#not tagging this as school of rock out of respect

[haloheadhater]

Day 5: Worst Au Ever

Giki × School of Rock

[grison-in-space]

I'm sorry? Pigeons have to coo to ovulate?

okay, okay, I left this one out in the tags without elaborating the other day and you were not the only person who asked-- @nanavn and @corvus--caurinus were also curious. I did not have a ton of time yesterday when my brain was not leaking out my ears, so here I am today.

First, I apparently misremembered my grad school teachings: the best-documented case study of doves being required to hear their own coo in order to ovulate is that of the ring or Barbary dove (Streptopelia risoria), not the rock dove which gave rise to our domestic pigeons (Columba livia). They look like this:

They're the domestic doves you see sometimes that aren't domestic pigeons.

But yes, I was completely serious: hens need to very specifically hear their own nest coo to ovulate. The way it works is this: these doves have a very specific courtship pattern, where courting males at different stages of the nesting process perform first a "bow" coo, then a nest coo. Then the hen makes a nest coo back, and the pair goes on to build a nest together in which the hen will lay fertile eggs.

If you prevent the hen from producing this coo--and the first paper I've linked does this in several different ways with both neural lesions and also mechanical blocks of the synrinx--she will not ovulate. Then Dr. Cheng tried rescuing the effect for doves who could hear but not produce their own coos by playing back recordings of devocalized doves' own nest coos, recordings of other hen's nest coos, recordings of male nest coos (their own males, I think, for preference?) and no recordings at all. Hen nest coo recordings, especially the recordings of the hens themselves, were enough to rescue ovulation effect... but deafened hens who could, themselves produce nest coos weren't able to make ovulation happen half the time even when the male was right there. The male nest coo and his mating display is really important, because his coo stimulates the female to make her nest coo, and that's where ovulation starts.

In 2003, a little over a decade later, Dr. Cheng wrote a whole book chapter about auditory self-stimulation as a phenomenon in neuroendocrine shifts. It makes for pretty interesting reading! I'm going to really enjoy it this afternoon. Stimulated ovulation is actually a pretty common phenomenon in animals--often it makes more sense to only bother ovulating if you know there's a partner around to use whatever eggs you yield up--but this one is one of the most interesting and elaborate systems out there, and definitely the one that offers the most options to a given female dove to potentially consciously control her reproductive output.

But grison, you might ask, what about the doves outside my window? Is this just a function of this one dove species, or are lots of doves doing this to make ovulation happen? So I went looking to find out whether anyone has checked. The thing is that the heyday of pigeon behavioral research has faded somewhat in the intervening decades since Dr. Cheng's discovery, so there's not as much as I might hope where people sat down to investigate the question. I did, however, find a neat study on Columba livia demonstrating that auditory stimulation is more important to courtship displays and success than visual displays are, although of course the multisensory courtship is stronger than either sensory modality alone. So yeah, the cooing back and forth really loudly is part of a display that is functionally necessary for successfully producing offspring, and the auditory component is important for basically every pigeon that has been studied in this respect (albeit that number is pitifully small).

I also found this really interesting review of known uses of birdsong to set internal emotional states in birds (either for the self or for a partner or flockmates) that I want to look into with more detail, plus this really thoughtful review from Dr. Donna Maney talking about how "incentive salience" can use learning and experience to make certain cues bring up neuroendocrine changes in state over time, which helps individuals control how their endocrine system is reacting to stimuli in the world they've been shaped by. Clearly I have some reading to do...

[thewritingrowlet]

The Freshman (Remake), ft. tripleS Yoon Seoyeon

tags: first time, creampie

length: 10k

author's note: It's the remix to Ignition The Freshman, hot and fresh out the kitchen, mama rollin' that body got every man in here wishin'

Anyway, I decided to do something different this time; I remade The Freshman because I wasn't entirely satisfied with how that one originally turned out—I was super new and was super terrible at writing (still am, btw). I hope you like this remake! <3

-

Today is August 12th, the first day of Freshers’ Week at your university. Professor Son, the head of Computer Science department, had asked you personally to be one of the seniors to lead a group of freshmen throughout the Week and continue to offer help and advice whenever they may need it, even after the orientation period has finished. She told you that she was very impressed that you were able to maintain over 3.7 GPA (4.00 was peak—3.7 was “rock-bottom”) in the 2 years you’ve been studying while being active as a basketball player for the university’s team at the same time.

You were hesitant to take her up on the request at first because you had wanted to take this holiday period to relax and gather yourself after such a stressful semester. However, you recalled the way your senior had helped you when you were a freshman yourself; how he motivated and set an example to you and your groupmates. With that in mind, you put your holiday plans to the side, said yes, and went on a training period to become a group leader.

Your watch shows 5:30 am. You just finished the morning briefing with the other group leaders and the rest of the Freshers’ Week committee. In less than an hour, the freshmen will start gathering in the football field and you will start your duties as a group leader for these new faces. You are very nervous as you are not very sociable with new people, but you see this as an opportunity to help you be more comfortable being in the spotlight and present in public—the promised payment is too good to pass up as well.

You and the rest of the group leaders stand in a row while holding a sign with the group name and number written on it. You see the freshmen start lining up in front of their respective leaders, including yourself. Some look like they just woke up, others look excited to start their new life as a university student, as you were back then. Initially, no male or female freshman caught your attention with their looks, until the last freshman joins your group’s line. You quickly peek at the attendance list on your clipboard and find the name of this last person: Yoon Seoyeon, from Chungnam Girls’ High School in Daejeon. “That’s quite the distance”, you think. As you turn your attention away from the attendance list, you see her walking up to you. Just before she gets to you, you manage to pick up some details from her looks: big eyes, small lips, fluffy cheeks—she’s also wearing a bow tie in your favorite color, light blue (or is that Dodger blue?).

Lock it in, she’s holding out her hand to shake yours. “Good morning, sunbaenim. My name is Yoon Seoyeon”, she says. You find yourself staring deep into her eyes for a second before reaching out to shake her hand; you have never felt anything like this before—is this what they call love at first sight? “Good morning to you as well, Seoyeon-ssi”, you greet her warmly, “stand in line, please”. You expect her to stand at the end of the line, but to your surprise, she takes the spot right in front of you, beaming as she does. “In line”, she says cutely, and you can’t help but smile in response.

You hear the sound of someone testing the mic over the speakers, which indicates that this whole thing is moments away from kick-off. “One, two—one, two, three”. You can’t see the speaker, but based on the voice, it must be Doctor Park, the dean of the Faculty of Medicine and the head of the Freshers’ Week committee. “Good morning, everyone!’, her voice is laden with excitement, “welcome to the university, my dear freshmen—how’s everyone today?”. Judging by her chuckles and giggles that you hear over the speakers, the people close to her must be saying nice things to her—which is good; she’s such a brilliant professor and an even greater person, and students love her a lot.

“Group leaders, look at your attendance list for me, please”, she says, “if there’s anyone in your group who has a medical condition, guide them to me and we’ll talk to them”. You do as she says and look at your list, and thankfully, no one has any medical conditions. Unlike your group, however, the group next to you do have someone. “Are we okay, sunbaenim?”, Seoyeon asks. “Yeah, I think we are”. Your gaze meets hers, and she shows you such a precious smile. You expect her to look away in shyness, but she doesn’t; she just keeps looking at you with so much confidence—it’s you who folds first, and it’s because you feel your cheeks getting hot. “Fuck, if only I could find something to talk about”, you think to yourself, desperate for even the smallest of help to save you from the awkwardness.

“Once they’re back, leaders, you’re going to take your group to the classrooms that have been assigned to you—see you around, everyone!”. The doctor leaves the football field and goes about her day, and you hear some people collectively saying goodbye to her. You return your attention back to your group, and you can see that some people have started talking among themselves, which is very nice—oh, look: someone’s tapping Seoyeon’s shoulder from behind. She turns around with a smile and starts talking to the girl behind her. You see them pulling out their phones, probably to get each other’s contacts, and admittedly, you’re glad that things are starting out well for her—not sure why you’re so attentive to her, though.

-

Your group, 127, shares the same classroom with groups 125, 126, and 128. Each group split themselves in two rows and sit facing each other, and then the group leaders sit wherever they can and blend in with their respective groups. “Good morning, everyone”, you greet your group, “let’s start by having a toilet break—does anyone need to go to the toilet?”. You see 3 girls and 1 guy raise their hands, so you tell them to make a line at the door and wait for other toilet-goers.

You were too busy looking at your papers that you didn’t notice that Seoyeon has scooted over towards you. “Excuse me, sunbaenim”, she says, “I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing each other a lot in the next few days, and I was wondering if we can start speaking more casually”. For a freshman, her confidence is second to none. “Of course, Seoyeon-ah; you can call me oppa—or hyung, if you feel like it”, you feel your cheeks getting hot again, “have you thought about which student organization you want to join?”. “I want to continue my student council career”, she says, “do you think that’s a good idea?”. You have friends in the student council; you can play a little nepotism game and help Seoyeon join it—let’s not reveal it to her just yet though. “I think it is”, you say, “you obviously have the experience and know what it’s like to be in the council”.

Before you know it, the toilet-goers have returned to the classroom. In your head, you expect Seoyeon to move back to her previous position, but she doesn’t; she asks the other person to swap seats with her and stays close to you. Your heart starts getting excited, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself—it’d be very embarrassing if Seoyeon turns out to not be interested in you, wouldn’t it?

Kim Suhyeon, the leader of group 128, signals to you with her hands and asks you to come to her, so you do. “I think we can start now, oppa”, she says. You nod to her and take the stage in front of the whiteboard with her. “Attention, please”, you say, “first of all, we’d like to extend Doctor Park’s greetings and welcome you to the university”. In the corner of your eyes, you notice that Kim Sungmin and Nam Jungmin—leaders of 125 and 126 respectively—are on their way to join you. “I’m sure you already know what our names are but allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Oh Hanbin; I’m a year 3 student from the Faculty of Engineering”, you introduce yourself, getting collective nods from everyone present, “I’ll let the others introduce themselves and then we’ll start this whole thing”. The other 3 people take turns introducing themselves to the crowd, starting with Sungmin, Jungmin, and finally, the little princess (because she’s the only sophomore among juniors in your quartet), Suhyeon.

Now that introductions are out of the way, you can proceed to the next step, which is to play a small game. “We’ll give you three minutes to know as many people as you can, and then we want you to group up based on different conditions—the timer starts now”. People start getting on their feet and scramble around the classroom to introduce themselves to each other. You eye the members of your group, and you guess that some of them already have friends in the other groups based on how they start laughing and high-fiving other people. Seoyeon, on the other hand, seems to be stressing out, as she keeps running around the room to quickly introduce herself to people. “How cute”, you think.

“Alright, everyone, time’s up!”, Suhyeon announces, stopping people on their tracks. “Let’s start the game, everyone. On the count of 3, you have 2 minutes to find people whose name starts with the same letter as yours—Juhyeon and Jihoon, Siwoo and Sunwoo, and so on”, she explains the first criteria of the game, and the freshmen start getting antsy, “one, two, three—timer starts now!”. The chaos immediately ensues; those who happen to be far from their group start running around frantically, including Seoyeon, who happens to be standing quite far away from others whose name starts with S. “Remember: no curses, everyone; we are an educated bunch”, Suhyeon reminds the crowd—they’re too busy playing the game, though.

“That’s time, everyone!’, she announces, thus marking the end of the first round, “now let’s see how you did”. She walks to the group that Seoyeon is a part of and starts asking everyone’s name: Sunwoo, Seoyeon, Soobin, Seunghan, Soojin, Seokmin. “Nah, nah, nah—sunbaenim, he’s lying!”, says someone from across the room, “his name is Kang Minseok, and he went to the same high school I did”. Everyone explodes in laughter; someone actually snitched on their friend and caused them to get punished. Suhyeon chuckles and shakes her head in amusement, “you’re not slick, Minseok-ah—to the front, please”.

Suhyeon continues her examination and finds a few more suspects; there’s a girl named Minji, and a guy named Minwoo, but instead of grouping up, they’re standing far apart from each other. “What’s with you M people”, Suhyeon laughs, “alright, join your fellow M on the stage, please”.

As Minji and Minwoo walk to join Minseok in front of the whiteboard, the classroom door swings open, revealing Doctor Park behind it. “Ah, you must be having fun”, the doctor looks around the classroom, “should I come back later?”. You rush to the door to greet the doctor, since everyone is too busy standing idle. “We were having a little game, doctor—please, come in”, you say. “Thank you, Hanbin-ah”, she shows you a kind smile, “I’ll wait until you guys are done with your games”.

Doctor Park greets the three standing in front of the whiteboard and asks why they’re standing there. “They’re getting punished for failing at the game, doctor”, you explain, and she reminds you to not embarrass anyone during Freshers’ Week. “Certainly not, doctor; we won’t ask anything crazy of them”, you assure her.

You stand next to the three suspects and ask them to introduce themselves and share with the class what they want to achieve in university. Minji says that she wants to go on a student exchange program abroad, which, according to the university’s policies, will allow her to skip doing thesis. Minwoo says that he wants to graduate quickly and work at his parents’ company right after, like a typical nepo baby (his words, not yours). Minseok, on the other hand, “uh, I don’t know exactly yet. I do want to graduate quickly, though”. During all of this, the doctor is looking at them kindly with a smile on her face, the same way she did to you when you were a freshman yourself—it’ll be a very sad day when Doctor Park retires from teaching, that’s for sure.

-

It is 100% true that time flies when you’re busy or having fun, because the clock shows that it’s almost time for lunch break after what felt like an hour—this also means that Doctor Park had been speaking for nearly 4 hours straight before she left a few minutes ago. Anyway, it’s time for another toilet break before lunch—the food delivery guy(s) should be here soon as well.

As luck would have it, moments after the toilet-goers have left with Jungmin and Sungmin, the lunchboxes arrive. “Yo, yo, yo”, Sunwoo, a logistics guy, greets you while holding two big plastic bags full of lunchboxes in each hand, “help us, Hanbin-ah”. You and Suhyeon help Sunwoo and his friend and take the bags from their hands. The bags are tagged with the group’s numbers, and each lunchbox is labeled accordingly for vegetarians and vegans. You don’t have a vegetarian or a vegan in your group, but Suhyeon has a vegetarian and Jungmin has a vegan in their groups, so you know that they’ll appreciate the attention to detail. “Thanks, guys. See you guys later”, you give each of them a fist bump and send them on their way.

This morning, the logistics guys told you that you must put the empty lunchboxes (and other trash) in the bags they came in and throw them out like that, so with that in mind, you fold the bag and shove it in your back pocket for later use. While you wait for the freshmen to come back from the toilet, you pull out your phone and take a second look at the schedule. “A joint session at the library hall after this—okay, cool”.

Before you know it, your freshmen are back, seemingly refreshed after stretching their legs and emptying their tanks. They sit in two rows again, and you start handing out the lunchboxes to them. “Hand this over to the person next to you, okay?”, you start from Seoyeon, who hands it to Jiwon, who then continues the train until the back of the line.

“Wait”, you stop momentarily, “there’s only one left and there’s two of us”. You look at the other groups and see that everyone, including the leaders, have a lunchbox in their hands. Obviously, you don’t want to keep food from Seoyeon, so you give her the last lunchbox. “What about you, oppa?”, she asks, and you tell her that you’ll be fine. “I’ll live—just eat, Seoyeon-ah”. You will live, yes, but this is still a problem. You hop on the committee’s group chat and tell them that your group is one lunchbox short. “We’ll look into it”, someone from the logistics says, and those words are your tasty and tummy-filling lunch.

-

After the big, joint session at the library hall, it’s now time for the freshmen to go home. The freshmen don’t really get to go anywhere by themselves, even if it’s time for them to go home. Your group lines up behind you (Seoyeon doesn’t take the spot behind you this time) and you wait with them until you’re allowed to start walking out of the building. There’s a traffic management crew whose job is to make sure no congestion happens, especially in the narrower corridors.

“Let’s gather over there before we go home”, you point at an empty gazebo that’s located in next to library building. You give them your number and make a group chat for them, “here, you can join by scanning this QR”. You hand your phone over to Jiwon, who then scans the code and passes your phone over to the next person. You wait until everyone has taken their turn and take your phone back from Sohee. “That’s everyone, right?”. You look at the group info and see that everyone has joined, “right, you guys can go home now”.

You give those who are leaving a fist bump and tell them that you’ll be seeing them again tomorrow. You fail to notice that among your freshmen, Seoyeon is staying behind with you at the gazebo. “You alright?”, you ask. “Yes, I am”, she replies, “so what now?”. You explain to her that you still need to attend today’s evaluation and basketball practice after that, and on the other hand, she’s free to leave. “You play basketball, oppa?”, she asks. Whether it’s a genuine question or not (considering the height difference between the two of you), you answer genuinely and add to the explanation: “I’m the team’s captain, Seoyeon-ah”. She just nods to you with a flat face, and you guess that she’s not that interested in the subject. “I’m leaving then—bye, oppa!”, she waves at you as she walks away, leaving you alone at the gazebo.

-

As soon as Seoyeon enters her apartment, she gets a call from her high school best friend, Yeonsu. She also happens to be desperate to go to the toilet, though, so she lets the call go unanswered for now. After her toilet break and change of clothes, she’s now ready to call her friend.

“Hello”

“Hi, hello. Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah, I was—where were you?”

“Well, the campus, obviously. Today was the first day of Freshers’ Week” Yeonsu and Seoyeon were supposed to go to the same university but there were factors that caused them to split up. The best friends then start exchanging stories from their first day as university students—these two never spend a day without knowing what the other person is up to.

