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bi-ressler · 3 years

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Coming Home [RessGale]

@skiesfallithurts requested "Coming home + RessGale" for this ask meme (still taking prompts if you want to send something in! Could take me some time though due to real life)

Title: Coming Home Relationship: Julian Gale/Donald Ressler Characters: Julian Gale, Donald Ressler, Henry Prescott (mentioned), Raymond Reddington (mentioned), others (mentioned) Words: 10.891 Setting: Post-Prescott-Arc AU Warnings: Abuse of prescription meds (aka Donnie is back on oxy and I'm not even remotely sorry), sexual assault (non-explicit, but it's being discussed), homophobia very briefly mentioned A/N: I've had this idea in my head for literal ages and thanks to the prompt I'm finally doing it! So thanks for indulging me :D Also, this got away from me (again) and turned out way (WAAAAAY) longer than it should have. Oops! - - - As always, English isn't my first language, this isn't beta'd and all mistakes are mine. Feedback is greatly appreciated :) (Also, tumblr keeps fucking up the formatting, so if the sentence breaks up in the middle of the paragraph, blame hellsite dot com.)

[Read HERE on ao3!]

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Falling back into old habits and unhealthy coping-mechanisms is far too easy, Donald finds. But when everything crumbles around him, and all the poorly concealed cracks and insufficiently closed gaps and holes in his armour, in his life, finally give out and leave nothing but rubble and guilt and dread, it's the only way he can think of not to fall into complete despair and drown himself in self-pity.

But maybe he's already past that point.

Maybe this is what drowning actually feels like, and there's definitely no lack of self-pity on his behalf.

So he downs the pills with a swig of beer, ignoring the fact that this feels far too familiar, far too much like coming home after a storm, soaking wet and shaking to lay down on the warm carpet and breathe for the first time.

It was all a mistake.

The last six years, it was all one big mistake and right now, he'd give everything to go back in time, erase Reddington from his mind, never join that damned taskforce that had him spiralling to this point from day one. Hell, he'd go even further, never become an agent in the first place - maybe open up a coffee shop in Detroid or become a banker or lawyer or anything at all, as long as it's as far away from Reddington and this whole mess as possible.

That way, he'd never meet Henry Prescott. He'd never murder Laurel Hitchin. He'd never let down everyone in his life, most of all himself, and Audrey would still be alive, and Julian would still be with the bureau ---

Julian.

The guilt comes back full force, because if anyone didn't deserve the fate they got, it would be Julian. Hard working, fierce, loving Julian.

He dry-swallows another pill for good measure, shoulders his go-bag and disappears down an empty alley, unseen by cameras and cops and anyone who might recognize him.

He's not sure if he can go on like this.

He's been on the run for nearly a week now; a week of hiding, paranoia, always looking over his shoulder and ducking into the shadows. Where he once felt safe when he heard the siren of a police car, he now starts running. It's exhausting and he cowers lower into the corner of the abandoned building he's staying in tonight.

Another pill. The shivers lessen. The bottle is almost empty.

He leans his head back against the cold concrete and curses his need for justice, his stupid-ass decision of accepting this life as punishment for his actions.

No, that's not right, he thinks.

If he really was after justice, he wouldn't have run. He would have faced the consequences like a man, faced jail-time and public humiliation.

Instead, he'd been crushed by his own guilt after Prescott's death, written his confession with a shakey hand and left it on his desk, before grabbing the go-bag from the trunk of his car and running.

By morning Cooper must have found it, and in the afternoon he'd seen his face on the news. He has no idea where to go from here.

He pops another pill and curses when he reminds himself to cut back and save what little of the drugs he still has left.

---

The thing about guilt is, Ressler thinks, that despite what everyone says, it doesn't lessen over the years. He still feels guilty about ruining his brother's chance of a career as a cop, and he still feels guilty about Hitchin and Wright and Prescott and every crime Reddington committed right in front of his eyes.

He still feels guilty about what happened to Julian - the first time, after that operation in Kabul went so horribly wrong and Julian took the blame for it, both of them knowing full well that Ressler had been in charge and made the decision to fire, but being stubborn enough to convince IA that it had been his fault, handing over his badge and service weapon with an unreadable look towards Don. Maybe he did it out of some twisted sense of obligation. Maybe they were just in love and compromised. But in the end Ressler's decision had cost Julian his job and a civilian his life.

And the second time, after the whole mess with Mr. Kaplan, effectively ending Julian's career as nothing more but collateral damage. He can still feel his heart crack at that look of betrayal in Julian's eyes as they stood over the remains of Mako Tanida.

---

The other thing about guilt is that Donald doesn't know how to make amends. He knows how to follow his instincts and get himself deeper into trouble, deeper into the pit of guilt, deeper into unescapable situations. Making more and more excuses, trying to cover up all of his messes with lies that lead to more excuses, more lies, more damage.

He knows it's good that he does feel guilt in the first place. But there's only so much he can take.

He thinks about everyone he has left - Reddington, Keen, Aram, Cooper, Navabi.

He could go and find Reddington, ask him to get him out of this mess he created, but he still has some dignity left (he almost laughs at that, sitting in the dirt, close, so close again to withdrawal that his chest tightens, burdened with the undignity of all the actions that led him here). So Reddington is out. He'd only get him into some deeper shit, anyway, and he can't deal with that right now.

The taskforce is out, too. They're obligated to arrest him on sight. And after doing what he did (all the dirty work for Prescott that makes him shudder and swallow back bile), he wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes. They'd know. Another thing he can't deal with.

He can't go to his family, either; getting to Detroid would be a feat in itself, but no doubt the feds are just waiting for him to make contact with his mom or brother. He doesn't want to think about them; if he just so much as imagines his mom crying over the news of her little boy's fuck-up of a life he would only break the last remains of his heart.

Sighing, he realizes he's on his own and he closes his eyes against tears that don't come. His eyes are far too dry, and yet he feels like crying; maybe he's become too numb, but not numb enough to not care. He swallows against his dry throat, his fingers flexing around the pill bottle. He's out at sea alone, the storm raging and waves threatening to bring him down, and in the darkness, there's no lighthouse in sight, not even a candle in the window of someone who might take pity on him. He's bound to drown.

---

The next day, he runs out of pills as well as luck. He hears the shouting before seeing what's going on, and he doesn't need to round the corner to know that the cops are arresting his dealer; he hears his name. They're not after the poor sod for his arsenal of prescription-meds, they're after him. He turns around and doesn't stop running until his lungs burn and his feet ache.

---

He finally collapses behind an old factory that's been out of use seemingly forever. He vaguely remembers it from a case so many years ago, when everything was still fine and he still had dreams and hopes and Reddington hadn't crossed his way yet, Julian already by his side, Prescott a name he had no business knowing.

He remembers some nondescript arms dealers hunched over their merchandise, duffels with a ton of dollar bills and a short shoot-out that ended with the perps in cuffs and a brilliant smile from Julian. Although he couldn't see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, he knew the twinkle in them that told him everything he needed to know.

How the fuck could he fuck up something so good?

It doesn't matter now, though. He slides down the rough walls, and a shiver rips from his spine, rocking his entire body, until it gets stuck in his hands and they can't stop trembling. Every movement hurts deep in his bones, and the shaking only makes it worse until he feels sick to his stomach and feels the bile rise.

He closes his eyes, and now the tears come.

He lets all the shame and hurt and fucking guilt wash over him, drown him until he is gasping for air, remembering --- remembering all the roads he shouldn't have taken, remembering every time he allowed Prescott to shove his dick down Donald's throat, the blood of some stranger still on their hands and clothes, and Ressler can't keep it in anymore. His stomach convulses and forces its few contents out, spattering on the dirty ground, acid in his aching throat that still remembers Prescott's assaults.

He remembers Prescott's laugh and the grip of his hand leaving bruises on his arms. He remembers burying bodies of people he knew nothing about, for a man who could be his downfall with no more effort than twitching a finger.

Ironic, how that still happened and Ressler has just reached rock-bottom while still having done everything Prescott had demanded. A fucking lose-lose-situation. Ressler would like to laugh about the stupidity of it all (of himself), but it gets stuck somewhere between his chest and vocal chords. He can never go back.

He'd always thought it would be Reddington who'd ruin him. He was wrong.

---

With the onsetting darkness comes the cold; it's the end of summer and the days are warm enough, but the nights take all the warmth and replace it with cruel emptiness and too many thoughts.

He remembers all the times their hunt for Reddington had gone wrong; all the times they'd run into another dead end; all the times an informant ended up dead --- all the times he would crawl into Julian's bed or Julian in his and they'd hold each other, seek solace and comfort and hope and the strength to move on in each other's arms.

He remembers Julian's lips on his and how, for these few moments, he'd want nothing more and could forget the job. He remembers skin on heated skin, and whispered platitudes that in that moment felt like a lifeline, and falling asleep with limbs entangled, sheltering him from nightmares and fatalistic thoughts.

He misses it. Misses it more than anything else, and it's the first time he acknowledges this feeling. He'd missed Julian for years; and then he was back again, back in that ice rink, looking at him like nothing had happened, like he still didn't blame Donald for all the shit that had happened. Maybe he really didn't. Maybe the guilt for all of that had been for nothing.

And then Julian was gone again and this time it would be irreversible. Like a lost limb, he feels his absence.

Shivering, he stares at the darkness around him, and all he wants is those strong arms around him and the scent of leather and aftershave and the scratch of Julian's stubble against his own.

He can never have that again. He doesn't deserve it, and Julian sure as Hell won't forgive him. Not for ending his career and certainly not for working with Reddington and turning a blind eye to the crimes he committed under their watch. He wouldn't even want to touch him again with all the dirt and blood on his hands from working for Prescott; wouldn't want to kiss the same lips that suffered the abuse of a ruthless killer and had swallowed it like he deserved it.

Because the truth is, maybe that's what his life has become: an unescapable, unforgivable Hell, all the pictures of what he'd done burned into his brain, behind his eyelids, on his skin where the bruises have long since faded but the dirt still remains. And maybe that's exactly what he deserves.

He crumbles under his thoughts until he lies on the ground, a shivering, hurting mess that's overflowing with guilt and self-loathing.

Julian always used to kiss it away.

---

How, when and why Donald has decided to walk up that road into the woods is lost on him.

He used to know this road, been here a few times but not in several years; it seems unchanged exept for the sky that looks a bit duller. He never walked this path before, but he didn't want to steal a car. Wouldn't know where to dump it here anyway.

He knows it's probably a dumb idea, but he's out of options by this point.

Every step is hard work and his knees are about ready to give out, shaking under the strain of carrying him for miles and miles, and even in the chilly shadows of the surrounding trees he's sweating like it's a hundred degrees out. Another shiver runs through his body that feels like it's crushing every bone on its way, and he moans as he gasps for breath.

He knows though if he stops he'll never get up again. He'll never reach the old cabin in the woods by that small lake, and he'd die by the side of the small, muddy road. He's not ready for that, though.

---

It's late afternoon when he gets off the main road and takes the small footpath that leads to the cabin in a few hundred yards. The sun is much hotter now and although he can feel her warmth on his skin, he feels cold and clammy and miserable, fighting shiver after shiver and losing hard.

All he wants to do is curl up into a tight ball and die, but he's not gonna give up, not now, even though he knows that he's making a massive mistake here, but he doesn't care. It's like he's too far gone to acknowledge that fact and all his common sense has left him along with the contents of his stomach last night; he can't shove it back and, frankly, what does it matter? He can't fall any deeper.

So he stumbles on, struggling over rocks and branches, his feet numb except for the occasional flare of pain that still reaches his brain and he can't quite manage to shut out.

Then it comes into sight and he breathes out, a pained, wheezing sound that makes his head spin, and suddenly he feels sick because he knows he has made the wrong decision; he should go. He should turn around and collapse by the road and wither away like a fallen leaf.

The cabin is still like he remembers it from years ago; it belonged to Julian's father before he'd died, a nice little place far out in the woods that's perfect for a weekend-trip. Julian used to tell him stories of coming here with his dad to fish and hunt, back in the day before everything had turned to shit between them, before he came out as gay and his father stopped talking to him altogether.

He knows Julian is here; he's seen the old Ford parked by the road close to the small footpath. He also knows he's not welcome, just as he knows that he won't have anything left if Julian rejects him and throws him back onto the street he came from.

Feeling his knees wobble, he pushes on before he can give in to the seducing urge to let himself fall to the ground and curl up to die. He can still do that afterwards.

Another few steps and he's around the cabin where he can see the small lake, a pond really, with the wooden terrace right by the water; on it stands a deserted deck chair, but the bottle of beer that sits right next to it is still half-full, so Julian must be back any minute.

