to compensate for all he’d lost during the chase. You can’t stop studying the portrait of his face, the gentle curve of his nose and the chisel of his jaw. Your gaze continues to fall, burning upon his neck that’s glistening with the sweat of his recent efforts, trailing over his defined collarbones and the sliver of exposed chest his loosened buttons offer you.

You take a deep breath to compose yourself. It’s more than physical attraction, you remind yourself. It’s not just the sexual tension that’s literally making me want to—. You force your thoughts to stop there, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“We lost them,” Javier announces, fully breaking your trance as you reopen your eyes and see him turn his head back towards you. As soon as his gaze locks with yours—his dark eyes failing to hide any of the extensive care he has for you, the sheer concern for your well-being after such a terrifying chase, or the tenderness with which he continues to hold your arm—you can confirm that what you’re feeling definitely has stemmed from his character first and foremost. He soon, however, realizes the same closeness that you’d just observed yourself, and you see his gaze change as your chests continue to heave in similar rhythms.

Javier’s eyes do the same thing to you that you’d done to him, trailing over every feature of your face and falling to whatever else your shirt allows him to see. His hand, once on your arm, now comes down to caress your waist, brushing past the fabric of your blouse as he makes skin-to-skin contact. His other hand brushes a loose piece of hair behind your ear, settling onto your cheek soon after. You’re utterly lost in his dark eyes as they fill with mixed feelings of strong care and sudden arousal, and you know your own reflect the same things back at him.

He comes closer. Javier’s breath can be felt on your face now, his forehead nearly touching your own. You feel his lips brush over yours ever so softly, and you’re sure you’re about to lose it when he hesitates. Javier stopping himself from kissing someone is a rarity, and this you’re certain of, so your curiosity grows at his sudden hesitation.

His soft yet sultry whisper becomes your answer. “As soon as I know we’re completely safe in our apartment building… I’d love to kiss you.” He plants the smallest of kisses on the corner of your lips. “Quiero darte muchos besos, amada.”

You bite back a smile, wrapping both of your hands around one of his arms as you gesture to the street. “Then let’s get going,” you remark. “Rápido, amado.”

Javier chuckles at your hurried manner, feeling more than happy to oblige as he lets you guide him back out of the alley.

translations:

¿Puedo ayudarte? = How can I help you?

Quiero darte muchos besos, amada. = I want to give you a lot of kisses, sweetheart.

Rápido, amado = Quickly, sweetheart

#I LOVE ME SOME JAVI Y’ALL #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena #javi peña #narcos #asks #requests

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aromagni · 4 years

Text

Change Through the Aro Renaissance (Carnival of Aros, September 2020)

I have both witnessed and participated in many changes of the aro community. I remember being a baby aroace in 2015 and mostly lurking as I followed many aro and ace blogs. Back then, it seemed the aro community was mostly the aroace community, more linked to ace, not yet having developed its own identity. I remember trying to find more ways to engage in the aro community and stumbling upon aroplane, which was an aro forum before arocalypse, but I think it was inactive and I’d looked for forums during the absence between the two. After lurking and solidifying my confidence in my identity, I’d kinda drifted away from actively participating in the community at all for a little while, so I’m not particularly aware what happened in between; I’m vaguely aware the arocalypse forums were created in 2016, but it seems in my absence from the community in 2016-2017, much of what had been there had become lost, presumably decimated by the tolls of exclusionary discourse.

In 2018, I was in college where I could be more outwardly queer, and I started seeking out community more. On one hand, engaging with college queer organization made me want to bring more visibility to ace and aro things, especially aro….during this time, I met many alloro aces who I couldn’t relate to, which started pushing me towards centering my aro identity more. I remember wanting aro-spec awareness week recognized at my college and in trying to do so, realized the arospecawarenessweek tumblr had become inactive, for they had not updated the date that year. I started following more aro tumblr blogs and joined the forums and then joined an aro discord server that spring, and that was when I started to truly engage in the aro community.

It was exhilarating interacting with other aros, both on discord and then how we carried that over to tumblr. I fondly remember the coining of arogender and subsequently developing the flag for it. We all followed and reblogged from eachother and it made it energizing to engage in the community because we could feel confident that the effort we put forth to create things would not be wasted, because our content was shared amongst ourselves in our tiny community. Many of us blogging starting then had not really participated in the aro community before; many of us were my age, late high school to early college student aged, treading into actively participating in community for the first time, and thus our knowledge of our history and our terminology was distorted by time and viewed by the remaining crumb trails on the internet.

This was the time when our community was reborn, reborn from the ashes of the discourse and created into something new, a more independent aro community brighter than we’d ever been before: This was the aro renaissance. In fact, “aro renaissance” is part of the blog title we used when we made aromantic-official in May 2018. I’d had the idea because I noticed most of the older modded aro blogs of old had become dormant, and it would be good to have some sort of group ensuring the continuation of events like Aro-spec awareness week and maintaining resources like a glossary. At the time, we were thinking small in the context of a tumblr blog, but it was a start.

I remember around December 2018, many flags were made. There was the blue-orange aroace flag and shortly after I made an aroace flag of my own, and then an a-spec flag, and then there were other a-spec flags too I think; we were wanting to differentiate between a-spec, an umbrella term encompassing both aro-spec and ace-spec, from aroace, a specific identity indicating being both aro and ace at the same time...though there’s still some confusion between the two in terms of flag usage still. Shortly after, there was also an aro allo flag made, and the allosexual aro community grew as a more distinct established component of the aro community; no longer was the aro community solely an aroace community, we had become an independent aro community.

In late January 2019 I’d went to the Creating Change conference, where there was the first ever aro & ace hospitality suite and I interacted with other a-spec activists, including people from the fairly newly named TAAAP (The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project). It was refreshing seeing the advancement of aro activism as more than just a subset of ace, and interesting to see the development of activism out in more the “real” world rather than just on my corner of the internet. I remember then hearing how they were planning to host the first carnival of aros (inspired by the longer-running carnival of aces), and since then it has been nice having carnival of aros to foster discussion of many aro topics.

I remember that first carnival of aros coinciding with a lot of clashing between the aro and ace communities, sparked even more by the specific topic of the month relating aro and ace communities. I think we, the aro community, were frustrated at being ignored. The ace community had continued to grow and gain recognition and visibility, while claiming to represent us as well but in a way that was more a misrepresentation, depicting aro as a subset of ace, thus further erasing the reality of our experiences. We were frustrated and bitter, often justifiably so; even I as an aroace was frustrated with the ace communities treatment of aros at that point, and I know many aro allos were even more upset. I think we were also still less sure footed, with our community still establishing-itself, so as a result were more defensive and scrambling for anything we could claim as our own, often misguided by the often incomplete or misinformed scraps of posts around different words and such. (In hindsight I think there were some inaccuracies in my first carnival of aros post that february, but it was an accurate look at what we were frustrated and upset about at the time).

I remember also that February more was done to celebrate ASAW than had been in years previous, though it was still small. I also remember some divisiveness between the aroace and aro allo sides of the aro community, which caused an unfortunate binary which subsequently emphasized the need for terminology of aros who were neither asexual nor allosexual, thus many discussions about “non-SAM” aros, and other words for that concept. I think that continued well into that summer.

Speaking of that summer, in June 2019 AUREA was launched! This one wasn’t started by me, but naturally I ended up pulled into doing more aro activism stuff. AUREA (Aromantic-spectrum Union for Recognition, Education, and Advocacy) has wonderful resources including a comprehensive glossary with links (both original and archived) to sources and some flags, and also has various research and lists of other aro-inclusive orgs, including local ones. We also publish multiple articles a month, including a “What’s Going On” article at the start of each month covering what’s going on in the aro community, and then other articles about various topics. AUREA is everything I’d wanted when originally making the aromantic-official blog, but is so much more than I thought to hope for. We collaborated with other activists and made ASAW 2020 even bigger than before, and we also launched an aro census, and just so many different cool projects. It’s so cool having a good comprehensive centralized aro resource like AUREA and just having a specifically aro activism organization focusing on aro issues specifically, not just having aro included under aro & ace groups. I’m really proud of what we’ve been able to do and what we continue to do.

I feel like in the last year since AUREA has been formed, the aro community feels a lot more solidified and stable, like we’ve finally concretely established ourselves as an independent entity to be recognized. And even though we’re more solidified, we’re still growing and creating and innovating, there’s still this wonderful energy and motivation which we continue to grow with. Some other things have happened this year, in April 2020 we had to kinda scramble to keep the arocalypse forums going, and now I’m a mod there too because I don’t seem to know how to not be involved in things, especially because I vehemently care about seeing them continued. (Why is it always spring? 3 springs in a row I’ve gotten involved in big ongoing aro projects like that). Then June 2020, TAAAP pride chats started and have continued every month, which is a really cool opportunity for people from the a-spec community, both ace and aro, to gather to discuss various topics, and also to interact with various a-spec activists.

It’s been really fascinating watching and helping to aro community grow over the past few years, and I feel like I’ve grown with it. Through my activism, I’ve learned a lot about what I am good at and how I can work well in a team, which has helped me gain a lot of confidence about things where in-person experiences had made me lose confidence. It’s also kinda wild when I think about the scale of it all; the aro, and also ace, communities are really fairly small, such that it’s not hard to end up doing this activism on a national or international scale. I never really set out to be an activist, I just wanted to get involved and cared about improving things and have lots of ideas, so I kept doing things, and now I look at what I’ve done and realize that huh this is activism, I am an activist, and probably a rather prominent aro activist at that. It’s weird especially compared to how extremely ineffective I feel I’ve been at doing any sort of activism at my college, to then think of what I’ve managed to help accomplish on an international scale online. I feel inspired by the changes, the growth of the aro community, and I look forward to helping it grow even more.

#carnival of aros #aromantic #actually aromantic #aurea #aro community #aro activism #my post #magni’s thoughts #long post #not particularly organized/is kinda word vomit but many thoughts and is done so

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ghostmartyr · 4 years

Text

how a life can move from the darkness [9/?]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Summary: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery. Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

One of Eren’s mother’s many complaints about his childhood was how he wouldn’t go to his parents for nightmares. Even when he was small enough that they’d make him wet the bed. He hadn’t wanted them to know he had them, in case they said something about not fighting so much, or not watching movies they told him not to watch, or not reading those books his dad kept in his office. He didn’t want to hear about how he wasn’t grown up enough.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, heart racing from teeth and blood he wasn’t supposed to know about, and his mom and dad were out, he’d find Zeke.

Still awake, waiting on the couch for him with baseball reruns on the TV. Zeke had never said he told him so, or called him too young for anything. He would wrap Eren in a blanket too tight to move in, dump him on the other side of the couch, and tell him to go back to sleep.

Not as quiet or as gentle as hot chocolate with Frieda.

Historia actively avoided private conversations with Frieda.

They didn’t even have a TV.

They did have a couch. When Eren rushed home after work, Historia was taking up all of it, fast asleep, shoes tossed under Benjamin, and a series of very large numbers written all over both her bared arms. She’d slept all the way through dinner.

Eren would have asked Armin or Mikasa about what he was supposed to do, but he’d never listened to anything they tried to say when they thought he needed help. They always found the right things on accident, later.

He’d also scared them earlier when he told them he loved them.

He needed to say it more. He didn’t want it to be some big, heavy thing like everything else they had between them now.

Without them, and without prodding Frieda into a concern Historia didn’t need, all Eren had to go on was the feeling that he was the one staying up with a blanket ready.

Figuratively. He wasn’t at Reiner’s level of dedication, but he woke up in the middle of the night too often to force himself to stay awake when he could sleep. He kept his bedroom door cracked, but didn’t fight drifting off, reading through the articles on snowflake eels Armin had linked him and letting them ease his eyes shut.

He didn’t know how much later it was when the door opened all the way and Historia thumped down on his carpet, rousing him from using his phone as a pillow.

There were a few dizzying seconds of him blinking his eyes and trying to figure out if they were blinking or he was imagining they were. The only thought making it through the fuzz in his head was how the deterioration of personal boundaries after dark had to be genetic, and that went away when he started to wake up properly.

He looked down at the Historia-shaped shadow curled next to his bed and hoped he didn’t fall back asleep before she decided it was time to start sharing. Along with hoping she wasn’t the type of happy couple person who believed in sharing details. He’d spent all of high school overhearing too much of Sasha and Connie gleefully narrating their classmates like they were all in a nature documentary on mating. Once was enough, and Ymir was already Ymir.

The blurs of the dark were almost sharp by the time Historia said anything.

“I tried to kill myself.”

Any illusions of Eren accidentally falling back to sleep jumped out of his skin with his heart rate. “Just now?”

“What?” The Historia shadow turned abruptly to look at his way, blurs of hair growing her for a few blink cycles. “No. No still—only once. That—with the heroin. That time.”

“Right,” Eren said, too disoriented to will the moment of panic to shut up without thinking of orange bottles. At least it was too dark for him to need to look put together. Maybe there was something to having these talks at night. “What about it?”

Historia’s jeans creaked as her shadow shrunk on itself. No other noise came from the circular blob for several minutes.

Zeke had used a TV for this for a lot of reasons, Eren thought, full of 3am clarity.

He was almost back asleep despite himself when Historia spoke up again.

“Ymir lives a mile away.”

She said it so quietly that it sounded like the notes on snowflake eels. Food, habitat, personality. Things you needed to keep in mind if you were going to try raising one. Eren didn’t catch the death lurking in the words until he felt his bed frame shake.

“I almost never saw her again.”

Eren pulled himself out from under his covers and grabbed one of the blankets resting next to Historia’s head. Cotton turning into rocket science in the night, it took him full seconds to get the blanket draped over Historia. Her hands grabbed the edges and tugged it tight.

“You did see her again,” Eren said, “You’re going to see her lots. Probably every day if you ask.” The still shadow blob of his friend didn’t give him any hints of how much that truth helped. He tried a different one in case. “You’re alive.”

He could hear Historia tugging the threads on his blanket. “Am I?”

Eren didn’t give whatever argument she was going to try time to make room. “Yeah.”

She sighed at him, proving his point.

More silence followed, but Eren was awake now, and he could wait it out. It was easier once she stopped trying to take his blanket apart. He didn’t have much personal attachment, but Mikasa had learned to sew by patching up the holes her cats had left in it.

Historia unfurled enough to bump her head against his mattress.