“My group leader is named Oh Hanbin”, Seoyeon says, but Yeonsu stays silent, thus confusing Seoyeon, “Yeonsu-yah, are you there?”

“Did you say Oh Hanbin?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Fuck, there’s no way”

Seoyeon doesn’t understand why her friend is reacting like this, so she asks Yeonsu to explain, and the answer she gets is “Oh Hanbin is so fucking famous, Seoyeon-ah”.

“He is? How did you know?”

“Fuck, have you been living under a rock? He’s known for a bunch of things”

“Like what?”

“He’s good at basketball and he’s even better in class—he’s also handsome, but that’s personal preferences”

“Are you serious?”

”Do I sound like I’m lying right now?”

No, she doesn’t—if anything, Yeonsu sounds very enthusiastic right now, as if wishing that it was her that got to meet Oh Hanbin.

“Do you have a crush on this guy, Ryu Yeonsu?”

“Oh, please don’t lie to me, Yoon Seoyeon; there’s no denying how attractive he is”

Seoyeon starts cranking the gears in her head, trying to remember what you, Oh Hanbin, was like: tall guy, well-built, good manners, and just a decent person all-around. “Oh, wait—oh my God!”, Seoyeon exclaims as the memory returns to her, “he gave me his lunch, Yeonsu-yah!”. Seoyeon can picture her friend’s jaw dropping in shock. “No, he didn’t—there’s no fucking way!”, Yeonsu’s disbelief is apparent, “why would he give you his lunch?”. Seoyeon explains to her friend that her group was short by one lunchbox and that you gave her the last one in the bag so that she could have lunch.

As the conversation keeps going, Seoyeon realizes that she’s starting to think that you’re attractive to her, and from that point on, her thoughts start running wild: she imagines what it’d be like to be close to you, what it’d be like to sit on the stands during one of your games, and finally, what it’d be like to have her first time with you. “Fuck, am I even ready for that? Would I even be his first? If he’s as famous as Yeonsu says, then he must’ve had many girlfriends”, Seoyeon thinks to herself, ignoring whatever Yeonsu is telling her. She decides that she needs more time to think about this. “Fuck, Yeonsu-yah, I’m sorry but I really need to go—I’ll call you again soon”, she says, and she ends the call right after.

Seoyeon forces her brain to come up with something to find out more about you. “Can I just search his name on Google or something?”. She opens the browser app on her phone and types in your name, “God, please work; tell me something about him”.

The first search result is your professional network page, which you thankfully keep up to date. “Best graduate out of high school, hm?”, Seoyeon sees the first thing listed under your picture. “Oh my God, Yeonsu was right; Dean’s List with 4.00 GPA last semester!”, she exclaims, her big eyes widen even more thanks to the surprise, “and the captain of the basketball team, too—didn’t make it to the finals last year, though”. Seoyeon doesn’t know what to do with this information, but she’s sure that it’ll be useful very soon. “I should ask him about this tomorrow”.

-

So here you are, back at the field again after the early briefing. Someone from logistics brought up your misfortune from yesterday and personally apologized to you. You were also told that you won’t get a lunchbox again today and tomorrow, since the catering service just can’t be tasked with adding one more lunchbox, apparently. That said, the committee gives you a solution in the form of reimbursement; you can get whatever and spend however much, and then you just need to give them the receipt and they’ll reimburse you. One more thing to point out is that they said that you’ll be tasked with getting to know the freshmen better and building a good relationship with each of them.

Today you opt for a red shirt and black trousers to complement the brown jacket that the university gave out for Freshers’ Week. You hope that Seoyeon approves of this color combination, because as you realize last night after practice, you’re starting to fall for her, and you sincerely hope that she’ll reciprocate the feelings and not push you away (because that’d be disastrous, wouldn’t it?).

You’re standing at the same spot as yesterday, and while you wait for your freshmen, you get into some conversation with Suhyeon and Jungmin. “Did you actually not have lunch yesterday, oppa?”, Suhyeon asks. “I didn’t. I gave the last one to Seoyeon-ie”, you try to not sound too proud of yourself, “I did get burgers before practice yesterday, though”. Suhyeon loves burgers, and the fact that you didn’t ask her to get some with you is making her slightly irritated. “You owe me burgers, oppa”.

Over Suhyeon’s shoulders, you see Seoyeon walking towards you with a smile on her face. You push Suhyeon to the side to greet the smiling cutie. “Good morning, Seoyeon-ah”, you say with a smile, copying her positivity. “Good morning, oppa. How are we feeling today?”, she says. Hearing her say “we” makes your heart rate jump to the moon, but you quickly compose yourself. “I’m doing very well, Seoyeon-ah. I’m very excited, actually; they said that we’ll be getting to know each other much better today”. She promptly looks away to hide her blush and turns her face towards you again after a few moments. “Th-that’s great to hear, oppa”, she says, “I’ll tell you everything about myself, so I hope you will too”.

You quickly scan her outfit from top to bottom: light blue shirt and brown pants. You step closer towards her so that Suhyeon or Jugmin won’t hear what you’re about to say. “Seoyeon-ah, you look good in these colors”, you praise her sense of fashion. “I-I remember seeing you holding a blue clipboard yesterday, and-and I thought maybe I should wear blue today”, she says. You really want to let out a squeal of excitement right now, but it’s very out-of-character that people might think that it’s cringe.

-

You and your group sit in a circle in the same classroom as yesterday, and Seoyeon sits right across from your position. “Alright, guys”, you start the conversation, “today is all about us; we can talk about whatever we want”. Seoyeon immediately raises her hand. “Oppa, I heard that you’ve made it to the Dean’s List with 4.00 GPA”, she says, “tell us about it, please”. You didn’t expect her to have that information, and despite feeling a little shy at first, you decide to talk about it anyway because good things should always be celebrated. “That’s true; I’ve made it on the Dean’s List a few times”, you start, “look, I’m sure people have their own ideas as to how long they should be studying for in a week, but because I also have basketball on the side, I only study around 10 to 12 hours a week.”

You think that it’s a small number but based on people’s surprised gasp (it sounds genuine, by the way), you guess that people think that it’s a pretty big number. “You didn’t make it to the finals last year, did you, oppa?”, Seoyeon piles on. “We didn’t, yeah”, you sigh, “we choked during the last few minutes of the semifinal game”. As you think about her chain of questions, it becomes obvious that she most likely looked up your name on the internet, because she wouldn’t have known any of this if she hadn’t—it is flattering, just to be clear.

Before it snowballs into a two-person conversation, you turn your attention to other freshmen and see if maybe they have things to talk about. “How many exes do you have, oppa?”, Sohee asks. You shyly confess that you’ve never dated anyone before, and Sohee seems to be disappointed by your answer. “You’re boring, oppa”, she rolls her eyes playfully. “I am boring, Sohee-yah; all I do is sit in front of my computer and play basketball”, you say with a chuckle.

As you turn your head to face the other members of your group, you briefly catch Seoyeon looking at you with a deep gaze, and you wonder what’s up with that. As much as you’re curious, however, you don’t want to make this all about you and her, since you have other people to pay attention to—hey, someone else is raising their hand.

“Yes?”, you point at Jiwon, who has her hand in the air. “Are you on scholarship, oppa?”, she asks. You reply with a nod, so she continues her question, “what kind?”. You explain to her and the rest of your crew that because you had placed first on the entrance test, you were given a scholarship that covers all your tuition if you can maintain over 3.00 GPA over the course of 4 years maximum. “I’m also eligible for an athletic scholarship, but you must keep being an athlete to get it, if that makes sense—if one day I decide to stop playing basketball for the university, that’s gone. So, for me, it’s safer to stick with the first one”, you add.

Jiwon doesn’t seem to be satisfied yet, “are there other scholarships, oppa? You know, something that a regular student like me can get?”. “Well, yes”, you say, “if you get the best grade in your class and department, your tuition for the next semester becomes 0—obviously it’s hard and there are a lot of competitors, but it’s still possible”. Your answer seems to be a satisfactory one; there are a handful of people who seem to get excited about it.

-

Lunch time is here, and the logistics guys from yesterday make another appearance today. You and co. take the bags from them and quickly distribute the lunchboxes to your respective groups. Seeing that you’re not getting a lunchbox, Seoyeon points at hers while looking at you, indirectly asking you about it. “I’m okay—just eat”, you mouth to her and end it with a smile, and she slowly opens her lunch and starts eating.

“Oppa, where’s your food?”, Sohee asks, catching on to your situation. You tell her what the logistics guys told you this morning, and you can see that Sohee is contemplating giving you her lunch. You notice that Seoyeon is glaring at Sohee from the side, so you quickly decline Sohee’s offer so that Seoyeon can have some peace of mind. “Just eat, Sohee-yah; I’ll be fine”, you say to her.

You ask Jungmin to keep an eye on your freshmen while you leave to get some food from the cafeteria, which is on the ground floor of the adjacent building.

“Oppa!”, Seoyeon follows you outside, “where are you going?”.

“The cafeteria.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m hungry, and as you can see, I don’t have a lunchbox.”

“Okay, have fun!”

She turns around and walks towards the classroom again, so you continue your way to the cafeteria to get some food for yourself.

You see that Mrs. Jeon’s stall is the only one that’s open, so you quickly head there. “Mrs. Jeon, hello”, you greet her, “can I get one hotdog with mashed potatoes and cheese sauce?”. She asks why you’re getting food at the cafeteria, so you tell the story from this morning one more time, causing her to laugh. “Well, you must be glad that I’m open”, she says. “You have no idea, Mrs. Jeon”, you chuckle, “I’d like to have a bottle of cold water as well, please”.

Mrs. Jeon hands you a hotdog and a bottle of water after around a minute, and along with them, a receipt, which will come in handy later. Before you leave, you eye the fridge in her stall and see some chocolate milk. “One chocolate milk too, please—no need for receipt this time”, you pull out some more cash from your wallet and give it to her. “Thanks, Mrs. Jeon!”, you grab your stuff and rush back to the classroom.

You stop a few meters away from the door of the classroom and pull out your phone to text Seoyeon: “come outside, please”. You see her come out of the classroom, and she immediately finds you. “Yes?”, she asks. You pull out the chocolate milk from your jacket pocket and show it to her. “I have something for you”, you say, “I bought you a small one so that you can finish it quickly”. She covers her red face with one hand as she takes the milk from your hand with the other. “Th-thank you, oppa”. “The-the pleasure is mine, S-Seoyeon-ah—fi-finish it quickly a-and then go back inside, okay?”. You stutter—you’ve never felt something like this before—is this love?

Well, isn’t that the million-dollar question. You don’t have the time or capacity to think about it right now, as you still have plenty of matters to attend to. Maybe the silence of the night can help you focus, though.

-

You’ve sent your freshmen on their way home almost half an hour ago, so there are only group leaders and committee members on campus right now.

“Let’s start the evaluations, ladies and gents”, Doctor Park is taking the point today, “is there anything you want to tell me first?”. A guy from security raises his hand and tells the crowd that he found someone smoking in one of the toilets on the Faculty of Law building. He then proceeds to provide the doctor with the wrongdoer’s information—he also shows her some pictures he has taken from the scene. “Unfortunate”, the doctor sighs, “next, please”.

No one else raises their hand, so Doctor Park takes her turn to speak. She explains that the Student Organization Expo will be held tomorrow, and the freshmen will be given freedom to run around the expo area and visit as many booths as they want until lunch time. After lunch, they’ll be able to choose what organization they want to join and send an application using a form that the group leaders will provide them with. “We won’t have a morning briefing tomorrow, so your check-in time for tomorrow is moved to 5 am with a 10-minute lateness toleration. Any questions?”, she scans the room and finds no raised hand, “you may go, then. See you tomorrow, everyone”

You don’t have practice today, so the only option you have right now is to go home and rest. You walk towards the campus bus stop to wait for the bus that will take you to the off-campus parking lot. You see a girl in blue sitting on the bench at the bus stop, and you wonder who it is. You slam your heels harder while you walk to make your footsteps louder, announcing your presence so that the girl doesn’t get startled.

The girl turns her head to face you, and you’re shocked to see who it is. “Yoon Seoyeon?”, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “what are you doing here?”. “Hi, oppa”, she shows you a cute smile, “I’ve been waiting for you, actually”. You almost can’t believe your ears, “you were waiting for me, sweetie?”. Seoyeon’s big eyes get even bigger when she hears the endearment, and inside, she wonders if it was a slip. “I-I wanted to talk some more with you, s-so I waited for you, oppa”, she looks away to hide her blush, “c-can we talk, oppa?”. “We can, Seoyeon-ah”. You point at the burger shop across the street and ask her to join you for dinner.

You muster up the courage to hold her hand as you get ready to cross the street with her. You wait until this gray car passes before crossing the street half-running with Seoyeon. “Oh, what am I doing”, you stop for a second and take off your jacket, “sorry, you must be cold”. You wrap your jacket around her body to shield her from the cold night air—the way she’s looking away from you makes you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, but at least she hasn’t slapped you for it.

You walk into the restaurant with her, and you see your favorite guy, Jeno, attending the cashier. He waves at you when he sees you walking in, being friendly as ever. “Hey, can I get one Double OG with no tomato and some nacho fries?”. You feel Seoyeon snaking her arm around yours, and you’re reminded that you’re not alone. “What do you want to eat, Seoyeon-ah?”, you ask. “I-I don’t know, but I’d like to have a burger and some fries too, oppa—if it’s okay with you, that is”, she shyly replies. “Of course it’s okay”, you scan the menu board and choose something for her, “uh, can I also have a Black Montana and some fries with marinara sauce?”. Jeno recaps your orders, and after confirming it, he hands you two large cups for the drinks.

After filling the cups with your preferred drinks—cold water for you, and diet coke for Seoyeon—you walk with her to find a table. “You want to sit there?”, you point at an empty table next to the big window. She agrees to your suggestion, so you walk towards that table together. You pull a seat for her before sitting down yourself, earning a soft “thank you” from her. You sit across from her and set your backpack on the empty chair next to you. “So, what did you want to talk about?”, you try to start the conversation. Instead of answering you, Seoyeon stays silent and looks down at the table. You don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, so you opt to keep it for later—maybe food will help her open up.

Food comes out of the kitchen and arrives at your table after around 10 minutes, which you spent by sitting in silence. You give Seoyeon her food and without cue, she immediately takes a piece of fry, dips it in marinara, and puts it in her mouth. She then chases it with a bite of her burger. You sit still and look at the way her plump cheeks move as she chews her food—someone can get full just by looking at Seoyeon eat. “Wh-what are you looking at, oppa?”, she covers her mouth with one hand, “p-please don’t look at me like that”. With a smile, you turn your attention to your food and start eating with her. You unwrap your burger, make sure there is no tomato in it, and take a bite. “Mm!”, you exclaim, “that’s really good”. You see that Seoyeon has started eating again. “You like it?”, you ask. Since her mouth is full, she replies to you with excited nods and a small smile.

-

Seoyeon has now finished her burger, and her fries are almost done. “Seoyeon-ah, I will ask again: what was it you wanted to talk about?”, you ask. She knows that she has nowhere else to run now. “I-I like you, oppa”, she drops a bomb while looking straight into your eyes, “there—that’s what I wanted to talk about”. Your jaw drops in shock, making you unable to say anything back momentarily. “I’m sorry, but can you say that again?”, you hope that she won’t say something else. “I said I like you, oppa”, she repeats, and you’re glad that she said the same thing. “D-do you feel the same, b-by any chance?”, she maintains eye contact with you despite the red cheeks. Yes, yes, you do, but for some reason, you find it very difficult to say it—until you see tears pooling in her eyes. “Seo-Seoyeon-ah—y-yes, I do like you”, you confess, “I like you a lot”. Satisfied with your answer, Seoyeon gets up from her seat, sits on the chair next to you (after putting your backpack on the floor), and hugs you from the side.

It feels like a massive weight has been lifted off your chest, and you feel like you’re able to breathe far more freely now. You wrap your arms around her body as best you can and close your eyes to bask in the moment. Soon, however, you’re startled by her subtle sobs. “Hey, hey, you okay, sweetie?”, you start panicking a little, “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”. “I was so scared that you would push me away—you’d never push me away, would you?”, she asks, her voice trembling from the emotions. Judging by how Seoyeon is sobbing in your arms, thus showing her vulnerability in front of you, assures you that she’s being very honest and sincere. You peck her head a few times, hoping that she knows how sincere you are, “please don’t cry, sweetie; I’m here for you”. “You are”, she replies, “you are here for me”.

You run your hand gently on her back as you try to calm her down. It seems to be helpful; Seoyeon stops sobbing after a few minutes—she’s about to drop another bomb, though. “Oppa”, she pokes your thigh to get your attention, “can we go to your place?”. You silently praise your parents for planting in you the habit of cleanliness, which means that your apartment is almost always presentable should you have guests. “We can, sweetie—let’s go now, okay?”. You exchange some pleasantries with Jeno while you’re standing at the cashier. He even asks Seoyeon if she liked it, to which she responds with excitement. “Alright, thank you, man—see you next time”, you wave at him as you walk out of the restaurant with Seoyeon, your new… erm… girlfriend? Are we on girlfriend-boyfriend stage now? That’s a question for later.

-

After a quick drive, you find yourself and Seoyeon standing in the parking lot. “Sweetie, can I carry you? I’ve always wanted to try carrying a girl”, you ask, your cheeks getting hot. “S-sure, oppa”. She opens her arms, thinking that you’ll carry her from the front while in actuality, you want to carry her bridal-style. “Oh my God, oppa!”, she exclaims while hiding her red cheeks behind her palms. You carry the 50-something kilogram bundle of joy and walk towards your apartment. On the way, you feel her loosening up and enjoying the ride, and you swear that you can hear purrs coming from her. You hope that no neighbor sees you like this, because you imagine that it’d be quite awkward—not that you’re concerned about what they think, but still.