He leans heavily on the wall of the cabin and feels his strength bleed away. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and along his nose as he lets his head fall, the strain in his neck too much for his muscles to hold it up anymore. Catching his breath is difficult when his lungs don't want to take in any much needed air and his chest feels too tight, like the collar of his dirty white t-shirt is strangling him, and he raises a violently shaking hand to his chest, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he does so.

Shit, this is worse than he'd thought. The hand that isn't clutching his shirt automatically wanders towards his pants pocket. It's empty. Of course it's empty. He's out of pills. He panicks at that because how in the world is he supposed to survive ---

when he hears a gun cock and forces himself to look up into Julian's face.

He looks good - always does - and his stubble is almost a beard now; his hair has grown too and Donald just wants to breathe it in. He wears sunglasses (of course, it's still bright outside and his eyes are just so damn sensitive), and his brow is deeply furrowed, his mouth a thin line that tells Donald just how welcome he is here.

"Don?", he asks, voice raspy like he hasn't spoken in a long time. Maybe he hasn't, but Ressler isn't naïve enough to blame any emotion for the roughness.

"Hey", he says, and he feels the world sway from the effort of holding himself up, so he grabs for the wall again, temporarily borrowing stability from the wooden structure. He doesn't even want to know how awful he must look, all sweaty and dirty and miserable, shaking and fighting just to keep standing.

"What do you want?", Julian asks, words hard and the gun still pointed at Ressler.

He looks at Julian, helpless to say anything, devoid of all words, and he realizes he doesn't know how to answer that question. He opens his mouth in the hopes of being able to bring out anything at all when a shudder runs through his body, leaving him breathless and on the ground. For a second all he knows is the pain of too much and too little at the same time that grinds his bones to dust and cuts through his muscles effortlessly. He thinks he groans in pain, but can't tell over the static in his ears.

"Fuck", he hears at the edge of his consciousness, "Don!"

And when he looks up, Julian is gone from where he stood before, instead there are arms steadying him from face-planting into the muddy ground. He leans heavily into those arms that promise comfort and solace and strength.

"Julian", Don rasps out, and he looks up to see Julian close, so close, worry visible even behind the sunglasses, and he has to close his eyes as a rush of emotion threatens to overcome him. This is it. This is all he wanted.

"Don't talk now, okay? I'm callin' an ambulance." And that's wrong. He can't do that, Ressler can't go to the hospital, not when he's on every wanted-list in the city ---

"Don't", he whispers and swallows against the bile. Julian looks at him like he's lost his mind, but there's still so much worry. "Don't", Donald repeats. He doesn't know how else to communicate this.

"Okay", Julian says flatly, still sceptical. "You mind tellin' me though why the fuck you're here?"

Ressler looks away, tries to ignore the black dots that creep into his vision.

"I'm sorry", he says, and he means it. Hopes that Julian understands, because Ressler doesn't know if he has the strength or the words to really explain himself here. "I didn't know where else to go."

Julian just nods, waiting for him to continue while Donald shivers in his arms and doesn't know how to go on.

"I fucked up", he finally says, and Julian laughs at that; a humorless, dry laugh that settles itself deep into what's left of Don's bones, a laugh that sends waves of guilt through his chest. He looks to the ground and tries not to break down under the weight of it.

"Yeah, you did", Julian says and there's an edge to his voice that's dangerous and hurt and speaks of everything Ressler has put him through. "And I'm really fucking close to tell you to go to Hell."

His eyes burn holes into Donald's skin until he's sure that Julian must be able to see his insides now, the rotten flesh and the dirt and the blood and all the shame and guilt he's never gonna be able to wash away.

"Not gonna do that though. Seems like you're already there."

Don lets his head fall and at this point he can't tell sweat from tears or blood or vomit or dirt; it's all there on his skin, whether remembered or real he doesn't know. All he knows is that it's disgusting, he's disgusting, he's dirty and has done unforgivable things and yet Julian is still holding him up, still touching him --- His head drops and he closes his eyes against the spinning world.

"C'mon", Julian says quietly, "let's get you cleaned up. You look like you could need a drink too, something to eat. And then you're gonna tell me what's going on before I change my mind. You alright with that?"

Donald just nods. At least he thinks he does.

He feels Julian's grip tighten, and together they manage to get Donald on his feet; he sways unsteadily, but Julian's hands are still there, grounding him against the nausea, keeping him from falling over as he clenches his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness and pain that rips through him.

"Hey, wait", he blurts out when Julian nudges him to move. "You don't - you don't have to do this, Julian. I won't blame you if -", he takes a deep breath, trying to organize his blurry thoughts, "- if you... y'know. Wanna throw me out on the street. Let me rot."

Julian looks at him long and hard, his face unreadable, and Donald wonders when that changed. He used to be able to read him flawlessly, back in the day.

"I know", he says eventually, "and believe me, I have every reason to, but... let's just get inside 'n' sort this out, yeah?"

He nods.

The inside of the cabin looks exactly the way he remembers it from the few times Julian has taken him here. Cozy and warm, soft light through the small windows, wooden table in the middle of the room - with all kinds of stuff on it, bottles and tools and newspapers - surrounded by self-made wooden chairs; it's only one room, and in the corner is still the old bed with the worn through mattress that he remembers very vividly (it's softer than it looks, the pillows under his hips fluffy, the scent of whiskey from Julian's lips and resin from all around him filling his senses ---) Julian drags him to the bed; Don is glad that Julian keeps his hands on his shoulders for a few more moments. He doesn't trust his body to sit on its own and not fall over. He takes a few deep breaths - the smell of whiskey and resin still lingers in the cabin and if he closes his eyes, he might be able to pretend nothing has happened and he's back to when all was good. He doesn't close his eyes. Needs the punishment of seeing an older version of Julian and that glimmer in his eyes that betrays the cold anger he tries to project. In here, it's easier reading him. The sunglasses have landed on the table in the mixture of things, and breathing is just that much easier now. Funny how brown eyes can have that effect on him. Or maybe it's just Julian's eyes. "You okay? Or are ya gonna topple over as soon as I let go?", Julian asks. His hands burn where they touch Ressler's shoulders - even through the shirt - and he feels like their heat is spreading all the way through his arms, mending his broken bones with a painful grip that makes him gasp. "It's alright", he says. His voice sounds strange, somehow distorted and raw, and when Julian lifts his hands it's like ice fills all the places that were on fire just seconds before, crushing him, burning even worse. He bites his lip. "'Kay", Julian murmurs, and then he turns around to get a bottle of water and --- and he opens up one of the cabinets and pulls out a small, brownish-yellow pill bottle --- his heart is beating so fast now he thinks he might throw up, and every fibre in his body screams Want! Want! Want! --- his muscles pulling on him, willing him to move, to get to the pills, down them all, swallow them, no regrets, make the trembling stop and the sweating and the shivers, undo the damage to his body, unbreak his bones, untear his sinews --- His mouth falls open. He can already feel it: the texture and the form of the little white pill against his tongue, the short moment when he swallows, the high he's chasing - no, no, it's not that anymore, it's never been that; it's always been about numbing the pain until it wasn't, until it was just about avoiding the come down. But right now he can feel the high, the anticipation, being so close to victory --- "Don?" And he wants to tell Julian to shut up, to just give him the pills, but he's the one who holds the bottle, he has the power in this moment and fuck, Ressler would do everything, anything, get on his knees or on all fours and just take it (flashes of Prescott assault his mind at that, and he gasps audibly because Julian is not Prescott, far from it, and he just wants his brain to shut the fuck up, to stop, knowing the pills will do that, they'll fucking save him from his own thoughts) --- "Hey, man - what's going on?" It's Julian's voice again, so much nearer now, burning hot hands holding him together as Donald crumbles. He collapses like a frail burning building, the last beams that were holding it together now nothing more than a pyre of grief and lost hope. He trembles against Julian's chest, his hands clinging to Julian's shirt, hurting from the exhaustion of cramping around the scratchy material but unable to let go, his head tucked under Julian's chin where he crouches in front of Donald on the floor. He wants to cry or to scream or to lash out, but all the energy he has left is unfocused, is mainly the never ending chant of Want! Want! Want! beneath his skin. "Fuck", he grinds out, and it's the hardest thing for him right

now, but he has Julian's arms around him and can feel his lips in his hair and smell leather and aftershave and --- Julian hasn't let him go yet. He hasn't pushed him away yet; is still touching him, unafraid, not yet disgusted. Then again, he doesn't know what Donald has done. "Hey, hey", Julian breathes against Ressler's temple, "it's okay, Don, it's - it's alright. It's gonna be alright..." Don shakes his head, takes a stuttering breath. "It's not, it's -", he starts, and his hands shake so hard now he's afraid of hurting Julian, "it's all gone to shit, okay? Nothing's alright, and - it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Julian, just ---" He doesn't know what he's saying, only that he needs to get it out. He needs to let Julian know how sorry he is, how much he wishes he could go back and do it all differently, how much he wants Gale to be happy. "Easy", Julian whispers, and now his hands are stroking up and down Don's spine and he feels like a child, but also safer than he has in a long time. This, right here, is his shelter in the storm, a place to wait out the worst of it before he can go home. Only that he doesn't know where home is anymore. Not that it matters. He has his self-imposed punishment to serve. They sit there for a while, until Ressler's breathing is less ragged and his body is limp with exhaustion and his hands uncramp around Julian's shirt. "You need to drink something", Julian says, his voice far too soft, and somewhere deep inside of him Ressler just wants Julian to yell at him, to beat him, to show him exactly how he's felt the last couple of years. Let out all the anger and frustration and disgust he must be feeling. Add his loathing to the pyre burning away at Donald's insides. Julian shuffles away, keeping one steadying hand on Ressler's shoulder, the other reaching for the glass of water he must have put on the ground besides him when Donald collapsed. "Here", he murmurs and holds the glass up to Don's lips. Donald doesn't even try to take it from him, his trembling hands trapped between his thighs. The water is refreshing and he's sure he could drink an entire river - his mouth and throat aren't longer as dry, his heaving stomach slowly settles, his over-heated skin seems to cool a little. When the glass is empty, Julian sets it aside and takes a hard look at Don. "Better?", he asks. Behind the hard, cold glare his gaze is so open, so vulnerable now that Don has to look away. "Yeah", he nods. "Thanks." He doesn't know where Julian has put the pill bottle, but it's probably back in the cabinet. There's no way Julian could have misinterpreted Donald's behaviour. "So." Donald looks up again. He can still feel the sweat on his forehead, on his neck, chest, everywhere, but now it's cooler, and if the temperature keeps dropping as quickly he will surely freeze to death. He doesn't know though if it's the change of seasons or his own body. "Guess I owe you an explanation", Donald murmurs. He's tired suddenly, so tired he can feel it in his bones. Like he's two hundred years old, an ancient tree about to die. "You bet your ass you do." With that Julian gets up off the ground, refills the glass, sets it on the table and sits down next to Donald on the bed. He sits further away than he used to, the gap between them like a fucking canyon that Don could throw himself in to to break every bone in his body yet again, for the last time. He won't though. He owes Julian that much. "So?", Julian asks when the silence stretches too long. But Donald doesn't know where to start, doesn't even know what to say except for I'm sorry and forgive me and I love you. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again, his heartbeat picking up its pace, beating uncomfortably against his too tight ribcage. "I'm sorry", he begins, and when he looks at Julian, his face is impassive and schooled. He expects more. Of course he does, Donald thinks, and he deserves it, deserves more, deserves everything. He's just not sure he can give that. "I ruined your life", he says. Looks down at his hands and how