“When I saw her again…” Historia said, “I think that’s what it feels like to be alive. I don’t think what I’ve been doing counts.” Her arms dug in under the blanket. “And now she’s a mile away and it’s too far. I want her here. I want—” her head dropped to her knees.

More quiet.

Ambulance sirens sounded somewhere off in the distance.

“I miss heroin,” she said.

Eren snorted. “Yeah.”

“I think I miss her more.”

She didn’t add to that. She didn’t really need to. Five minutes with both of them screamed it.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Eren ventured. “We’re supposed to care about people more.” That was how most of the people he knew stayed sober. Including the two of them. “She won’t kill you, and she’s not going anywhere this time. Everyone she cares about is already here.”

Historia seemed to struggle saying the next words out loud. “Eren, I need her.”

Eren shrugged. “I need Armin and Mikasa.” Plus more people than he’d ever thought he could care about, her included. Trying not to need them was where everything went wrong. Even before the pills, when he was just an angry brat who didn’t know how lucky he was.

Historia shook her head, blurred hands raking through her hair. “Not—not the way—they’re your friends, Eren. They’re yours, not your—” she cut herself off. A miasma of irritation billowed off her like fog, filling the sudden silence.

“I don’t even know if she loved me back.”

The sheets on Eren’s bed were back to his star ones Armin and Mikasa had doubled up to buy him when the holes in his shark ones ripped their way off his mattress. They’d gone back on a week ago, after over a year of refusing to look at them. His mom had made him take them home with him.

Every piece of him tied back to them in some way, and the only thing about them he could ever hate was how painfully obvious they made it that they loved him.

“She’s not heroin,” Historia said softly. “She’s not. She’s—she’s too many things for that. I can’t—I don’t want to turn her into another fix.”

Eren propped his elbows on his star-covered knees. “You said it wasn’t the same thing,” he said. “Whatever you two had.”

“It wasn’t,” she said flatly. “I was still a person then.”

Not yelling at Historia never took the same effort as not yelling at Mikasa, but if he ever changed his mind and started thinking shaking some sense into her had a chance of working, there were moments where he’d leap at it. “You’re a person now.”

“No, I’m not!”

Her arm collided with the side of his mattress. Anger, something Eren finally understood, was in every hitch of her breath. Her fist stayed pinned to his bed frame like it was held there by magnets.

“I’m not what I was, and I’m not anything else either,” she said, the stilted words scraping like sandpaper. “I can’t just fall back into her life and have everything be okay because she’s everything. I can’t give her this.” Her hand swam its way back to her, digging into her forehead.

Eren wondered if this was where the tears started, and if that would help any of him figure out what his role was supposed to be here besides support. He listened to the angry breathing, waiting.

The sobs didn’t come.

Laughter, fragile and startled, fell out instead.

“I want it.”

Eren threw a dart and hoped it landed on something. “…Ymir?”

“No—I mean, yes, but—” Historia kept laughing, hands fully in her hair. “Better. I want better.”

She said it in the same half-furious, grasping tone Eren had declared right and wrong in on seven different playgrounds. The one that said something good existed in the world, and everything was wrong because the good wasn’t theirs yet. Frustration and impotence waiting for an Armin to shine it up and point it in the right direction.

She said it like someone who wasn’t waiting around to die.

Months of weight lifted off Eren’s chest. His arms sagged on his knees, and for one Armin moment, he understood how easy it really had been for all of them to grab forgiveness instead of punishing him the way he deserved. How thrilled they must have been to have a chance to forgive him at all.

“That’s one way to get out of telling her you like her,” he said.

A corner of blanket smacked him in the face, and he tossed it back at Historia easily. She didn’t wrap it around herself again. Aided by a few more minutes awake, he could see her hand slowly tracing her arm.

“Did she write her number on your track marks?” Eren asked, peering closer.

“…Yes.”

Ymir could stand being less Ymir for five seconds of her life every once in a while. “Romantic.”

Historia’s tone turned soft. Dissolving into the gentleness Mikasa sometimes had for him and Armin. “Yeah.”

Or maybe Ymir being Ymir worked for Historia.

That was horrifying, and Eren’s cheeks hurt thinking about it. He reached out and poked Historia’s head, ignoring her limp attempts to bat him away. “You’re going to have to hurry up on better if you don’t want her to beat you to the punch.”

“I will not,” Historia said irritably. “She’s awful at talking.”

“She never shuts up.”

Historia was smiling, with enough shadows in her face to pretend the annoyance went with it. “That’s how she hides it. She keeps everything important to herself, and no one ever notices because they’re too frustrated or embarrassed to find out how she feels. Ymir’s too shy to wait quietly and risk someone seeing her.” Historia took back her piece of blanket. With a level of fondness Eren wasn’t sure he needed to hear, she said, “It’s unfair.”

When Hannah and Franz had first taught him that some people could speak in hearts, he had never thought his ears could enjoy hearing them out of anyone. He rested his head on his pillow and slid his phone back to its charger on the nightstand. “Sounds like her.”

“She’s an idiot,” Historia said, without a spot of judgment.

Eren pulled his covers up around his shoulders. “Yours, though.”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

His mattress creaked. Eren, eyes closed, found the decorative pillow Frieda had insisted he keep on his bed. He waved it out in the air around Historia’s spot on the floor for a second before it left his fingers. He didn’t know what she did with it. The moment after it disappeared, so did he, drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.

----

Armin would call it a multiple choice question, how mornings with Reiner went. There were the normal mornings where Eren had to keep their pace in check or worry about carrying him home, the becoming normal mornings where the bikes came out, the weird mornings where Reiner talked him into something like trying an unheated pool for laps, and the rare, apocalyptic ones where there was no Reiner.

Today was a no Reiner day.

Ymir was standing outside the house inhaling a thermos. Steam rose from the lid and a patched beanie was covering most of her head. Without bothering to say hello or make eye contact, she spoke up. “Why do you do this to yourself.”

Eren slowed his jog to a stop in front of her on the sidewalk. “I get paid.”

“Not enough.” Ymir downed the rest of her drink and tossed the thermos on top of Bertolt’s neatly trimmed hedges. “I’ve seen what this costs. You need someone else to start managing your finances.”

Before leaving the apartment, Eren had asked if the new state of Historia’s thing with Ymir meant he had to start being nicer. Historia hadn’t bothered looking up from saying good morning to Benjamin to tell him that that was exactly the wrong way to make friends with Ymir.

Making friends with Ymir had never once been something Eren wanted to care about. He still didn’t. He could feel himself caring anyway.

He asked the stupid question to get it out of the way. “We’re waiting for Reiner?”

“Nope,” Ymir said with a pop. “I booted Reiner off the island for the day. Just you and me, alone at last.”

“Stop trying to make this weird.”

“What do you take me for, Eren?” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’m saving that when we’re both all hot and sweaty.”

Eren rolled his eyes and decided to touch his toes until Ymir grew up. It was easier than looking at her. She was back to smiling, and he was embarrassed noticing how different it was from her usual smirk. He’d never thought of Ymir as someone like him and Reiner. She was the babysitter of her group. The Frieda, only without any of the shadows and fear holding her back.

Historia had talked about making that mistake. Thinking Ymir never needed anyone.

Historia would miss that someone had needed her.

Ymir would turn out to be a sap. All those romance novels had to come from somewhere.

The back of Eren’s head received a rough poke.

“Time’s wasting,” Ymir said. “Bert’s making waffles, and if you think I’m missing that to have a touching heart to heart jog, that hair of yours is starting to smother your brain.”

Eren swatted her hand away and didn’t rise to the bait, even if he did stand up. “How fast do you want to go?”

Ymir was bending backwards nonchalantly. She mirrored him and pulled her leg up to her chest, smirking that smirk that was too happy to properly deserve the word. “Tell you what, let’s make it easy on you. Your job is to keep up.”

----

One of Eren’s friends from high school had never really tried being his friend. They smashed into each other and then there was just too much debris left over to keep acting like they weren’t a part of the same circle.

Eren’s lungs were choking in his chest, his heart felt fit to explode, and his legs were burning.

Competitions with Jean usually wound up with punches and threats to finish things up in the parking lot after class. Bumps and bruises and the debate advisor screaming at them to please keep in mind the rules of engagement, and proper debate did not require a change in volume, boys.

Next to him, Ymir was trying and failing to stand up straight, both of them quietly dying in Reiner’s driveway.

No one had told him she was fast. Did she write her books on a treadmill? Their race back to the house had almost ended with a crash finish from both of them.

“So,” Ymir said, still gasping, “I promised you weird.”

“That was enough weird for one day,” Eren said, regretting the full sentence the second he started it. He clutched at his knees and willed his blood to stop beating into his head like a club.

Ymir was leaning against the side of the house heavily enough to leave sweat behind on the paint job. “That? What, you never had a proper workout before?” She reached out and tussled Eren’s hair. Pulling away nearly made him fall over.

Another minute of heavy breathing, and she grabbed at him again.

“This is going to make both of us uncomfortable, so we might as well get it over with now,” she said.

Eren didn’t have the time or energy to dread. He was left with nothing but his own spinning head and Ymir’s lanky, soaked frame dragging him into her arms.

“Uh.”

It was not a comfortable hug. Eren had his fair share to compare it to. He was tired, they were both boiling in the weak morning sun, and his clothes were damp enough without adding another person’s sweat. Ymir was also bony in a way that made her shoulders jab his.

“Thanks,” Ymir said, softly enough that Eren could only hear because of how close they were. “I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”

Eren awkwardly tried patting at her back. “You’re welcome?” He thought about how much lighter they both made each other and put in another stab. “She—she didn’t think so either.”

He was rewarded with another hair ruffle that caught on a painful tangle. Ymir shoved him gently and he stumbled closer to stable ground. “I know,” she said. “Add it to the list of what that thank you counts for.”

Track marks and shivers panged in Eren’s mind. Ymir’s deliberate handwriting covering up all the memories on Historia’s arms. His heart, slowing down from the sprinting and confusion, wound up for another round.

“She would have made it,” he said. The alternative was as unthinkable as it was unspeakable. “She’s strong.”

Ymir chuckled, and Eren recognized the shimmer in her eyes. “Come on, Eren, you should know this.” She seized him by the shoulders and started walking him up the porch, giving his hair another tug. “Strong people are the ones who dig themselves so deep no one else can get them out.”

Before Eren could puzzle out if that was an actual compliment, she slapped the back of his head and strolled into the house, loudly asking Bertolt where her waffle was.

----

“No roommate today?”

Eren dragged himself away from watching Zeke throw pitches into the backstop. Armin and Mikasa were in the outfield, Armin dazzling with excitement over the gopher that had stuck around after practice ended. Eren was picking up empty bags of sunflower seeds the team before them had left behind.

Stalling.

Yelena, elbow on the roof of the dugout, seemed to take that as an invitation to talk.

“She had an appointment,” Eren said. Trying for supportive and completely opaque.

Their last meeting, Historia had tried talking. That would have been fine and great for her, but what she’d said was, “I got addicted to heroin trying to kill myself, and I need to not feel that way anymore.”

Petra had called her back after and given her a rolodex full of names. She’d asked Historia, in her most concerned tone of voice, to call at least one.

Eren didn’t know how many Historia had called to get an appointment as fast as she did, but the cost of brute forcing therapy for the week was missing out on one of Zeke’s practices, and he was supposed to be the good sponsor and approve of that instead of telling her how badly his experience with therapy went. She’d heard it all before anyway. The only positive thing he used to be able to say about group was that it was an improvement over the damn shrink, so he’d said it. Weekly.

“That’s a shame,” Yelena said. “The quartet look suits you.”

Eren shrugged instead of agreeing. Off in the distance, Mikasa was smiling at Armin like there was no place in the world she’d rather be. Eren wasn’t listed on the team. He would have skipped Zeke’s invitation entirely if it hadn’t meant dodging them, too.

Even if it was weird only having Mikasa and Armin around, and there was everything wrong with thinking that. He didn’t know which of his friends to blame for the voice in his head that said it might be less weird if he went over and admired the gopher in the outfield with them instead of shadowing Zeke. It sounded like all of them.

Several of the steps before twelve also reminded him weird was the wrong word.

Scary came closer, and if he weren’t so tired of being pissed, that would have him right next to Zeke, trying to crack a hole into the wooden parts of the backstop. Maybe that was the right move for taking a step forward with his brother, but it wouldn’t do anything to fix him.

Eren crumpled up the bags in his hands and swung up and out of the dugout, brushing shoulders with Yelena on his way to a trash can.

She followed him. “Is there a story behind why all of you are staying so late?” Yelena asked with an innocence too earnest to feel real. “If it’s team spirit, I’d be happy to join in, but it seems to be a bit more personal.”

“We’re having dinner with my mom later,” Eren chanted. He left out who ‘we’ included. He was working on it.

“That’s nice to hear,” Yelena said. “Zeke’s always had nice things to say about her. Is Historia meeting up with you all there?”

Eren stopped. He turned around to meet Yelena’s benign smile. “Zeke talks about my mom?”

“Sure,” she said. “Not as much as he talks about his beloved little brother, but she comes up. Don’t worry,” she added, like the look on Eren’s face came anywhere close to worry, “it’s nothing but good things.”

Eren balled the sunflower seed bags up and slammed them into the trash. “Excuse me,” he said—because they were talking about his mother and his mother had tried to teach him manners long after the first argument about how rude people didn’t deserve them—leaving Yelena behind for the pitcher’s mound.

Zeke didn’t change his rhythm on Eren’s way over, but he could see Armin and Mikasa both tense up out of the corner of his eye. The gopher popped back underground.

“Eren,” Zeke said, when Eren was ten feet away, “do you need something?”

It was the fourth step. Being completely, ruthlessly honest about everything wrong with you as a person so maybe something had a shot in hell at fixing it all. Eren’s hands unclenched. The open air against his palms made them feel empty. His head felt almost as empty, since the million conversations he and Zeke just didn’t have stayed crammed down his throat.

Still. “Mom wanted you to come over for dinner,” he said.

Zeke’s fastball smacked against the crude smiley face someone had doodled on the backstop. One of its eyes had a crack through it. “How kind of her. Will you be leaving with your friends, or should we all go over together?”

“Whatever works for you,” Eren said. Zeke kept throwing. There was an entire basket left by his feet. Eren wanted to kick it over.

“I’ll be done here soon.”

“We can wait on you.”

THWAK

“Wonderful.”