You punch in the passcode to your apartment without putting Seoyeon down, and here you are, in your haven. “We’re here, sweetie”, you say to her as you walk towards the sofa with her still in your arms. You carefully put her down onto the sofa and extend it so that she can lie comfortably on it. “Would you like some water, sweetie?”, you ask, and she replies with a nod. You walk towards the water dispenser and fill a cup with water and go back to her. You help her straighten her posture before handing her the cup. You’re confused when you see that instead of drinking out of the cup, she holds it with both hands and just silently looks at it.

“You okay?”

“I like you, oppa”

“Yes, sweetie; I like you too”

“What made you like me, oppa?”

You take a deep breath as you try to form an answer.

“I just feel so drawn to you; you’re just so charming, elegant, friendly, and—“, you realize that these words sound ridiculous coming from you, and your brain halts you by making your cheeks turn red. “Anything else, oppa?”, she challenges you, letting out a giggle after.

You hover over her body—making her bite her lip nervously—and come in for a kiss, eager to show her that you love her. You pull away from the kiss after a few seconds and look at her in the eyes. “I love you, Yoon Seoyeon—I love you with my entire being”, you say, feeling emotional, “will you be mine, baby?”. Seoyeon puts a palm on your cheek and rubs it gently. “Yes, oppa; I’m yours and you’re mine”, she returns your words with a loving smile on her face.

You lie down next to her and pull her into your arms, transferring the warmth of your bodies back and forth between the two of you. “Baby”, you get her attention, “is there anything you want to do?”. She moves to sit on your lap and leans forward, her face hovering closely over yours, “I want to have our first time”. That’s one more big bomb she dropped on your head, and you seem to be unable to speak. “You said you’ve never dated anyone before, so you must be a virgin. I’ll give you my first time and take yours in return”, she adds, “you weren’t lying about it, were you?”. You shake your head in response, still speechless. “Great”, she says, “let’s do it, oppa—please”. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret it after”, you try to gauge how serious she is. She leans forward even further until her nose touches hers. “I want it, oppa”, her voice sounds very sexy right now, “make me yours, and I’ll make you mine—we will stay together forever, oppa”.

You knew from the first day that she’s a very confident person, but you never expected that she’d be this confident about having her first time with you, someone who she met just yesterday. “It’d be a huge honor for me, baby, but I’m asking one more time: are you sure?”, you ask, despite your paper-thin patience and rock-hard penis. “I am very sure”, she doesn’t waver, “c’mon, oppa; let’s do it”. Even if you were single and have never dated anyone before, you know that you shouldn’t do something to a girl without her consent, and this is as clear of a consent as it gets, so there’s no reason for you to hesitate now. “Let’s move to the bedroom first, baby”.

You gently lower her onto the bed, smiling the whole time so that Seoyeon feels comfortable with you. After she’s lying comfortably in bed, however, her eyes start wandering away from yours, probably because she’s nervous. “Baby”, you hold her chin gently and turn her face towards you, “I love you—I love you lots”. Your words seem to be just what she wants to hear right now. “I love you too, oppa”, she reaches for your hands and pulls you towards her, “thank you for everything so far”. You’re not sure if you’ve done anything to warrant such an expression of gratitude, but you’ll take it and send it back to her. “I know that we just met, but I have a feeling—certain, even—that I’ll have plenty of reasons to be thankful for you, baby”, you make sure that you sound sincere because you are indeed sincere. “I think I’ve chosen well”, she says, “you’re as sweet as I hoped”.

Warmth. Warmth is the theme tonight. Warmth is what you’re feeling right now. Warmth is what this relationship will have plenty of. Speaking of warmth, being in a girl’s arms is very warm—you never knew that before. You rub your cheek against hers like a cat, the friction creating more warmth for the two of you. “Oppa”, she chuckles, finding it funny, “what are you doing? Are you a cat?”. “No, but I think I understand why cats do this”, you let out a chuckle as well, “I love you, baby”. You don’t know how many times you’ve said it, but it’s not something that hurts or tires Seoyeon, so you’d like to think that it’s fine to spam her with it.

“Show me, then”, she challenges you, “show me your love, oppa”. “Of course, baby; as you wish”, you accept her challenge. You jump off the bed and start undressing, showing Seoyeon the curves of your muscles. “My God”, she exclaims, “are you sure you’re playing the right sports, oppa?”. “I mean, basketball can get pretty physical, and for that, you need muscles”, you say, proud of your physique. She follows you off the bed and stands closely in front of you. “Fuck, I wonder what Yeonsu would think if she saw us like this”, she utters while her hands roam on your body. “Yeonsu? Who is that?”, you’re unfamiliar with the name. “My friend from high school”, she says, her eyes still locked on your torso, “she told me about you”. You’re perplexed, “how did she know about me?”. “No idea; she just said that you’re pretty famous”, she says. “I’m famous? Really?”, you think.

Seoyeon asks for your attention by tapping you in the chest. She then offers you the chance to undress her, which you’re delighted to do so. She puts her arms on either side of her body and closes her eyes as you start unbuttoning her blouse. You notice that her breathing gets faster, a clear sign that she’s very nervous. You stop what you’re doing and place your hands on her waist, hoping that doing so will make her feel more comfortable and familiar to your touch. You say nothing as you wait for her to calm down, and it doesn’t take long. “Continue, oppa”, she says, “I-I’m sorry”. You assure her that there’s nothing to be sorry for; it’s totally normal to be nervous when doing something for the first time.

After all her buttons are undone, you free her arms from the sleeves and let her blouse fall onto the floor. As a reflex, Seoyeon covers her bra-covered tits with her hands, blushing as she does. Again, you wait in silence until she tells you what she wants you to do next. “I’m sorry—oh, God, I’m so sorry”, she shakes her head to regain focus, “y-you can take off my pants, oppa”. “Please, there’s nothing to be sorry for, baby—I understand that you’re nervous”, you put on a calm smile to support your statement. Seoyeon slowly removes her hands from her chest and unbuttons her pants for you, she then asks you to finish the job.

Well, there she is: standing shyly in front of you with little covering her body. She’s using one hand to cover her breasts while the other is covering her crotch. She can feel herself drowning in a sea of thoughts, nervous about all kinds of things. “What will happen after tonight? What if he leaves me after taking my first time? What if—“, her restless mind stops when she hears your calm voice. “Baby, listen, please”, you throw her a lifebuoy, “I understand that you’re nervous about all of this—I do, seriously—we don’t have to do this now if you don’t feel like it”.

“Can I ask something first, oppa?”

“Of course, baby”

“W-what do you think will happen tomorrow?"

“Tomorrow? Well, the Student Organization Expo will happen tomorrow”, you crack a little joke. Seoyeon’s stressed face loosens up after hearing your joke, seemingly more comfortable with the situation. “Aaaah, I’m serious, oppaaaa”, she whines.

You get on one knee in front of her and place a hand on her knee. “What will happen tomorrow, baby, is that I will start loving you, and you will start loving me”, you start, your tone calm but serious, “after that, we will spend a lot of time with each other. We will laugh sometimes and cry some other times, but that’s fine; we’ll face everything together”.

“Together, oppa?”

“Together, baby. You and me against the world—well, not exactly; the world doesn’t hate us, does it?”

She seems to be satisfied with your answer, proven by how she moves her hands off her body and places them on your nape. “Together, oppa”, she says, “we will stay together for a long, long time”. “Yes, we will, baby”. You stand up and pull her into a kiss, one that screams out “I love you”.

You were so deep into the kiss that you failed to notice that Seoyeon had tumbled backwards, thus pulling you back into the bed with her. She breaks the kiss and whispers to you that she’s ready. She guides your hands towards the waistband of her panties, “make me yours, oppa”. You nod without saying a word and start pulling her panties down her legs and past her ankles. “Respectfully, baby, I think you’re sexy”, you don’t bother stifling your tongue anymore. “Th-thank you, oppa—I-I think you look good too”, she returns the praise to you, and truthfully, it makes you feel really good about yourself.

While you take off your boxers, Seoyeon takes off her bra, and now, you’re both completely naked, showing everything to each other. It is when you hover over her that she hesitates again. “I’m scared, oppa”, her voice shakes, “y-you will hurt me, won’t you?”. “I’ll be gentle, baby—I promise”, you try to comfort her.

You spread her legs wide enough for you to be in the middle of, ready to take her innocence and give her yours in return. She wraps her legs around your torso and locks her ankles together in response. You use one hand to guide your cock towards her entrance, and despite the lack of experience, you manage to find it somewhat easily. “Baby, I’m going to start”, you announce, “if you want to change your mind, this is your chance”. “No, I want it—give it to me, oppa”.

You move your hips forwards and Seoyeon instantly gasps at the first contact. “Gently, gently”, she reminds you. “Of course, baby”. You wrap your arms around her body and hold her close to you as your cock tries to enter her pussy. You hear Seoyeon’s breathing get faster again, so you whisper to her in a calm voice that everything will be okay. You keep going forwards until you feel the tip of your cock breaching through her barrier; you’ve taken her innocence and made her yours.

You want to savor the foreign sensation, but Seoyeon starts sobbing and grunting in pain. “It hurts, oppa”, she whimpers, “please, be gentle with me—please, please—AHHH!”. You think that if you move again, you will hurt her even more, so you stop for now. “I’m not moving, baby—let’s calm down for now, okay?”, you say to her. She keeps whimpering and grunting in your ears, tugging at the strings of your heart. “I’m so sorry, baby”, you start feeling emotional yourself, “do you want to stop?”. “J-just give me a moment, oppa”, says the girl in discomfort.

You’ve been in this position for a few minutes, waiting patiently for Seoyeon to get used to the foreign object in her body. “Oppa”, she says weakly, “I-I think you can go again”. “Sure, baby”, you say. You slowly retreat from her pussy before going forwards again, earning a combination of moans and grunts from her. You ask if she’s still in pain, and she tells you that it’s not too bad. “You’re doing so well, baby”, you praise her, “I love you so, so much”. “I love—oh, God, so deep”, the way your cock hits the deepest spots surprises her, “please, gently, oppa”. You’ve been as gentle as you can be so far, but no matter how slow it feels, you hold on to your patience.

As you slowly move back and forth in her pussy, you notice that the grunts are getting replaced with moans, which means that it’s now enjoyable for her. “Feeling better, baby?”, you ask to make sure. “Yes-yes—oh, God, yes”, she replies, “how are you so big, oppa?”. “I don’t know, baby; just genes, probably”, you chuckle to lighten the mood, “do you think I can go faster?”. “Just-just nothing too rough, please”, she begs. You assure her that you will be mindful with your pace and start thrusting into her faster than earlier.

The moans that she’s sending right into your ears are very arousing, and you subconsciously start fucking her faster, as you’re eager to hear more of it. “So good, oppa—fuck, you’re so good”, she praises you. You’re glad to hear that she’s no longer in pain and has gotten used to you. “You’re also so good, baby; you’re so fucking tight for me”, you send the praises back to her.

You place her wrists on the bed and press down on them with your hands, assuming a very dominant position. “You’re so good, baby”, you manage to send one more praise her way despite the heavy breaths, “I love you so much”. “Ah, ah, ah—I l-love you too, oppa”, she replies, “kiss me, please—ngh, fuck”. You plant your lips on hers and pick up the pace of your thrusts, eager to get your first ever orgasm in your life.

You chant profanities as you try to maintain the tempo, Seoyeon’s tightness proving to be challenging for you. “Oppa, wait”, she halts you, “I-I want to pee—w-why do I want to pee, oppa?”. Truthfully, you have no idea; you’re as inexperienced as she is. “You’ll be fine, baby”, you try to dismiss her, and she takes your word for it. “I’m peeing, I’m peeing!”, she plants her hands on your chest and tries to push you away from her but she’s simply too weak. You pull out from her pussy and see that her juice is gushing out of her bloodstained pussy—not only that, her legs and thighs are shaking. Seoyeon screams and squirms around in bed; “this must be her orgasm”, you think as you observe her.

“Oppa! Oppa!”, she reaches her arms out, desperate to touch your body, “please, please, hold me”. You hold her tightly in your arms and you can hear the soft, angelic moans that escape her lips, arousing you even further. You whisper “I love you” in her ears repeatedly as you wait for her to come back to her senses. “I love you too, oppa”, she returns your words to you, “what was that, though?”.

“I think that was your orgasm, baby”

“Orgasm, oppa? Really?”

“I think so, yeah”

“And it was because of you?”

“Yes, I’d like to think so”

“That was amazing, oppa”

“I’m glad that it was, baby”

Her breathing returns to its normal pace after a few minutes of hugging, and she tells you that she’s ready to go again. “Give me your orgasm, oppa”, she demands, “I know how it works for men, so I want you to send it deep inside me”. “Sure, but we’ll take the morning after pill after that, alright?”, you remind her. “Sure”, she says, “I don’t want to get pregnant yet”.

Without cleaning the bloodstain on your shaft, you plunge back into her pussy. “Oh, yes, oppa”, she moans, “yes, yes, I’m yours”. Your lips crash into hers as you fuck her at a good tempo, looking for the first orgasm of your life. “Fuck, I don’t think I can last too long”. “That’s okay, oppa—ohh, yes, it’s okay”, Seoyeon struggles to speak, “gi-give me everything you have”. “Y-you got it—oh, fuck”. You plant your hands firmly into the bed and fuck her as fast you can, and before long, you feel your cock throbbing (or is it her that’s throbbing). “I think—“, your words are cut off when your cock blows a load deep inside Seoyeon, earning a long moan from her.

-

The vibrations from your smartwatch cause you to stir awake—it must be 4 am now. You lift your wrist and see that it is indeed 4 am, the time you’ve been waking up at for the past few days of Freshers’ Week. As you try to lift your body off the bed, you feel something weighing down on the left side of your body. “Oh, right, Seoyeon-ie”. That’s right; that’s Yoon Seoyeon, your new girlfriend who you had your first time with a few hours ago.

“Love, wake up, please”, you poke her cheeks repeatedly to get her to wake up. “What?”, she mumbles, half awake. “Babe, I’ll take you home so you can shower and get ready for today, okay?”. “Yeah, sure”, she says. You open the water bottle that Seoyeon drank from earlier and coat your thumb with some water. You then run your thumb gently on her eyes, “this is how I wake up sometimes, baby”. “Mm, sure”, she says.

After getting dressed, you carry her to your car and start driving away. First, you make a stop at a pharmacy and buy some morning after pills and condoms for future use. “Babe, take this, please”, you hand her a pill and a bottle of water to take it with. Seoyeon weakly reaches for the pill, puts it in her mouth, and chases it with some water. “Done”, she says. You pet her head gently, “good girl, baby—alright, let’s get you home, okay?”

-

Well, here you are again, in the football field for the third day of Freshers’ Week. Your eyelids feel very heavy, and you’re very tempted to just let them close. You were drifting to sleep when you heard a girl’s voice calling to you. “Good morning, oppa”, Seoyeon greets you excitedly, “how are you today?”. “I’m—“, a yawn cuts you off, “I’m feeling great, lo—erm, Seoyeon-ah. How about you?”. “I’m a bit tired, but I had a great time yesterday”, she smirks. “Did you?”, you chuckle, “well, that’s great to hear, Seoyeon-ah”. She gets on her tippy toes, and you lean forwards a bit to hear her whispers. “I love you, oppa”, she whispers, “thank you for last night”. “I love you too, baby”, you whisper back, “I’ll see you at home after this, okay?”. You glance to your left and right to see if Suhyeon and Jungmin heard you, but they were too busy looking at their phones. When you look at Seoyeon again, she winks and smiles at you, so you wink and smile at her in return. “I love you, baby”, you mouth to her, causing her to look away to hide her blush.

[musette22]

Loves Me Like A Rock

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Rating: G

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Love at First Sight, POV Outsider, Meddling Friends & Family, Natasha Romanov is a good bro, Sarah Rogers is a good bro (and mother), Mother-Son Relationship, Bisexual Steve Rogers

A/N: My first Stucky fic in over a year! 🥹 It's just a short and sweet one to get me started, but I've got a lot of other things in the works. So provided I find the time to finish them, there should be more Stucky from me soon <3 This one was inspired by the Sarah Rogers love fest a couple of days ago, and it goes out to the anon who sent me the ask, @zenaidamacrouras1, @meaniemary @voylitscope and all the other lovely folks out there who love and respect Sarah Rogers the way everyone should 🌻 Hope you enjoy! 💛

Excerpt:

“You’re not that bad, Steve,” Sarah reassures him, though she can’t be entirely sure. “I’m sure you must’ve gotten a little better at flirting since your high school days?” Steve makes a face. “What on earth would give you that idea?” “Well,” Sarah says, reaching over to give Steve's hand a consoling pat, “you have other qualities, my darling.” “Such as?” “You could out-stubborn a donkey,” she answers, without missing a beat. “You’ve got a decent singing voice, too. Dogs love you.” Steve huffs. “Gee, thanks, ma. That's really helpful.”

Read on AO3

[alavit]

Pull The Trigger.

Summary: Love is the very root of evil.

Tags: Alive!Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader, fluff, TW: obsessive behavior, stalking and manipulation(?), allusions to a school shooting.

Author’s note: I love him and he makes me sad, my ‘I can fix him’ mentality will NEVER leave me but actually, i can make him worse. Not beta read!

Side note: Reader is deranged, maybe even insane, this was just a test writing. You can also find it on my ao3.