they shake where they're trapped between his knees. "Again", he adds and the corner of his mouth twitches in a humorless attempt at a smile. "You should never have paid for what we - what I did. The whole Reddington-thing. I justified it with all the good we did, all the cases we solved, the criminals we put behind bars, but... you were right. The price was too high. It was doomed from the start... All the people who died, Julian, all those good people --- I don't know if it was worth it." He looks up into Julian's face. It's not as passive and unreadable as before; now there's a glint of pity, a tiny spark of anger, the smallest sign of resignation. "And - and to think I betrayed all my principles for that taskforce. All I ever stood for - wanted to stand for. Fuck, I'm... I just... I just wanna go back, Julian. I just wanna start over. Forget about - about Reddington and Prescott and Hitchin and - Audrey. Fuck, Audrey... I should have known then. I should have quit back then." He buries his face in his hands. There are no tears, but the shame that's crawling up his spine and spreading through every inch of his body is threatening to overwhelm him. "What happened to her?", Julian asks quietly, his voice impossibly soft. He knows about them. About their far too early engagement, about the stubbornness with which Donald had tried to love her just to get over the fact that Julian was gone from his life. About his need to prove that he was okay. "She's dead. She was killed. She'd still be alive if it wasn't for Reddington." "I'm sorry", Julian says after a moment of silence. He sounds genuine, even though Ressler knows how Julian feels about Audrey. Or used to feel, anyway. And now, Donald doesn't know what else to say. Knows there's so much, too much to talk about, but he doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell Julian about Hitchin and Prescott and those brief moments with Reddington - in the box and in a hotel room in Washington and the whole long flight from Munich back to the states. Donald takes a deep breath; it's not like that makes any difference because his lungs still seem incapable of taking in enough oxygen for him to survive. How he's still conscious, he doesn't know, but it's probably just his mind playing tricks with him. And all the while, Julian looks at him with patience that's bordering on resignation, and sadness he might be mistaking for grief about the people they could have been. The love they could have shared, the lives they could have lived. All those things Ressler never gave himself time to grieve for, but are returning with a vengeance now, cutting him up, sucking him dry, suffocating him in their thick reality. "I deserved it", he finally croaks, his voice strangled by everything he's lost, and he clears his throat. "Everything I got in the end, I deserved it." He stares at his hands that are trapped between his knees, feels them tremble, and when he looks back up at Julian, the other man is suddenly closer than he was before. The canyon between them is nothing more than a crack in the pavement now, their legs not yet touching, Julian's heat a welcome comfort against Don's clammy pale skin, and it still feels like it's not enough, like nothing he could do could ever be enough, and as much as he detests the thought that this might be the closest Julian will let himself get to Don, he also revels in the almost-touches and the dark gazes and the fact that this, too, is something he painfully deserves: the one person he never stopped loving to be entirely unreachable. He thinks back to the good times and how easy it was to just reach out and take any comfort he needed. The sleepless nights in those dingy motel rooms they spent staring out the window at the starry sky or at each other, the moments of warmth and solitude, bodies wrapped around each other like they're one, soft breath in his ear, dry lips on skin, rough fingers entangled, squeezing, comforting. Thinks back to that night in Manila, when Julian stood before Donald's door at three in the morning, dark bags under

his eyes, arms wrapped tightly around his chest to prevent him from falling apart; later it would be Don's arms holding him together. Thinks back to that morning in New York that should have been entirely unpleasant with the stink and the broken heater in the middle of January and the noise even so early, but with Julian's sleeping form next to him - so peaceful and full of beauty -, he wished it could always be like this. He doesn't think back to the time they said goodbye, or the time Julian almost died from a bullet in his stomach, or the countless times they sat at each other's hospital beds. He doesn't think about the last time they kissed, the last time they made love, the last time they hugged, the last time there wasn't this edge to Julian's voice that tells Donald that things will never be the same. He certainly doesn't think about the future. "And what is it you got? What is it you think you deserve? 'Cause I see you sitting here like, like death warmed over and I can't imagine what the Hell you could've done to deserve... well, this." Julian's voice is rougher than usual; Donald doesn't know if it's because of the emotion he swallows so successfully or because he's smoking more than he used to or because this is the first time in a long time that he's speaking to somebody. Donald draws in another sharp breath. His lungs aren't exactly cooperating, but it doesn't matter as long as he can still explain. "I think I need some air", he says, voice barely more than a whisper. He sees Julian nod out of the corner of his eye, and together they manage to walk outside. It's weird, a little, how much better he feels and how much easier it is to talk, to move, to breathe, ever since arriving in the cabin. Just a few hours ago he was almost certain he'd be dying in a ditch right about now. It's gotten dark outside; the sun hasn't disappeared fully yet, but through the trees that surround the cabin and the pond it's impossible to make out. Julian sits him down in the deck chair Donald had noticed earlier, the opened bottle of beer that's still sitting beside it now forgotten. Don takes a deep breath. It's easier now, out here. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Julian setting up a second chair next to the one Donald is sitting on. They both lean forward, elbows on their knees, Ressler's head hanging, Gale watching him with sharp eyes. Donald shakes his head; to think how easily all this could have been avoided! If he hadn't taken the job with the taskforce, none of this would have happened. Or if he'd been honest sooner, if he'd talked to Julian when the whole Mr. Kaplan-mess started instead of betraying him --- "That, right there, what you just said, is why I love you." He can still hear those words loud and clear in his head, recalling that moment with absolute clarity even if most of his other thoughts and memories are blurry from exhaustion and pain. The way they just came over Julian's lips, so simple, so easy, like they were picking up from where they'd left, still sends goosebumps over his arms and back; he remembers the painful tightening of his chest back then, and his mind going completely blank, and deciding to overplay his nerves with a lame joke and getting back to work as quickly as possible. He remembers hope bubbling up in the back of his ribcage, and laying awake that night overthinking those words. Overthinking the whole situation while pushing away his guilt. He hated lying to Julian then, and he hates where it has gotten him. He remembers cursing Julian's mind, always so quick and clever, and he remembers cursing Reddington time and time again. He purposely doesn't remember all the times he thought about the Concierge instead of Julian when he was alone in his bed. It feels like another betrayal all over again. And he remembers being on the verge of asking how much truth lay behind Julian's words more than once but always pulling back at the last second. Maybe he'll never know, now. "Don?" He remembers that he needs to talk. His mind feels almost bruised by the

onslaught of memories ever since he's seen Julian for the first time in so long. "Yeah. Sorry." He takes another deep breath, now easier out here, and leans back in his chair, tired eyes focusing on the patches of darkening skies through the crowns of the trees. A sense of tranquility fills his whole body and the shivers cease to shake him. "You were right about Mako Tanida. His head. Reddington - Reddington gave it to me as a gift." He closes his eyes for a second and sees the severed head in the box as if it happened yesterday instead of almost six years ago. He shudders and opens his eyes again, back to watching the gentle breeze shifting through the leaves and branches. He doesn't look over at Julian. "Some sort of... sick compensation for Audrey's death." He pauses at that, thinking back at Audrey and how he barely remembers her face now even though he knows he should. It gives Julian time to piece it together. He doesn't say a word though, intent on letting Donald speak. "It makes me sick now. But that's Reddington, you know? He lulls you in and there's nothing you can do about it. -- Objectively, I knew what we were doing, and I was justifying it with all the high-profile arrests we did. But... I don't know, man, he was under my skin and I only realized it when it was too late. He's like this... spider. Sucks you dry as soon as you're caught in his net. And it doesn't stop until someone worse comes along and ---" He stops speaking then, dropping his head, unable to find the words to convey Prescott's cruelty, his depravity that became Donald's own. A hand on his shoulder makes him look up; Julian is watching him, his gaze a strange mix between a cold distance and warm empathy. "What happened?", he asks. As if his hand doesn't burn Don's flesh where it touches him over his shirt, as if he doesn't know the repercussions of this gesture, as if he can't even imagine what it means to Don that he's touching him out of his own accord, not yet fleeing, not yet disgusted, but full of love and comfort and everything Donald doesn't deserve. They stay quiet for a short while, Don watching how the cold distance transforms to something new, something like pity, but not exactly. Maybe curiosity with a touch of sadness. Like he wants to hear the answer and doesn't. Like he wants to know what made Don come here but doesn't want to hear it. Like he knows it could change everything between them, all the anger he's been carrying with him since the ice rink-case melting away, leaving only the torn pieces of his old love. "Laurel Hitchin", Donald says quietly. Another shiver runs through his body as he feels Julian's hand falling away. They're silent again; Don trying to figure out how to confess a murder and all the shit that followed it, and Julian thinking about how Hitchin might as well have fired him. She may have been an awful person, but she didn't deserve to die. In Don's experience, there's no one who deserves to die; at least that used to be his opinion. He's not so sure about it now. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but that's where they stay. He can't push them over the edge, can't make his vocal chords work and his lips form the vowels and consonants. He tries in vain, again and again, until Julian is looking at him again like he knows Donald's struggle. "She's dead", Julian says, tone neutral, and Don can't read from it how much Julian knows or at least suspects. He nods. Remembers her laying on her kitchen floor, pool of blood growing larger second by sickening second. "I didn't mean to ---", he stammers, and Julian's eyes grow wide like he didn't expect this confession. "Shit", he breathes and rubs a hand over his face. It stops over his mouth and chin and he looks straight ahead into the darkness that has settled around them like their own private bubble where there's room for confessions and guilt and maybe even forgiveness; room that the bright sun of the day doesn't allow. "That's why you're such a mess? Jesus, Don,

I ---" But he doesn't continue. Donald doesn't want to hear another I'm sorry from Julian, and he doesn't want to hear that he's fucked up either. He just wants to forget. "It gets worse", he says and Julian looks up, surprise and pain and dread lining his features, and he suddenly looks much older than he is. Still beautiful, and Don has to swallow against the sudden feeling of belonging that rises in his chest; like he's home, like this has been his home all along, and it will be until they're old and grey and dying of old age in each others' arms --- only that it's a fantasy, a feverish dream he's having. Before Don can continue though, Julian stands up and disappears inside the cabin without another word. He can't blame him. With a sigh he stays where he is, watching the sky again that's now completely dark, and he doesn't know if he isn't actually watching the invisible dance of the trees. His mind is completely blank now and it's a more than welcome change. Before he knows it, Julian is back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Wordlessly, he gives one of the already opened bottles to Don who takes it with only slightly shaking hands, then sits back down, takes a gulp of beer, puts it down on the ground beside his chair, and takes a cigarette out of the pack. He offers one to Don but he declines with a shake of his head. The small flame of the lighter makes Julian's face flicker orange and yellow, the shadows making the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth dance and seem deeper than in the light of day. For the few seconds it lasts, he looks almost angelic in a rough, strange way. "I called the cleaner who used to work for her", he says before he can think about it. "His name's Henry Prescott." The smell of burnt tobacco lulls him in, like they're back in Julian's old apartment, in his bed after an evening of slow sex, bliss and heavy limbs and soft words forever interlinked with it. It almost makes the bile that's threatening to rise after the mention of Prescott's name stay down. Julian's eyes are on him again, calmer now, but also more distanced than before. Don can barely make them out through the dark of night, but from experience he knows Gale won't say any more. He needs all the facts, and Don's the only one who can provide those. He looks back to where the lake must be, now an invisible black hole between the equally black woods. He thinks it must be easy now that he's started, but the words won't come, his mind preoccupied with keeping the images at bay, the memories of dead bodies and blood and the smell of bleach and ammonia. He closes his eyes for a minute, the shivers returning, rocking his body against his will, and he's going to be sick if the stink of chemicals doesn't leave his nose soon --- He wishes Julian would touch him again, ground him somehow like he used to, but he doesn't. Don doesn't look up either. He needs to carry on. "He found out who I was", he says eventually, strangled, struggling to keep talking. "Blackmailed me into working for him." He rubs his free hand over his face, pressing down over his eyes to get rid of the images and the smell, and for a moment it's like Julian isn't even there, like he's not listening, like Don can say anything he wants to the dark emptiness he's surrounded by. He takes a few gulps of the beer but doesn't set it down. "Fuck, I --- the things I did. The shit I was forced to do and I, I didn't even fight it. I was too afraid to - I don't know, lose my job, my reputation, my friends", it breaks out of him now, and a laugh forces its way through his constricted throat at the irony of the words. He feels Julian shift next to him, reminding Don of his presence, but he doesn't turn to look at him. "I did every fucking thing he told me to. Drove around dead bodies in car trunks. Buried and unburied them. Scrubbed blood off walls and carpets and beds. --- How the fuck can anyone forgive me for that? How can you?" He takes another large sip of the beer, now risking a glance at