If the gopher hadn’t already gone down its hole, Eren stomping over to Mikasa and Armin would have gotten rid of it fast. For their sake, he ignored the look they shared while he was still out of earshot. And Armin’s deep breath before his smile.

Mikasa favored more direct approaches. “Will Zeke be joining us?”

“Yeah.”

A flurry of cloud drifted by the setting sun, and the next look Armin tried to share with Mikasa didn’t happen. She kept her eyes on Eren. Watching him, like she always did, but the reflection of irritation and futility felt more like a conversation than what he’d just managed with Zeke.

Eren was too many steps away from her to walk up and hug her without it being weird. Asking for a hug would also be weird. She’d probably worry instead of finding it nice.

Armin tried to inject some positivity. “How about Historia? Is she still busy?”

Pulling away from Mikasa’s magnetic presence, Eren shrugged. “Probably,” he said. He’d texted during batting practice and asked, but he hadn’t gotten anything back. Maybe because she didn’t need to be told not to answer her phone during an appointment. Maybe because she could sense Eren trying to probe her mood and she was already stuck paying someone to do that and once was enough for a day.

The Petra in his head could take the blame for some of that. He’d never liked being around people after shrink sessions. He’d hated being alone after them.

Eren’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he snapped it out.

Sorry, we just ordered.

Eren blinked.

He hadn’t had a fun day. The shadow of his mom, and being alone with Armin and Mikasa, and all of the things wrong with feeling wrong about that, had put him in a bad mood and Zeke had made it worse without lifting a finger.

A glimmer of something going right peered out of his screen.

[…] […] Ymir says hi.

“She’s definitely busy,” Eren said.

“Oh.” Armin sounded disappointed. “That’s…”

Eren slung an arm across Armin’s back. “It’s good,” he said, meeting Mikasa’s eyes again. Winning back that soft smile she’d had when it was just her and Armin and the gopher. “Really good.”

----

Most of Eren’s formative memories included Armin. That was what happened when you met someone that cool when you were a kid. Every memory with them mattered, because they mattered. He had life-changing moments around tying shoes because Armin was there with him.

Armin had asked, when Zeke was dangling his arms over the fence that separated the playground from the pickup zone, waiting for the teacher to decide that their grandparents really were Eren’s too, what it was like having a big brother.

“He’s like an extra stair,” Eren had answered, very wisely. “He reaches all the high stuff and helps me up so I can, too.”

“I wonder how tall we’ll be when we grow up?” Armin had asked, eyes full of sparkles and future.

Eren had known the answer to that. After declaring to his dad that he’d be as tall as a mountain when he was his age, instead of choosing to stop like he had, his dad had picked him up, placed him atop his shoulders, and said a lot of what his mom called doctor words. It all meant that if he ate right and listened to his parents, he’d probably be as tall as they were. Jeans mattered. That was why Eren was sure to never wear them.

But before all those words, his dad had smiled up at Eren, and said the important ones: “We can both be taller whenever we want. All I need is you. And all you need,” he flicked Eren on the nose, “is me.”

In the playground with Armin, Eren had declared, “As tall as we can make ourselves!” and scooped Armin on top of his head so they could be kings of the playground.

He hadn’t been able to lift Armin.

Armin’s shoe kicked him in the lip.

Their teacher had called Eren over then, and his grandparents had seen the blood dripping down his shirt and panicked. Zeke had politely asked the teacher for a tissue and picked Eren up.

Eren had pointed at Zeke and shouted back to Armin, spitting blood down on the sidewalk. “He’s very tall!”

Petra had told him once, and the group a few times, that sometimes it helped to have a solid picture of what you were aiming for. You didn’t have to fly blind into your relationships and circumstances. You could think of what you wanted and ask for it, or make it happen.

When Eren thought of what he wanted out of his brother, all that came to mind was Armin. Armin’s voice asking, ‘what’s it like?’ and none of the answers working anymore. He didn’t know what to do with a Zeke. He had Petra’s outline and a huge hole where whatever he and Zeke could be wasn’t.

From that standpoint, getting Zeke to come along to dinner wasn’t a bad achievement. His mom had mentioned it, Eren had asked, and now Zeke was sitting in the dining room, politely complimenting the stew while Mikasa staidly avoided eye contact and Armin reached over every few mouthfuls to loosen Eren’s grip on his fork.

For the third week in a row.

Eren was starting to think Historia was scheduling her appointments the way she was on purpose, just to get out of adding one more pensive face to the table.

“This is delicious, Carla,” Zeke said, folding his napkin and gently collecting his silverware on his plate. “Thank you again for the splendid meal.”

Eren’s mom, who had a bounce in her step and a light in her eyes whenever Eren showed up with the dinner crew in tow, spared an amused look for her son before smiling at her stepson. “You say that every time, Zeke.”

Zeke’s glasses flashed in the light, giving his smile an emptiness that matched the tiny hole in Eren’s gut week after week. “And every time it is warranted.”

The scraping noise irritating Eren’s ears was coming from his plate, and it stopped the moment after Armin’s hand came back to his and released his fork to its original spot on the tablecloth with a blunted clatter.

His mom shot him another look, but kept speaking to Zeke. “You’ll have to keep coming by, then. It’s so nice to have my work appreciated for once.”

Mikasa stiffened in her chair in time with Eren, and both of them objected together, even if Eren’s voice thundered over Mikasa’s. “We appreciate you.”

“It’s also lovely to see how contagious that attitude is,” she continued, barely pausing at all to squeeze Mikasa’s arm. “Thank you, Zeke. I’ve seen more of your brother in these past few weeks than I did when he moved back in.”

Zeke and Eren’s mother were the only people around the table who didn’t flinch. Sitting next to Armin felt more like sitting next to a bonfire with snapping teeth, and Eren didn’t know if he wanted to hug him or punch himself.

That was the main problem with these dinners. He couldn’t do either.

Mikasa would say the main problem was Zeke.

Finding that soothing wasn’t the way out of all this. Probably. Even if some part of his soul uncurled, imagining what it would be like for Mikasa to rage as hard as he did and choose to share it with him.

Zeke, as diplomatic as Armin was when he was trying to get whoever was between him and Eren to kindly not pay attention to how one Mikasa was all that was keeping a very bloody brawl from continuing—smiled, glasses catching the light again. “Eren’s been working hard on spending time with all his family lately,” he said. “His effort isn’t something I can claim credit for.”

Eren’s fork was grinding into the tablecloth this time, and Armin’s hand was as warm as the understanding in his eyes that Eren still hated wanting as much as he did. Eren had to be the one working hard to spend time with Zeke, because Zeke got a text about how his day was going and assumed Eren was bad step away from rehab again. All Zeke could claim credit for was—

Being there. Whenever Eren asked.

Always.

“Would you like some help clearing the table, Carla?”

Eren wanted to punch him.

“Zeke, please, you’re a guest,” his mom said, while he and Mikasa jumped to their feet and almost broke Armin’s plate when they both grabbed for it at the same time. His knife took a dive for the floor, but Eren caught it.

When he straightened, shuffling his and Armin’s plate together and waging a silent staring contest with Mikasa to see if she’d hand him hers, Zeke took up his own and Eren’s mom’s, smiling distantly. “It’s my pleasure,” he said.

Mikasa handed Eren her plate sullenly before Zeke could make it out of the room first. Eren muttered his thanks and marched into the kitchen with his brother. Who didn’t ask for Eren’s pile. They walked in together. They reached the sink. They dropped off the plates and silverware. All without needing conversation. Because Eren’s grandparents and Eren’s mom hadn’t raised animals, and they could figure out putting plates away without talking.

Wordless communication was a sign of closeness.

They walked back to the dining room.

Eren plopped in his seat, eyebrows burning from the effort of holding back his mood.

His mom was watching him, smiling wordlessly.

He tried to iron out his scowl. For her.

She tapped her forehead, only lined with age, and shook her head at him as Zeke eased back into his seat next to her. Next to Eren, Armin was there, patient and resigned to the inevitable explosion that Eren was not going to let happen.

Mikasa caught his glaring eyes and understood.

She’d been taller than him most of their lives, even if she wasn’t anymore.

Eren took a wrench to the screws in his scowl and breathed. No cheap shortcuts. No orange bottles or baggies he should have thrown away. A few weeks of bad dinners that made his mom smile wasn’t asking much.

Zeke sat calmly in his chair.

Eren needed a tennis ball.

----

Waking up earlier than anyone in the apartment wasn’t something Eren thought of as mattering. Historia stayed up too late and he sometimes wondered if he was supposed to help her with that, and he thought Benjamin judged him for being up first and not bringing him over any food, but he never thought about it as a real part of his life.

Waking up because something clattered in the kitchen was alarming and weird.

More weird because the sun was already out, so it couldn’t be Frieda.

Eren woke up with his eyes open and face smushed into the stars on his pillow, not having any idea where he was. He didn’t move. He wasn’t sure his eyes were following instructions well enough to blink. His pillow was soft. The light lining his bed from the crack in the curtains wasn’t. He had a hand dangling off his bed.

Another clang hit from outside his drowsy haze.

Pots and pans.

And voices.

Eren fumbled for his phone, digging it out from under his hip and swiping away the incomplete text he’d fallen asleep trying to send Armin. The clock blared at him. He’d slept in. It was his day off, he’d slept in, he’d failed at roping Armin into a movie, and there were people banging around the kitchen with more noise than anyone who had a key created.

They didn’t know anyone who came over without a written invitation.

Eren took a stumbling lurch out of his bed and room, the full morning light sparkling into the apartment and jabbing him directly in the eyes to go with the even louder clattering his door had protected him from.

A sing-song greeting slipped through the rest of the cacophony.

“Good morning, sleepy head.”

They knew one person who came over without a written invitation.

Eren stood in the threshold of the hallway. Ymir sat on the counter, sitting next to a waffle iron and licking a beater. The rest of the entire kitchen was strewn around her, in disarray except for three empty plates. Shopping bags cluttered the usually spotless floor. Historia, nowhere closer to helpful than he was, had her elbow perched on one of the remaining edges of the counter. She was watching Ymir with bland confusion and a spark of something Eren couldn’t name. The batter from the beater in her hand dripped down her wrist.

Across from them both, the sink was full of more dishes than he’d thought they’d owned. A mixing bowl with a cereal bowl lumped in it was sliding slowly against the side, jangling several forks.

More awake every bizarre second, Eren stared blankly at Ymir. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s the first thing she said, too,” Ymir said. She twirled her beater in Historia’s general direction. “You two could use a manners class.”

Without really looking away from Ymir, who as far as Eren could see was doing nothing outside of lapping up batter on top of their counter, Historia drifted out of whatever daze she seemed to be in. “She making us breakfast,” she told Eren.

Her elbow nudged the nearest plate. Two black slats had been thrown on top of it. They’d probably looked closer to something edible before Ymir ever touched them.

“She burned the toast.”

Ymir scoffed. “Your toaster has more settings than the sun,” she said, brandishing her beater at it. She turned back to Historia, comment at the ready—and Historia was smiling at her. Ymir stopped. Like she was back to falling off a wall, only Eren didn’t have to save her. The conversation paused, Ymir’s tongue stuck to the beater before she swallowed around it and continued with a soft rasp. “Did you just go out and buy the first, most expensive one you saw?”

“…Yes.”

Ymir was trying, badly, to hide that soft, not-Ymir smile that fit her face too well. Eren started considering grabbing a bowl of cereal and heading back to his room. A beep disrupted the thought. Ymir hopped to the floor and dropped her beater to a battered plate, popping open the waffle iron.

“A toaster that could fit a whole gingerbread house, and no TV,” she drawled, delivering a perfectly cooked waffle to one of the plates and slathering more batter onto the iron. “You guys really have your priorities set around here.”

“The TV light’s bad for Benjamin,” Historia said before Eren could. Ymir rolled her eyes and shoved the waffled plate into Historia’s hands on her way to pull the syrup off the stove.

There was syrup on the stove.

Eren slowly reached for a stool and eased onto it. Breakfast and Ymir. Bertolt and Reiner were missing, but they were missing when he came home from family dinners to Historia and Ymir fast asleep on the couch. No one expected him to talk then.

No one expected him to talk now. The third plate next to the waffle iron was the only real sign that anyone had thought he’d be in the room with the two of them. Eren’s elbows joined the small space Historia had carved out for hers. He didn’t join her in staring at Ymir. Historia covered that enough for everyone he knew and had never met.

“What are you doing to it?”

“Buttering it?”

“You aren’t going to be able to taste anything but butter. I could have grabbed a stick and shoved it in your mouth instead of going to all this trouble.”

“Ymir, that’s too much syrup.”

“It’s the right amount of syrup for—are you putting more butter on it?”

Historia jabbed the part of her waffle that was still visibly waffle with her fork, slicing the piece off and defiantly popping it into her mouth. Ymir tossed her potholder over the remains of the stick of butter. Most of it untouched. She still slumped back on the counter with the look of someone reading off a death row inmate’s crimes. Bertolt left that out when he made waffles.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Ymir said. Pretending not to be staring at her. She was like one of Mikasa’s cats, only noisier. “What about you, Eren, do you start every day trying to poison yourself?”

As removed from having an opinion on the state of the waffle Historia was chewing as he’d been for the entire conversation, Eren shrugged. “I think Historia knows how to feed herself,” he said.

“You would, wouldn’t you, but then you get to displays like this, and—”

Historia, with a speed people who made it their business to be around Ymir picked up one way or another, popped her fork into Ymir’s mouth, the skewered piece of waffle making immediate contact with her tongue. Syrup stuck to her lower lip, and Ymir’s eyes fluttered shut, taking the offered bite with no resistance. The glowering pride on her face lasted until Historia flicked away the syrup with her finger, melting her faster than the butter.

Eren watched his empty plate instead of looking back at Benjamin. Armin said people anthropomorphized their pets too much. A fish could not relate to this.

With a groan that didn’t read as exasperated as any of them were going to pretend, the fork was released to its owner. “Compliments to the chef,” Ymir said, scrubbing her battered hand over her mouth.

“The chef burned toast,” Historia said. She found the remaining free inches of counter space and sat down next to Ymir.

“Toast isn’t cooking,” Ymir said, grabbing up another fork and bypassing Historia’s halfhearted deflections to rip off more of the buttered waffle. “It’s a bargain with an electrical socket, and yours didn’t pay up.”

Reiner wasn’t here to mouth ‘ignore her’ over Bertolt’s shoulder, so Eren spoke up. “I thought you were blaming the toaster.”