“Hi.” That’s how it started, a simple conversation opening handed to him on a silver plate. Tate hadn’t understood at all why anyone would approach him to start with, until he finally looked up from his plate to be met with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights. You were odd, that’s what everyone said, but he had as much respect for social norms as he had for his mother’s boy-toy, none.

You were oddly eager to be sat at his table, no lunch in sight and your nails awkwardly picking at your flesh as you shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. “I want to be friends with you.” You blankly stated, eyes never leaving Tate’s even as his brows furrowed and he looked around, was this a prank? Looking back at you, he wasn’t sure it was. “What?” He voiced out as you straightened up, almost as if his confusion had been interpreted as an attack to you.

“I wanna be your friend, you don’t have friends.” You said, nail digging into the flesh of your hand as you smiled. He looked at me, you excitedly thought before parting your lips again: “I live next to your house, neighbors have to be friends.”

He doesn’t even remember nor did he try to know his neighbors but Tate couldn’t deny the rising interest in your freakish nature, he’s heard lots of rumors about you, all more unbelievable than the other.

“She’s evil.” “I heard she’s speaking to demons.” “She’s so freaky, did you know she brings a rat to school?” “She’s gonna kill us one day, she should be expelled.”

“Sure.” -is what he settles on, eyeing how you stop your assault on your own flesh, muttering a shaky ‘yes!’ under your breath as you get up, he raises a brow. “We can— can walk together after school!” You subject or more like decide, all on your own before getting up and leaving him to finish his food.

Huh, he likes whatever you’ve got going.

- -

“TATE!” A loud voice yells, catching up to him in the hallway— he was waiting and apparently that made you happy. If you had a tail, Tate thinks it’d be wagging from side to side by now.. it’s oddly endearing despite that apparent happiness stemming from him simply waiting for you.

The walk home was quiet, occasionally chatter beginning thanks to you. Tate learned a lot about you in that short amount of time.

Apparently you were an only child, had amazing grades (but a pitiful understanding of social cues) and liked him, yes, you had said that with no regards to how.. off-putting it’d come across. “I have no friends.” You said, softly smiling while kicking rocks. “That’s why i came up to you, so we can be friends, my mom and dad say degenerates stick together like glue.”

..did you realize you had just called him a degenerate? Yes, Tate definitely had gruesome plans for the future and that barely had damaged his pride to hear such words— he just wondered how you went by day to day with such a ‘filthy’ mouth. Playfully, he countered back: “Wouldn’t that mean they’re like, crazy too?” “They are.” You retort, the ‘joke’ flying over your head as you stare at him with the same crazed eyes.

“Just like you.” You add, pointing at him before stopping in front of his house— staring without talking— he finds it pretty, you’re pretty.

“Ah, wait,” you look around, as if scared to get caught before rushing and hugging Tate. Quickly retracting and leaving without another word, he blinks before scoffing a smile barely restrained as he enters his house— a house he hates just like he hates Larry.

- -

Days blur together, lonely weeks become smoking sessions, Tate doesn’t really realize it but little by little you enter his life, you’re like a parasite. “I got new painting supplies.” You absently remark from where you sat on his lap, hand moving to draw circles in your sketchbook.

This isn’t proper of friends to do, and if Tate knows that but do not speak of it— he’s not sure if it’s the same for you. “Yea?” He hums, smiling. “Can’t wait to see what masterpiece you come up with.” He mocks, all in fun spirits— to others, your paintings are worrying, sketch after sketches of you, dying or being mauled to death.

He’d prefer to call it, ‘artistic mutilation’ because he also does enjoy seeing them when you include him in them. It’s fucked up, but he’s learned overtime you both were fucked up.

The house seems almost oddly brighter with you here, not in a sense where you would be a savior guiding him with your light. Far from it. If anything, Tate thinks you’re gonna be his demise— his decision just gets easier and easier with you here.

You’re both ready for it. The noble war.

“Gasoline or bashing his head?” You call him out of his daydreaming, blinking, Tate can only offer the same twisted smile you wear on your face— eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Gasoline.” He can’t help but chuckle when you voice out the same opinion, inevitably quick-starting the upcoming tragedy that will not only be yours and his death but Westfield’s.

If you guys can’t be happy on earth, you hope hell will be kinder.

written by alavit — do not translate nor copy my works.

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

fall asleep, close my eyes, and disappear pt. 1

fandom: X-Men

pairing: Charles Xavier x Reader

summary: Charles Xavier is familiar with the weight of his students' past traumas, including yours. At least that's what he thinks, until a mission-related injury prompts him to delve into your mind, uncovering a deep-seated trauma you've repressed. Fearing he's caused more harm, Charles works with you to reveal this forgotten memory and heal from your past experiences.

tags/warnings: injury, rape aftermath/recovery (implied), anxiety, panic attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, charles xavier trying his very best not to invade someone else's privacy

word count: 2089

Charles Xavier is well-acquainted with the traumatic past lives of his students. It is easy to see how many of them had come from terrible circumstances, how many had been ridiculed or hurt or abandoned. He has seen his share of darkness as well, and he wishes to protect his students from any more of it.

Amidst all the sadness and despair that clouds the minds of the youngsters, there is you. Old enough to be a teacher, but new enough to your powers to still be a student. You are close with Charles due to your age, but keep him an arm’s length away. You, too, had been hurt in the past. You don’t want to trust your heart to anyone… yet.

Being surrounded by all the young students, you know you have to put on a brave face. You smile in the hallways and laugh and tell jokes. And things are fine – you enjoy your pseudo-parental role at the school.

But something is missing. A heaviness weighs on your mind, something dangerous that you subconsciously suppress. All you know is that sometimes you wake in the middle of the night gasping, and it feels like you’ve lost something.

Charles knows of course – Charles always knows – but figures you’ll come to him when you feel comfortable. He learned his lesson about prying into people’s minds long, long ago. And he doesn’t want to push you away the way he’d pushed away others (Erik, Raven, Jean – no, he shouldn’t think of these things). He cares for you far too much to lose you.

That being said, as time passes, Charles can't help but grow more and more concerned. He hears you lying awake at night, or even worse, in the throes of a nightmare. Yet in the morning, it seems all is well. You carry on as always, no worse for wear. It worries Charles. The temptation to just read your mind and see what plagues you is all too strong. But he respects your privacy.

But he can’t stay out of your mind forever, no matter how much he wants to.

The X-Men had been sent off to assist a crew of miners who had been trapped in a cave. A small mishap led to a few injuries amongst the team, nothing serious but certainly enough to warrant a visit to Hank after. You received the worst of it – your powers of telekinesis meant you were in the thick of it, pulling rocks off the imprisoned crew – when a section of the wall crumbled away on top of you. You managed to block most of the debris, but a well-timed drop of a boulder managed to clip you on the head, knocking you unconscious for a brief interlude. You woke shortly thereafter, already on the ship and headed home, but the team insisted you get checked out despite your protests.

When you arrive back at the school, Hank and Charles wait with matching anxious expressions. You stumble along with the help of Kurt, trying to look like you aren’t leaning too heavily on him.

Charles and Hank rush to you. Hank comes up on your left to support that side, while Charles sweeps his eyes over you protectively. You wave them off with a bloodied hand. “I’m fine, guys, seriously.” You aren’t – your head is pounding – but students are standing at the doors to the school, and you know you have to put on a brave face for their sake.

Hank side-eyes you. “You’re bleeding.”

“Hank, take her to the lab. I’ll be down shortly,” Charles says, barely keeping the worry out of his voice. You flash him what you hope is a reassuring smile. It doesn’t seem to change his expression.

Down in the lab, Hank runs a myriad of tests, all while you complain and insist that you are fine. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “Well, everything looks okay.” You move to hop off the exam table when he holds out a hand to stop you. “But I want Charles to take a look to make sure you didn’t goof up your brain. I can’t see everything on a CT scan.”

You groan and settle back in. Charles, always with a talent for dramatic timing, enters at that precise moment. “How are you feeling?” he says as he rolls up to the table.

“Like I said before, I’m fine. Just a little bump, is all.”

Charles stares at you, as if trying to read your mind without actually doing it. His eyebrows furrow before he turns to his colleague. “Hank?”

Hank crosses his arms. “Her scans all seem fine. A bit of rest should take care of the residual ache. But I’d like you to see for yourself. Just in case.”

Charles nods and looks at you again. “Are you alright with that?”

You shrug. “Go for it, professor.”

Charles wheels himself a little closer. “Lay back,” he murmurs, positioning himself at the head of the exam table.

You do as he asks, and Charles places two warm fingers on your temple. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him enter your mind.

Charles weaves through the lanes of your conscious, seeking out any damage. He takes in your recent memories, watches the rock wall crumble on top of you. He digs deeper, searching further into your past. He watches as you come to the school, watches you trudge through the rainy streets as a homeless beggar, watches your family leave you. Charles breezes past those memories as quick as he can – no sense in dwelling on the things that cannot be changed. He races down neural pathways and connections, spotting nothing of note.

That is, until he slams into a mental wall, one so thick and aversive that even he might have a hard time getting through it. He is so deep into your mind that he isn’t sure you even know this exists. Concern courses through him as he attempts to break through the wall. But it won’t give, at least not without causing you distress. Already he can hear you – outside your mind, in the real world – whimpering in anguish.

Charles pulls away, mentally and physically, drawing his hands from your temples. Your eyes shoot open, and for a moment there’s a flash of fear in them. But it’s gone in an instant. Charles realizes how starved for air he seems to be and takes in a deep breath.

You sit up quickly. “All good?” you ask.

Charles nods, unable to speak, and you hop off the table. Before he or Hank can get another word in, you are out the door and on your way.

“Charles?” Hank looks at his friend in confusion. “What is it? What did you see?”

The professor stares blankly at the table. “Her mind… There’s something… I’m not sure.”

“Is it from the accident?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, this was… deeper. Further back. Something she’s repressed. I doubt she even knows it’s there.”

…

Upstairs, your fellow teammates greet you with sighs of relief and gratitude for making the mission a success. Someone proposes the idea of drinks, and all of a sudden people are putting coats on and discussing plans for the night.

“Um, I think I’m going to pass on this one,” you announce, wringing your hands together nervously. You’re afraid to miss out on the festivities, but your head is aching and you know you should probably rest.

Your team wishes you well and heads out, and soon you are left in the kitchen alone. You trudge up the stairs to your room, nearly ready to collapse from exhaustion. It seems fate had other plans for you though, for as soon as your back hits the mattress, there’s a knock on your door.

You groan quietly and twist your hand in the direction of the door. It opens with a soft click and soon you hear the telltale sound of Charles’s wheels on the floor.

You squint at him out of one eye as he makes his way to the side of your bed. “Yes?” you question when he doesn't say anything. “Did you need something?”

“No, no,” Charles reassures, his voice soft. “I just wanted to make sure you truly were alright.”

“Well, my head hurts something awful but I think I just need to rest,” you reply honestly.

Charles nods and you turn on your side to face him, pulling a pillow under your cheek. Again, the professor says nothing more, just gazes at you with those striking blue eyes of his. You watch him for a moment, before you feel your eyes begin to drift closed.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, you hear him murmur. “What?” you grumble, slightly annoyed that your peace was disturbed.

Charles clears his throat and speaks up. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“You know you can ask me anything,” you yawn. Sleep pulls your eyelids closed again.

“Would it be alright if I looked into your mind while you were sleeping?”

You snort out a laugh. “I love when people ask before they violate my privacy.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You snap your eyes open, only to see him starting to wheel away. “No, Charles, it’s fine. I was joking.”

“Right.” He comes closer to the bed again.

“Did you see something wrong earlier?” Panic creeps into your voice at the thought. “Is there something wrong with my brain?”

“No, darling, of course not,” Charles rushes. “You’re… perfect. I just want to make sure. Sometimes things can be revealed in sleep that are not present while we are awake.”

That seems to make sense to you, so you settle further into your pillow, letting your eyes fall closed again. “Well, just… have fun digging around, I guess,” you mutter. “Don’t break anything.”

Before long, you’re out like a light.

Charles wastes no time in laying his fingers on your temples again. This time, he knows where he’s headed and he makes his way along the pathways quickly. He can feel a heaviness begin to weigh on him as he comes closer to the mental block. Perhaps this is what causes your nightmares, your occasional zoning out, your sad disposition that hid behind a cheerful façade.

Charles prepares himself as he approaches the wall, trying to get a sense for its depth and meaning. He can tell that this blockade was formed long ago. Perhaps not in your childhood – it isn’t that far back – but maybe as a teenager. And it’s so strong, it rivals his own mental walls.

Carefully, Charles begins to pick away at the wall. He pushes and pulls at the tenuous strings that make up the outer barrier, then chisels away at more cemented bits further in. The further he goes, the heavier the darkness seems to become. His own mind is beginning to feel fatigued, but he can sense he’s close. Whispers of this forgotten memory slip through the cracks that form, not enough to make out but he knows they’re there.

Finally, finally, he breaks through. And instantly, he wishes he hadn’t.

No.

Stop.

Please!

Charles forces himself out of your mind, his breaths coming in short gasps. The room has darkened with the approaching night, and your still-sleeping form is illuminated by moonlight. Charles runs a shaking hand over his eyes. What have I done?

As he looks on, your body begins to shake and tremble. You let out heart-wrenching cries as a nightmare overtakes you. Those same cries that he hears every night, those same cries he just heard in your subconscious. “Don’t break anything,” you had said. Has he broken you?

The wall. He has to put the wall back in place. This memory, this horror… He has to protect you. With trembling fingers, Charles re-enters your mind.

Already he can see the memory seeping out, its darkness spilling into the recesses of your mind. Charles feels his heart sink as he realizes the damage he’s caused. It’s like Jean all over again.

Except this time, he is determined not to lose you.

Brick by brick, string by fragile string, Charles rebuilds the barricade around the memory. He seals in as much of it as he can.

Not forever, no. Not like Jean.

He will help you reveal it yourself. And then he will help you heal.

But to let it all out at once… that would destroy you.

>>>

part 2

[atiny-moon]

i need you

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

Genre: smut with a dash of angst, or atleast some heavy feels

Pairing: established!bf!san x fem!reader

Tags: angsty thoughts, fingering (f receiving), choking, unprotected sex (dont do it), kitchen sex, wall sex, bedroom sex

Word Count: 4.6K

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

You and San met during his trainee days. You were on your way to study classes when you came across a little lost boy with a darling little bowl haircut. You asked him if he needed help and he asked you for directions to the KQ building. You let him know it was on your way and you didn’t mind showing him how to get there. Every day after that, the two of you walked with each other on your way to your respective after school activities - his training and your studying.

Even after you graduated and got into the school of your dreams, you made the time to walk San to his training. It was important for you to be there to support him. He was chasing something so far out of your reality, there really was no other way for you to be there for him. It wasn’t like you could dance for him, or sing for him, or do anything for him other than show up and be his rock. His shining star in the night sky.

There were days where you didn’t get to see him due to your schedule or his, but during those days you messaged back and forth as often as you could. Because, to San, you were also chasing something he could never truly wrap his mind around. He didn’t understand why you wanted to do what you wanted to do, he just knew he needed to support you. He wanted to be the person you turned to when things were going terribly. He wanted you to lean on him as much as he leaned on you.

And so the two of you pushed each other. Pushed each other to try to become the best version you could possibly become - how could you not? You had an amazing partner who had your back every step of the way and there was no foreseeable future in which either of you failed. You could do absolutely anything as long as you had each other.

That’s why when you found yourself slumped in your desk chair, staring at the blinking cursor on the blank email, you wondered what San would do if he had to reply to emails? Would he just type a one word response to everything? Or would he reply with one of his many idioms? The thought of San scrunching up his nose at a screen while composing the perfect email made you laugh.

Then, realizing how long it had been since you’d actually seen your boyfriend, you pouted and slumped further down your chair. You glanced at the time and saw it was near 7:30 PM… you hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and you still had a handful of emails left before you could call it a day. Still slumped in your chair, you rolled your eyes and contemplated leaving the emails for the morning - what would a few hours delay really mean? Surely they could wait.

You were about to sink further in your chair in an attempt to hide from the responsibilities of work when your phone screen lit up. Ah, yes. Distraction. You picked up your phone and read the message on the screen, “Just finished practice. Wanna have dinner?” It was from San! Sanni! Your Sanni!

You quickly responded with, “Still at work, finishing up some emails. I can meet you in thirty minutes?”

There was a bit of a pause as you watched San start and stop typing at least three times before replying, “Come to my apartment.”

The amount of pure excitement at the prospect of seeing your boyfriend perked you up faster than your favorite cup of coffee. You finished up the remainder of your emails and hurriedly said goodbye to your coworkers. Before heading out, you made sure to freshen up just a smidge by throwing on a fresh coat of lip gloss and adjusting your black-and-white wrap dress. And just like that, you were standing outside of San’s apartment a little after 8 o’clock.

You knocked on the door and were greeted with a chorus of “Come in!” You let yourself in and were met with such a warm, familial sight - Mingi relaxing on the couch, an anime playing on the television screen in front of him; Seongwha puttering about, muttering about how dirty everything was; Wooyoung could not be seen, but could be heard whipping something up in the kitchen; and the best sight of all was San standing in front of the doorway in his comfy loungewear.

Seeing him like this was like seeing him for the first time. His skin was still damp from a shower and his hair was still mussed. His white tank top looked too big and too small for him all at the same time and his gray sweatpants were sitting dangerously low on his tiny waist. Your breath caught in your stomach - did he get bigger?

“Hi,” San breathed out.

“Hi,” You breathed in.