Julian. His cigarette has almost burnt down completely, leaving a tail of ash threatening to fall onto Julian's lap; he hasn't taken a drag since Don has started speaking. Instead he's looking at Donald, almost staring through him, and Don doesn't know what to make of that. He doesn't think he's ever seen that expression on Julian. "I should never have come", he says curtly because he can't face the silence now. "I'm sorry. I should never have -- I guess I know now that I deserved it." The calm that settles in his bones surprises him. He looks back up to the sky, clear and beautiful where it shines through the trees, and now he can make out tiny bright dots, stars spattered across it like the splashes of watercolor over paper when he was a kid. He can feel tears behind his eyes and he knows this is the last time he will be home. Knows it's the last time he gets to feel something other than guilt and dread. Maybe he should get up and leave now, having done enough damage as it is, but something inside him urges him to stay, to tell Julian the whole truth, make him understand. He needs Julian to tell him to fuck off; needs his rejection to be at peace and go home. Somewhere, anyway. "He didn't stop there", he says, and he knows it's his only chance to ever articulate it; if he doesn't say it now he'll be silent forever. Besides him, Julian tenses. He's been tense for the last couple of minutes, but now his back is straight in a way that it almost never is, but Donald needs to get those next few words out. He feels strangely detached from his body and mind and memories. "Sometimes he would force me on my knees, make me suck him off", he starts, and it's easier to say it out loud than it should be, "and sometimes he would bend me over the hood of the car or tie me to the bed post in whatever hotel he'd stay in. I took it every time. I thought I didn't have a choice." And he's smiling now, the weight on his shoulders, his lungs, his mind so much lighter, and he doesn't even mind the trembling of his hands, of his whole body. He just lets it happen. "Until my conscience finally made me put a stop to it. I arrested him. Wrote my confession. And left. But I'm still too much of a coward to face the consequences, instead I'm running from everything." He lets his head fall. This shouldn't be this easy, he tells himself, but then again, with Julian nothing is as it should be. "Swallowing one pill after the other, sleeping in the mud, always looking over my shoulder. That's no life. That's - that's Hell, Julian." Finally, he looks back at his old love, a flood of emotions racing through him like a tsunami, and he chokes out: "I deserve it. All of it. What Prescott did to me. I gotta live with it. I'm ---" But the words die on his lips as he feels Julian's arms around his neck, and hot breath against his ear, and fingers tangling in his hair. He stops breathing for a few seconds, brain catching up with the sensations, and Julian is embracing him like he knows it's the last time, or like he's sorry, or like his life depends on it. "Just so you know", Julian rasps against Don's cheek, "I really fucking want to punch you right now. I wanna - wanna throw you against the wall and just - punch you until I can't move my arm anymore. Okay? Got that?" Donald nods silently, still stunned by the sudden embrace. He didn't think Julian would ever want to touch him again, wouldn't even want to be near him again. "No one", Julian says, "No one - deserves shit like that." And then he stammers like he wants to say every word he knows at the same time while simultaneously not knowing what to say altogether, before giving up with a hissed "Fuck". Don knows this, knows that sometimes, Julian's brain is faster than his mouth, and then he stumbles over words like an excited child. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, huh?", he asks quietly, still not letting go, and now Don puts the bottle down and returns the embrace. Carefully, very carefully, like he might freak Julian out, like he might realize then what he's doing and

drop Donald like a hot potato. Donald shakes his head no; doesn't want to be dropped, not now, not when he's this close to Julian; shakes his head because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do now either. The idea that's been in the back of his head, whose existence he completely ignored until now, that's probably the reason he came here in the first place, creeps into his consciousness now, and his grip around Julian's ribs tightens. "I just--- wanted to apologize for everything I did to you. I ruined your career, your life. I lied to you, I betrayed you. And I'm so sorry, Julian, I'm - I'm so fucking sorry." He loosens his grip again so he can look at Julian who looks up. His eyes are wet and dark and so damn beautiful, and now they're only inches apart. He could kiss him now, ruin everything all over again for a short moment of bliss, but he doesn't. "Me too", Julian says quietly, and his voice is soft like torn velvet. "I wish you wouldn't have come here. Let me keep my anger. But I guess you have this way of making me forgive everything you do. You're impossible, Don, you know that and I, just, hate you so, so much right now, I fucking - I hate you so much ---" "I know", Don whispers against Julian's cheek as their faces are pressed together, stubble against stubble, words escaping them that neither of them hears, lips against skin, not exactly kissing, but mouthing apologies and curses that get lost in the night. "I was so angry for so long, thinking about you, and the shit you did, the - the way it had to end", Julian rasps, tension falling off his body, too tired to keep on shivering. "I kept asking myself why the fuck you'd work with him --- how you could stand looking Reddington in the eye day after day and not - not see all that he cost us. Except I realised you did see, and you just didn't care." "Julian, I ---", he interrupts, but Julian keeps talking. "And I took that as justification to curse you and to hate you, and I did, you know, I really did, but... then I realised it was Reddington and I -- I chalked you up as just another casualty, another person he ruined, because you - you might just as well have been dead, you know? I fucking buried you." Julian chokes a little at that, but his grip at the back of Don's head doesn't weaken. "I know him, Don, I, uh, I know how he is. How he will put you under his spell and pull you in and never let go. Just... Just tell me this." And he looks up again, eyes red rimmed even in the darkness, and Don wants nothing more than to kiss those tears away, but he can't. He owes Julian, and even though he doesn't know what he wants to ask, he knows he needs to give an honest answer. No more lies. No more. Julian's searching his face and seems to have found what he's been looking for when he finally speaks up again after long moments of silence. "Did you love him?" The question should surprise Donald. It doesn't. He looks down, unable to meet Julian's unrelenting gaze. Thinks back to the box and the hotel room in Washington and the flight from Munich back to the states. Slowly, without looking up, he nods. No more lies. Here it comes. "Yeah", he says quietly even though he knows Julian has seen his nod. "I did. But never like I loved you." The words just come, mindlessly spilling over his lips, and he means them; he still doesn't look up. Doesn't want to see the disgust and rejection in Julian's eyes. The moment stretches like someone stopped time, stopped the entire universe, and Donald doesn't mind one bit. If it means having this last moment with Julian, even if it's filled with uncertainty, he'll gladly spend eternity frozen in time like this. Julian's fingers are still in his hair, his gaze still focussed on Donald. He's still though, not moving, and if it wasn't for his heavy breath, Don would have thought Julian might really be frozen. Then the moment ends. "Okay", Julian says, simple but heavy, like this truth lifted some weight off of him that Donald didn't know Julian was carrying. He looks up now, unable to keep his

gaze away any longer, and he doesn't know what to make of Julian's expression. There's no disgust. There's no rejection. There's understanding and sadness locked away in the tears that are sticking to his eyelashes, shimmering in the pale light of the moon that's slowly beginning to shine through the trees. Donald doesn't understand it; Julian is supposed to be upset, angry, pushing him away, throwing him out on the street to rot --- not drawing soothing circles over the back of his head, not looking at him like that, like they can fix this, like Donald is finally home --- "I'm, uh... I'm going to the police. Tonight. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. My sad attempt to make things right." He has to look away again, Julian's focussed, open gaze too much for him. "Guess I couldn't... leave without having told you. And I'm - I'm not asking for forgiveness here. I know I can never have that. I just needed to see you. Make sure you're alright, so..." He clears his throat, realizing that they've only been talking about him and never once about Julian. Fuck, how egoistic can he be! "How're you doing?", he asks, and Julian is still clinging to him, just as he's clinging to Julian. "Oh, I'm fine", Julian laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Julian -", Donald starts. He doesn't need his bullshit now. "Really, Don, things couldn't be better. I've read that in my horoscope." He still smiles, a little crooked like he's holding something back, something big, and now Ressler's hand comes up to cup Julian's face. Again, the thought of just kissing him comes to mind, but they're so fragile, both of them, it would only leave them shattered for good. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke the thick stubble and he doesn't say a word. Julian closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, and for a few precious moments, Donald can pretend they're happy. "Stay", Julian says and Donald freezes. Thinks he must have misheard Julian, who looks up now from where he kneels in front of Don's chair, his own hand leaving the blonde hair to rest at Don's jaw. "What?", he asks. It's more of a breath though, no sound escaping his lips. "I'm - yeah, I'm fucking pissed at you right now, but all of this... it - it doesn't change anything. Y'know, I still mean it." And they're so close still, and Donald has lost track of what's happening, and confused, he shakes his head. "What do you mean?", he asks. "Trondheim. Remember that?" He does. It was the beginning of March and so cold even the hotel room in New York with the broken heater seemed like a tropical vacation in comparison. It wasn't the first time they said I love you, but it was the first time they talked about the future. Before, they would stay in the moment, too afraid of letting go, of losing the other over naïve fantasies of a life together. That night though, they didn't need to be scared. "Whatever happens", Julian said, "I'll never walk away. How could I, huh? Guess I'm too far gone." He smiled, and so did Donald, pressing a kiss to Julian's collarbone. "Fifty years from now", Julian continued, "I'll still think of you. Every fucking day." That earned him a kiss on the lips, chaste and innocent and full of love like they've never experienced before. "Don't matter if you're still with me or not. You don't forget the love of your life, Donnie. I won't forget. Not us. Not this. Never. I could never let you go. Ever." But back then, Julian couldn't have imagined where they would end up one day. "It was different back then", Don says. Not because he doesn't want Julian's words to be true, but because he doesn't think himself worth them. "Yeah, it was", Julian answers, "but tell me you don't feel it still. Tell me, Donnie, and I'll let you go." Donald's answer is silence because, yes, of course he still feels it, that love that's deeper than any feeling he's ever known, deeper even than the shame and guilt and pain of the recent months, years, but doesn't Julian know that it's pointless? That Don's life is over? The silence stretches on and he can't hold

Julian's gaze. "I know", Julian says, "I know." And those words are enough to set him free, to liberate him from his cage of anger and self-pity and guilt and self-imposed punishment - he knows those won't go away anytime soon, but he still feels like breaking down, mercy too much to handle when he knows he's undeserving of forgiveness. He lets his head fall, knowing Julians hands are there to steady him. They do, cradling him like a newborn child, and in a way that might be true: maybe, somehow, this can be a new life, a new start for him; a clean slate. Maybe now, he can forget all of it, all the shit that happened, the person he was - the person he was forced to become --- maybe this is the one chance in life for rebirth. "I'm a mess", he says. "I know", Julian answers. "We can figure it out. Together." "You deserve better." "Shut it now, Donnie. I think I know best what I deserve, huh? I've given up everything for you, y'know, twice. You know what I think it is I deserve? Hm? What we deserve?" Donald looks up, feeling Julian's breath against his lips as much as the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes so familiar in their depth it makes his heart ache. He wants to answer, say something, anything at all, but no words will leave his lips. He feels trapped there between Julian's closeness and the chair, but there's no place he'd rather be. He holds Julian's gaze for a few moments before shaking his head. "Peace, Donnie. I think we deserve peace after all this. Just a little, don't you think?" And that sounds good, far too good to be true, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Yeah", he says finally, voice constricting, "I want that. I want that, Julian." A smile is still tugging at the corners of his mouth when Julian kisses him, slow and unsure and not at all like the many kisses they used to share; it's like a first kiss, a promise for an uncertain future, a vow to try. To give it time and let wounds heal - they're all they have, after all. "You're not going to the police", Julian says as they part. "We will figure this out. Get you clean. And in fifty years we'll still be here, okay, I won't lose you again, I couldn't, couldn't bury you again, I'll ---" And as Donald kisses the doubts and fears away, for the first time in years he has the feeling that everything might turn out okay; that he might be deserving of happiness after all. That finally, finally he's home. _______________________________________

#the blacklist #donald ressler #julian gale #tbl fanfiction #mine #coming home #long post #(under the cut)

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sourhaas · 4 years

Text

For the best

Damien can't work out why Y/N broke up with him three months ago. Everything had been going so well. Then one night, at his birthday party, the truth comes out. What will he do?

Disclaimer: this is the first story I've written in a long time so I'm sorry if it's pretty crappy! Just an idea that came into my head

The music was so loud, Damien could hardly think. He knew he was meant to be enjoying himself, after all, this was meant to be his birthday party. But his heart wasn't in it. In fact, he heart hadn't been in much since he and Y/N broke up almost three month ago.

Even the viewers had noticed his feeble attempt to act happy on camera. Nothing felt right without her. Yes he worked with her, but since the break up she had been avoiding him, always finding an excuse to be where he wasn't. It was killing him, seeing her laugh with other people, actually enjoy being around them. That used to be him.

' "I think we should break up" these six words brought his world crashing down around him. He had just gotten home, to find Y/N sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. All he could do was stare at her, his throat dry. He could feel tears in his eyes and blinked hard to stop them falling.

"I'm sorry Damien but I can't..not anymore" she whispered, getting to her feet. His whole body was frozen as he watched her gather her stuff. He wanted to stop her, wanted to tell her that he loved her, to beg her but he couldn't. She left, without looking back at him. The click of the door brought his body back to life and he scrambled to his feet. By the time he reached the door and flung it open, her car was pulling off the driveway.

His heart hurt, his chest was tight. Tears streamed down his face as he crumbled to the floor. He brought his knees up to his chest, as sobs shook him. She was gone. After two years together, she had left him. He tried to think about where it had gone wrong, but there was nothing. Yesterday they had been talking about the future together, and now this.

The future.

Fumbling around in his pocket, he pulled out the small red box he'd just bought. Flicking it open to reveal the hand designed engagement ring. A ring she would never wear.

"Damien" a voice brought him back to reality, as he wiped the stray tears from his face. Looking up, he saw Shayne standing in front of him, concern clear on his features.

"Huh? Did you say something?" He mumbled, not even trying to hide his emotions. Shayne sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Man..I know it's tough but at least try to enjoy yourself, it's your birthday" the blonde begged. Damien sighed, closing his eyes for a second. Pushing himself to his feet, he excused himself for some air, making his way to the front porch.

With the front door shut, he slid down the side of his house curling in on himself. He just needed some alone time. Y/N was meant to be here tonight, this whole party had been her idea. He knew she had spent months planning it. It just didn't feel right without her.

Letting his head fall back against the wall, he took a deep breath. He needed to try and move on, she clearly had. His fingers drummed against his knees as he thought. Why shouldn't be enjoy himself, it was his party after all. Determination running through him, he headed back inside, going straight to the kitchen to make a drink.