“I can blame you too if you’re feeling left out.”

“I wasn’t awake.”

“Yeah, your commitment to helping has never been clearer.” Ymir stole more waffle. Shared. Historia, with a small shake of her head when Eren caught her eye, had twirled the plate around so they were eating from opposite sides.

The iron beeped, and Eren slid his waffle—which was staying his—onto his plate and dealt with his own syrup. Ymir had used Bertolt’s recipe. It tasted like his tongue was going to melt into sugar and made him want five more. Reiner passed out after three. Splitting one was probably for the best for someone Historia’s size.

He didn’t think being helpful was what Ymir was going for. She was squishing Historia most of the way off the counter and then catching her with a snipe about being more careful in the kitchen.

He still had his phone. The only thing he knew about his day off besides Ymir turning it into hers was that it was sunny out.

No one was paying attention to him anyway, so having his phone out and texting someone at what counted for the breakfast table wasn’t bad manners. He found Mikasa’s contact listing and hit send.

want to climb today?

The relief when she texted back in under a minute wasn’t anything to be proud over. Or anything he deserved, but he was supposed to be practicing remembering that without wanting to rip his throat out. Relief fit.

Of course. Where?

you pick. anywhere’s good

“And where,” Ymir said when he got up with his plate, like any of her attention was on him, “do you think you’re going?”

“Grabbing my stuff to go rock climbing with Mikasa.”

“The cat girl?”

Eren looked at Historia, who remembered Colt had a cockatiel better than that he had a brother. “Sure,” he said.

“Because spending time with her is so much better than time with us,” Ymir said, picking off a piece of Historia’s second waffle and licking away a dribble of syrup. Her elbow caught one of the bowls that had gone into the cooking, and a cascade of clatters dipped further into the sink. “Didn’t think you were the type to ditch your friends for a girl, Eren.”

Historia had worked her way into being fused to Ymir’s hip. Their feet periodically bumped together and bounced apart too carefully to be an accident. Eren said, because Ymir being Historia’s whatever only meant he had to put up with some of her, “I don’t see you cooking breakfast for Reiner.”

Ymir smirked at him. “That’s what Bertolt’s for.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “I’m going climbing.”

The chorused, “Have fun,” when he stepped out of the apartment on his day off, bag stuffed with extra water Mikasa didn’t need because she knew how to function, only felt sincere from one of them. That was fine. He had somewhere to go when they didn’t ask him to stay.

[next]

#drug au #fic #mine #long post

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carriagelamp · 4 years

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November 2020: A Months of Familiarity

This November ended up being a month of me either rereading old favourites, exploring new books by favourite authors, or a mix of both.

…Be prepared for so much Terry Prachett, I found his audiobooks on Libby last month and since that I’ve been unstoppable.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents

The first of my Terry Practhett books to mention! I chose to include this one on my list because it’s a beautiful stand alone novel, perfect to read if you’ve never touched on of Pratchett’s works before, and is often overlooked.

The book is about Maurice, an “amazing” cat by his own admission, who has teamed up with a stupid boy and his very own plague of rats. The moneymaking scheme is simple: set the rats loose on a town and after causing a panic let the boy stroll in and offer to play his pipe and lead them away… for a fee. This is working well, until Maurice, the boy, and the rats arrive in the town Bad Blintz. Here the rats are beginning to question the morality of their work, the boy gets entangled with a young, mischievous local girl, and they’re all shocked to find out that the town already has a real rat infestation… or so the rat catchers claim. Things quickly turn sinister and deadly as the group is forced to confront not only the cruelty of humanity, but something even more sinister living in the small, dark, hidden place of the town.

This is a YA book, unlike some of Pratchett’s other novels, so it’s a quick, fun read, while still having all of his dry wit and heavy, complicated thoughts about society, morality, belief, and what it means to be a person. It’s a genuine delight to see Maurice and the rats, recently made sentient by wizards’ rubbish, struggle to come to terms with who they were and who they are now.

Black Pearl Ponies: Red Star & Wildflower

Y’all it ain’t a secret at this point that I enjoy a stupid horse girl book, right? I picked up the first two books of the Black Pearl Ponies books from the library on a whim and they were basically what they promised. Girl lives with family on ranch, father helps train horses, girl goes on pony adventures with ponies. A particular focus is given to horse welfare and care. Very mediocre but a nice thoughtless covid read if you, like me, get a craving for animals books written for seven year olds from time to time. Plus this comes with the added humour of it being written, as far as I can tell, by a British author who thinks all Americans are stetson wearing cowboys which I find unreasonably funny.

Crenshaw

I love Katherine Applegate’s work; I read the Endling series earlier this year and they are overwhelmingly good. Crenshaw was also an enjoyable read, though not my favourite by her. It read a little bit like a book I read last fall, No Fixed Address, which was also a very good read though not my usual genre. Crenshaw is about a boy, Jackson, whose family, though close-knit and loving, is experiencing financial difficulties and struggle with food scarcity, homelessness, and all the instability and stress that results from this. During this tumultuous time, Jackson is surprised by the reappearance of a tall, bipedal, snarky cat — Crenshaw, his old imaginary friend. This is a charming book that blends genuine, real world hardships with whimsy and magical realism.

The Enemy Above: A Novel of WWII

Since it was Rememberance Day this month, I decided to pick up a holocaust novel. This book is about 12-year-old Anton, a young Jewish boy who finds himself fleeing from his Polish farm in the middle of the night with his old grandma when a German raiding party that attacks their village in an effort to make the countryside “judenfrei”. The book is, perhaps, not the most well-fleshed out, but it’s fast-paced and exciting for a child/YA audience that’s being introduced to holocaust literature, without trying to downplay the absolutely horror and brutality of the Nazis. It manages to strike a satisfying balance between fear, tragedy, and hope.

“Everything he had heard was true. He was just a twelve-year-old boy and yet they hunted him. He had broken no laws, done nothing wrong. He was simply born Jewish. How could anyone want to kill him for it?”

Gregor the Overlander

Somehow I never knew that Suzanne Collins wrote anything other than The Hunger Games? I stumbled across this series at a used bookstore and was first taken by the cover and then shocked when I realized I recognized the author’s name. Well The Hunger Games was such a good read, how could I not pick up a book with people riding on a giant fucking bat?

Such a good choice. I’m almost done book two and bought book three today after work. It is exactly the sort of low fantasy that I live for, when a fantasy world lives so close to the real world that you can practically touch it. I also love the fact that while all the wild fantastical elements are happening, you still have the main character taking care of his toddler sister the whole time. It’s at times charming, hilarious, and nerve-wracking!

It’s about Gregor, a normal kid who’s doing his best to help his mom take care of his two younger siblings ever since his father disappeared years ago. Gregor expected months of boredom when he agrees to stay home over the summer instead of going to camp like his sister in order to watch his baby sister, Boots, and their grandma while his mom is at work. He never could have expected that a simple trip to the apartment’s laundry room would lead to both him and Boots tumbling miles beneath the earth into the pitch black Underland, a place filled with giant rats and bugs and people with translucent skin who fly through the massive caverns on huge bats. He also could have never expected that he would get wrapped up in a deadly prophecy that would force him to travel into distant, dark lands into the waiting claws of an overwhelming enemy.

Kings, Queens, and In-Between

A Canadian queer novel that I’ve seen trumpeted everywhere. Libraries, classrooms, bookstore, this book got so much hype (and has such a pleasing cover) that I had to get my hands on it. Now, I’ve got to admit that it’s not really my genre; I don’t love realistic fiction. But that being said, it’s a fun, heart-warming, queer romp through that explores gender, sexuality, love, family, friendship… there’s a lot of lovable, quirky, complicated characters that get thrown together in unexpected ways at a local summer carnival. While there’s tension and misunderstandings and mistakes, this is overall a very optimistic and loving novel, and would be a great read if you want a queer novel that reads like cotton candy.

Love, The Tiger

This book is the graphic novel equivalent of a nature documentary. There’s no text, but you follow a day in the life of a tiger as it moves through the jungle on the quest for food. The art is honestly beyond outstanding, and though it’s a really quick read it is so very worth it. I’ve also read Love, The Lion in this series (also good, though a bit more confusing imho) as well as one of the books from his other series Little Tails which is still very nature and education based, though for a slightly younger audience.

Making Money

More Pratchett! Making Money was the first Discworld book I ever read, and it’s one of my most reread ones — it’s an ultimate comfort read! This is technically the sequel to Going Postal (another book I reread this month), in which conman Moist Von Lipwig is saved from a rightful death at the noose in exchange for agreeing to work for the city. Going Postal sees Moist narrowly dodging death in many varied forms as he tries to get the Anhk-Morpork postal service back on its feet and get the drifts of dead, whispering letters moving again. In Making Money things at the post office have become… too easy. Moist is bored, restless, until he finds himself thrust into a new job: head of the Royal Mint. There he has been given not only charge of the biggest bank in Anhk-Morpork, but also a dog with a price on its head, a lethal family with all the money in the world out for his blood, and the fear that his secret past life may be on the verge of being exposed to everyone, all while he’s desperately trying to make money…

The Moist series is honestly an example of Pratchett at his absolute best imo, and the amount of humour, wit, adventure, and scathing commentary he can build around a bank is outstanding. Cannot recommend enough.

The One And Only Ivan

Another book I’ve been hearing everyone talk about, as well as another Katherine Applegate book. It’s been on my radar for a while, but with the sequel and a movie coming out, it had everything at a fever pitch and I finally picked it up. Fantastic read, I definitely enjoyed it more than Crenshaw. This book was based off the true story of Ivan, a gorilla taken from his home in the jungle and sold to the owner of a mall, where he spent years of his life growing from child to adult silverback in a small, concrete enclosure. In this fictionalized version, everything changes for Ivan and his friends, when a new baby elephant is bought to help revitalize the mall attractions and Ivan makes a promise he doesn’t know how to keep: to protect this baby, and keep her from living the life Ivan and his friends were forced to. This book made me very emotional. Applegate’s picture book that goes along with it is also a great companion read.

Ranma ½

I realized that our library had the 2-in-1 editions of Ranma ½ and honestly that was it for me. This has been a favourite series of mine since I was in middle school and realized that the creator of Inuyasha had written other things. It is unapologetically ridiculous and larger-than-life and you have to love the shameless joy it has at being ludicrous. It does start to feel a little repetitive the further into the series you go, but at the moment, with covid, I find I have a huge tolerance for rereading slightly repetitive things so long as they make me happy. And boy howdy does the vaguely queer undertones, endless pining, and relentless slapstick of Ranma ½ make me happy. This is classic manga y’all and if you’ve never read it you should!

The basic premise, for anyone that doesn’t is that of an bonkers martial arts comedy. It follows Ranma and his father who, while training in China, fell into cursed springs. Each spring has the tragic legend of a person or animal who drowned in it, and if someone falls in they inevitably turn into that creature any time they’re doused in cold water. Ranma had the misfortune of falling into “The Spring of Drowned Girl” and, indeed, turns into a girl anytime he’s hit with cold water. Things continue to spiral out of control when Ranma meets his arranged fiancée, Akane, who is as exasperated by this situation as Ranma. Both would rather be fighting people than worrying about things like romance. And don’t worry, there is lots and lots and lots and lots of some of the goofiest martial arts fights that you can imagine for a bunch of high schoolers.

Through the Woods

A beautiful and creepy Canadian graphic novel. I honestly really don’t even know how to describe it in a way that does it justice. It’s a collection of short horror stories, with beautiful, flowing art style that draws you in and sends chills down your spine. I’ll let the art doing the talk, and honestly beg you to go find a way to read this graphic novel:

The Witch’s Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories

The last Terry Pratchett book on my list (though shout out to the others I’ve listened to this month: Wee Free Men, Hat Full of Sky, Men At Arms, and Snuff) and one that I actually physically, rather than listening to the audiobook. I included this one because unlike the others, this was a Pratchett book I had never read before. It collects a number of Pratchett’s short stories that had been written for children over a number of years. These weren’t necessarily my favourite examples of Pratchett’s writing (I prefer his longer work that can really dive into social issues) but it was such a quick, easy, fun read that you can’t really help but be charmed by it. I liked the stories that took place in “the wild wild west (of Wales)” in particular.

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billhaderlovebot · 5 years

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beep beep (5) - richie tozier.

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee @socially-unaccepptable-dameron

the usual sexy stuff and swearing and weed. y'all know the drill.

"i've never been... uh... good at the whole, um, serious thing. but, this is us. this is... our wedding. and i put real effort into this shit. so, get ready, fuckers, because this is a real tearjerker. um, yeah. okay..."

you honestly hadn't trusted richie to write his own vows, but neither of you had wanted them to feel... artificial. you wanted them to be your own. and now he was standing before you, holding your hands in his and tearing up already. big softie.

he had also teared up as you walked down the aisle on wobbly legs, mike on your arm.

"we were... we were owed more time, i think." richie lamented. "we should have done this years ago. i should have married you years ago."

---

richie had known, for a long time, that you were the one he would marry.

it was 1993, and the sun was setting over sleepy little derry, giving the quarry an orange-pink glow and bathing you all in its warmth.

you were all pruning up a little, and it wasn't as warm as it was when you'd come down a few hours previously, but summer was coming to an end, and you wanted to make the most of your last couple weeks of freedom with your favourite people in the world.

richie watched as you sat in the shallows, taking a hit of the sizeable joint between your fingers. you exhaled loudly, leaning your head back toward the watercolour sky.

shades of blush pink and peach and apricot illuminated your skin, the low sun setting a warm glow across the water, and oh, god, he was in love.

you laughed, loud and beautifully obnoxious, at something stan had said, passing him the joint and wiggling your legs in the water. your laugh just so happened to be the losers' favourite sound in the whole world, as it was one of those wonderfully infectious laughs you can't help but laugh along with.

richie had always tried to make you laugh in the hopes that you'd like him, but when you did laugh, he found himself falling in love.

eddie watched on in disapproval, sitting cross legged on the bank behind you.

"when you get lung cancer i will laugh and i will spit on your grave." he grumbled, but took the joint anyway when it was passed back around to him, just as enthusiastically as the rest of you. perhaps he was trying to protest in hopes that it would lessen the guilt he would feel later as he frantically sprayed himself with deodorant to get the smell out, and applied the emergency eyedrops he had bought.

ben, bev, bill and mike were in the middle of a very intense game of chicken. beverly had toppled off of mike's shoulders at least twice, but she had pushed bill back into the water more than four times, shrieking with laughter as, arms flailing, he disappeared under the surface of the lake.