San stepped aside and let you enter the apartment. You went in for a hug and a kiss but were instead met with the briefest side hug you’ve ever experienced. Hm, that was weird. You watched San’s face for any change of expression but his gaze was fixed forward, and his lips set in a stern line of concentration. Why wouldn’t he give you a hug? You wanted to press him further on it but he slipped out of your grasp and off towards the kitchen.

As you took off your coat and slipped off your shoes you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on? San normally couldn’t keep his hands off you. Was it because the members were here? Was it because you just got off work? Oh, no! What if you smelled bad? Did you step in something?! You quickly checked your shoes and saw nothing of the sort. You tried to ease the insecurities out of your mind and focus on the fact that you were here with San. Maybe he was just tired. You yourself had just gotten off work and could be reading into something that wasn’t really there.

You shrugged it off and slipped into your comfy white cat guest slippers. The slippers were a couple’s set - San had a pair of black cat slippers and you had the white ones. His idea.

You walked further into the apartment and greeted those that looked up at you. Mingi and Seongwha both said hello but Wooyoung was too focused in the kitchen to really glance up. He did manage to shriek his greetings over his shoulder.

“Mm, that smells amazing Wooyoung. What is it?!” You asked cheerily as you walked into the kitchen.

San was standing off to the side, not really saying anything, and just watching Wooyoung work. You walked up behind San and casually wrapped your arms around his waist but just like before, he stepped out of your grasp before you could truly hug him. Wooyoung had his back turned and did not notice this.

You were again puzzled but snapped back to reality when Wooyoung responded, “It’s your favorite!” His smile was so big and bright as he looked over his shoulder at you.

“I told the guys you were still at work and Wooyoung insisted he make you dinner..” San spoke up from the opposite end of the kitchen. The sentiment was incredibly sweet and it made your heart melt but when you looked at San to catch his gaze, he avoided it. He kept his eyes firmly on Wooyoung and what Wooyoung was doing. His distance was making you a little sad and not really sure what to do, you turned away from the kitchen and started setting the table.

Seongwha immediately stopped his puttering to come over and help you set the table, “You’re a guest - you shouldn’t be setting the table.” His voice was low and quiet and had the softness of a laugh hiding at the corners. You wanted to say something to keep the energy light and playful but all you could think about was how cold San was being. What if you really did smell bad?

“Seongwha…” you whispered, “..do I smell?”

Seongwha, unphased and unbothered, replied with a simple, “You smell like you always do.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What the hell did that mean?! Just as you were about to question him further, you heard Wooyoung call out from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready!!” at the absolute top of his lungs. You were grateful for his windpipes and their ability to ground you in that moment. Wooyoung definitely had his charms.

Everyone took their seats at the dinner table, taking care to leave an open spot next to you. But while San was usually one of the firsts at the dinner table, tonight he was extra slow - even slower than Mingi. Did he not want to sit with you? Did he not like you anymore? That was a silly idea! He literally invited you over for dinner with him and his members an hour ago. What in the world could change in one hour? You were so lost in thought, you were late to thank Wooyoung for making and serving you dinner.

“Thank you so much, Wooyoung. My favorite meal by my favorite chef has made my heart and tummy so happy.” The warm smile that touched Wooyoung’s lips melted his entire face and you could swear his cheeks were getting a little pink. At least someone liked you.

You risked a glance at San and saw that his gaze was still fixed forward and he was still actively avoiding your line of sight. You opened your mouth to call him out on his weird behavior when all of a sudden San grabbed your hand and turned to you, “I’m so happy you enjoyed dinner.”

The sudden compliment caused your brain to restart. His words were genuine so you knew he wasn’t being sarcastic - not like San was that type of guy, anyway. But his hot and cold attitude was starting to throw you off. What in the world was going on?! As you wrestled with these thoughts, San interlaced his fingers with yours and turned away from you once more.

You were still confused as to why San was acting the way that he was but at least you were holding hands. And then the thought of you two breaking up popped into your head again. Maybe that was why he was acting so strange? But, he couldn’t break up with you in front of his members while holding your hand, right? That would be preposterous. But! What if he was just getting the courage to do it? Kind of like one last hurrah before he ends things for good.

The thought of things ending between you and San made your heart skip a beat in the worst way. You didn’t want that. Reflexively, you brought up your free hand and held onto San’s bicep. Luckily, he didn’t pull away from you. If anything, he relaxed into your touch and let you hold his arm as if he hadn’t been acting so weird the entire night.

The conversations danced around you but you couldn’t quite join in. You wanted to make jokes at Seongwha’s expense, to quip with Wooyoung, to tease Mingi - but all you could do was hold onto San’s arm. Slowly the night carried on and both you and San found yourselves sitting silent amongst your friends. Wooyoung was the first to notice the shift in atmosphere, followed by Seongwha, and lastly Mingi.

“I heard Yunho and Yeosang got a new game,” Wooyoung said to no one in particular.

“Do you wanna take them some leftovers?” Seongwha inquired.

“Let’s bring them ice cream!” Mingi suggested.

One by one, the three boys got up from their seats and shuffled out of the apartment. Their voices carried in the hallway as they laid siege to another apartment.

You were slow to peel yourself up from the dinner table, San still sitting in silence. You absolutely had no idea what was going on with him but somewhere in the pit of your stomach you had braced yourself for the inevitable - the break up.

Out of habit, you cleared the table and began washing dishes. You managed to find solace in between the suds and foam of dirty dishes. There was something therapeutic about the repetitive behavior of washing dishes - the scrubbing and the rinsing of dishes scrubbed and rinsed the thoughts from your mind. With your mind finally clear of racing thoughts you settled on the fact that San was going to break up with you. That was the only sane and logical conclusion you could come to. It was just a matter of time.

As you were drying and putting away the dishes, you felt a familiar hand on your waist. After the strange behavior all night and the danger of breaking up looming overhead, you did not risk taking a step into San’s body. Instead, you stayed firmly planted in front of the dish rack, continuing your task. But, seeing as how you didn’t respond to his touch, San bridged the small gap between the both of you.

He wrapped his big arms around your small waist and brought you in for a deep, deep hug. You felt his cheek rest on top of your head and his breathing on your back. The embrace was home personified. You instinctually melted into his body, forgetting at once the thoughts that were swirling around your head. You opened your mouth to say something but instead felt San’s warm breath on your ear, “I need you.”

Your eyelids fluttered closed as the sentiment dripping in his words coated the area between your thighs. You dropped the dish you were drying back into the sink as your body reeled from that singular sentence. Finally, when you remembered how to breathe and there was sufficient oxygen in your brain you replied, “I thought you were going to break up with me.” The tears that you had been holding back all night started to form at the corners of your eyes.

San whipped you around faster than you could imagine, pure terror and concern in his eyes. His silent curiosity prompted you to continue, “You were so distant so I thought you were mad at me.. And then I thought you were g-” San cut your words off with a kiss. It wasn’t one of those passionate kisses he usually loves, but a softer, slower one. As if he was trying to kiss away your stress, hoping against hope that his lips could melt the worries in your heart.

You were slow to respond at first, it was a little difficult to bounce back from the verge of tears but San’s kisses made the journey a lot easier. He only pulled away from the kiss to pull you into a hug. His cheek finding purchase on the top of your head while he wrapped you up into his favorite hugging position. You reluctantly wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face into his chest.This close you could feel his heartbeat against your face and the warmth of his skin warming your cheek.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” San mumbled into your hair. “Tonight was the first time I’ve seen you in so long.” His hands started rubbing small comforting circles on your back. And here he stayed quiet for a long while, humming to himself while trying to formulate the perfect sentence. “It was like waking up on Christmas morning and realizing I got the present I wanted.”

If possible, you buried your face further into his chest while your cheeks turned a bright pink. “That doesn’t explain why you ignored me!” You yelled from the safety of his pecs.

San brought you in even closer to his body, there was nothing separating you save for the fabric of your clothing. The silence on San’s part made you brace yourself for the worst again. And as he breathed out you could feel the reason why San was ignoring you - there was a warmth and a firmness between his legs that made you blush all over again.

“I want you.” San’s voice was quiet - barely above a whisper. You looked up at him and found his eyes studying your face. The intensity in his gaze made your knees weak and your breath catch in your throat. “If I had allowed myself to touch you more..or even think about you.. I wouldn’t be able to control myself.” Here, his hands stopped rubbing small comforting circles and came to rest on your lower back.

It was tough to maintain eye contact with San when you stared at you like that - like you were the only light in his life. You watched as the intensity in his eyes shifted from caring to something darker and more primal. His hands on your lower back continued down your body until both of his palms were firmly on your ass. “I need you.”

“I’m right here,” you breathed out as you leaned in for a kiss. San eagerly returned the kiss with the same passion and intensity you were used to. It was the way he liked to kiss you - with absolutely everything in his body. His grip on your ass tightened, pushing you further into his body. You draped your arms across his broad shoulders and deepened the kiss. Eventually, San let go of your ass to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you in place while he kissed you as if it was the first time.

The fiery intensity of the kiss sent your body aflame - every feel of his tongue on yours made you want him more and more, like he was the only thing on the planet that could satisfy you. You had to pull away first, taking a deep breath that sounded something between the lines of a moan and a sigh. San leaned into your ear and whispered, “I missed the way you sound” as he rolled his hips into yours.

You breathed out another moan into the curve of his San’s neck and it sent him over the edge. He picked you up with absolutely no effort and placed you ever so gently onto the counter, wrapping your legs around his waist in the process. You pulled your body closer to his, eager to feel him and his hardening dick on your body but he pinned your hips in place.

San pulled away from the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours, “Not yet.”

You pouted as a surge of defiance pumped through your veins. While maintaining eye contact, you reached your hands out to his sweatpants and even managed to get your fingertips on the waistband before San had his hands around your throat, squeezing in all the right places. The pleasure was immediate. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you immediately forgot what to do with your hands and focused all of your attention on San’s sweet grip on your sensitive neck.

“Not yet,” he whispered again. This time more hoarse and strained, almost as if it were a plea and not a command. You fluttered your eyes open and nodded your head as best as you could. San’s grip immediately loosened.

His left hand reaches behind your head and takes a fistful of your hair as his right thumb trails along your bottom lip. You open your mouth just enough to let his thumb in and start sucking on it. You watch as San becomes transfixed on your mouth, unknowingly licking his own lips in his approval. He pulled his thumb out and traced his index and middle finger along your lips until you happily obliged and sucked on those fingers too.

He watched you suck on his fingers until he couldn’t take it anymore and replaced his fingers with his own lips. His kiss was so hungry it made you yearn even more for his body. San quickly pushed up your work dress and slid your panties to the side so he could press his two fingers into your soaking wet pussy. The first time he touched you sent such an intense wave of pleasure through your body.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his body and bring him in closer for another kiss. Your two bodies were almost touching if it weren’t for San’s hand in-between your legs, expertly teasing your clit. You tried to maintain the kiss but San’s fingers felt so good on your pussy, all you could do was brace yourself against San and moan into his neck. He gave you sweet words of encouragement - he wanted to hear how good you were feeling.

As San worked your clit, you could feel your orgasm mounting. Your breathing was getting shallow and irregular and just as you were about to cum, San slipped two fingers into your tight pussy. The sensation of two fingers suddenly inside you while riding your high prolonged your orgasm even more. As you started to come down from your orgasm, San slowly started to pump his fingers inside of you while his thumb played with your clit.

Your pussy was so fucking sensitive but San’s fingers felt so fucking good. You buried your head into his neck and wrapped your arms around him, completely surrendering to his touch. San’s touch was so gentle - he wanted to ease you back into pleasure. His thumb rubbed your clit so very softly while his fingers worked themselves in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Eventually, you could feel your hips rocking forward, eager for more of his touch on your body.

San then started to move his fingers a bit faster and rub your clit a but harder. Soon, you could feel your juices dripping down his hands, completely covering his fingers. San absolutely loved the way your body responded to his touch - his own dick completely rock hard and leaking with precum at the very sight of your ravished body.

Your grip on San tightened as you could feel another orgasm mounting in-between your thighs. You announced how close you were and San only increased his pace and his encouragement, “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.” His breathy words into your neck sent you over the edge as you came once more all over his fingers. Satisfied, San brought his fingers up to his lips and licked every bit off.

San wrapped your arms and legs around him once more before picking you up and making his way toward his bedroom. On the way there, you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing and biting his neck. The sudden feel of your teeth on his skin caused San’s knees to buckle. He had to pin you up against the wall for support. This only encouraged you to continue your actions - kissing and biting all along his neck and shoulder, though very careful not to leave marks.

San’s grip on your body shifted slightly and you could suddenly feel his completely hard cock press against your throbbing pussy. The contact immediately made you cry out in pleasure and eagerly push your hips into his. San intuitively reciprocated the movement, rubbing his fully hardened dick onto you. San then carefully maneuvered his hand so he could simultaneously free his dick from his sweatpants and not drop you.

He securely pinned you against the wall before sliding your panties out of the way and sliding his cock into you. The way San stretched you out was pure heaven. You moaned into his neck while wrapping your arms and legs around him even tighter. Then, you could feel the slow and deliberate push of San’s cock into your tight pussy. You kissed him as he carefully slid all the way into you before pulling out just as slow - his tip dragging along your g-spot like it was always meant to. He pumped his dick back into you and you swear you could see stars.

He continued this slow pace until you were rocking your hips into his, begging with your body to fuck you faster. In response, San grunted and picked you up. He carried you all the way to his room and placed you on the bed. The both of you watched the other strip, your eyes devouring every curve of your partner’s form. Once you were both naked, San wrapped you up in another embrace - your arms and legs naturally wrapping around his body. He buried his face into your neck and repaid all the kisses and bites from before.

You moaned after every nibble and kiss, your hips rocking into his, yearning for his dick inside you once more. Slowly, San pushed his throbbing cock into your pussy. Overwhelmed with pleasure, all you can do is hold onto San and breathe as he pumps his dick in and out of your pussy.

You and San have been together for more than five years - he knows how to fuck you. He knows what to do to your body and how to do it. There were paces he used when he wanted to fuck the shit out of you all day and there were paces he used when he wanted to make you cum. This pace is the latter. The slow and deliberate push of his cock in and out of your pussy with his head hitting your g-spot every single time soon made your breathing grow irregular and shallow.

Slowly, you can feel your orgasm building in-between your legs. The warmth spreads over your body as the first wave of orgasms roll through your body. San continues to pump into your pussy over and over and soon rips a second series of orgasms from you, your pussy convulsing around his thick cock.

But he’s still rock hard. San allows you to come back down from your high with his dick still inside of you. And slowly, he starts pumping his dick into your abused pussy. He just feels so good, you can’t help how wet your pussy gets for him.

At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum but your body has not forgotten. So tired from the waves of orgasms, all you can do is let your limbs fall to the side and let him fuck your absolutely ravaged body. San throws one of your legs over his shoulder and grips onto your thigh so he could fuck you better. He gently cups the side of your face moments before moving his thumb over your bottom lip. His eyes widen slightly as he watches you take his thumb into your mouth once more.

With his thumb in your mouth and his dick so fucking deep in your pussy, San can not control it much longer. His grip on your thigh tightens as he throws his head back, deep grunts replacing his breathing. You watch as his body convulses as the orgasm tears through it, him pulling out just in time to make a mess on your stomach. San collapses on top of your body shortly thereafter, maneuvering his body so he can lay with your head tucked under his chin. In-between San’s deep breathing he whispered,

“I love you.”

[princessleechan]

“Choi Seungcheol must die” Chapter 14 + [BONUS WRITTEN SCENE]

Masterlist

📌chapter tags: SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, insecure!reader, more kissing, mingyu being a sneak, boo being him again, we love dillemmas

taglist: @mhlsymlysn @silvsie @christinewithluv @stayinhellevator @aiforyuu @2youngsworld @justcruisingalonguntilbamkpop @asyre @simpxxstan @anzellll @hipsdofangirl @plskillme22 @lirtha97 @lixiel0ver @notevenheretbh1 @leah-rose03 @woozarts @expensive-idiot @doveblackboat @the-boy-meets-evil @tamakis-bbyy @freshdetectivenight @mrsdacherry @smilechannie @alltheshineofthestars-blog @ocyeanicc @horanghaezone @wonuqrtz @leewonkyeom @horangboosadan @kkooongie @myghobi @wonunuwoo @hyuk4ngel @wonwootakemyheart @shuasunshine @dinonuguaegi @ckline35 @miriamxsworld @itsokaytobedumb00 @seokgyuu @nishloves @bmkgemz @conwunder @kawaiimusiccollection @humankimbap @90s-belladonna @huening-kawaii

You couldn’t help the itching feeling of knowing there was Mingyu in the the trunk of Seungcheol’s jeep as he’s driving you home. Nothing could compare to the stage fright you are experiencing acting like you’re interested in Seungcheol while Mingyu was close and personal listening to every leading word. You could literally feel yourself break out into hives, rocked to your core of the predicament you’re currently in.

You were already nervous pretending to be interested in Seungcheol, but not to this extent. Why did it feel worse that Mingyu is there?

Maybe because you were scared of getting caught with him here. A loser used as a social pawn to seduce a highly acclaimed jock with the sex drive of a jackrabbit. Especially since that could mean for this plan to be over and what’s the left for you? Social pariahism? Social unaliving? Nothing good you’re thinking.

Maybe because you’re afraid of Mingyu’s judgement, seeing how pathetic your acting is, thinking lowly of you because of it and because maybe there’s a little of his respect that you want. That you think you’re deserving of and that kind of feeds of a sense of validation for you that you can’t help but crave.

Or maybe for the fact you were making out for a while in the said driver’s car and maybe you felt something, something you were so not ready to address right now while shoving compliments down Seungcheol’s ears.