Two hours later the front door opened as Y/N let herself in. Her friends were all drunk, many dancing in the middle of the room. A frown formed on her face as she spotted someone else in the mix, someone who didn't drink.

"Damien?" It was like her voice had pierced right through him. His whole body froze as he turned to look at her. By now, other people had noticed she was there, coming up to greet her.

She couldn't take her eyes off her ex boyfriend or the drink in his hand. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, his eyes glazed over. This was a side of him she had never seen.

"Y/N" it was like he'd been punched in the gut as he watched her walk into the other room. A hand landed on his shoulder, Shayne coming into view.

"Dude, go talk to her. Now"

He nodded, his heart racing. He followed her into the kitchen, finding her leaning against the sink. She glanced at him as he came closer, picking at the loose skin around her nail beds.

"You don't drink" she said simply, watching the colour fade from his cheeks. He ducked his head.

"I had to do something to.."

"To what?"

He looked up once more, locking eyes with her. "To get over you. What are you even doing here? These last few month you've spent all your time avoiding me and now you decide to show up?" He snapped, wincing internally at how harsh he sounded.

Y/N looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "I came to talk"

He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. Talk? She wanted to talk now? Shaking his head, he crossed his arms, swaying ever so slightly. "Okay, we can talk"

"Not whilst you're drunk" she replied, sending a wave of anger through him. He had never been angry with her before, but this felt different.

"No, you came to talk so talk. In fact, I'll start. I've spent the last three months, killing myself trying to figure out where I had gone wrong with us. Trying to find some shred of information that could help me figure out why you just threw it all away. I had to watch you laughing and joking with everyone else, whilst acting like I never existed. You dropped me like I meant nothing to you. Yet here you are, questions why I'm drinking at my own party whilst I'm trying to fix my shattered heart!" He knew he was shouting but he couldn't help it. Every inch of him wanted to stop, to turn back time.

Y/N looked away, tears streaming down her face. He felt sick. He needed to hold her, to apologise but he had to stand his ground. "Where did I go wrong" he whispered, now well aware that the music had stopped in the other room. No doubt everyone was listening.

She took a deep breath, before reaching into her purse and pulling out a small envelope. With shakey hands, she tossed it across the room at him, sending it's contents flying. He looked down, his eyes widening in shock as he caught sight of one of the little photos.

"Y/N..." His voice caught in his throat. Now he knew why she wanted to wait until he was sober.

"I'm pregnant Damien. That's why I left you"

He felt like he had been sucked under water, his chest suddenly way too tight. Every emotion possible washed through him, his heartbeat clear In his ears. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet her gaze.

"The day I broke up with you, I just done a test. And I remembered how the day before you were saying you didn't want kids yet, that you felt like they would hold you back at the moment. I already knew in my heart I would keep the baby, and I couldn't put that on you" her voice was a lot steadier than she expected.

He bent down, scooping up a scan. As he held it, he realised where he had gone wrong. Pregnant. Y/N was pregnant, with his baby. He had told her he didnt want kids, so she'd left him. To raise the baby alone?

"Why are you telling me this?" He mumbled, stroking a thumb across the photo. She laughed, shaking her head.

"You would've found out eventually"

"How far along?"

"I've just made twelve weeks" he stepped closer.

"Y/N...I..I'm sorry" his voice shook, making her heart break. It killed her to know she had put him through this.

Every single day, she wanted nothing more than to tell him, to take him back. But she couldn't do that to him, she couldn't force him to be a father. So she kept her distance, slowly watching the man she loved become a shell of his former self.

Damien looked at her once more, deadly aware of the silence between them. He had all these thoughts running through his head. He had been going to propose. He wanted this life with her. He needed her. But she thought a baby would've ruined it, so she suffered alone. He should've been there. He knew, right then and there that a family with Y/N was all he had ever wanted.

The two stood there, simply watching each other. Neither cared that the living room was full of their friends, no doubt freaking out. This was about them. Damien stepped forward, being careful not to tread on any of the scans.

"Y/N...I want this.. I want you" he started, finally reaching her, his arms held out slightly. All she had to do was step forward and she could be with him again.

"But you don't want kids" she muttered, her hand resting on her stomach. He shook his head, using his fingers to make her look at him.

"I didn't know, that a baby with you, was the one thing I wanted more than anything" he replied gently. Her eyes scanned his, looking for any sign that he was lying. He smelt of alcohol but he seemed stone cold sober now.

She stepped into his embrace, feeling the months of hurt washing away as his arms wrapped around her. He was careful not to squeeze too right as he held her, her head against his chest.

"we're going to have a baby"

#damien haas #smosh #damien haas x reader #smosh damien

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zanesgirlfriend · 5 years

Text

Do Me the Honor | Jeff Wittek

Description: The boys help Jeff ask out the reader with a cute Valentine's Day dinner.

Requested?: Yes by @audacit-y

A/N: I've been trying to do my requests in order so people don't have to wait forever for them, but it is Valentine's so I had to skip ahead to this one so it would work.

________

He and David had been planning this for weeks. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he thought so highly of.

"Can I please film it?" David asked Jeff, wanting cute vlog footage.

"David, it's not a bit, it's my love life. Even if she says yes we're not gonna tell the fans right away." Jeff reminded him.

"The fans have already guessed it anyway." He thought for a second before coming up with another reason to film it. "Okay, what if I film it, but keep the footage for when you guys announce it, and then I use it later? Or you can use it in your wedding video. I just love cute shit, and you know she'll want footage of it later." David was using any excuse. Jeff thought about it for a minute.

"Okay, film it, and then ask her about it after everything is done and see what she wants." Jeff was hesitant to okay it, but he knew she would love to have the footage. The two of them got in David's Tesla and went to pick up Zane and Matt.

"I really owe you one, dude." Jeff patted David's shoulder as the four of them entered the warehouse.

"It's no problem, really." David glanced at him for a second before messing with the settings on his camera. Once everything was set up in the warehouse, Jeff got dressed in his Tuxedo.

You have an hour to get ready. Be extra fancy!

The text from David confused y/n, but any questions she asked were read with no response. She did as he said and dressed up in her best dress. She curled her hair and followed a James Charles tutorial for a Valentine's makeup look. The knock on the door made her jump and she went to open it as quickly as she could. Her heart raced when she saw who was behind the door.

Jeff

He had flowers in his hands and looked hotter than ever in his tuxedo. She giggled a little when she noticed David behind him, pointing the camera at her.

"Do you wanna be my Valentine?" Jeff asked her quietly. He admired her smile and took in how nice she looked as he awaited her response. They had been flirting for weeks. They's talked about dating, and were basically together, but he refused to ask her out because he had to wait until today. Valentine's Day.

"Yes." Her smile kept growing. Jeff grabbed her hand as they walked down the steps towards the Tesla. He opened the door for her, and she climbed in. Soft music filled the car, accompanied with a video of a romantic fire. David drove, his camera placed on the dashboard, and the couple sat behind him. She couldn't help but laugh.

"What, you don't like the ambiance?" Jeff joked with her.

"Can you even spell 'ambiance'?" She joked back, causing David to laugh. Jeff looked jokingly offended.

"David, turn the car around, the date's cancelled." Jeff responded, making y/n and David laugh harder. She paid a lot of attention to his hair, and his accent, and how quick witted he was. She also noticed how he was always looking at her. His favorite parts of her were of course her hair and her face and her eyes and her body, but he also loved how hilarious she was. She was funny without being a dick to people, unlike Jonah. Neither of them could stand being around Jonah.

They arrived at the warehouse, and the two held hands as they walked inside. The walls inside were decorated with red sheets and fairy lights, and roses were scattered across the floor. Also inside was a single table with two chairs. It had a candle and a single rose as decorations. There was also a wall with a door, leading to what she assumed would be a kitchen. They followed a path of rose petals and tealight candles towards the table.

"This is so cheezy." She laughed as she sat down. She loved everything about it.

"It's cheezy, but there's some personal touches." Jeff replied, sitting in his own seat.

"Like what?" Her fingers laced with his overtop the table.

"Wait until you see the staff here." His eyes locked with hers. Right on cue, Matt walked out in a tuxedo that was similar to Jeff's, but not as fancy. The couple's gaze broke as they noticed him. He poured wine in their glasses as they laughed.

"Oh my God, where's Zane?" She knew this night wouldn't be perfect without her best friend also being there.

"I'm right here, Madam. What can I do for you?" Zane's fake accent of no discernible origin filled the warehouse. He was dressed in the same outift as Matt, but his was a little tighter on his body. Her laugh was louder than David's when she laid eyes on Zane. Jeff smiled at his beautiful Valentine.

"Can I have an ice water, please?" She asked through giggles as she looked back at Jeff. The date went smoothly. She and Jeff talked, and filmed a few little bits with Zane and Matt dressed as waiters. They brought out food that was cooked by a private chef in the back of the warehouse. The food was delicious, and the increasing number of stains on Zane's tux was hilarious.

"Zane, we have to return that." David reminded him.

"I don't think we can." Zane bent over, revealing to the camera a rip in the pants he was wearing. Everyone laughed, Zane included. David went to the back and peaked his camera through the door as he gave the couple some alone time. Jeff grabbed both of her hands now, his voice a little more shakey than usual. He was nervous for no reason. She was having a blast, and had waited for months for him to ask her out.

"I remember around the time we first met. . ." Jeff took a deep breath. ". . . you told me that cheezy things were good to make fun of, but you still loved them anyway. You also told me that it was smart for anniversaries to be on holidays, so people can save money on presents, and there's less to remember." She felt tears in her eyes as he spoke.

"Things like that are what made me like you. The way you think about things is so interesting and I would never think of things the way you do." Jeff pulled her out of her seat, and his arms wrapped around her waist as she looked up at him.

"You're gorgeous, funny, interesting, and all I wanna do is be around you." Her hands wrapped around his neck, and a small happy tear slipped from her eye.

"I want you in my life always, so will you do me the honor of bein' my girlfriend?" He smiled at the end of his little speech. His heart thumped as he waited for an answer. A grin appeared on her face as she replied.

"Yes." Her hands snaked their way from his neck to the sides of his face bringing her new boyfriend in for a kiss. His lips were soft, and he tasted good. Their bodies pressed together as their tongues danced for a few seconds. The moment ended and they just stood there, admiring eachother.

"That was so cute!" A tear streamed down David's face as the other two boys clapped. The new couple looked over at their sensitive friend and laughed.

"So are you, David." Jeff called back to him.

#davids vlogs #jeff wittek #vlog squad #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek imagine #jeff x reader #jeff imagine #vloge squad imagines #vlog squad imagine #david #david dobrik imagine #david x reader #david dobrik #zane hijazi #matt king #valentines day #valentines

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zombies-apocalypse · 6 years

Text

So I’m giving the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina a try.

Imma keep this in one post instead of spamming, for once.

So hit the read more. Beware of spoilers for episode one.

Shit, she’s me when it comes to horror moves. Yup, still me, babbling about slow movies. Why is she me? Why am I Sabrina?

Oh, she’s into gory horror? Nevermind, not me.

Ummm, inviting a teacher to join you and your friends? But why? Oh, that’s why. Still, that’s not a typical teenager reaction.

Oh dude, I like this song. Though it bodes ill for - oooof course. Of course.

Okay her post “I love you” dance was cute.

Okay, but what was the point of that? Why murder the nice teacher???? Dark lord? Goddamnit. An evil, satanic witch already.

Dark baptism. That doesn’t bode well.

Oh no, the poor bat! T_T And I’ve seen the trailer so... Nooo. T_T Absit omen? ABSIT? As in Latin for Far?

Demonomicon????

Wait, why is Ambrose under house arrest? You can’t just drop that on me with no explanation for why he’s been grounded for 75 years?

You really had to question what they meant by half-breed? You’re not that dumb, are you?

Succubitches. Nice.

WAIT. Who’s bullying poor Susie??? HARASSMENT. Bring them in for review? Excuse me, you don’t review, you expell. Goddamnit. I hate this guy already. WAIT WHAT? Telling her to tell Susie to find another school? MOTHERFUCKER.

Wardwell’s fashion sense changed quite a bit. Witch-demon thing masquerading as her isn’t even trying to play like the teacher.

And you don’t think that’s sus, Sabrina? That the teacher’s poking you towards fucking with the principal?

PRAISE SATAN? That’s not how you respond to... Jesus, I hate Zelda. Why is she so different from Hilda?

I get she’s hiding shit from her, but being that suspicious of her? Like shit, her having some weird family tradition for her sweet sixteen shouldn’t be that big of a weird mystery. It’s a family thing. Her moving and not saying anything sooner, well, I understand him being shocked by it, but jeez. There’s such a lack of trust.

Okay, seriously. First episode and she’s already dropping the truth on Harvey. Like, for real? ALSO specifying warlock for a male witch. Fine, fineeeee. Whatever.