"rich! c'mere." you had caught sight of him and held out your arms in his direction, making cute little grabby hand motions toward him. the look of utter joy on your face warmed him from head to toe, and he smiled as he swam over, dodging bill, who had once again been knocked into the lake by bev. ("stop being such a little bitch, billy.")

you came to meet richie halfway, leaving stan and eds to finish the joint and sinking into the water up to your neck. you immediately attached your lips to his, running both of your hands through his hair because you were stoned and everything felt better under your fingertips.

kissing him was like... a whole other plane of existence. you were joined at the lips, joined at the heart. the sun was going down and it was getting cold, and you were both shaking, and he noted the way you tasted of smoke as he kissed the life from you, the water rippling against his chin. you groaned quietly, and richie smiled into the kiss, ignoring everyone else's exasperated groans because ugh they're making out again ew look at them they're so disgustingly in love.

"you're both whores!" stan all but screamed, and you flipped him off, kissing richie all the more enthusiastically.

and richie broke away just to look at you.

the sun, now casting a deep orange-red light behind you, was almost set, and you were beautiful.

the quiet "hi, babe." that tumbled from your lips made him feel as if everything was right with the world, and, then, staring at you, drinking you in, in all your red-eyed, swollen-lipped, soft-grinning glory, like he was seeing colour for the first time, he knew that if he didn't marry you he would probably die.

---

"but now we're here."

richie cleared his throat, his eyes darting around because if he looked directly you he had no chance of keeping it together. "and i have you for the rest of my life. it took a lot for us to get here, too. god knows how we managed to plan all this. thanks, bevvy."

---

eddie was your best man.

obviously.

eddie was your best everything, to be honest, so it was an easy choice while wedding planning. eddie had been the essential third to your group of three ever since you were kids, and he meant so much to richie, and so much to you that you hadn't even had to think about it.

eddie was going to be the best man. that choice was a no-brainer.

all of the other choices, however, were not.

richie and yourself, apparently, were completely incompetent at any sort of planning whatsoever.

you tried, though, you really did.

you got out the big notebook and a pen and richie pulled up pinterest and you had some serious talks about colour schemes and flower arrangements and the like.

well, sort of.

("can we have, like, yknow, like, those worms..."

"worms?"

"like those worms on strings... yeah, those."

"the googly eyes?"

"the eyes.... yeah, and just..."

"hang them?"

"from the ceiling... yeah. "

"richie?"

"yes?"

"i think that's the best idea you've had since i met you.")

but after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and only having made one useful decision, the two of you decided that you were not in any state to plan your fucking wedding.

("so... s-so if we get- richard, stop trying to take my clothes off- if we get the worms, do you want the pink- rich, i swear- do you want the pink ones or the blue ones...?")

turning off whatever true crime show was playing in the background, you stumbled, leaning against one another, to the bedroom.

"sex?"

"that's the plan."

but any attempt to undress each other only got half way before you were both asleep atop the bedsheets, snoring lightly, an intoxicated tangle of limbs.

the planner notebook you had been using to write down the essentials lay open and abandoned on the coffee table, the only thing in it being one line of richie's chickenscratch handwriting.

it read: set a place for stanley.

---

richie was really, properly crying now, and the only think keeping him from losing his shit was eddie's hand on his shoulder, and your thumb running across his knuckles.

everyone else was crying, too. not a dry eye in the room.

"almost losing you again... so soon after we had found each other... really put shit into perspective for me, yknow? hospitals, um, suck. and i was so pissed... because... fuck, sorry, fuck... i was, uh, pissed, because all i could think was that we were losing time again."

---

(before the sewer fight)

"kiss me." richie's quiet, shaky voice came from behind you, and you whirled around from the suitcase from which you were trying to put together an outfit more suitable for clown killing.

he took you in his arms almost immediately, bending down to kiss you, but the kiss almost scared you.

it was too tense.

there was too strong an edge to the way he held you close, kissing you as if it were the last time.

"what's wrong?" you murmured, centimetres from his lips, your breath ghosting across them.

"i... i don't know if we'll both come out of this." he admitted in hushed agony, kissing you again, slower. "i won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you." richie kissed you again and again, such raw emotion behind each soft crush of lips that he had to swallow the quiet, broken gasps that spilled from you.

"whatever happens," you breathed, running your thumbs along his cheekbones. "i love you."

"show me." he pleaded, red rimmed eyes locking onto yours with such intent that you almost fell over. "please, just-"

"we have to be quick." you said, and he nodded, pulling you into another long, searing kiss. there was a sort of burning desperation to the way his lips moved, now.

richie shifted your shorts down and slid his hands under your thighs, whispering a low "jump" in your ear. your legs wrapped around his waist, and you gasped as your back hit the wall.

"fuck, rich, hurry the fuck up." you mumbled, tilting your head so as to give him better access to the skin of your neck, to which he was already leaving marks.

"okay, baby." and then he was all but tearing off your shirt, immediately exploring the newly exposed skin with his mouth, teeth included. fuck.

"you're such a prick." you hissed.

"and you might just be the most beautiful thing ever to have existed, sweets." said richie, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking at you with dark, dilated, sex-me-up eyes.

"do something about it then." you challenged.

"anything for you, doll."

richie was pushing you so hard against the wall, that you were surprised you didn't go right through the drywall and topple into eddie's room.

you ran your tongue along his bottom lip and he groaned so fucking loud.

"i love you." you whispered the sentiment against his lips, fumbling at his belt buckle.

"i love you more."

---

richie took a moment to compose himself, allowing you to do the same. your eyes drifted about the room. the absence of both yours and richie's families bothered neither of you.

at the front row, the losers and stanley's empty chair, reminded you that they were the only family you'd ever need.

---

"you fucking what?"

"it was an accident!" richie held his hands up in defense, slumping down next to you on the couch.

"richie, do you ever imagine what it would be like if you'd have gotten enough fucking oxygen at birth?" you snapped, raking your hands across your scalp.

"watch it, or no sex." he said.

"i will never have sex with you ever as long as i live unless you uninvite my mother right the fuck now."

"i couldn't say no!" richie was now flapping his hands about in frustration, looking a little like a cartoon character. "she called me up yelling about the divorce and then i told her about the wedding--"

"my life would be so much easier if your dad had just pulled out." you deadpanned.

"--and i didn't know how to tell her she couldn't come--

"we have to change the venue. she's not coming."

"but that's the beach grease was filmed on, babe, there's no way i--"

"richie, if you don't change the venue, i will fucking castrate you in your fucking sleep."

---

it was raining that day, anyway, so a beach wedding wouldn't have been possible. it was okay, though. richie quite liked the little chapel you had picked out, and the coloured light that filtered through the stained glass windows danced across your skin in a way that reminded him so much of quarry sunsets. it was perfect, really.

"we could have had... so much more, yknow? a normal life. but, instead, we grew up in fucking derry... like idiots from some dumb horror book." you laughed at that. so did the losers. you were the only ones who knew what it really meant. "i promise... i'm going to, um, spend every moment of the rest of my life, the rest of however long we have, showing you how much i love you. and i do... love you, that is. every moment of the rest of fucking time, baby, because god knows we've lost enough."

and you kissed him before the priest even said the words, knocking him backwards into eddie.

your first dance was unconventional.

of course.

richie was nervous. he had practiced this dance so many times, with beverly, with eddie, with fucking bill. (that particular endeavour had been a tough nut to crack.) and you pretended you didn't know, for his sake, because he had tried so hard.

his hands shook as he positioned them on your waist where beverly had taught him.

"i can't dance, babe." he snorted.

"i know you can't." you giggled, kissing his cheek.

you held him close to you, blinking back tears as the first chords of billy joel's vienna drifted quietly from the speakers in the corner.

richie lay his head on your shoulder, murmuring the words softly in your ear and pressing light kisses to the soft skin under it.

about halfway through the song, you realised you didn't actually know how to dance either, which was a relief to him. whatever you ended up doing had to have been acceptable, because, once again, everyone was sobbing.

bev cried, mike cried, ben cried, bill cried. eddie shoved almost his entire hand into his mouth to stifle his tears, because there was no way in fuck richie was seeing him cry.

richie would sooner find himself down in the sewers again than admit it, but he could carry a damn tune.

when the song faded to its soft end, the two of you didn't move for several more seconds, eyes gently closed, foreheads together. (admittedly, richie was quite a bit taller than you, and to lean down a fraction.) it seemed almost wrong to open your eyes and join the rest of the world, but the losers' over-enthusistic applause and cheering pulled you both from the trance as they drowned out everyone else.

"you're beautiful." richie whispered, and your eyes snapped open. you had a feeling he wasn't just talking about your dress. eddie, of all people, had helped you pick it out, following you around the wedding dress outlet centres, hissing profanity at the disheveled women who got in his way and muttering furiously about how he'd sterilise the fuck out of whatever you chose to buy.

"you're beautiful." you sniffed, wiping your watery eyes and pulling him down to kiss you softly.

"why are you two like that?" eddie whined when you sat down at the table you'd put them all on. he was only half joking.

"it is their wedding day, eds." bev shrugged, remembering how gross her and ben had been at their own wedding a few months previously.

"what can i say?" you arranged the skirt of your dress comfortably around you before slinging your legs over richie's. "richie's a whore."

the rest of the party was... eventful.

most notably, the losers club's exclusive, very enthusiastic (and frankly quite dangerous) group dance to uptown girl in which your shoe ended up across the room in the wine cooler on the table you dubbed "friends from work" and bill and mike accidentally threw eddie half way across the room at the final chorus.

there was also the matter of richie and yourself insisting on recreating the "come on eileen" dance from the perks of being a wallflower, but then not remembering any of the moves. losers club exclusive group dance part 2 ensued.

eddie's best man speech was a wreck, mainly because he was absolutely bladdered.

("trash-mouth... trash-mouth fuckin tozier got the girl. nobody thought it would ever happen, i mean ever-")

---

(6 months after the wedding.)

"are we gonna pretend we have kids?" you pondered, crumpling the empty juice pouch in your hands and tossing it onto the steady-growing pile in the corner of the living room. "or are we just going to have to own up to the fact we drank twelve boxes of capri suns between us this week?"

a quiet slurping noise came from beside you as richie drained his own capri-sun, throwing it onto the pile with a flourish of his arms.

"i think that they've come to expect this of us." he said, shifting your legs out of his lap and standing up to answer the door.

"alright!" you heard him call down the hallway, as who you assumed was bev began pounding the doorbell aggressively.

and then the door swung open, and you heard a chorus of cheerful greetings and borderline yelling. ah, your best friends.

the losers came over to the tozier residence almost weekly for drunken antics and the spilling of long overdue tea.

"MRS TOZIER!" mike hollered jovially, bill in tow. they'd been seeing more of each other recently. none of you were able to miss how mike looked at bill when bill wasn't looking. it was how beverly and ben looked at one another, and how you looked at richie every morning you woke up to his face, and all throughout the day when he wasn't looking, and even when he was looking.

"MIKEY!" you yelled back with equally as much gusto, stretching your arms out for a hug, which he gladly returned.

"novelty not wore off, yet?" mike asked, gratefully taking the capri sun you offered to him as he settled next to you on the couch. "you've been married long enough, realised you don't love him yet?"

"oh yeah, no, this is purely a marriage of convenience. he's not that ugly, and i get laid like every day, and all i have to do is pick up his socks and share a bed with him."

richie wasn't impressed, storming back into the room in front of bev, ben and eddie.

"hey, um, ok, well, i actually am having a passionate affair with ben, and, ben's fucking hung. so, there."

richie slumped on the other side of you, grabbing you and blowing a raspberry on the side of your neck.

"seriously, bitch?" you whined, but you wrapped your arms around him all the same.

eddie bustled over to the towering pile of capri-sun packets, a plastic refuse bag in hand that you assumed he'd just pulled from his fanny pack.

"you guys are disgusting." he shoved the packets into the bag with unnecessary force. "you fucking deserve each other."

"tell them why we got kicked out of the drive-in theatre last week, rich." you smirked, leaning into your husband's side. he cleared his throat.

"i, uh..."

"tell them." you pressed.

"we saw titanic-" richie started, quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

"oh, god." eddie groaned, storming out of the room in search of a recycling bin.

"-and i, uh... was yelling diving scores as they, uh, jumped off the boat."

"for fucks sake, richie." ben sighed. beverly was borderline cackling. mike and bill just looked disappointed.

"it's not my fault!" richie whined. "my beautiful wife was the one who insisted we recreate the sex scenes as they happened. hand on the window and everything."

"the toziers, everyone." eddie came back into the room, sitting on the ground on a beanbag near the coffee table. "you two should never have been allowed near each other."

"ah, but we were." you chimed in. grabbing richie's face and kissing him obnoxiously. "what say we get piss-drunk and, like, play dumb drinking games. for old times sake?" you suggested when you tore yourself from him, your lips separating with a wet pop. "it's been a while."

---

1993

"what's up, fuckers." you threw up a casual peace sign as you descended into bill's smoke-shrouded basement, stumbling slightly down the stairs and sitting between richie and stanley in the circle that the losers had formed.

richie immediately attached his lips to your neck, pulling you into his side.

"hello to you too, trash-mouth." you grinned. richie looked fucking good.

he'd only gone and got his septum pierced the day before, and you were wary at first, but the little silver horseshoe ring that hung between his nostrils now looked amazing, glinting in the low basement lights. richie wore a deep red, oversized, cable-knit sweater that you could have sworn was yours but you'd smoked a huge joint on the way here and weren't too sure. a black beanie sat on his head, a few errant curls poking out by his forehead and around his ears.

"you're hot." you mumbled.

"you're hot." he grinned against your neck, and lifted his head to kiss your lips, his glasses bumping against your nose.

"yo, whores, truth or dare." beverly said, throwing back about half of the bottle in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"i fucking hate this game." richie hissed, leaning against your shoulder, sulking.

"truth." you said.

"what's richie's biggest kink?" she leaned forward in the circle, her tongue poking out from between her teeth.

"beverly!" richie was not amused.

"he's really into hair pulling." you sniffed, taking a blunt from between stan's fingers.

"babe!" richie exclaimed. you exhaled in his face.

"is he loud?" bev asked, leaning to take the joint from you.