“We’re here!” Seungcheol turns off the engine of his car before turning to you with a smile on his face. “Your place right?”

“Yep, GPS hasn’t failed us yet,” you awkwardly respond.

“Yeah, couldn’t get anywhere without it…so…”

You bat your lashes at him. “So…”

“I had a really great time with you tonight. Sorry my friends are such guys,” he chuckles making the dimple of his cheek more prominent.

You softly laugh back, shaking your head. “No, not at all it was fun.”

And you weren’t lying. Throughout the night, you kind of got to experience the things you never did in high school and first few years of college that you should have. You didn’t party, you didn’t drink, you didn’t watch a guy shove several kegs down his ass while he chugged (that maybe you still shouldn’t have), and for the first time you did and it wasn’t so bad. You felt out of place but a little normal for once.

“I’m glad. I wasn’t sure how to take you out at first. Maybe you don’t know me all the well but I’m not really all that smart or creative—“ he taps his temple with his finger, “—in here. I just thought it’d be a nice way to break the ice since I don’t really see you in places like this.”

“For a guy that did the whole flower ambush, that was pretty creative. And I’m glad you took me out, it wasn’t so bad. Maybe because you were the one who gave me the tour.”

A gaze in his eye shift, a small sly smile briefing on his face before it melts into one of gratitude, and he reaches out for your hand. “I’m glad I could make it fun for you.”

You sense the start of something, something coming closer to your personal space and for some reason you couldn’t stand it happening with another person mere feet away with panic in his eyes.

Before Seungcheol can plant a big wet one, your hands land on his shoulders to interfere. He big doll eyes stare back you in confusion, curious if he sensed the wrong vibe and wonders why you are holding him back.

“Walk me to my door?” You suggest, perking up your cheekbones.

Anything to get Mingyu out now while he can or Seungcheol will have to wonder why there’s a grown man in his damn car.

“Uh sure.”

You get out of the passenger seat, waiting for Seungcheol to join your side, and together you walk side by side to the front entrance to give Mingyu the diversion he urgently needs. You turn parallel to Seungcheol, facing the direction of the jeep and seeing the discreet opening of the trunk.

“I was wondering since you didn’t entirely hate it, maybe we can do this again. If you’re up for it.” His smile looks so sweet, almost sincere if you hadn’t been religiously profiling his background via ‘Must Die’ team.

“Maybe I am,” you playfully imply, “Just that…”

“That?” He wonders, grinning.

“What are you looking to get out of this? Out of me?”

“Well, I’d like to get to know you. Maybe get through this thick exterior and see the you no one else knows.”

You slyly smile, watching Mingyu breach out of the car and taking his first step. “What makes you think this isn’t the real me?”

Seungcheol steps forward, his eyes piercing through you in determination, and he locks you in an intense gaze. One admittedly difficult to stray from. “Intuition. And in return, I’ll let you know how I operate.”

“And I’d care, why?” You jester, chuckling.

He shrugs. “Curiousity. Nothing more interesting than a person who’s interested in you.”

The man that making his escape lands both his feet safely and discreetly on the ground, reaching up for head of the trunk door.

“There are more other things I could think about.”

“I can change that.”

And like an amateur, Mingyu closes the trunk a little too loudly, alerting its owner. Just about the moment Seungcheol is averting his attention to the noise, you cup his face quickly, training his eyes back on you.

You, who had an expression of panic briefly, smoothe out your features in a soft look with the dip of your eyes, drawing close to him. “I bet you can.”

Confidently, your crash yourself into his lips, long enough to getting Mingyu away and unwanted eyes.

Seungcheol’s lips are soft, although taken aback, but fall seamlessly into rhythm, just as his hands find your hips. You tenderly grasp his face, feeling that familiar sensation of mustering heat gradually enveloping you. He presses you closer against him, molding you his lips to the shape of yours.

You don’t mind this. You like it. You enjoy kissing. Even with Seungcheol, who actually is quite good at it.

His finger thread through your hair, deepening your union until his tongue surrounded yours. You feel the tips of his finger graze your cheek, making you vulnerable to his attention. You’re desperate to follow his lead—thinking how you could get used to a sensation like this—and before you knew it, you two forged an unspoken bond in that moment. The moment lingers and you forget it’s not just you two on a street outside your apartment building, until he’s the one who pulls away, touching the bridge of your nose with the tip of his. You hear a little sigh—so brief, so delicate—and you meet eyes.

“I thought I wouldn’t get to do that tonight,” he says in obvious relief.

You softly chuckle, glancing over at the jeep to see no other person in sight. “Neither did I.”

“Glad we’re both surprising each other today.”

And since that moment you were starting to get it. And that should’ve scared you more than it does.

[lavaflowe]

JTTW BOOK CLUB

CHPT 7-9

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

Chpt 7

•”All this was probably refined in his stomach by the Samadhi fire to form a single solid mass” I know other deities can use the fire but I’m wracking my brain for when it used before(this point) specifically- My understanding was the furnace refined the immortal elixirs and fruit- I’m going to assume Laozi is just theorizing and doesn’t know what actually happened

•Diamond body….👀

•Erlang gets absolutely DRIPPED out, he earned it FR

•eyes permanently irritated by the smoke churned up the the Xun trigram, someone get this man some eye drops

•he is extra pissed

•HE JUST BODIES LAOZI IM YELLING😂

•”this cosmic being fully fused with nature’s gifts passes with ease through 10,000 toils and tests”

•Big war form out to beat serious ass, he’s not jokin bitch

•” bright and luminous; ….illustrious pearl of mani he is indeed” MMMMM comparing him to a mani- a flaming (wish granting) jewel is hilarious 💀

•Tathagata bringing in the big guns (himself)

•”how tf do you know The Way and not know who I am?? And you’re so….violent” I can sense the side eye

•I wonder if Wukong has previous incarnations?? Buddha says he just reached human form this incarnation but if his rock was there at the beginning of creation, wouldn’t his soul be ‘baking’ (for lack of a better term) the whole time until he hatched?

•” and with a total lack of respect he left a bubbling pool of monkey urine” Iconic moment LMAOOOO

•smart for Wukong to leave a momento- too bad it didn’t matter lol

•ah so he was jumping to visit the pillars again, not run away(supposedly)- he’d rather prove he’s right than escape💀 that checks out

•monkey has been squished, it is now party o’clock

•are you allowed to give the Buddha drugs if it’s an offering? Like wine??🤔 “wtf is this allowed? Wtf”

•”Wukong is wiggling out”

“Dw, take this”

*slaps tag on the mountain like flex tape*

•enough room to breathe and move his hands- I would lose my mind

•Molten copper & iron pellets mimic punishments in hell (just learned this🙏), shedding the Karma like water -I feel like 500 years is pretty good tbh considering everything

Woe molten metal and iron upon ye

Chpt 8 + 9 under cut:

Chpt 8:

•lots of lovely poems in this chapter

•a paragraph recap of the past 7 chapters

•wonder what Feast of the Ullambana Bowl is? (the notes say it’s a mass for the dead and is also know as the Ghost festival, practiced by Taoists and Buddhists)

•”the Chan mind shines bright like a thousand rivers’ moon; true nature’s pure and great as an unclouded sky.”

Lovely poem, and I’m beginning to realize this book is very heavily focused on the Chan school, which I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on sooner? White-Robed Guan Yin is a Chan specific form, usually depicted in their bamboo grove

•Tathagata reveals his 3 baskets of scripture after everyone is done presenting their poems, feels almost like he suggested the celebration to announce these

•Each basket corresponds to scriptures of Heaven, Earth, and the Damned- a total of 15,144 FUCKING SCROLLS

•oooo Guanyin poem!! “ a golden body filled with wisdom, fringes of dangling pearls and jade, …dark hair piled smartly in a coiled-dragon bun. With brows of new moon shape and eyes like two bright stars, her jadelike face beams natural joy. …Her orchid heart delights in green bamboos; her chaste nature loves the wisteria. The living Guanyin from the Cave of Tidal Sound.”

•5 Talismans: Embroidered Cassock that will protect him from falling back into the Wheel of Transmigration, a 9 ring priestly staff that will protect him from poison or harm, 3 tightening fillets- the Golden, the Constructive, and the Prohibitive Spell.

•Guanyin thinks this will take about 2 to 3 years💀 hooooo boy….

•FLOWING SAND RIVER!!! MY 2ND FAV BOY!!!

•Green and Black complexion, Gleaming eyes like the lights beneath a stove, forked mouth with teeth like knives and swords, and disheveled red hair

•like that Wujing is using a priest staff he def took from one of the monks he ate lol

•Wujing fighting Moksa for his life only to drop everything to apologize and talk to Guanyin LMAO

•MOKSA PICKS HIM UP BY THE COLLAR AKFKAKDJDJ

•ah, so Wujing didn’t reincarnate, he was changed, STABBED OVER 100 TIMES EVERY 7 DAYS AND FORCED TO COMMIT CANNABILSM SO HE DOESNT STARVE AS PUNISHMENT- THATS JUST LOVELY😭

•I like the interpretation that he could have been trying to signal a coup by breaking the crystal cup

•Guanyin hearing about Wujing’s string of skulls: it’s a surprise tool that will help us later

•BAJIE TIME

•this idiot bro “HOW DARE YOU TRY TO GET FLOWER PETALS IN MY EYES!!” “IDIOT THAT WAS GUANYIN” “…Guanyin is here??” “LOOK UP”

•Wuneng is reincarnated, he got beat to death in Heaven for hitting on Chang’e LMAOOOOO GET REKT

•ah yes, casually mentions killing his pig family and then his life of eating humans. Lovely.

•AO LIE TIME

•I committed a little accidental arson, please bail me out

•Damn, he got a really short intro

•interesting that Guanyin id’s the Peach Banquet as Wukongs fall from grace. I would def agree with this- eating the peaches like he did was extremely reckless and the beginning of the end imo

•”who tf is talking shit up there”

•No one has ever visited Wukong, I’m guessing the Guards were horrible company

•I like how both Guanyin and Sanzang try to give Wukong a religious name- Guanyin is very happy to hear he has the Wu- prefix as well lol

•arrived in Chang’an, let the hunt begin

Chpt 9:

•Chang’an bb, all blooming flowers surrounded by 8 rivers (DAMN, that’s a lot of water)

•Guangrui got first place in the examination, good for him UwU

•SURPRISE WIFE

•”gave the girl to Guangrui as his bride” UM I THINK SHES THE ONE WHO GRABBED HIM LMAO

•Guangrui has some fated beef with these two random boatmen, Liu Hong and Li Biao- states that he was destined in a previous incarnation to be enemies with them, is this a result of bad karma?

•NOOOOOO MY GUY GUANGRUI

•Liu Hong reminds me of Liu’er Mi-*gunshot*

•since they’re at the bottom of the Hong river, which Dragon King is this?

•Golden Carp coming in clutch, nice

•LADY YIN IS SO METAL LETS GO “she hated the bandit so bitterly that she wished she could devour his flesh and sleep on his skin” DO IT GURL, KILL HIM

•damn, too bad she’s pregnant with Sanzang….dw Girl I know you would kick his ass otherwise…

•there goes his toe…

•get named River Float idiot

•damn bro chill, that wasn’t very monk-like of you

•homie got called an orphan and cried JAKDJSJFJ I FEEL BAD

•she didn’t even check the toe I THOUGHT SHE DID- WHAT WAS THE POINT LMAO

•nvmnd

•I guess licking the eyes is better than spitting on them…sigh…

•GODDAMN THEY RIPPED LIU HONG AND LI BAIO APART….good for them, deserved in fact

•Lady Yin committing suicide even after she was reunited with her husband makes sense, as there was a trend where wives whose husbands died or they were assaulted, killed themselves. This was show loyalty to their husbands and add weight to their claim of SA- Lady Yin’s husband coming back does not change the fact that everyone knows she was forcefully married :((

(I use the term ‘trend’ only as a way to describe the rise and fall in wife suicides tied to either a husbands death or as a response to SA)

[mins-fins]

mishmash — hong eunchae

museum trips are the worst, y/n knows that very well, and to her luck, she just happens to get lost on one of them! fortunately for her, she happens to be lost with along with a pretty girl.

tags :: hong eunchae x f!reader , high school!au , reader is a museum hater , eunchae is such a cutie , they go to rival schools , they click immediately

museum trips suck.

1: they’re boring. 2: they’re repetitive, and 3: they build the museums to be so fucking huge you get lost almost immediately.

that was unfortunately y/n’s case.

she was barely paying attention to any of the nonsense her teacher was spitting out, instead using her phone. she’d gotten so distracted that her group had walked away without her even knowing.

now, she couldn’t even find them.

“god! why do i have to be so distracted?” she mumbles to herself, clenching her fists as she looks down at her phone. 12:22 pm, there was still two more hours left of the trip, and there was no sight of her group anywhere.

at this point, she was going to give up.

walking around, the girl bites her inner cheek. she gazes up at the dinosaur exhibit, eyebrows furrowing at it for some reason. “i really need some luck right now..” she whines, practically hopeless about the whole thing.

somehow, it seems that the unknown being that was spoken to answered her call.

“excuse me? hold on!”

y/n blinks, not knowing if it was her being called or someone else. it was her, and she turned the other way to see a girl around her age running towards her. the girl stops in front of her, panting like she’d just run a marathon.

“your on a trip right?” the unknown girl asks, standing up straight as she patiently waits for an answer from y/n.

y/n blinks. the girl in front of her was absolutely gorgeous. her eyes were large and seemed to light up, whilst a angelic smile was plastered on her features. she rocks back and forth on her heel, still waiting.

“oh! uh— i— yeah! yeah i’m on a trip too”.

the girl tilts her head, examining y/n up and down. “ah, you don’t go to hybe, do you?”

y/n shakes her head. “no.. i go to jyp, you go to hybe?”

the pretty girls nods. “yep!” she holds out her hand for a handshake. “hong eunchae, it’s nice to meet you, uh..”

“y/n” she replies, taking eunchae’s hand to shake. “l/n y/n”.

eunchae sighs, pouting. “i assume your lost too?”

y/n nods, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “yeah, we both have bad luck, i guess”.

eunchae smiles, shaking her hand erratically. “i guess so, well! we only have each other! so we have to look for our groups!”

y/n was almost taken aback. never had she met such an energetic girl before, one who was also adamant to walk around with a stranger. well.. it’s not like she wanted to be alone.

“alright, let’s look”.

so that’s what they did for the next twenty five to thirty minutes. the two walked around the museum together, conversing about certain exhibits and talking about their experiences at their respective schools.

“you do volleyball? that’s cool!”

“yeah, i’m vice captain of the team” y/n says. eunchae was one of the first people who would genuinely listen to her, even if she was a pretty stranger from a rival school.

“i don’t do any sports, i dance” eunchae exclaims, excitement filling her eyes.

y/n laughs. “you like dancing?”

eunchae nods. “yeah! it’s a fun activity for me to do, and the only one my parents would let me audition for.. but i still love it!”

y/n hums in agreement, nodding again. “i don’t really understand the whole school rivalry thing, do the principals have beef or something?”

now, y/n doesn’t think that her words were that funny, but eunchae began giggling. “seriously! what’s up with them? i was told jyp students were scary”.

y/n’s eyes go wide. “really? i was told the same thing about hybe students! interesting..”

“right? i think they’re just lying” eunchae says in reply. she looks down at her watch. “wow! it’s already one o’clock, we’ve been walking around for a while”.

“maybe we should go to the waiting area?”

“would they even be there? we still have an hour left of the trip”.

“we could try”.

eunchae nods, watching as y/n shrugs. the two then began walking toward the entrance of the museum. eunchae was a bright person, she was like a little kid, but in a good way, she didn’t want to grow up quickly, she just wanted to be herself.

she admired that.

as soon as they make it there, eunchae’s face lit up in recognition. “my group! there they are!” she exclaims, pointing towards a certain group of students.

y/n’s eyes search for her own group, eventually finding them. she heaves a sigh of relief, finally finding them after being lost for almost an hour. “god.. thank you, eunchae”.

eunchae looks over at the girl, confused. y/n’s face turns bright red at the look, and her eyes frantically look around the museum. “i mean— for being lost with me! of course!” she giggles in nervousness, but eunchae didn’t seem to notice.

“oh!” she jumps up, smiling brightly. “of course! thank you, y/n, for being lost with me”.

y/n smiles back, nodding. “i guess this is where we go our separate wa—“

“hold on!” eunchae cuts into her sentence, she took out a pen and paper, scribbling something onto it. “we don’t have to become strangers again, here’s my number!”

she hands out the piece of paper in excitement. y/n’s eyes go wide once again, and she blinks as she takes the paper from the girl. “i— uh.. thank you? i.. have a good day, eunchae”.

eunchae nods. “you too!” she jumps up again and runs towards her group. y/n watches her disappear into the group of students, a small sigh leaving her lips.

she looks down at the piece of paper in her hand with eunchae’s number scribbled onto it. she would definitely text her later.

“y/n! come on!”

y/n turns her head towards the voice, spotting a classmate of hers, she knew there would be a dumb lesson about how you should always stick by your group and pay attention, but she was only thinking about one thing.

“coming!”

AUTHORS NOTE — eunchae supremacist for life!!! NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HATE HER!!

[ghostxrose]

One Life After Another, Forevermore | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five (final)

Note ~ This part is a long one folks.. nearly 5k words.. idk feels long to me so I thought I'd warn ya. Enjoy the read! <3

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Reader, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Emotional, Temporary Character Deaths, Depictions of Injuries, Potentially Triggering Content, No Use of Y/N, Hurts So Good (let me know if I should tag anything else <3)

When you had breathed the first breath of your second life you could already tell that it was vastly different than your first. With the little bit of understanding you had been given at the beginning of that new life, you noticed that your new world was underwater. Your parents seemed to be the same, though; your mother was loving while your father couldn’t care less about you.