Oh, no Harvey has a reasonable reaction. Yup, jump to her lying about it as some weird excuse to break up with her. JEEZ SABRINA. Throwing a spell at him to make him forget what you told him... Jeez. Jeeeeeez.

Also seriously, why the hell are the aunts so blase about their niece being cursed?

Come on Zelda. Is there any other way you could’ve delivered those lies to make it any less convincing?

Ummm.... What the heck?

Oooh, I Put A Spell on you. Good song. Oh, this show doesn’t linger long on the non-atmospheric songs.

Interesting claw marks. OH, interesting... Wait. WAIT. WAIT. That’s Salem? Are you seriously telling me that’s Salem?!?! Some dark spirit that heard her in the forest, clawed up her window...

WAIT. What???? Satan expects the witchlings to be virginal? Saving herself for him? EXCUSE ME. WHAT?

Path of Light or Path of Night? Okay, so she’s an anomaly but yet still expected to follow the Witch Laws despite her existence being caused by the breaking of one of those laws. BUT doesn’t this mean Path of Light is an option??? But they kind of refer to that as human...

Also Malum Malus means Bad Bad or Apple Bad in Latin so...

WICCA? You named the club WICCA???? Woman’s International Cultural and Creative Association. And the mortal chose that name. Really stretched to reach that one, didn’t they?

Also why is this school so dreary? Do they not believe in florescent lights? In lights in general?

But why would you poke the birthmark? Oh, witch’s mark. I guess that’s why he’d poke on it.

OH. They’re cannibals too? WHAT THE FUCK ZELDA?!

It’s a maze, Sabrina. Not rocket science... She’s not the sharpest tool in the shed...

Oh, there’s arrows on the maze walls. Also WHY this? Like, what mart of this makes any sense? Do you really want to turn her against you? Cause that’s one way of doing it, you assfuck. Could’ve just planted a false apple for her with fake visions to guide her the right way. Or rot them all. I mean, come on...

Also Salem’s a beasty. An adorable one.

GROSS! I didn’t need to see that damn apple twice. Once was enough.

Ummm.... So... That didn’t really answer anything but okay. I mean... She’s been raised to believe the Dark Lord is like, their god... If that was him, then seeing him rise would be, like, #Goal, right?

Oh, Salem doesn’t wanna go inside. Gee, wonder why...

So that’s the end of episode one... And I’m just...

FINAL THOUGHTS:

The lighting is appalling. Everything, even the outdoors, is so dim and dreary. The school, something that is generally so bright, seems like it’s lit only by natural light and they live in Forks, Washington.

The camera work, something I rarely say anything about unless it’s shakey cam, is strange. Like, we randomly get this weird blur around the edges? I’m not sure what’s that called but I know there’s a name for it. It can be a stylistic choice, but it seems arbitrary.

The effects are decent though. I’ve seen worse.

The contrast between Zelda and Hilda is interesting, but doesn’t sit well with me. There’s no explanation given for why one is so Evil and one so Nice - especially since they’re both followers of the Dark Lord. It just doesn’t make sense for them to be nearly polar opposites like they are.

I have mixed feelings about Salem, but I don’t hate it. I do miss the OG Salem’s sass though.

My initial thoughts during the trailer was that the witches were EVIL and SATANIC - something that this first episode has NOT done anything to counter. It’s also clear witches are hereditary, a bloodline, and that they have powers before their Dark Baptism so why is it so damned important to sign the book? Also the Path of Night, Path of Light thing. What the fuck is the Path of Light, exactly? The Path of Night is obviously serving the Dark Lord, Satan... to what means, I don’t know, but what the fuck is the Path of Light? It’s kind of implied that’s mortality, humanity - but beyond that? I don’t know. I don’t like that all witches are being shown as evil and Satanic, save Sabrina who, for whatever reasons, isn’t Evil like Zelda or more morally grey like Zelda. Like, why is she so damn good despite being raised by two witches of the Path of Night???

Some of ya’ll know I was a fan of the show Salem. While I despise witches being Satanic and shit, because that just further underlines the ongoing misconception which still affects witches in real life, I can get down with a show despite that if it’s good enough....

So far this isn’t winning me over. The writing for this show... man...

I mean, this is only the first episode but I’m sorely unimpressed.

I’ll give episode two a shot...

#zombie watches CAoS #spoilers #spoilers under readmore

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paperhatsarefun · 7 years

Text

...I Need You...

Soft clicks were the only sounds surrounding the “evil” scientist. His hands were fidgeting with the mechanisms of a familiar box with many, many lethal devices inside.

There were little buttons to trigger each little mechanic, but Flug found that some of the springs weren’t stable enough to be tested, let alone the chemicals in one mechanism was much too intoxicating.

The chemicals Flug combined had been the cause of dizziness and almost... drunken side effects. He didn’t trust himself around it while the testing happens during the commercial...

He let out a sigh and tried configuring the mechanisms again. “Flug, get in here.”

Startled, he almost dropped the device. As he caught his breath, he stared hard at the small box with negativity. This would be used to kill someone.

He entered Black Hat’s office and held tight onto the device, hoping his boss wouldn’t chose the black button and let the gases fume the room. “S-Sir, Are we d-doing all the b-buttons?”

Black Hat stared at him as if he was a unicorn, “Of course, Flug.”

Flug bit his lip nervously, “C-Can I step o-outside when you p-push the black one?”

Black Hat narrowed his eyes at his scientist, “Excuse me?”

Flug flinched and shook his head, swallowing his pride for a second, “N-Nothing, sir....”

Black Hat blinked and looked away in thought before taking the device from Flug, “5.0.5. Begin.”

The bear nodded, sending Flug a questioning, worrying glance. Flug shook it off as the red blinker began on the camera. He stared at the camera and listened to BlackHat begin.

“Welcome, villains and viewers! My newest invention has come and you better buy it- OR ELSE!” Black Hat smirked, his tongue poking out from his sharp teeth slightly, “Dr. Flug will explain the device and each mechanism. We can discuss the prices after.”

“U-Um...” Flug started softly, walking into frame and taking the device from it’s little stand, “Th-this device is for t-trapping and helping euthanize your opponent. E-each button on the surface t-triggers a spring that trips a w-wire... and begins it’s options... Y-you can use them interchangeable to create your f-foe’s worst nightmare!”

Black nodded boringly, “Yes, yes. Let’s show them how to use it.”

Flug nodded slowly and pressed the red button, producing a ray from a little circle at the very top of the box. Just then, Demencia walked into frame and was zapped automatically. “The ray attacks any motion from your foe...” Flug explained, pushing the green button and so on.

However, as Flug went to put the device back on it’s stand, Black Hat pushed the black button. “You forgot one, Flug.” Black Hat smirked as he pushed it.

Flug flinched away, dropping the device on it’s stand as a black smokey gas formed from the circle, spreading around the room and surrounding 5.0.5. and the doctor. It had no affect on Black Hat, who simply watched the destruction with a grin.

Flug threw a gloved hand up to pinch his nose but the chemicals on his fingers still passed through his respiration system. 5.0.5. had fallen asleep not soon after, his eyes swirling about.

“Well, that’s it for now, ladies and gentleman! The prices are starting at 5 grand and there are only 100 in stock! Better buy some quickly before we run out.” Black Hat smirked, clicking the off button as Flug gagged on the smokey chemicals.

Flug fell to his knees, grabbing at his throat as the chemicals burned his lungs and throat. He sputtered out coughs every now and then as he struggled to breath deeply. His mind began going into the estimated haze.

Black Hat watched with a sadistic smile, “That’s a good one but it doesn’t work on heroes and villains, so you’ll have to make it stronger, Flug.”

Flug inhaled deeply and tried controlling his breathing as the burning subsided. “That w-was t-too much... c-carbon...”

Black Hat’s eyes widened as he watched his scientist rub at his throat sorely, his eyes downcast at the ground in worry for himself. This stuff didn’t harm 5.0.5. at all.

“Carbon?! Flug, why Carbon?!”

“I th-thought it would e-explode the p-person’s lungs....s-sir...”Flug answered, his throat dry and sore and begging for something cold.

“Well, we’ve tested that one now. Go fix it and return again.”

His breath was shakey and he felt like throwing up but he only coughed when the feeling came. In fact, he coughed up red onto the floor and his gloves. Black Hat was gone in a second and back with a glass of water and ice, placing it in front of Flug, “Drink.”

Flug nodded and greedily chugged the cold liquid. “As fun as it is watching you get injured, I can’t have you dying on me yet when my product isn’t finished...”

Flug sent his gaze to the ground again, knowing he was more of an item if anything. He simply nodded and excused himself to his lab, trying not to swallow the water too fast.

As he entered his lab, he placed the cup on his desk and looked at the lunch 5.0.5. brought him. He shook his head and moved it from his workplace before editing the blueprints. Not even twenty minutes later, Black Hat teleported in without a word.

Flug felt his mouth raw and sore once again and tried ignoring it to the best of his ability. He swished his tongue around his mouth and swallowed nervously as the clacking of shoes was suddenly present.

He fixed the solution, adding less Carbon and more of the other elements to make things explode when it got wet. He made sure to add enough to make the explosion enormous enough to blow up a being of over 200 pounds with thicker flesh than a human.

“Is it ready yet, Flug? We have less than an hour.”

“F-for the auction?” Flug asked, glancing partially at his boss.

“Yes, we will have to test it in front of everyone there as well. Might want to perfect it, Flug. And find someone in the crowd or something to test it on this time.”

Flug slowly shook his head, “Y-You mean ch-choose someone f-for death, s-sir? I c-can’t do th-that...”

“Are you disobeying my command?”

“N-No, s-sir...” Flug muttered under hs breath, glancing away to finish his work on the product.

“Good. Keep it that way, Doctor.”

As he finished it, he decided he’d have Demencia test it out. Therefore, when they approached the stage, Demencia was chained by her hands to the stage floor with a frown on her face.

her arms were crossed as she sat cross-legged on the floor. “Why am I chained here?! Why can’t it be 5.0.5. or something?!” She angrily groaned.

““Do it for Black Hat, Demencia. He’ll be happy.”

Her eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically, “Really? Really really?”

Flug nodded, feeling bad for manipulating her but going against his instincts. The crowd began forming so Flug decided to join Black Hat near the front, the device on it’s usual stand between them.

“Hello, every villain. Welcome to the auction of our first product for the week, hopefully our top seller as well.” He sent a grin to the other monstrous beings that slightly frightened Flug as much as BH.

Flug sent a fearful glance around the crowd, a few of them winked at the scientist while others glared or snarled or smiled. He sighed and smiled as Black Hat continued, “This is my scientist, Dr. Flug. This device is called the Lethal-Proctor. It will euthanize and help you get rid of those pesky heroes and maybe even humans once and for all! Maybe help you achieve world domination if you’re ever clever and strong enough.”

Flug shuddered at the mention of world domination. His device being used for that, sheesh... He’d be all over the news and known then, everyone would be trying to kidnap him. Something he most definitely did not want. At all.

“My scientist here will explain the device.” Black Hat smiled at the crowd then sent a smirk to Flug.

Flug flinched and nodded, “Ahem... U-Uh... This d-device is composed of multiple t-traps and lethal d-destructive mechanisms. Such as lasers, r-rays, shock nets, l-lethal smoke, and more. Th-this blue button here-” Flug pressed the least lethal button and points the circle of the box at Demencia with an apologietic gaze, “-will s-send out a shock net th-that will cause h-humans to go unconscious and w-weaken heroes.”

Demencia flinched as the net came in contact with her head and shoulders, wrapping around her whole body and wrapping her up before sending multiple levels of different shock charges through her nerves. It fried her will to move for ten seconds at minimum, leaving her breathless but exhilarated on the floor of the stage.

Flug chuckled softly to himself, it worked first try! He nodded softly before pressing the green button, “Th-this one is a ray th-that sends out flames in i-it’s path.”

A large combustion of bright blue and red flames engulfed the net and Demencia, burning the net into ash and causing burn marks to form on her skin. Black Hat caught in, “These marks on this demon’s body helps to show just how hot the flames are.”

Flug nodded softly and showcased three more buttons before placing the device on the stand, hoping his boss wouldn’t try and press the black button while he stared at the crowd to see if any of the evil villains had questions.

There was one, “Yes?”

“How much is the scientist?”

Black Hat stared at the boy in unfamiliar shock, “What?”

“How much is Dr. Flug? I’m sure I can buy him with the much I got.” The male smirked and sent a wink to the scientist.

Flug blushed beneath his bag and stepped back slightly as Demencia giggled behind him. “Look, nerd boy, someone actually likes you out there!”

Black Hat snarled, “He’s not for sale.”

“You won’t even take 20 grand for him?” The man frowned, “I’ll give you 50...”

“He isn’t for sale!”