"BEVERLY!" richie was shouting, now, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"oh, yes. he is." you nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

"FUCK!"

"a bit like that, actually."

"this is actual abuse." richie put his head in his hands, edging away from you.

"i love you." you tried, tugging on his sweater and leaning against him.

he had crawled into stanley's lap at this point, curling up like a baby.

"i fucking hate truth or dare." richie sat up and reached for another bottle, allowing you to wrap your arms around him.

---

most of the losers were asleep, curled up in various, not so comfortable looking positions on your couch and beanbags and weird hanging egg chair thingy that you'd insisted on buying.

"where did you come from, babe?" richie sighed, snaking his arms around your waist from behind as you brushed your teeth. "you're fuckin'... perfect."

one thing richie had always remembered, if a little vaguely, was your smell. the smell of sleep and fabric softener and your shampoo. his memory hadn't done it justice, he decided. when he took you in his arms in the chinese restaurant and inhaled deeply as if it were his last breath, filling his lungs with the smell of you and trying to sear into his brain the memory of how you felt inside his arms. because he would forget again, surely.

he hated himself for forgetting you.

"we're married, rich." you pointed out, rinsing your toothbrush and dropping it into the holder. "you're not too bad, yourself."

"i mean it, though." he muttered, pressing the softest of kisses to your jaw. "you're so fuckin'... doll, i, fuck-"

"don't go all shy on me, babe." you teased. "come to bed, yeah? im cold."

he watched as you shuffled off to your shared bedroom, doing that thing you always did when you stretched, making an unnecessary amount of noise. he smiled. that's my baby.

"hey, rich." another voice came from behind him. at the door of the bathroom, small and tentative.

"oh, hey, eds." richie smiled, taking his own toothbrush from the one next to yours, continuing the conversation through the mirror. but there was a somewhat uncomfortable silence in the small room, made worse by the hollow rattling of the toothbrushes.

"i, uh..." eddie shifted his weight, leaning against the doorframe. "i, uh... gotta tell you something, rich."

"knock yourself out, eddie spaghetti."

"im getting a divorce."

"oh, yeah? good, she was a fucking-"

"im with someone. a guy."

"a guy?"

"yeah. his name is, uh, richie, as it happens. well, richard, but, yknow."

"eds-"

"i loved you." eddie blurted. quiet. barely there. "for, uh... so long."

"you-"

"when we were kids. and, and i... you were never out of my head. not for one fucking second. and my mom... god, my fucking mom, she knew. i think she knew. every time you came round she made sure to scrub me a little harder. the soap burned. fuckin, i don't even know, some carbolic shit, or something. but... it was always her, wasn't it? you and her, um, you loved her and you continued to love her for... for fucking ever. and i wanted it to be me, rich."

richie was almost choking on his heart.

"eds, you know i-"

"no, actually, i don't."

"well i-"

"im not... bitter. if that's what you think. because i think the world of her. she's... my best friend, i would do anything for her, rich. and it wouldn't have made sense for you to end up with anyone else.

and im not... pining anymore? this was uh, what i needed. and im with someone, and he loves me, and i love him. so much, i do. and i love... you... and her... "

"eddie, i loved you too, yknow." richie muttered. the words hung in the air between them like the sword of fuckin' damocles.

"you did?"

"yeah. course i did."

"well, fuck."

"yeah. fuck."

"can i-" eddie held out his arms.

"yeah.",

richie was so used to hugging smaller people that it was natural to rest his chin on eddie's head, enveloping him almost completely. he noted how eddie gripped his shirt a little tighter than was probably necessary.

"you gotta let me meet this guy, yeah?" said richie, muffled against eddie's hair. "you're, like, small and shit. so i gotta make sure he won't break you or something."

"okay, rich." eddie laughed quietly.

when they broke apart, something had changed. there was closure. eddie could go back to his loving boyfriend and richie could go back to his wonderful wife and it was okay. all of it was okay.

it was okay.

---

"g'morning, doll." you had woken up to richie going to town between your legs. which was, um, always a good time.

after he had finished, wiping his lips, wiping you from his lips, he mumbled the term of endearment lowly into your ear, kissing the spot just underneath it, and you almost grabbed his head and pushed him back down there. however, it was cold, and he was warm, so you melted against him, pulling his arm over you.

"hey, baby." you weren't sure if the words had come from you, because you were floating. and half asleep. but they must have done, because richie kissed the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him, if that was possible. "what time is it." you continued, yawning.

"uhh, like, nine." he yawned back.

"ew."

"i know."

"why did you- and not that i'm complaining, because that was great- why did you wake me up, you fucking insane person."

"because they all left, and woke me to tell me they were leaving, and then i was awake, and you weren't, and i was bored, and i wanted to wake you nicely."

"mission fucking accomplished." you sighed, a sleepy grin spreading across your face. "but can we go back to sleep, now?"

"yeah."

"love you, stinky." you mumbled.

"love you more."

#beep beep #richie tozier #it richie #richie tozier x reader #adult richie #bill hader #losers club x reader #losers club

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jade4813 · 4 years

Text

The Lies We Tell Ourselves, Chapter 10

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Rating: PG (I’m assuming it’ll stay there?)

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Max would do anything for Zoey. Including posing as her fake boyfriend to give her father one last “big moment” to celebrate with her. Nothing could possibly go wrong. After all, it’s only his heart that stands to be broken. Right?

Chapter: 10/11

Author’s Notes: Takes place after Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Zoey was subdued as she led Max into her apartment. Her heart song had apparently convinced him to listen, but she wasn’t sure how to get him to give her a second chance. She didn’t know how to convince him of the truth.

But as lost and confused as she was, she knew that this was perhaps her one chance to make him understand. She refused to squander it. For the first time, she knew she wasn’t afraid anymore. If she could just get through to him, their love would be strong enough.

Taking his hand, she led him to the couch. “So.” She attempted to lob the first conversational volley, but nothing came immediately to mind.

As always, Max saved her. “So…that was quite the heart song you sang back there.”

“Yeah,” she agreed sheepishly. “But at least…it has to prove that I was telling the truth about my feelings for you. Doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he agreed, but there was just enough of a pause before he replied, and he dragged out the second word just long enough, that she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“But?” she prompted.

He sighed. “But…I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to be honest with you, Zo. I’m not sure it matters if you were telling the truth.” Slumping, he linked his fingers behind his head and sighed. “The thing is, I’ve heard it before. Your heart song, telling me that you loved me. And just look what happened! You sang to me that you loved me, then you sang a song to Simon. You come over to my place and tell me you love me, and I know you were drunk but…how was I supposed to react to that? I wanted to believe it! And then you go and…” Dropping his hands, he looked over at her, and his eyes were sad. “I’m not sure if just knowing you love me is enough for me anymore.”

She bit her lip. “So you are mad at me,” she said softly.

“No!” he began to protest, before heaving a heavy sigh. “All right, yes. I guess I am. I’m just…I’m tired of being the fallback guy. I love you, Zoey. I’ve never had to question it. I’ve just known it. You will never come second to me, but I seem to always come second to you. How am I supposed to deal with that?”

She grabbed his hand, holding it in hers. “You aren’t second to me, Max! You aren’t! It isn’t like that! I admit I’ve been…confused. Scared. I was running away from my feelings. From you.”

He pulled his hand away. “And how do you think that makes me feel? To know that I’m so sure about you, the person I love – the person I am that sure about, well, isn’t really sure how they feel about me?”

“That isn’t fair, Max. This kind of stuff…it isn’t easy for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying, and it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I know it isn’t fair. But it’s how I feel. And I can’t keep pretending it isn’t, even to myself, because I’m scared it will hurt you to hear.”

She dropped her head, watching her fingers twist anxiously in her lap. “So where do we go from here?” she asked, her voice soft and sad.

A long silence followed her question, during which she held her breath, praying he would say something that would make it all right. Instead, he replied sadly, “I don’t know. I just can’t be your backup plan, when things with Simon don’t work out.” When she started to protest, he shook his head. “I know you’re telling me now that’s not what this is, and trust me, I want to believe that. You have no idea how much I want to believe that. I just…can’t.”

Shifting in her seat, she wanted to reach for him, but he felt like he was a million miles away from her. “So this is it? I was so scared of losing you that I lost you anyway.”

Max stood, and she followed him to the door. “Not exactly. I mean, we’ll always be friends, right? I just need a little time to find my way back there.”

“But this thing…for my dad…are we still…”

He turned his head quickly, but not fast enough to entirely conceal his wince, and she realized that she was doing it again. Putting Max’s feelings second. Behind herself, behind Simon, behind her dad. That she didn’t doubt he understood why she was doing it in this instance didn’t change the fact she was doing it. And probably didn’t make it hurt any less.

But as he always did, he let her. His smile was reassuring when he turned back to face her. “Yeah, of course. You know I’d do anything for Mitch.” Hesitating a brief second, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against her cheek.” See you later, Zoey.”

She sighed as she closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against its solid surface. It took her a few minutes to clear her head, but then she knew what she had to do. Not for herself. Not to convince Max to love her. But for him. Because even if she had been driven by fear for too long and lost her chance at his love, he had to understand that he was wrong. He wasn’t a second choice. He deserved so, so much better than that.

It was going to require her to be just a little bit brave. But she could do it. For Max.

“Are you free for lunch today? I wanted to meet up with my dad, since we skipped out on charades.”

“Sure! What’d you have in mind?”

“Meet me at that park a couple blocks away at noon? I thought my dad would like the fresh air.”

“Sounds good. See you there!”

Trying to not pace, Zoey read the text for the fourth time in as many minutes, wanting to reassure herself that she hadn’t gotten it wrong. Max was on his way.

“This was a lovely idea, Zoey. Your father and I haven’t been on a picnic for years!” Maggie said cheerfully, laying out the blanket.

With some effort, Emily lowered herself onto the ground and started spreading out the food. “If this is all leading to you trying to convince us that your forfeited game of charades shouldn’t count as a loss, you’re wasting your time.”

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Zoey replied with wounded dignity. Actually, she probably would have made the effort, if she didn’t have so much on her mind.

“Uh huh,” her sister-in-law replied with a skeptical snort.

David took a seat beside her, being careful not to get grass stains on his suit. “What is this about, anyway? Not that I’m not glad to have lunch with everyone, of course, but you made it sound like an emergency.”

She took a deep breath. “I know. I’ll explain everything when Max gets here. I promise.” She was tempted to pull her phone out to read his texts one more time, but just then, she saw him approach. Although it sent the butterflies in her stomach into overdrive, she paused to admire the sight of him. Dressed all in black, his hair adorably tousled by the wind, she wondered how she ever could have been blind to how easily he took her breath away.

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I had a meeting that ran over,” he greeted them apologetically as he placed his hand on Zoey’s waist and bent for a brief kiss. She put her hand on his shoulder, longing to hold him close to her forever, but she didn’t protest when he straightened and moved away to help finish setting things up.

Her family settled in to eat, and Zoey shot a quick look at her dad. He was just waiting patiently, staring at her, and she wondered if he somehow knew what she was about to do. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. She sucked in a long, shaky breath, trying to gather her courage. But then her gaze drifted to Max, and courage wasn’t so hard to find. As nervous as she was about disappointing her parents – particularly her father – she had no doubt she was doing the right thing.

“Before we get started, there’s something…I need to tell you. All of you,” she began, standing in front of her family stretched out on the lawn. I know you’ll probably have a million questions about what I’m about to say, but just…hear me out, okay?”

Max looked up at her in surprise. Then, glancing around the group, he seemed to suspect what she was about to do because he sat bolt upright. “Zoey, you don’t have to do this…” he began, jumping to his feet.

“Yes, I do,” she argued, holding up one hand to stop him in his tracks. Turning her attention back to her family, she continued, “The thing is, I haven’t been very fair to Max. For a while, now, really. And I realized last night that he deserves so much better than what I’ve put him through. So much better.” She paused, looking at her dad. “And all of you deserve the truth.”

“Zoey,” Max protested again, stepping around the picnic blanket to approach her, but she ignored him as Emily looked between them.

“This isn’t going to be another one of those moments where the two of you totally bail on us to go make out or something, is it?”

Her laugh was shaky, uncertain. Rueful. “No, pretty much the opposite, actually.”

Max tried to stop her one more time. Cupping her chin, he gently tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes and murmured, “You really don’t have to do this. Not for me.” She didn’t reply, simply grabbing his hand in hers and hold it tight as she turned back to her family.

“The truth is, a few weeks ago, Max really did hire an entire flash mob to tell me he loves me, and I did freak out. But…the rest of what we said was a lie. We aren’t together.” Her voice caught on the last word, but she forced herself to continue. “Romantically, I mean. We never have been.”

Her mom shot them both a confused look as she said in a tone of amused confusion, “Well, you’ve certainly been doing a lot of kissing for two people who aren’t dating!”

“I know,” she admitted, squeezing Max’s hand. “The thing is, when we got the news that…that dad was in the final stage of his illness, I wanted to give him one last big moment to celebrate. You know? So I…” Her voice caught, falling to barely above a whisper as she continued, “I asked Max to pretend to be my boyfriend. So dad wouldn’t worry about me when he…when he…” She couldn’t say it.

Her mom breathed her name in a shocked undertone. In response, stroking his thumb reassuringly along the curve of her hand, Max cut in, “She asked me if I knew anyone who would be willing to do it, and I volunteered.” He was trying to protect her, as he always did, and the realization made her heart ache.

Zoey was tempted to stop there. She knew their confusion would turn to condemnation as she continued, and she couldn’t stand to see that in their eyes. She especially couldn’t stand to see the pain her words would cause Max. But she owed him more honesty than she had yet offered, and so she bowed her head as she admitted, “But the thing is, I knew he would. I knew how he felt about me, and I knew pretending like this would hurt him. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did it anyway.”

“That’s…uh…that’s quite the story,” David finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen in the group. “I know your heart was in the right place, Zoey, even if I don’t agree with what you did. But Max? I don’t understand what you were thinking!”

“Don’t blame him,” she begged before Max could respond. “He did it for me. And I let him because…I think I wanted to pretend it was true. Even if I didn’t want to admit it. But Max…he’s been amazing through everything. Truly. He’s been willing to do whatever I asked him, just to make dad happy. Even though I’ve done nothing but hurt him over and over again.” She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, bracing herself for what she was about to confess. “Even more than he knows.”