As you got older, you learned that the new species you had been born into had called themselves Mermaids or Merfolk. You had a tail instead of legs and appendages called arms, hands, and fingers. You only had hair on your head and all of the teeth in your mouth were sharp.

Your tail and fins were stunning gradients of deep, dark purple into dark blue that shimmered in the sun. Your skin tone was a sun-kissed and glowing golden tan. Black claws grew from the nail beds of your webbed hands. Your long, flowy hair was jet black and your eyes were the same stunning violet with cracks of piercing blue. 

Growing up, your mother and the elders of your pod had told tales of destructive and vicious two-legged beings that lived on land. The stories of your captured and slain kin terrified and angered you. Luckily, in that new life, you had been born much stronger.

Your mother and elders had taught you and the other Mers your age how to become fierce hunters. Not only that but you had been taught how to fight and defend yourself in the face of danger. You had excelled so much that time around that you were regarded with the highest amounts of respect within your pod. A proud candidate of becoming a future leader of the pod someday.

Shortly after entering adulthood, you and a couple of other strong Mers within your pod were tasked with hunting along the reefs near the shoreline. While your mother worried for you, you reassured her that you wouldn’t have been given the task if you weren’t strong or fast enough to handle it. The task itself was easy, the schools of fish that gathered near the reefs made for easy hunting.

Your first few trips to the reefs went by without any problems and were always bountiful. You and the others you went with had yet to run into any of the evil two-legged beings that were rumored to live near the shore. You even got so bold as to perch yourself on a rock that stuck out of the water and sunbathe some days. You only got away with it because your group would split up to hunt and you were fast enough to collect a good bounty before you had to go back to the pod.

During what had felt like your millionth time out at the reef, you were excited to find that when you perched yourself on your usual sunbathing rock, the surface world was gloriously sunny and warm. Laying back on the warm rock, you unconsciously let the happy clicks and whistles leave your mouth.

As you sunbathed to your heart's content, you heard the familiar clicks and squeaks of a pod of dolphins swimming by. Sitting up with an excited smile, you clicked back at them, calling them over to play a bit. You slid back into the water when they drew nearer, having accepted your invite, and began swimming around and jumping with them. Some form of tag had ensued and you were chasing around some of the younger dolphins of the pod.

You were only out of the water for a moment, having been mid-jump, but a moment was all your sensitive ears needed to pick up the sound of voices drawing near the shoreline.

“Aw, man, look! Dolphins!!” An excited male voice had called out, the sound and vibrations of his heavy footsteps picking up their pace.

“Yeah, I see the fucking dolphins! Let’s just hope the bastards didn’t scare the fish away, again! Fishing in this area lately has been shitty!” Another raspier voice yelled out as the pair stepped onto the sandy shore.

You were quick to hide behind your sunbathing rock, only the top of your head and eyes sitting above the water. You fought the urge to hiss as you observed the two-legged beings mess with long weird sticks. But along with the anger, something else bubbled up inside of you, something strangely familiar.

It was a feeling that didn’t feel anything like anger and it left you confused. Two-legged beings were bad. They were monsters. They captured and killed your kind just for your scales. You hated them.. except.. looking at the tall, muscular, and angry-faced ash-blonde on the shore.. you didn’t feel any hate.

You flinched as the two males waved their long sticks around and hissed quietly as two separate somethings landed in the water not far from where you were hiding. You silently slipped completely under the water and swam to where one of the objects had sunk into the sea.

Right away, the flash of something shiny caught your attention along with something else brightly colored. Cautiously swimming closer, you saw that there was a piece of fish meat stabbed onto something curved and sharp. You weren’t sure what the shiny piece or the brightly colored thing was, but the whole thing seemed threatening.

You grabbed the object angrily intending to steal it, but instead, you felt a sharp pain as your hand closed around it. You screeched and tried to pull away but the object was tugged in the opposite direction instead. You momentarily panicked as the object embedded itself deeper into your palm as it was tugged. That’s when you noticed the shine of something very thin attached to the urchin-like weapon.

You quickly bit at the nearly invisible line, hearing the snap of it breaking as your sharp teeth sliced it. Seconds after, you heard yelling so loud that even the water around you barely muffled it. You snickered to yourself for having angered the two-legged being.

You sobered quickly though when the smell of your blood hit your nostrils. Looking back down at your hand, your stomach turned as you inspected the curved barbs embedded in your palm and fingers. Your hand was stuck in a partially crumpled position and blood steadily seeped from the wounds. You prayed to the Sea Goddess that there weren't any sharks around.

Of course, if you had remembered anything from your previous life, it should have been that luck did not favor you. 

It had happened fast, and your first sign had been when all of the reef fish had gone into hiding. Your second sign was the warning calls from the dolphins before they fled the area. You growled to yourself, pissed at the situation you had gotten yourself into.

You were fast but sharks were just a bit faster than Merfolk in general, so swimming away wasn’t an option. You also really didn’t want to get back up on your rock because the two-legged beings were still at the shoreline. But when you saw a flash of gray and white out of the corner of your eye, you knew that you had no other choice.

You darted back over to your rock and clumsily lifted yourself onto it. You had just barely managed to get your tail tucked to your side and away from the edge of the rock when the shark jumped out of the water towards you. You screeched at it loudly, narrowly avoiding its open and deadly mouth.

Letting out another shriek as it partially landed on your body, you swiped at it with your uninjured clawed hand. You slashed one of its eyes and left deep claw marks all over its face as it writhed and thrashed, desperate to get back in the water.

Avoiding its mouth the best you could, you shoved it away from you using both arms and all of your strength. Yet another screech left your mouth as you shoved the shark because the action was driving the object stuck in your hand deeper into your flesh. The shark finally fell back into the water but not without scraping its teeth along the length of your arm and pulling a pained shriek from your lungs.

Water as salty as the sea itself streamed down your face, seemingly from your eyes, and made it difficult to see. Pained noises rose from your throat involuntarily as your chest heaved. Your whole body shook uncontrollably as you watched the shark swim out to deeper waters and eventually disappear, coming to terms with the fact that there was no meal to be had here.

“What.. the.. fuck.. just.. happened?” The angrier male voice from earlier spoke aloud from behind you.

You whipped your head around even though the action caused the world to tilt and spin slightly. You attempted to hiss and growl and warn the two-legged monsters to stay away from you, but your attempts were weak. Your threats turned to whimpers and pained moans very quickly and you looked down at your arm. Blood flowed freely from the sliced flesh, steadily dripping onto the rock below you.

“Ah, uh.. Fuck! Are you okay?!” The previously cheerful redheaded male called out, his voice panicked. You looked back at them, debating whether or not you should answer or just leave and try to swim home.

“You dumbass! She probably doesn’t even understand you!” The angry blonde yelled at the redheaded male. The redhead was about to say something back to the blonde but you interrupted.

“I.. u-under.. s-stand.. W-we.. s-speak.. the.. s-same..” You weakly stuttered out as black spots began to appear in your vision.

“Are you able to come.. To.. shor-” The redhead tried to ask you but it was distant and muffled, and suddenly you were in the ocean again before everything went black...

When your eyes cracked open again, you panicked. Some sort of dim light had revealed that you were no longer in the ocean. Instead, you were surrounded by weird cave walls that weren’t rounded and were made of something weird that didn’t appear to be rock. Not only that, but you were in a very small body of water, the end of your tail had stuck out and was painfully dry.

Panicked clicks and squeals left your mouth as your eyes darted around. Pained yells soon left your mouth as you tried to climb out of the small body of water but your injured arm protested heavily against the action.

Suddenly, the angry blonde from earlier was bursting into the cave-not-cave. You hissed and growled defensively when he tried to approach you. He let out a quiet, irritated growl of his own and put his hands up in a placating manner. Something in you clicked into place when you heard that familiar growl of annoyance come from him and you immediately quieted down. You stared at him with wide and confused eyes while he lightly glared at you.

“You done throwing your damn tantrum?” He asked, his voice full of agitation.

You silently nodded and he rolled his eyes before putting his hands down and stepping closer to you. The pain in your arm and hand hit you again in full force and a loud, pained whimper left your mouth. You went to grab at your arm, now wrapped in weird red-stained material, as more whimpers left your mouth but a large warm hand stopped you.

“Shh, it’s okay. I know it hurts but you can’t touch it, understand?” The blonde said in as gentle a tone as he could muster with his raspy and gruff voice.

You looked into his eyes, his breathtakingly beautiful and familiar crimson eyes, as water flowed from yours once more. He reached his other hand up and carded his fingers through your hair soothingly, his face soft and concerned.

It was like the air was stolen from your lungs when you whispered, “You’re from my first life. You’re him.. My Eternal Love..”

The blonde’s eyes widened for a second before he gave a small smirk, “Yeah. My name is Katsuki Bakugo. Are you planning on being hurt every time we meet, idiot?” He said with a teasing smile on his face.

“It just sort of keeps happening, I’m sorry, Katsuki.” You apologized quietly then gave him your name.

“Do you.. Will you have to go back to the ocean, Violet?” Katsuki asked you, a sad look in his eyes.

“Violet? What is that? My name is not Violet.” You told him, confusedly.

“Agh.. I-I know that! But it’s the color of your damn eyes! And it’s the name of a stupid flower! It’s romantic, damn it! J-just answer my damn question, Violet!” He said exasperatedly as his cheeks turned pink.

A sense of warmth filled you at the name given to you by your Love and a small smile graced your lips. It soon turned to a frown as you thought back to his question.

“I’m not sure.. I don’t think I would be able to live out the rest of my life in this very tiny ocean and I’m sure my pod is worried that I didn’t return to them.. But I do not wish to leave you, Katsuki.” You said in anguish and looked back into his eyes as more water spilled from your own.

“Shh, Violet, shh..” Katsuki said gently as he pulled you to his chest. “How about we get your arm healed and we can figure it out after that?”

You nodded against his chest, your uninjured arm clutching the material he was wearing over his torso. The water continued to flow from your eyes and you let out a low irritated growl.

“What’s wrong now, Violet?” Katsuki asked as he leaned back to look at you.

“My eyes, Kats! What is this ocean water coming from my eyes?! Why won’t it stop?!” You asked exasperatedly.

“How do you speak the same language as me but not know what crying is or  the word ‘tears’?” Katsuki asked amusedly as he wiped the water from your face.

“Crying? Tears? Why are these things happening?” You asked curiously as the ‘tears’ from your eyes began to slow.

“It’s just something that happens when you get sad or hurt, or sometimes if you’re feeling really happy. I suppose you wouldn’t notice tears if you lived in the water.” Katsuki explained to you, then kissed your forehead.

You nodded quietly in understanding while a yawn suddenly left your mouth. A small smile curled the corners of Katsuki’s lips up and he stroked one of your cheeks.

“Get some more rest, my Violet. See that bed right over there? That’s where I sleep and it’s probably where I’ll be when you wake up again, okay?” Katsuki told you gently and you nodded your head again.

He helped you get the end of your tail rehydrated before you sank the top half of your body further into the water. With one last kiss to the top of your head, he made the dim light go out and got into his bed. You fell asleep quickly to the sound of your Love’s breathing and ocean water hugging your body.

The next day, you are woken up by the panicked voice of your Love, “Violet?! Hey! Wake up! C’mon, Violet, wake up!”

You groaned as you groggily opened your eyes, thoroughly confused about what all the commotion was about, “Wha..? What’s wrong, Kats?” You asked as you looked up at his wide eyes and shocked features.

“What’s wro- Violet, look down!” Katsuki said a bit too loudly.

You complied anyway and looked down at your tail.. or.. what had been your tail.. but was now a pair of golden-tan legs.

Shock settled on your face and your mouth gaped wordlessly. Holding out your arms you saw that your fingers, much like your new toes, were no longer webbed or clawed. You felt around your ears and discovered that they were just like Katsuki’s now, no longer bearing finned shells to improve hearing. Your tongue ran along the now flat edges of your teeth and the gills that used to line your ribs were gone.

The only evidence that you were a Mermaid at any point were the small patches of tiny shimmery scales on your arms, legs, and face. At a distance, they could be mistaken for freckles.

You looked up at Katsuki, a tidal wave of emotions crashing through you as you tried to take in what happened to you.

“You didn’t know you could do this?” Katsuki asked gently as he crouched down next to you. You shook your head as your breaths started to get more labored from the panic settling into your bones.

Katsuki was quick to act as he lifted you out of the water and brought you over to his bed. He covered you in something large and soft then seated you in his lap and hugged you close. He spoke soothing words into your hair and rocked you gently from side to side.

Once you had calmed down, you spoke in a shaky voice, “I’ve never heard of this happening. The elders of my pod never mentioned anything like this being possible.”

Katsuki was silent for a moment before speaking quietly, “Violet.. I’m sorry about you possibly losing your family and your home.. but.. what if this was meant to happen by way of the Goddess of Fate? What if this is for us to be together?”

“I.. I can only hope that I’ll be able to visit my home and my family again someday, maybe in my original form, but.. I am very grateful for this, Kats. Of course, I would want the chance for us, you are my Eternal Love.” You said softly and pulled away to look at Katsuki face to face.

Katsuki’s eyes widened a bit before filling with adoration and softening alongside the rest of his features. Neither of you said anything more before you both leaned in toward each other and slotted your lips together.

A few months later, you slowly woke up to the morning sunlight shining into the hut you shared with your Love. Katsuki was already awake, his head rested on your chest and faced towards your stomach as he whispered words and gently stroked the small bump that seemed to grow a little more each day. You smiled warmly as you looked down at your Love, your chest filled with overwhelming emotions.

“Good morning, my Love.” You said as you brought a hand up, your fingers running through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

You heard Katsuki whisper ‘I love you’ and then he kissed your stomach before he shifted his body to lean up and kiss your lips.

“Good morning, Violet.” He said with a smile. “You still want to come with me when I go fishing today?” He asked as he laid back onto the pillows and pulled your body even closer to his.

“Yes. I think it’s time I stop fearing that I’ll see a member of my pod and visit the ocean again. I’ve been missing it lately.” You said with mixed feelings.

You were excited at the thought of connecting with the sea again. Excited to walk along the shore, telling your unborn child about everything you see. But you were also nervous and scared of the chance of encountering a mer from your pod. You knew they would be angry at you for not only not coming back home but for choosing to stay on land with the humans.

“You have nothing to worry about, Violet. I’ve been fishing the spot we’ll be going to for a while and there haven’t been any signs of Mers in that area. The fish are always plentiful and my fishing gear stays intact unlike when your crazy ass cut my line.” Katsuki said with a teasing smirk at the end.

“But if I hadn’t messed with you that day and had gone back to my pod like I first wanted to then it would have taken us longer to be together again.” You told him and poked his cheek.

“You were also attacked by a fucking shark, Violet. I think it would have been okay for us to wait a little longer for each other if it meant I didn’t have to see you so damn injured again. But at least I was able to help you with your injuries this time.” He said with an upset look on his face before he hid it and nuzzled it into the crook of your neck.

You tried to apologize but he was quick to kiss you to prevent you from getting the words out. After many more kisses and a bit more time in bed just holding each other, you both got up. When the sun had reached its highest peak in the sky, you and Katsuki went into the village to get fishing bait. Once he had everything he needed, Katsuki led the way to the fishing spot.

It wasn’t a very long walk and your feet were sinking into the warm sand before you knew it. The water was fairly calm at the cove that Katsuki had brought you to, the waves gently lapping at the shoreline. You hesitated for a few moments before stepping only close enough that the water touched your feet when gentle waves rolled in. Your eyes had screwed shut and you anticipated the return of your tail and fins when the lukewarm ocean water first touched your skin.

You were brought out of your scared and racing mind when a large pair of arms wrapped around you and your Love’s voice filled your ears. “Are you okay, Violet?” Katsuki asked in a concerned tone as he rested his chin on your shoulder and his hands gently stroked your stomach.

“Y-yes, I think so.. I just wasn’t sure what would happen when I touched the sea again.” You explained after letting out a relieved sigh at the sight of your still-human legs.

“I told you that you would be fine, Violet. Now, make sure you watch my amazing fishing skills and tell our brat all about how great their papa is!” Katsuki declared with a smirk.

You giggled as he kissed your cheek, then let you go to pick up his fishing pole. He made sure you watched as he cast his line out, a triumphant smile on his face when it went out quite far.

You spent a while talking out loud about everything you saw, your Love’s fishing skills per his request, and shells you found in the sand. You had been in the middle of rubbing your stomach and telling your unborn child about small sea creatures when you were suddenly splashed and hissed at.

Fear washed over you and you stumbled away from the water’s edge. Your panicked eyes searched the water until they caught on a pair of glaring cold blue eyes and blonde hair. Even if that was all you could see you instantly recognized the Mer as your podmate Neito. Your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach and you glared back.

“What are you doing here, Neito? Leave!” You called out angrily. You were splashed and hissed at again, and suddenly Katsuki was standing in front of you protectively.

“Who the fuck is this, Violet? What’s going on?” Katsuki growled out as he glared at Neito who had fully raised his head above the surface.

“How dare you abandon your pod?! Especially for a two-legged! You know what they do to our kind and here you are with one, carrying its child!!” Neito shouted, his voice was full of bitter anger and disgust.

“What the fuck do you know about humans, huh?! What your damn elders have told you is fucking wrong!” Katsuki shouted back angrily, his arms held out to the sides as if to shield you from Neito’s words.