“I’ll take him for 100 grand!” Another man in the crowd spoke up.

A female grinned with sharp teeth and spoke louder than the others, “I’ll buy him for 10 million!”

Black Hat’s eyes brightened and he seemed to consider the offer, 10 million could buy him multiple scientists and materials. The crowd silenced itself as Black Hat held a finger to his chin and glanced to his scientist.

He noticed how the scientist had his eyes trained on the floor, wet and moist as if he were going to cry. His hands were crossed in front of him and he stepped back again in uneasiness.

“He is not for sale. The device is.” Black Hat spoke out, glared at the crowd, “Take it or leave it. There are now 200 new ones in stock and 100 of the commercial prototypes in stock. The prototypes are 5 grand, the new ones are 10 grand.”

Flug stared at the tall demon with immense joy, he wouldn’t be sold off thankfully and he didn’t have to deal with unfamiliar people or other villains that COULD BE worst than Black Hat.

As the auction went on, multiple prototypes had been sold out of the few 100, but almost all the new ones were sold. With only a sixteenth of the new stock left over and a fourth of the old prototypes left, the villainous crew headed back home.

“S-sir...?” Flug tried to manage out in a mumble but the words barely left his lips.

Black Hat didn’t seem to hear him but Flug didn’t try again, instead he just said, “Thank you..” and moved on.

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welovekpopscenarios · 7 years

Text

Your Pretty Face is Going to Hell

Request: “Block b with a mafia theme please - msshaunece” Admin: Candi Fandom: Block B Member/reader: Reader, Ukwon, Zico, Jaehyo, Taeil, Park Khyung, BBomb, P.O Genre/warning(s): mafia, violence, blood, Words: 2.2k

I did my best and put a lot of thought into it, I hope it’s okay <3

You were working during a cold Wednesday morning, it was early November and it was already snowing outside. You had a pretty shitty job at a restaurant, you got paid minimum wage and you hated the people you worked with. One day a man came in wearing all black with a trench coat, he was alone. You walked over to him and asked if he wanted a seat. He said he will be needing two seats as he’s waiting for someone. It was closing time, you didn’t want to let him stay but something told you to not mess with him. You asked if he’ll be having anything but he just asked for water, he didn’t come here to eat, his face spoke for itself, he meant business. You left him alone and went behind the counter to clean the rest of the dishes. Abruptly, a man runs in, he looked homeless judging by his clothes. He pulls out a gun and points it at you. Your life flashes between your eyes and you can’t believe you’re about to die in the place you hate the most.

“If you don’t want to die you better give me all of the money in the cash register.” His hands were shakey, he must have been desperate because he didn’t seem confident in himself at all, you knew he was doing this because he had to, not because he wanted to.

You started taking out all the cash and handing it to him. The man who walked in earlier got up and walked over behind him. The sound of his shoes penetrated your ears, did he want to die?

“If you want to live, you’ll hand all the money back to the lady and get the fuck out of here.” The man told him.

The homeless man quickly turned around, his finger tight around the trigger pointing at the man who walked into your restaurant. The homeless man is ready to pull the trigger but he is too late, the mysterious guy pulled out a gun and fired at him. A pool of blood starts to quickly gather on the floor. You’re left there standing, bewildered as to what just happened.

“My name is Ukwon.” The man introduces himself.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. My name is Y/N.” you introduce yourself as well. You’re in shock over what happened and you can’t think straight. You feel very light headed. You take the nearest seat next to you and try to stay calm but you can feel a panic attack coming on.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’ll clean this up. If I didn’t do this I would have been dead and I can’t be dead right now.” Ukwon says.

You go to the restaurant bathroom to wash your face as you had blood splattered all over you. You hear footsteps outside the bathroom. The door slams open and you see Ukwon coming closer to you, he puts a towel over your mouth and you feel yourself drift off, you try to fight it but there’s no use, the chemical is too strong. You wake up in a room that you haven’t seen before. You lift yourself up, vision still blurry. You try to make out certain features of the room. You can hear muffled voices around you. There’s a glass of water next to the couch you were on, you grab it and chug it down without a second thought. You give yourself a few minutes to think and breathe as you try to decipher whether the events that took place were a dream or not.

You bring yourself up and walk around the room, looking for anything you could use as a weapon if you needed to. You can hear shouting in the other room, you walk closer to the wall to listen.

“Why the fuck did you do that? You’re a fucking dumbass, it was so unnecessary!”

“Okay yeah so I should have left and did nothing? She could have died!”

“The old homeless prick only wanted money, he’d never fire the gun.”

“Could you fucking trust me for a second when I say he legit was about to pull the trigger at me? You can’t have me dead and you know it.”

Your head starts spinning again. What did you get yourself into? Who are these people. You’d much rather be at the restaurant again and that says a lot. You sit down and wait for someone to enter the room, someone will eventually come in. You look through your pockets to find your phone but you should have known it would get taken off you.

You hear the door open. You immediately turn towards it; your hands are shaking and your heart is racing. What if you die right now?

“Who the fuck are you?!” you scream at the person who just walked in. He was tall and had blonde hair. You knew it wasn’t Ukwon.

“I’m Zico, I’m the family boss. Please be more respectful, I understand you’re scared and baffled but calm down.”

“Can you explain to me what’s going on? Did the man get killed in the restaurant or was it a dream? Where’s Ukwon and why did he bring me here?”

“We can explain everything to you over dinner. There’s clothes in the wardrobe for you, freshen up, take a shower, whatever. Dinner is at 5pm, I’ll get Jaehyo to come up and bring you over to our dining room.”

After that Zico left your room. You looked through the clothes and everything looked so expensive, all the labels were Armani, Gucci, Fendi, Versace, basically everything you never even laid your eyes on because you’re so broke. You wanted to put up a fight but you were too scared so you did as you were told. There was still blood residue on your face and in your hair so you decided it would be best to take a shower. You’d rather obey them than fight them seeing as it could end badly for you. You got into the shower, thoroughly washed your hair and your body. You walked out and began to pick your clothes. The room looked like it was made for you, there was makeup, perfume, hair products and clothes provided.

5pm struck and you hear a knock on the door. You hear someone asking if you’re ready. You walk out the door and you meet another tall man with brown hair and a black suit. He introduced himself as Jaehyo. You followed him into the dinig room. At the table, there were 6 men excluding Jaehyo. Ukwon was sitting next to Zico, he was also avoiding eye contact with you. Jaehyo seated you at the table and then went to take a seat next to a man with glasses.

The dinner consisted of a starter, main course and a dessert, it was almost as if you were back at the restaurant. Everyone remained quiet for the whole time which made you feel quite awkward. You didn’t speak up because it would be a foolish thing to do seeing as they all have a gun next to them.

“I’m surprised you stayed this quiet for so long.” The man with glasses decided to speak up. You had no clue who he was, you just looked at him in a pitiful way and shifted your eyes to Zico.

“Sweetie, you happened to be at a wrong place at the wrong time.” Zico said.

“Wrong place at a wrong time? I was working and your little… whoever that is decided to stroll in and kill a guy.” You hissed.

“I saved your life!” Ukwon interrupted.

“Shut up and sit down.” Zico ordered.

The tension built at the table and you just wanted to get out of here.

“I’m sorry to say but we can’t let you go. If my idiot assistant didn’t kill the guy we would be able to let you off but everything is caught on camera in the restaurant and Ukwon dragging your lifeless body out is also on that camera, so in conclusion you either die or co-operate.” Zico continued.

You felt food come up at the same time as the shivers went up your spine. You weren’t sure what was happening.

“Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom.” Jaehyo showed you to the bathroom. You let the cold water run and you stared at yourself into the mirror, terror in your eyes, you didn’t know if you could ever leave and you weren’t even sure who you were messing with. The next plan is to find out who these people are. You walk back casually and sit down in your place. You gather your thoughts and start speaking.

“Please tell me who you are.”

“Why of course! You’ve met Ukwon, he is my assistant, my right hand if you will. Next to him is P.O, he is the mastermind behind our machinery, guns, explosives and all that fun stuff. Park Kyung is the one sitting next to you, he’s one of our soldiers. Then there’s Jaehyo, he’s our messenger, next to him is Taeil he works with Park Kyung and then we have BBomb, our sniper.”

After the introduction, you have a fair idea of who they are. The whole town talks about them but they’re never seen. They are the most dangerous family in the country and you wanted nothing to do with them but fate had different plans for you. You were now meant to co-operate with them, what the hell do they even mean?

“Can I just ask, uhm what exactly do you mean by co-operate?” your voice starts to get shaky.

“Work with us of course, you know, killing people and shit like that.” Zico replies confidently.

“I can’t kill people.”

“You’re going to have to in order to survive.”

After dinner, you went to your bedroom, you sat on the bed thinking the dinner over and over. You began thinking of an escape plan that could get you killed. You wanted to sneak out of the window but there’s soldiers everywhere, there’s no way you were going to get past them. To your surprise the door isn’t locker but your eyes meet Park Kyung.

“Where are you going pretty lady?”

You shut the door immediately. You know there’s no way out of this. You start to hear a lot of rushed footsteps outside your door and your window. You quickly dash across your room to the window to see what’s going on. You see two vans outside, each overflowing with people, they all come out with heavy machinery. You watch attentively. Zico made an appearance and all the guns were pointed at him, he didn’t even flinch. The first gun was fired by a tall lanky man that came out of the van. After that it was like a shower of gunshots, everyone went into hiding. You ducked so you wouldn’t be seen and you grabbed the gun they left for you and tucked it into your pantyhose. You ran out of the room and Park Kyung wasn’t there anymore. The house was huge, you weren’t sure how you’d find your way out without getting killed. You ran downstairs to see Ukwon run out of the basement with grenades. He didn’t even look at you. You were trying to find a back door but there was none. There was only the front door and you can’t just casually walk out while there’s a gun fight outside.

Plan B, you run down to the basement to grab as much guns as you can to protect yourself. You didn’t even know how to work them but you were willing to try in order to stay alive. You hurry down and you’re too distracted to hear the footsteps that were making their way to you. You were panicking and survival mode was on. You hear a gun being fired in your direction and you fall to the ground, the shot deafened you.

“Who do we have here? I’ve never seen you before. Poor angel was probably kidnapped because she was too much.” The tall lanky man that fired his gun first walked over to you and put his gun up to your chin. The grin on his face was chilling. You had a gun in your hand, would he be your first kill? You can’t kill a person, you weren’t cut out for this.

“Bye sweetheart.” He points his gun at you but before he gets to fire it you quickly react to it and fire your own gun, the bullet landing perfectly in between his eyes. He falls to the ground and Zico quickly rushes down to you, he wasn’t aware you were here, he just needed more machinery. He walks in on you on the floor and the man swimming in his own blood. His eyes widen, you start to shake. The realization that you just killed someone came over you. Your corneas get smaller and you feel sick.

“Your pretty face is going to hell.” Zico says as he watches you tremble. He grabs his guns and leaves, you’re left there on your own, can’t help but sulk in what you just did. There’s no turning back, you killed somebody and you know there’s gonna be plenty more.

#block b #block b fanfic #block b mafia #ukwon #zico #jaehyo #park kyung #taeil #bbomb #p.o #candi #kpop mafia #kpop scenarios #requests #kpop requests #fanfic #mafia

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saviormysticmeme · 7 years

Note

ummmm..... I LOOOVE YOUR WORK （≧∇≦） YOU ARE SERIOUSLY SUPER TALENTED! Are YOU A GENIUS???? Sorry for caps...（´-`）If you don't mind, may I request an hc about the RFA + minor trio mistaking mc's twin for mc? Maybe they see her twin with another guy, so they ask mc about it or something... I just love love love your writtiiinngg~~~ I can write whole page! It's all so good that I they're all my favorite! (´Д` ) Sorry if its unclear/bad grammar... Bye（・◇・）/~~~

RFA + MTrio React to Mistaking CM for MC

Omg pls you guys are feeding my ego so muchAnd don’t worry about your grammar!! Grammar is the hardest part of any language, I cry when I speak anything other than English cause “How do say this”

Ok anyways

Some of these are going to be those totally cliché “Secret Twin” scenarios that are kind of angsty but I’m gonna try some more lighthearted ones too because I feel like the “I SAW YOU WITH ANOTHER MAN IM LEAVING YOU!!!1!1!” “Babe thats my twin” scenarios have been used quite a bit and I don’t want to pump out something that’s already out here

If you decide you want those scenarios instead though then let me know! Because if you just happen to reallllly like that specific case then I’ll do a short drabble focusing on that

Also sorry in advance for the Choi twin ones, I just feel like they would know about MC’s twin and I the writing for them isn’t up to par with the others but I didn’t want to postpone posting for much longer because of it.

Ok I talk too much lets go

Yoosung:

He’s walking by a cafe near campus when he sees you sitting across from another guy

He stops dead in the side walk and stares in the window

At first he thought you were maybe just..discussing something? With some guy? Who you never told him about…?