He hesitated, throwing her a confused look, and she charged ahead before she could lose her nerve. “Max had sung a song to me, to confess his feelings, so I decided to do the same. I sang a love song to him.” It was a small distortion of the truth, and she’d considered confessing all. But at the last minute, she decided it would be too much to try to explain her powers to her family, or the strange glitch she had experienced. As honest as she was trying to be, telling them that she had connected to her father in a way they couldn’t would only cause unnecessary pain. Even if they believed her, which was unlikely. “Then I…I kind of threw myself at Simon. I kissed him.”

She watched as Max recoiled at this confession, though he tried to hide it. She’d never told him that the kiss he had witnessed had not been their first. But the time for hiding the truth from him was over. He deserved honesty, even if it meant she lost him forever. He dropped her hand, and she curled hers into a fist, missing his warmth.

Her heart heavy in her chest, she concluded her confession. “I was confused, and I didn’t know what I wanted. So I did it again. I told Max I loved him, and then Simon and I…we kissed. Every time Max and I got close, I ran. Like I did after he sang to me. I’ve been an idiot, making one bad decision after another this whole time.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably on the ground. “Uh…this is fascinating, but I’m not sure we need to know all this,” she pointed out, trying to soften the harsh edge to her voice. In some ways, she wasn’t any better at dealing with other people’s emotions than Zoey. Maggie murmured something to her, and she cried defensively, “What? We were all thinking it!”

“You’re probably right, Emily, but after all this time, I owed you the truth.” Though she was addressing everyone, she spoke directly to Max. Although she’d managed to keep her feelings under control this whole time, but now that her confession was near the end, she found herself struggling not to cry.

Swallowing heavily, she glanced at her parents. “I’m sorry. Mom, Dad…David, Emily. I know I owe all of you an apology. I’m sorry I lied to you.” Then, turning to Max again, with her heart aching, she continued, “But mostly I’m sorry to you, Max. I know I’ve lost…everything. Your love. Your trust. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Zoey,” he breathed, but she shook her head, needing to get through this once and for all.

“No. I was selfish in wanting to pretend we were together when I knew how you felt about me. And I let my fear blind me to how I felt about you for too long. I know I’ve missed my chance, and none of this changes anything. But I really am sorry. But even if I haven’t showed it, I wanted you to know that…you’re wonderful. And…and you aren’t my backup plan. You aren’t my second choice. You never were. You’re…you’re my forever guy.”

“I…” He was staring at her with wide eyes, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed heavily. He turned from her to her family and scanned their faces like he didn’t know what to say. “I…”

He looked to Zoey again, and she was amazed to see a tiny smile lurk at the corners of his mouth. “Actually, will you guys excuse the two of us? I think this is definitely one of those moments where Zoey and I bail on you so we can go make out.”

He didn’t wait for a response, grabbing Zoey’s hand and pulling her away. But they didn’t get far; when they ran behind a tree, she tugged at his hand, pulling him to a stop. He turned, pressing his back against the rough bark and pulling her into his arms.

“What -?” she started to ask, but that was as far as she got before his mouth was on hers, demanding and hungry. She speared her fingers into his hair, holding his head in place as she returned his kiss. She wasn’t sure what this meant, but if this was to be the final embrace the two would ever share, she would make it last, and she would carry this memory to the end of her days.

When the kiss broke off, she rested her forehead against his. Since their charade had begun, the scent of Max’s aftershave had clung to her, so that she carried him with her everywhere. Keeping her eyes closed, Zoey breathed him in. If she had the power to stop time, she would choose this moment to freeze, to live in for an eternity.

“Max?” she whispered, afraid to even hope. But when she opened her eyes, she found that he was looking down at her with such love, it was a mystery that she had missed it for so long.

“Oh, Zoey,” he murmured, leaning back to caress her cheek. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “I did.”

“And you say you’re not good at big gestures,” he teased her lightly, leaning in for another kiss.

She didn’t protest. After all their confusion and misunderstandings, after all the time they wasted, she could have kissed him forever. “I really do love you, you know,” she whispered her promise against his lips.

“Yeah,” he answered back, his voice just as soft, this time without a moment of hesitation or doubt. “I know. Thank you. For your honesty.” His hands stroked up and down her back, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching her as he brushed feather-light kisses across her cheeks, her temple, her jaw, her mouth. “Oh, and for the record? I never stopped loving you.” He nibbled softly on her lower lip. “Well, maybe a little when I found out how wrong you are about the whole Stay Puft, T-Rex thing. You’re really, really wrong about that, and it’s very important to me that you admit it.”

She feigned a gasp of dismay, but she was unable to completely hide her grin as she protested, “I am not wrong about that!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her heart warmed at the endearment. “You really, really are. But more importantly…does this mean you’ve technically proposed to me? Because I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea, but don’t you think you’re moving a little fast? Anyway, I was hoping for a little more romance. You’d take me out to dinner…buy me a ring…”

This time, her gasp was real, and she laughed softly as she gave his shoulder a playful slap. “What? I did not just propose to you!”

Tilting his head to the side, he gave her a skeptical smile, but he was grinning when he replied, “Mmm…really? Are you sure about that? I’m your forever guy? That sounds like a proposal to me. Should we ask your family what they think? Because I think they’d agree with me.”

“Oh, my god. You are such a dork,” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him as she pulled him in for a searing kiss. Smiling against his mouth, she suggested, “I have a better idea. Do you think you could call off for the rest of the day? Because I can think of something better we could be doing.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, sounding adorably confused. “Like wha- oh. Ohhh!”

Zoey’s laughter was free and unbridled as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Like I said. You are such a dork.”

#the lies we tell ourselves #zoey's extraordinary playlist #zoey clarke #max richman #fanfiction #my fanfiction #zep #zomax #clarkeman #fake dating au

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nebula-horizon · 4 years

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🍏 {the-5-tribesmen} Wulfric giving Celeste some nice, roasted-over-an-open-fire, boar meat. A delicacy where he comes from uwu

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🍏 to give my muse food

I listened to orchestra renditions of the Kingdom Hearts soundtrack. Mostly Dearly Beloved

((THIS WAS 9 PAGES ON GOOGLE DOCS AAAAAAAAAAAAA))

It had been two months since Celeste had begun traveling with Wulfric and his group. Although she was better acquainted with everyone, she still felt rather out of place amongst them. It wasn't such a far fetched idea; she was from another dimension after all! It, however, was still disheartening that she still felt like a stranger especially since it seemed like these five were going to be her traveling partners for quite some time.

They all tried to make her feel included in their own way to some extent. Eoghan brought Celeste into different towns to shop for spices and temporary potions, teaching her about the history of every place they visited. Sweet Cao liked to keep Celeste company when everyone else was away or busy. Showing her all the stuff he's recorded in his journal while traveling, Cao was very happy to share all the cool stuff he's seen with her.

Aodh was a bit of a tougher guy to crack. Being a far more stoic and diligent man than his older brother, he was less soft around Celeste. Yet he still found a way to bond even with her without breaking that facade as she needed someone to show her how to defend herself in their world. Always holding her from behind and teaching her how to swing different weapons. Tristan was… a bit different and not in a good way. His way of making Celeste feel like one of them was rather strange and more straightforward, but Celeste always found herself being cornered while Tristan leaned over her, giving her a shit eating grin when they were alone.

Despite all their efforts to make her feel welcomed, there was still a sense of distance between her and every one of them. Well… everyone but Wulfric. Although she was scared of him at first, he went up to the plate and proved that he was at least there to protect her.

Celeste watched as the five of her new friends scrambled around the campsite, setting things up to stay for the next few days there. As much as she wanted to help them out, it seemed like everyone already had a role and job to fill. So she sat on a log with her knees pulled up to her chest as she watched everyone around her do their part.

Wulfric was helping out in every area he was needed; setting up the tents with Cao and Tristan, carrying heavy logs of wood and stones to make a fire pit with Aodh. As he went to see what Eoghan needed, the elder of the group stopped him.

"Thank you, Wulfric, but I think you should help someone else out." Eoghan suggested. The larger bearded man tilted his head to the side.

"But don't you need help with cooking?" He asked. "Besides, who else is there to help…". Wulfric's voice drifted off as Eoghan tilted his head to the side to gesture over to the lone purple haired girl sitting on the log.

"We still need a boar for tonight's dinner… maybe you could take her hunting.". Eoghan suggested, as Wulfric for a brief second had an unsure look on his face. He rolled his eyes at the younger man. "You've seen the powers she holds, I think she'll make a great hunter if someone shows her.". Eoghan was right -- If not a good hunter, maybe Celeste could at least be useful to help Wulfric run away quickly. Though who would blame Wulfric for being unsure about Celeste helping him hunt? She was small, scared, and the only times she's ever displayed her powers was when she would run from danger. Of course Wulfric was a little skeptical in her abilities.

Despite his reservations, he saw the way Celeste sat alone looking lost and he couldn't help but feel that maybe she did just need a push in the right direction. He strode over to her log, plopping down right next to her with a heavy thump of his whole body. Celeste jumped naturally from the sudden company, looking right at Wulfric.

"So…" Wulfric began. "Eoghan said dinner for tonight is mostly set, but we need one more thing…".

"Oh…? Do you want me to go back into the city and grab something?" Celeste asked, perking back up a bit. Wulfric gave a chuckle as he gently patted her head.

"No no, for this dinner it's better if we killed it fresh.". Celeste tilted her head to the side in confusion. "You're gonna help me hunt for a live boar." Wulfric said with a confident grin and a heavy handed pat to Celeste's back as he helped her back up. "Ya think you got what it takes to help me catch a boar?".

At first he had asked that to give her an out if she wanted, but the way he saw her eyes light up made Wulfric feel a little nice inside. Maybe she did just need someone to help out and give her some direction -- after all she spent these last two months feeling lost.

“Yes! I-I wanna help!” she beamed.

“Well, then grab your gear and two spears! We’ll need to find a big boar before it gets too dark out!.” Wulfric bellowed before watching Celeste nod and scurry off to ready herself for the hunt. Her energetic smile and enthusiasm to do something was quite infectious, it reminded Wulfric of his first solo hunt. The pastel haired woman took a few minutes to get ready, but she came back with a small backpack and two spears in her arms. She had a large dagger strapped to her side -- a gift from the younger Wexler brother. Wulfric grabbed one of the spears. “Eager to hunt, eh? It won’t be easy, you know, after all wild boars are hard to subdue.”.

“Y-yeah… I-I think I got this! I mean if you’re there then, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about right?”. Celeste said that with such assurance and trust in her voice -- she really was putting her faith in Wulfric to protect her and it made him somewhat flustered. The two of them let the others know where they’d be at and went off into the heavily wooded area nearby.

As they walked through the woods, Wulfric talked about his experience with hunting and giving little old Celeste pointers on what to do. The sun drifted across the sky as they walked and Wulfric took note of it, saying that they should hurry along.

“Have you truly never hunted before?” he asked. “What about your father or your brother, were they never pressed to hunt for food for their family?”. Celeste laughed, but not at him.

“No! I keep saying I’m from a time where people don’t need to hunt anymore.” She explained. “Though some people hunt for fun and sport still.”.

“Sounds like my own father!” Wulfric bellowed. What a strange world she came from! “Perhaps one day I’ll be able to visit your world to see what it is like.”. He smiled, but that quickly faded when he looked over at Celeste. Her smile wasn’t as big as before and she looked as though she were deep in thought. Wulfric knew that she was beginning to feel homesick again. That’s when he began thinking: How were they going to get Celeste home anyhow? Sure Eoghan had some clues here and there on a sort of portal for Celeste, but they were all so vague and information about these “interdimensional rifts” were in books far older than wulfric.

However, that wouldn’t deter him -- he was a hard-headed Wexler! There wasn’t anything that could stop him from helping Celeste and returning her home! They stopped nearby a large thick oak tree and Wulfric placed a firm hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. The two of them were so different and he knew it. Celeste was smart and knowledgeable, yet a strange girl especially with the way she presented and spoke. The way she spoke of the stars made Wulfric almost believe Celeste had come from there.

"We'll get you back home, Celeste… we're all trying our hardest to help you." He reassured, giving Celeste an uncharacteristically soft and gentle smile. "I promise…". Wulfric stared into her starry eyes as they lit up with hope but still sensed her hesitation to fully trust him.

"All of you…? Really?". It was a little hard for her to believe at first. She didn't really get the sense that they cared for her that way, but if Wulfric said so she had to at least consider it. Celeste was the type of person that needed things -- especially feelings -- spelled out for her to really give her input. "Th-thank you, Wulfric… I-I guess I just need to hear it from the others to really believe it, but I'm glad you think so.". Wulfric gently brushed Celeste's hair out of her face and behind her ears, making her blush.

"I know so… You know, Eoghan is actually working on something for you." he said, not noticing Celeste’s attention diverting from him and rather focusing on behind him. “I know I shouldn’t tell you this, but…”

“Wulfric…”.

“It’s something he’s been working hard on with input from all of us and-”

“Hey that’s nice,but Wulfric-”

“We just hope that you’ll like it is all and-”

“WULFRIC LOOK OUT!”. Celeste tackled him forward onto the warp star, shooting them upwards into the air as a large wild boar attempted to ram into them. She began panting as she sat on top of Wulfric and looking back down at the boar that was trying to attack them. “You okay, Wulf? Sorry I had to tackle you back there.”. The bearish older man gave a hearty laugh as he sat up with Celeste on his lap, patting her on the head.

“Good job! I hadn’t noticed the thing sneak up on us!”. He shifted on the warp star, moving Celeste carefully off his lap. Wulfric gripped his spear as he stared down at the wild boar that seemed to have gotten confused. “I have a plan. Do you think you can fly the star quickly by so that I can spear it without giving it a chance to run?”. Celeste was still a bit stunned by the whole ordeal, but she nodded, determined to try her very best to prove herself.

The warp star whirred as Celeste directed it to take a sharp turn back towards the wild boar. It looked like the beast was ready to escape, but before it could the star flew quickly over it allowing Wulfric to drop down and impaling the boar right in it’s back. Celeste cheered, thinking the hunt was already over as did Wulfric.