No he didn’t think that at all his brain went straight to the worst but he couldn’t bare to think it so he came up with every excuse in the book.

MC’s a spy and they have to kill this guy

He’s a new RFA recruit???

He’s a dealer and MC’s buying drugs

MC is secretly a vampire and just trying to eat this guy

Every thought bubble he had was popped when you leaned over the table and planted a kiss on the mans cheek

Yoosung heard his heart-

rrrng rrrrng rrrrng rrrng

He was going to say breaking but apparently his heart rings when broken?

He looked at his phone and your Caller ID was up

“Huh?” He looked from his phone to the window, where ‘you’ were still sitting and talking with the strange man

He answers the phone, voice a little shakey “H-Hello?”

“Yoosung? Hey! Sorry to call but on your way home can you grab soup. I’m feeling like soup for dinner tonight.”

….

“Yoosung?”

“MC…how are you doing this?”

“…Doing what Yoosung?”

“Are you a vantrilaquist?”

“Yoosung pls just what the fuck are you talking about”

“I’m staring at you through a window having coffee with another man…but you’re on the phone with me.”

“1. Yoosung that’s creepy that you’re staring at two strangers 2…”

His phone beeped and he looked down to see you sent him a picture of you sitting on the couch with a controller in hand, soda on the table, blankly staring at the camera.

He snapped a picture of the ‘you’ in the window and sent it back

“Yoosung that’s my sister and her boyfriend you egg”

“Your sister???? What???”

“I told you I had a sister!”

“NOT THAT YOU GUYS WERE TWINS”

“I assumed when you met her you’d be with me…not that this would happen. This is some TV style mess.” You chuckled, feeling a little guilty. Reflecting on it, you probably would have been upset too if you thought a look a like Yoosung was putting the moves on someone else “So……soup?”

“Yeah babe of course, what do you want?”

Jaehee

She was at the cafe making -cue Savior Meme going and making a post about Jaehee owning a musical theatre instead- a new brew when you walked in

She sees you and casts a warm smile and a “Hey Honey”

The person Jaehee thought to be MC cocks their head, slightly confused, but brushes it off as Jaehee being a very friendly Barista

The copy cat you stands at the counter, waiting about a minute before Jaehee realizes their presence at the spot

“Dear, what are you doing?”

The customer furrows their brows and responds slowly, somewhat confused “Ordering coffee…”

Jaehee chuckles, amused at you playing customer. She just shakes her head and walks over to the register

“Alright, what’ll you have?”

“I’ll have an iced Mocha with extra cream no sugar.”

Jaehee scribbles it on a cup and gets to work making the drink “Weird choice for you. Didn’t think you were a fan of mocha, you always seem to prefer vanilla”

“I do?”

“Yes silly, you always ask for French vanilla flavoring.”

“I ne-” Before your clone can respond though, Jaehee has finished up the drink and handing it over

As ‘You’ take the drink, Jaehee leans over the counter and plops a quick kiss on your cheek

‘You’ are frozen on the spot

Jaehee opens her eyes to see why you’re suddenly so frigid towards her, but when she opens them she can’t help but glance behind you and see…YOU??

“MC?” Jaehee jumped back looking between you and your look a like.

“MC?” Your twin turns to you, face still flushed from their sudden kiss. “Is this the surprise you had for me??? A super friendly barista??”

“Surprise???” Jaehee exclaimed, still looking between the two of you. “Wait you’re not MC???”

Finally you stepped in to clear the confusion

“Jaehee! This is my twin …. CM. CM, this is my new Cafe that I run with my girlfriend!”

“Girl..friend.” CM turns to look at Jaehee, at the same time the two of them realize everything that just happened concerning the confusion.

“I am so so so so so so so so so sorry” Jaehee can not stop apologizing no matter how many times CM says it’s ok.

Zen

It was opening night for his new show

He was pumped

Sure because of the show, but also because you had shot him a text earlier that day that you were going to bring your sibling.

Zen had yet to meet anyone in your family, so he was excited that you were going to start introducing him to them. It showed how ready you were to spend your life with him and that just made him giddy.

So after the show was over he couldn’t wait to find you

He scanned the crowd and eventually spotted you in the crowd with a bouquet of roses

MC is so sweet he hummed to himself

That was his sole moment of calmness before the storm

He watched as his coworker walked up to you and started chatting you up. Zen was on the other side of the auditorium, trying to push his way through the flock of people set on congratulating him, so he couldn’t run to your rescue as fast as he liked.

He was frustrated but he knew you could handle yourself

At least that’s what he thought until his fellow actor’s hand found it’s way to your hand, where the thumb gently brushed back and forth.

Zen’s face turned red, and the shade only grew deeper when he saw his douche bag scene mate’s mouth turn into a cocky looking smirk.

He found superhuman speed and agility to push through the crowd and end up right behind you, where he wrapped his arms around you tightly and pressed a long kiss to your cheek

“Honey, there you are.” Zen sounded so sweet while his blazing red eyes stared daggers into the green ones of his coworker.

“Zen? This is your girlfriend?”

“Yes, this is my girlfriend MC.” Zen squinted at the guy. How dare he pretend not to know, Zen only pointed out MC every time she came to a show. Every time she picked him up from rehearsal. Every time-

“You said your name was CM” The Actor turned a confused stare to the person in Zen’s arms

“I-” They tried to say but

“CM?” Zen questioned, he spun them around only to realize “You’re not MC.”

“No I’m” Cm tried to say

“Zen!” You interjected as you ran over to the 3. “Sorry, I had to run to the bathroom. CM thanks for holding the flowers. Speaking of which, Zen I see you’ve met my twin”

Zen’s face turned bright red with blush this time

He turned to his fellow actor and CM and started apologizing profusely

Jumin

He knew you had a brother….or…a sister? …or both?

He lied he had no clue, he just knew you had some sort of sibling.

He was unaware it was a twin

A twin who worked as an assistant for a company but was looking to switch, so when they saw C&R was hiring a new chief assistant, they threw an application in

So here is Jumin, just sorting through some applications when he sees

“CM PlayerPants”

He smirks at the paper, seeing all the information filled out is yours. Your home address, the general store you lived near, your school, graduation, etc.

Your picture was even you, just you in a suit and looking very hot professional

Now lets face it you and Jumin did some kinky shit sometimes

Sometimes your love life together involved role playing

Jumin was surprised at how much effort you put into this, but he wasn’t going to spoil it.

He types in the phone number, it’s not your usual cell number, what did you get a prepaid phone just for this?

He was in awe with your dedication

Rrrng rrrng rrrng

“Hello?” Your voice answered

He couldn’t hide the smirk on his face “Hello there, Kitten.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Oh my bad” He corrected himself “Hello there, Ms. Playerpants. This is Jumin Han from C&R calling about your application”

“Oh! Uh, Hello! Yes, what can I do for you? Does it need any clarification?”

“Oh no no no, I think I read you loud and clear.” He lazily flipped through the pages of the resume in front of him

“Oh..ok. Is this about the position then?”

“Yes” A smirk found it’s way to his lips “Speaking of which, what is your favorite position?”

“Excuse me? I don’t think I understand?” The voice on the end was clearly taken aback. Damn, you were making him work for this.

“Well I figured I’d give you a say in the matter tonight since you put sooo much work into this. So Kitten, tell me, what would you like to do tonight? Maybe I’ll buy some toys on the way home an-”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????” Click.

Jumin just stared at the phone confused. He shrugged it off because his desk phone went off, and when he answered it was his father calling him to a meeting. Jumin resolved to just handle whatever happened with you when he got home

After a long work day he came in the door to see you waiting for him. “Hello Kitten.”

“Hey Babe, how was work?”

“Good, aside from this strange phone call I made today” A small grin on his face

“Oh?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes,” He purred as he walked over and started rubbing your shoulders “I thought I had found a new assistant”

“OH!” You exclaim, jumping up and remembering something “I forgot to tell you this morning! My twin is applying for the chief assistant job, it completely slipped my mind.”

“Your…twin?” Jumin cocked his brows now

“Yes! CM!”

“C….M” Jumin was quick to catch on to his mistake “Oh my god”

Seven

Lets face it

You guys may be sick of hearing this but

He knew

Of course he knew

He stalked the ever-loving-shit out of you

He saw photos of the two of you together

He insists on you and your twin joining him and Saeran out for lunch all the time

You guys have the certified Twin Club in his brain

The 4 of you spend so much time together Seven can tell the slight difference between your hair and your twins. How your twin is about a centimeter taller. Your eyes are a little more wide. He knows.

Which is why he isn’t caught off guard when your twin and you show up in the same room

He’s not confused when he sees CM out kissing someone

He knows

He loves it

#TwinSquad

His eyesight is so bad he has mini heart attacks once a week thinking he sees you out in public holding hands with someone else

Over time he stops freaking out, he starts to recognize you easier, which means he can play ‘Spot the Blurry Difference’ a little better when you two aren’t together

Until one day he’s on set doing a photo shoot for a Modeling company that requested his help

And he sees…MC? With a headset on ordering some people around to do this and that.

The voice is the same. He knows MC’s voice damn well.

And that is MC

“MC..” V quietly calls out but with no answer.

‘MC’ Disappears into the crowd of models

What the fuck. How could you not tell him? He was a little hurt you never shared your work life with him. Was this where you were when the two of you weren’t together? Did you think he wouldn’t be impressed because he usually focuses on more artsy photography??? Did he say something??? MC please why don’t you love hi-

“Hey Hun!”

MC!? V whirled around to see you, but you were talking to one of the models, very flirtatiously he may add. Your hand on their arm and a sweet, sweet smile on your face as you looked at them. He could see that much.

He felt his heart break a bit, how could you pretend not to even see him?

No. No this couldn’t be you.

Jihyun Kim trusts and loves you and refuses to believe you’d be evil *cough*LikeHowHeTrustedSnakeBitch*cough*

He marches well marches as good as you can while visually impaired up to ‘MC’ and taps them on the arm.

MC turns “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry, but you look extremely like a friend of mine. Her name is MC-”

The set director in front of him suddenly seems much more friendly “Oh! That’s my twin! Wait, are you V?? MC mentioned they were dating a photographer I didn’t realize it was the one we hired for today! Oh, I’m sorry, Hello I’m CM!”

Relief. So much fucking relief on V’s heart.

Vanderwood

Neither you nor Vanderwood were aware that Seven was being devious today

He had been scarce all day, leaving the two of you to go through the day in overall peacefulness. You guys had spent a bit of time together, but eventually you got up to start cleaning and doing some chores.

Yep that’s all normal

Until you suddenly walk in the door you did not leave out of

“MC?” Vandy stared at you as you looked at him, then walked straight back out the door you just came in

Then you walked in the door he thought you originally left from.

You crossed the room and into the hall, out of site. He was left a little slackjawed and confused

Then you entered from the door he just saw you enter from. Wait what

“MC how-”

You giggled and ran out another door

Only to come back from the hall

“OK LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK”

His outburst made you jump

“Vanderwood wha-”

Two doors behind you silently opened, and two almost carbon copies of you peaked their heads through and shushed Vanderwood

He was speechless and just violently pointed trying to get you to turn around, but by the time you did the copies of you were gone

“What in the fuck-”

“Vanderwood what is-”

“Yeah Vanderwood why-” An MC copy asked running in from the hall

“What’s going on?” Another one said coming in from a room

“What the” You looked around and Vanderwood was rubbing his eyes like crazy trying to get whatever form of psycho out of them.

Upon further inspection, you realized one of your clones didn’t look like you aside from the fact they were wearing your clothes and had on a wig that looked like your hair “Seven?”

“You got me! Lucky~~Aha~!” Seven cheered pulling the wig off

“So who is-” Vanderwood looked to the last copy

“Oh, I’m CM! I’m MC’s twin. 707 asked if I would help him out with a little prank and I couldn’t say no” Cm giggled.

You all had a good laugh

Except Vanderwood

Saeran

Ok, you guys might hate me for this one

But

I feel like he also knows

I feel like Seven has told him, and dragged him out on the #TwinClubDates

There’s no way Seven wouldn’t constantly talk about you 4 being goals

He takes group pictures of you guys all the time

He shows Saeran photos of CM constantly asking if he and Saeran look more alike than MC and CM

Buuut

Even though Saeran knows, he’s totally fucked up before

I bet he’s accidentally kissed CM before when MC’s in a spot then leaves only for CM to be left standing somewhere close to where Saeran last saw MC

He’s definitely had to play the “Which one am I dating” game when you two first started going out. And he has failed and accidentally grabbed Cm’s hands, causing you two to giggle despite Saeran’s obvious saltiness

I’m sorry. This one is really weak but I don’t really have any ideas for it because I feel like Saeran wouldn’t make a big slip up since he’d know MC had a twin cause of Seven.

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