However, the large beast wouldn’t go down without a fight. It thrashed angrily as hard as it could to get the large Wexler off its back, ramming its head into Wulfric's abdomen; its tusks digging into him. He winced in pain, mistakenly leaving an opening for the boar to continue pushing him until he was up against a tree. Celeste gasped as she watched Wulfric struggling in pain from the tusks digging into his stomach -- she had to act fast! Without thinking, she readied her spear before dropping down mid air onto the feral hog. Her spear pierced right above where Wulfric had landed his, but not quite as deep into it’s back. The boar reared its head back, squealing and flailing wildly to try and get Celeste off its back, but she was determined not to let go no matter how hard it thrashed. Yelling and screams of help echoed through the woods as she was practically dragged along by this large wild animal.

Wulfric took the chance, pressing down on the small tusk wounds in his abs for a moment to ease the pain. He charged back in as Celeste was roughly thrown off the animal’s back after being dragged around like a ragdoll. The boar readied to ram her with its tusks as she laid on the ground trying to recuperate, causing Celeste to recoil with her arms up in a defensive manner. Luckily for her, Wulfric managed to take hold of the two spears already lodged in the boar’s back and jammed them farther into it. Yet the beast wouldn’t go down! It hesitated for a moment, but still had enough energy to try and wriggle out. Celeste had to finish it off!

Quickly, she unsheathed her gifted dagger and dragged it across the boar’s throat -- a messy, but sufficient kill. The wild beast slumped in Wulfric’s hold and he double checked to truly see if it was dead. Celeste’s panting slowed down before she gulped and wiped the boar blood off her knife with her sleeve. She’d have to thank Aodh later for the gift. Once the adrenaline subsided, she fell flat on her back, wanting to pass out after that whole ordeal. Her knees stung in pain from having her legs dragged against the forest floor.

Wulfric, however, wasn’t going to let her rest just yet. He scooped the worn out young lady in his arms, giving her a tight hug and triumphant laugh -- he really hadn’t expected her to dive bomb the boar like that! And she seemed to have gotten good with that dagger his younger brother gave to her!

“That was fantastic, Celeste! That boar almost did a number on me, but you were quick on your toes and with that spear. Amazing job!” he bellowed, setting the small pastel girl down and firmly patting her back.

“Haha… It’s no big deal, Wulf… really!” she chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

"That’s ridiculous, let me give you your flowers while you're still with us! Don't downplay your own achievements here!" Wulfric rebuffed. "Now let's get this boar back to the others! The sun is about to set.".

The large dead boar laid on Wulfric’s shoulders as he spoke about his other hunting ventures -- it made Celeste feel a little nauseous, but she could keep her sick down till they were able to drop off the boar. Though Wulfric wouldn’t let her keep her distance, holding the boar over his shoulder with one arm and holding Celeste close to him with the other. Although she did like being this close to him so she could pay the price of being this near literal dead meat.

“Eoghan will have to ask Cao to go with him into towns from now on! Aodh and I need you with us when we go hunting!” he joked, not realizing how flustered he was making Celeste. She didn't know how to respond to this much praise even from just one person. At least the overflow of serotonin from being complimented was helping her ignore the stench of dead boar. Fortunately for her, they would be back to the campsite in no time. Wulfric dropped the boar body onto a tarp laid out so Eoghan could clean the meat and prep it before they roast it over the large fire pit.

"You're back! How was hunting-... Oh my, Are you two alright?" Eoghan rushed over to the two, mostly giving Celeste attention as she was the smaller weaker one with the most obvious cuts and scratches to her legs. "Oh dear… I'll go get my med kit and-". Wulfric chuckled and stopped the elder from worrying too much.

"It's fine, Eoghan, I can patch her up. Besides, it looks like I need a bit of it too. You and Tristan should focus on cooking so we can all eat before it gets too late.". The eldest of the group gave Wulfrice a skeptical look before conceding and getting to cleaning the dead boar, enlisting Tristan for help. Now that he was distracted, Wulfric could spend some time with Celeste and-

“A-ah! Celeste, are you alright? Here I have some first aid supplies if you need some.”. The bearish leader spun around and watched as the blonde archer sat Celeste down next to him on a log. Cao held Celeste’s hand before reaching in his belt pouch for some alcohol and cotton balls to dab onto her legs. As Celeste winced, Cao gave her an apologetic smile as he slowly but surely patched her up. “Y-you should be more careful next time, Celeste, I-i get worried for you when we all get in battle!” he admitted with a flustered stutter. Wulfric squinted a bit as he noticed that the young man’s charms were actually working on Celeste as she was blushing and laughing along with him. He couldn’t blame Cao for doing this though -- it seemed like from day 1 the both of them were competing to get Celeste’s attention in some way. As Cao finished patching up her legs for her, he gently patted her thigh and smiled sweetly at Celeste. “Th-there! Does that feel better?”

“Way better… Thank you, Cao!” Celeste gushed before leaning over and giving him a small peck on the cheek, making the archer freeze up and short circuit. That’s when Wulfric decided to barge in. The large Wexler sat himself down on the empty spot of the log next to Cao, grinning from ear to ear before patting his abdomen.

“Mind patching me up too, Cao?” he laughed, knowing very well the young blonde wouldn’t touch him anywhere on or below the abdomen. Cao recoiled a bit, giving a bit of soured look to Wulfric before having his arm nudged by a chuckling Celeste.

“Oh cool it. Here I’ll patch up Wulfric if you’re gonna treat it like Gay Chicken.”. Cao was about to protest, but eventually sighed and gave in to her request. Handing her over the first aid supplies, he stood up and left the two alone and allowed them to close the gap between them by scooting very close to one another. Carefully, Celeste lifted Wulfric’s shirt up -- hand gently grazing over his abdomen and his tusk wounds. The look on her face shifted to a more worried expression as her eyes met with his. “Did the tusks really jam into you that hard?” she asked.

“I guess so... Barely felt it though haha.” Wulfric boasted, somewhat showing off to impress her. Celeste dabbed a bit of alcohol on him, making him wince. “O-okay I felt that. Heh…”. At first he wasn’t sure if she found that funny, but he was reassured as he saw the slightest cute smile appear on her face while she focused on fixing him up. Wulfric watched as she diligently went to work. The smell of roasted boar slowly filled the area as Eoghan and Tristan took turns keeping their eyes on the roast over the open fire. After a bit of silence, Wulfric wanted to instill some more confidence in Celeste. “You know, I really was glad that you wanted to go hunting,” he began. “I’ve seen how you tend to isolate yourself from us when we’re all scrambling around the campsite and I just wanted to know… Why is that?”. Celeste sighed as she kept quiet for a bit, still focusing on Wulfric’s wounds before speaking up.

“I… I guess you could say I still feel somewhat out of place here, ya know? I-I know I’ve been here for a little while already, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling the obvious gaps between me and everyone else here.” She admitted with a somber tone in her voice. “As much as I want to hurry home, I still kinda want to feel like I’m one of you guys, but I can’t. I feel useless.”. There was a moment of quiet between them as Celeste finished up Wulfric’s wounds. Afterwards, her hands carefully slid off his abs before she went back to sitting like how Wulfric found her earlier when she was all alone. Wulric began to think that perhaps the best medicine to this insecurity was to hear it from the others besides himself, but how was he going to initiate that conversation without feeling forced. For now, Wulfric decided to not press her. He changed the subject to lighten the mood, telling her stories of the adventures he's been prior to meeting Celeste.

For the next couple hours they joked and told stories, Cao eventually coming back and joining them. Meanwhile, Aodh was nearby sparring with a training dummy and occasionally had Celeste cheering him on. On most days, he’d just ignore her, but today he didn’t mind giving her a stoic “thank you”. Even that small little change made Celeste smile. Not long after, Tristan strolled up to the group, arms crossed.

“Oi! Eoghan said dinner’s ready!” he shouted, getting everyone up off their feet to help set up everything for dinner. They all went over to the eldest of the group standing over the fire pit with the boar roasted nicely.

"Ah, Celeste, can you help Tristan lay out the straw mat while Cao and Aodh get the banana leaves? Wulfric I need your help cutting up the boar.". And with that, everyone split off. Celeste made a beeline towards Tristan and the two of them kicked away any large rocks so that they could set the large straw mat down. The two of them took corners and divided it to lay it flat across the floor a few feet away from the fire pit -- setting a stone on each of the corners of the banig.

When Celeste first joined them, she realized they just sat around on logs or on the bare floor. Aodh and Tristan scoffed at her at first for seemingly being pretentious about sitting on the ground or a splinter filled log. Though after she went into town and bought a large straw mat that she called a banig, Eoghan quite liked using it! Which Celeste found pretty funny -- it seemed all old asian folks in her life really liked banigs. Ever since then they’ve kept it around and busted it out whenever they were just chilling or eating around the campsite. Even Aodh and Tristan like to relax and take a break on the banig.

The two of them sat down together on the banig while they waited for the others to gather everything else. Aodh and Cao came back with the cleaned banana leaves, handing them to Eoghan and taking their place with the other two. Wulfric and Eoghand took the larger banana leaves and used that to hold the rice that they spooned out of the steam basket. Wulfric used the dagger to slash up huge chunks off the roasted boar and portioned it evenly for everyone on different banana leaves; Eoghan handed each leaf out to everyone and brought his and Wulfric’s over to the banig. The leader made sure to move the boar so that it wouldn’t burn over the fire pit and stabbed his dagger into it before taking his seat with everyone else and right next to Celeste.

“If anyone wants to get more boar, just use the knife to slice up some meat!” he said before digging in. Celeste could never keep up with how much these dudes eat -- Especially Wulfric. All six of them talked around the fire as they had dinner; Eoghan being the one asking questions to the more quiet ones of the group.

“So, Celeste, how was hunting with Wulfric? I see you’ve had a bit of scrap -- I’m sure it wasn’t easy!” he chirped. Celeste took a moment to chew and swallow her food, eyes nervously darting around before she wiped the corner of her mouth.

“I-it was alright. I got scared cause I thought Wulfric was hurt badly.” she admitted. “But it ended up working out! I was able to help get a kill on it!”. Tristan snickered, not at all trying to hide it.

“Wulfric, you seem like you’re slipping up if little Celeste had to save you!”. Cao and Celeste chuckled at that, quietly snorting until Wulfric became defensive.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tristan! I didn’t slip up,” he huffed. “Celeste was just quicker on her feet -- I personally think Celeste has come far with her training, isn’t that right, Aodh?”. The elder brother turned to the dirty blonde younger brother with a big grin and a firm pat to his back.

“I would say she’s definitely not as defenseless as she used to be when we first found her.” Aodh admitted with a stern and stoic look on his face as he spoke. “It is a bit impressive if you ask me. A bit.”.

“Thank you, Aodh!” Celeste beamed. “I wouldn’t have been able to kill that boar without that dagger you gave me!”. She gave him a delighted and mushy smile, making the paladin look away and trying to maintain his stoic and gruff exterior with a slight pink tint to his cheeks. Eoghan took notice and gave a slight chuckle.

“Sounds like you did great, Celeste. Glad to see that you’re adjusting well to… well everything!”. Eoghan always ended speaking to Celeste like she was his child which worked out for both of them as it helped her feel a little at home with everyone. Cao nodded, agreeing with Eoghan.

“Y-yeah, Celeste! Eoghan’s right. You were so flighty when we first met, haha,” he murmured shyly. “But I’m happy you’re comfortable with us!”. At that moment, Celeste looked around at all the friendly faces that she'd come to know. It was strange how just this morning she had felt like she was alone and isolated from everyone and everything in this world; because right now she felt as though she was finally getting used to everything. No, she was finally realizing that they'd always saw her as one of them for a while now -- she was just the one that hadn’t seen it herself yet. Wulfric noticed the softened and watery look in her eyes. He signaled to Eoghan with a head tilt that maybe now was the time to give Celeste that gift they all had suggested for her.

“Celeste, there’s a gift we wanted to give you.” Eoghan began. “I made it myself, but everyone suggested this gift to begin with… Wait right here.”. The elder stood up and jogged over to his tent, digging through it for something held together in beige wrapping paper. He came back, handing the gift to her with his usual fatherly smile. “Go on! Open it.”. Celeste looked down excitedly at the wrapped gift and then at Cao who returned her excitement with a smile, gesturing for her to open her gift already. She carefully peeled back the wrapping paper with her eyes closed and once she was done, she could feel a smooth, sand down, wooden… thing? She wasn’t really sure at first, but once she opened her eyes to get a good look…

“You guys…” she muttered softly. In her hands was a wooden mask, made and painted in the same exact style as Wulfric’s and the others. Like theirs, her mask was color coded as well: a purple pigment was used to color the sigils and markings in the same fashion as the others. Only difference to hers was a crescent moon drawn on one side of the mask. “I don’t know what to say…” she replied with a slight quiver in her voice.

“Well? Put it on!” Wulfric urged. Celeste wiped her face with her sleeve of any food that she still had on her mouth before pulling her hair back into a high bun. She carefully placed the mask on her face and fidgeted with the straps on the back of her head and until she was sure that it was secure on her face. Letting her hair down, Celeste looked back up and peered at her friends through the holes of the mask. Wulfric had a huge smile on his face as he looked at Celeste with a flutter in his chest.

“H-how does it look?” Celeste asked. Tristan was the first to speak up.

“Looks like a mask!” he joked. “Otherwise, it looks good! Don’t get used to it though, that thing is gonna get scratched and banged up if you’re not careful in battle.”. Cao gleamed before adding his two cents.

“It looks so nice, Celeste! The mask is so pretty on you!” he said with a blush on his face.

“Eoghan’s craftsmanship is something else,” Aodh began. “It certainly fits you.”. Celeste blinked from under her mask at them all feeling a bit tender. It fits her, huh? She didn’t know quite well what to say.

“Well? What do you think? Do you like it?” Eoghan asked. Celeste nodded in response as she was unsure of how to respond. Wulfric’s hand reached over carefully and subtly to hold her hand, giving it a slight squeeze to get her attention.

“I think… It suits her very well…” he said in his deep husky voice. Up until this point, she had been quiet, but Wufric’s words resonated with her deep down. It suited her… It fit her… and at that moment Celeste finally felt like she was one of them. She finally was able to feel that they cared for her. Slowly, she lifted the mask up to reveal her face -- starry eyes watery and smile sweet and gentle. Wulfric held her hand a bit tighter as he watched tears ever so slightly stream down her face before she finally spoke up.

“I love it…! Th-thank you, guys…”.

#(( I still have two more to do but havent had the chance to get around to em))#Drabbles.#Pending Tribe Boys Tag.#i-always-watch #cσмιηg яιgнт υρ! ☕ (Answers)

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