“Oh, I know plenty about you two-legged monsters. Though, I do suppose that you do not seem all that intimidating. I would go as far as to say that you seem like a weak one.” Neito taunted with a smug look on his face.

Before you could stop him, Katsuki had shouted out in anger and raced towards the water. He wasn’t more than shin deep when two other Mermaids appeared from the water and grabbed him. The water became foamy from Katsuki’s thrashing attempts to fight off the holds of the two Mers, but they remained unaffected as they dragged him into and under the water.

As soon as Katsuki was grabbed you screamed, fear and dread filled your body and mind. You ran towards the water after your Love and the Mers that were dragging him away. Neito and the other Mers were fast so by the time you were waist-deep you weren't sure where they had gone.

That’s when you felt your body changing and your vision whited out for a moment. When it cleared again you looked down at your body to see that you had gained your Mermaid features back; tail, fins, and everything else.

You pushed your sudden transformation to the back of your mind in favor of diving under the water and searching for your Love. With your Mer-hearing back, you heard and felt the vibrations from thrashing from feet away and near the surface. You swam as fast as you could towards the commotion, tears flowing from your eyes even though they were immediately lost to the ocean around you.

When you came upon Neito, the other two Mers, and Katsuki they were all surfaced and Katsuki was panting heavily. He was kicking his legs to keep himself afloat but he was no longer fighting the Mers holding him. Judging from his red and swelling cheek and the cut above his eye, you had guessed that the Mers hit him for fighting them.

You swam towards Katsuki but Neito blocked your path causing a growl to come from you and Katsuki. You quickly quieted yourself down when one of the Mers holding Katsuki slammed its tail into his stomach. The pained wheeze and cracking of Katsuki’s ribs caused your chest to hurt and your stomach to drop. You whimpered as you cried and peered around Neito, your eyes connecting with Katsuki’s. He tried to mouth that it was okay but all your brain focused on was the look in his eyes... The same one that he had had in your last life when you were dying.

“Finally, they’re here,” Neito said, his face still smug.

You watched in horror as the heads of  your parents and the rest of your pod surfaced, all of them wearing looks of disgust. You cried harder from the fear of the situation. Your parents swam up to you, your father’s face full of disgust and disappointment while your mother’s was full of shame and sadness.

“You have betrayed us. You have betrayed the pod. You, this monster, and the abomination you’re carrying inside your body must be punished.” Your father said in a bitter and cold tone. This may have only been your second life with your parents but you already resented the way your father made the decision to toss you away so easily.

Suddenly, your parents grabbed your arms and held onto you painfully tight as they dragged you beneath the surface. You heard Katsuki yell and curse until his voice was muffled from the mers holding him dragging him underwater.

You and your Love were positioned to face each other, the two of you being held in place by your captors as you all floated in the open water. Katsuki couldn’t speak it but you could see the fear and love in his eyes. Your heart shattered and you sobbed. The elders of your pod surrounded you both and you knew what they were going to command.

“I love you, Katsuki! I’m so sorry!” You screamed as you thrashed against your parents’ holds. You saw the air bubbles escape his mouth as he tried to say he loved you. Anguish, love, adoration, and heartbreak swirling in his eyes as well as yours.

“Drag him down.” You heard one of the elders of your pod command.

You shrieked, screeched, and wailed as you watched the two Mers quickly drag Katsuki down into the dark depths of the sea. Before you could attempt to break free and chase after your Love the elders gave another command, “Slice up the traitor then leave her and the abomination for the sharks.”

Your shrieks, cries of pain, and blood were all that filled the water as your pod mates took turns swimming past you and dragged their claws through your flesh. You don’t know how long the torture went on for but your voice had given out at some point and your body was almost numb to the feeling of flesh being torn. After your parents each had a turn at leaving their marks your pod left without another word or look back.

As you sank into the dark, cold depths you apologized to Katsuki and your unborn child. It wasn’t long before something fast swam past your limp body. Staring blankly up at the dimming surface, you were happy that your consciousness faded before you could feel the jaws of a great white bite into you.

Author's Note ~ A few months ago when I had first written this fic I *sobbed* as I typed out the end of this lifetime for our poor Katsuki and his Violet, soo.. uhm.. I'm sorry if you cry.. But I appreciate every single one of you Lovelies and thank you so much for everything! <3

Tag List ~ @damnirina @queenpiranhadon

[ghosttotheparty]

a man raised hopeless (18k) ao3 // pinboard // playlist tags: Good Uncle Wayne Munson; Appalachian Wayne Munson; Character Study; of sorts; Drug Use; Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Drug Addiction; Mental Health Issues; Postpartum Depression; Suicidal Thoughts; Self-Destruction; Grief/Mourning; Eddie Munson Lives; Healing; Hopeful Ending

Wayne Munson was raised to be a lot of things that he isn’t.

He was raised to be God-fearing, but he’s always struggled to see God, struggled to know Him. His parents were good Catholic folks, rosaries tucked in their pockets at all times, Bibles on their bedside tables, calendars crossed off daily. Easter and Christmas were hardly days of celebration, even when Wayne and Al were little boys. There were never any eggs to find, any gifts to unwrap. Wayne got used to the ache in his kneecaps, the faintly bruised skin, from kneeling in prayer for so long. It never did him any good. Al either.

He was raised to be quiet, to speak when spoken to. That never did him much good either. He’s always been a quiet man, even when he was little and Al was as rambunctious as humanly possible. He watched as Al ran circles around the house, fingers tangled in his lap because he was always scared to touch anything after he saw Al knock a vase over and watched as their father beat his skin blue. Wayne never understood how a vase could be so important. It was just a vase, and it was ugly anyway.

He was raised to respect authority. He never did. All the adults in his life were self-serving assholes, his parents and teachers included. The cops in his hometown were corrupt, everyone knew it; they took bribes, let their own dealers off easy when they were called to their houses. They kept their eye on people that didn’t need an eye kept on them, ignored crimes in broad daylight, shined their badges and flashed them at anyone that dared ignore them. Wayne hated cops by the time he was in middle school, wrinkling his nose at them when he saw the way they sneered and smirked at the girls in town. And then they started harassing Al for no reason at all, until Al started giving them reasons, practically wrapping them up and tying them in ribbons and leaving them on the dashboards of police cars.

His parents tried as hard as they could to train Wayne up, to mold him into a mini-me for his father. Wayne always looked like John, and he always hated it. He never liked his mother much either, but he would have preferred to look like her if he could have.

It was a small family, just the four of them. John, Ruth. Allen, Wayne. Most families around them had more children, but Wayne thinks he and Al scared their parents off any more. They weren’t easy as babies, weren’t easy as children or teenagers. Ruth complained about Wayne incessantly, telling him often how much he cried as a baby. No matter how much she rocked him, how much she fed him, how much she hummed and sang to him. He cried, and he cried, and he cried. Until he got old enough for his father to tell him to be a man, until the sting of his tears on his cheeks was replaced with a sting across his bottom, and then later, a sting across his face.

Wayne stopped crying when he was thirteen. John used to say that he would give him something to cry about, but life did that for him every which way. Every turn in Wayne’s path, every time he turned his head. Something to cry about.

He knew there was something wrong with him. Ruth used to tell him that too. The amount that he cried when he was little wasn’t normal, even Al knew. He’d tried to get Wayne to stop crying before their father noticed. But there were other things too. Everything was too loud for him, and he always had his palms covering his ears, blocking out whatever it was. The insufferable buzzing that came when John had the radio on, the squeaking of the tap in the kitchen sink, the shouting of the neighbor’s boys playing outside. The sun was too bright, his clothes too scratchy, the car too cramped, and he would lock himself away in his room just so he didn’t have to deal with any of it. He used to tell his mother he didn’t think he was meant to be human, and Ruth would roll her eyes and ignore him.

Al called him stupid. Called him a sissy, a pussy, called him everything their father would call him. He’d tell him he needed to grow the fuck up, needed to grow a pair. And Wayne tried, just like he tried being friends with God, but it never worked.

John hit the road when Wayne was fifteen. Al was thirteen. Neither of them cried, but Ruth did. Wayne could hear her through the thin walls of their house, could hear her sobbing and wailing John’s name into the pillow like he would hear her from wherever he was and he would come back. He never did.

Wayne always wondered what became of him. If he knocked up some poor woman and had another boy. If he treated him like shit too. If he got too tipsy and spun his old car out of control and hit a tree. If he said the wrong thing to the wrong person. If he took himself out the way he always threatened to when Ruth was too short with him. Wayne knew he took the gun with him.

Ruth’s eyes were bloodshot all the time, her nose and cheeks always flushed red, but Wayne never saw her cry. She hid it well, kept her voice steady, and he’d hoped maybe John’s absence would soften her up. Hoped she was just as hard and cruel as he’d been treating her. But she took up John’s role, whatever the fuck that was. Smacked Al and Wayne upside the head. Swung leather belts and wire hangers in the air to land on their skin. Downed bottles of liquor despite the scripture on the walls. And God watched just like He always did.

“I swear I’m gonna skip town one day,” Al whispered one night after their mother had passed out on the sofa. Wayne looked over the newspaper at him, finding him in the dark. He used the streetlights and the few passing cars for light to read the funnies. “I swear to the good lord, Wayne, I’m gonna do it.”

“You can’t even drive,” Wayne had muttered, looking back at the paper.

“I’ll take my bike.”

”Where would you even go?”

“Jesus, Wayne, fuckin’ anywhere’s better than here.”

“It’s not so bad here,” Wayne said quietly, glancing when their mother let out a huff and rolled over before falling still.

“You only say that because you don’t know any better.”

“And you do?”

”I have a damn imagination.” Al swore like a trucker after John left, like he was trying to make up for all the swears they couldn’t hear.

Wayne had rolled his eyes. He really didn’t think it was so bad. The roads were rough, the fences rusted, and the cops were shitbags, but it wasn’t so bad. The sun was bright, and he liked hearing the birds singing. Liked the crickets that filled the silence at night, liked how the lightning during storms lit up the sky. He’d always been a wanderer, even though his parents tried to train him out of it, and he loved the creek that was nearby their neighborhood. He liked seeing the little fish swim by in the sparkling water, liked the smooth rocks that he collected on top of his wardrobe. He found a knife in the water one day when he was twelve, a little pocket knife with a nice leather handle, and he scrubbed the faint rust off the blade under the tap out back with a wire brush his father bought for the car.

Al had said it was probably a discarded murder weapon. Wayne told him to shut up.

“Are you comin’ with or not?” Al whispered sharply, like he’d lost his patience in the few silent seconds between them. Wayne looked at him again.

He was staring intently at him, eyes wide in the dark, eyebrows raised. He looked more like Ruth than Wayne did. He had her hair, dark and curly.

“Where to?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Al said, and he sounded angry as he shifted in his seat, drawing his knees to his chest and looking over them at Wayne. “I just wanna get the fuck outta here.”

”We can’t just pack up and leave, Al,” Wayne said finally, setting the paper down. “We’d need an actual plan, y’know, we’d need somewhere to go.”

”Why do we need a place to go?” Al said, frustrated. “Why can’t we just fucking go?”

”So we don’t starve on the side of the road, dumbass,” Wayne snapped, leaning toward him. “We live in the middle o’ nowhere, Al, you wanna bike your way outta the mountains? Christ.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to go?” Al said sharply. “Can’t get a job if we don’t fuckin’ go somewhere.”

Wayne sighed, rubbing his face, and he looked at him.

“I’ve been saving,” he said finally. “Loose change ‘nd shit, all my money from working at the diner.”

”What the fuck, Wayne?” Al hissed, reaching out to smack his head, and Wayne flinched away from it, making a face. “You didn’t tell me?”

”Didn’t want you stealin’ it all.”

“Now I fuckin’ might.”

Wayne was quiet. Flipped the page of the newspaper.

“We can hitch a ride,” Al said, whispering again. “Or jump on the train that goes through town.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You fuckin’ figure something out, then. If I have to spend one more fucking year in this damn house with that bitch I’ll kill myself,” Al said, nodding toward their mother’s sleeping body.

“Don’t talk about Ma like that,” Wayne said half-heartedly. He couldn’t really bring himself to mean it.

“Shut up, Wayne.”

It took two years. Wayne kept his patience as best he could, but Al struggled. He brought it up almost every day, and Wayne found him looking through their shared bedroom more than once, trying to find Wayne’s saved money. He was especially desperate to go after knocking up some girl in town, but nothing ever became of it. No father came knocking the front door down to break Al in half. The girl left town and neither of them saw her again.

Wayne saved every penny he made at the diner, every penny he found on the sidewalk and hoped was lucky. He hated working there, hated being a damn line cook. He smelled like fucking beef every day, and his wrist got sore from holding the spatula, but he made money. And his boss was nice.

He mentioned offhandedly one day that he was hoping to leave town, hoping to find a job somewhere.

“My buddy in Indiana’s workin’ at a plant,” his boss had said. “Said they’re looking for som new recruits.”

He’d said it so casually, like it didn’t light Wayne up inside, like it didn’t flip his life upside down.

He was hired by the next week after his boss made a few calls. He packed a bag, just one, stuffed it full of clothes and food and cash, and he hopped on a bus with Al. And he’d never seen Al smile like he did that day, so bright it made him look young again. (He didn’t see Al smile like that ever again.)

He felt bad for Ruth. Knew she was all alone in that house, knew the house would be quiet now with no one there to fight and bicker. Knew she was left with the crate of liquor in the basement and the cross above the front door, abandoned by her entire family, abandoned by God.

“If she wanted us to stay, she would have been nicer,” Al said when Wayne voiced his guilt to him, and as guilty as he was, Wayne agreed. She was a mean old woman, and now all she had to mean to was the walls of her house and her broken mirrors.

Wayne never thought he’d find himself in Indiana. It wasn’t much different than back home. A little flatter, maybe, fewer mountains towering over them and caging them into town, but it looked the same sometimes. Trees and creaks and birds and squirrels. Deer. Discarded beer bottles along the side of the road. They found a shitty apartment, one bedroom with one stove burner and no oven, and they made it work.

Wayne liked living a quiet life. Taking the bus to work, taking the bus back home. He was glad to have an uneventful life, glad to not have stories to share with Al, even if it was boring.

But Al was always going to be Al, and Wayne had known that even before he agreed to take him with him. He thinks maybe he’d had hopes of Al maturing, growing out of their hometown, turning into his own person instead of some ugly byproduct of John and Ruth, but every hope he might have had was in vain.

Al was mean.

To everybody, but to Wayne especially. Wayne could swear Al had it out for him, even though Wayne was the one that brought him out of their hometown, brought him just like he’s asked, like he’s practically begged, even though Wayne took him with him out of the goodness of his heart, out of kindness. He knew how miserable Al was, knew it personally because he was miserable too.

But Al treated him like shit. Cursed him for waking him up in the morning while he got ready for work like Wayne wasn’t the one paying for him to live here, rolled his eyes and refused to wash the dishes simply because he didn’t like doing it. And Wayne somehow understood why his father was so angry all the time.

He and Al fought constantly.

Wayne got a car eventually, a shitty old thing that stalled and squeaked and had rusty hinges, and he stayed away from the apartment for as long as he could just so he didn’t have to see Al, just so he didn’t have to listen to him bitch. Drove up to the quarry just to look at the sky and smoke cigarettes, brought a book with him even though he’s never liked reading much. (He found that the quiet helped.) Al got a job at a garage after a while, and when their rent was raised, they scrapped enough together for a trailer.

It had one bedroom, but there was a washer and a dryer, and it made Wayne think of home. The creaky ground and the cabinets that didn’t quite shut all the way, the overhead lights that flickered and drove him a little crazy. Wayne slept on the sofa just because he didn’t feel like arguing with Al.

He’s always been a tired man, even when he was little. His mother would tell him he was like an old man, staring into space while John yelled at him, looking down at the newspaper when John beat Al, complaining about the volume of the radio. Wayne embraced it, turned it into a joke even though he didn’t find it particularly funny.

Al called him an old man when they lived together. Teased him when Wayne scolded him for wasting money on drugs and liquor, laid on the ground with vacant eyes and curled lips. And Wayne barely had the energy to fight him about it. It was his money, after all.

Wayne didn’t have friends. He was never the type to make friends, nor was he the type people particularly wanted to be friends with. He always looked angry, seething, even when he wasn’t, his eyebrows drawn together naturally, eyes narrowed. His coworkers left him alone most of the time, even though a few teased that he was just a kid, that he shouldn’t have been working somewhere so tough. Wayne never really got that. He had no problem being older than he was.

He was forty when Al brought a girl home.

She was sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa with a mug in her hands, one of Wayne’s mugs, and she looked young and tired. Wayne had stopped in the doorway, just beginning to kick his shoes off and drop his bag by the door, but he looked down at her as she looked up at him.

Her hair was curly, curlier than Al’s, almost wild, flying around her head. Her eyes were wide, dark and shining like a deer’s, and her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, her head tilting curiously. There were freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she looked soft. Too soft to be somewhere like this.

“Who’re you?” Wayne asks gruffly, finally toeing his shoes off and nudging them aside, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket.

“Judith Abbott,” she said.

She was soft-spoken, her voice sweet and quiet, and she was a darling. Her blouse was white and ruffled, her skirt pleated and falling to hide her legs as she drew her knees to her chest, and as Wayne looked at her, he found a bow hidden in her curls, a little ribbon just peeking out of the mess at him.

“Judith Abbott,” he repeated, eyeing her. “What are you doing in my living room, Judith Abbott?”

“Waiting for Allen,” she said with a smile that pressed lines into her cheeks, her eyes squinting.

“Allen,” Wayne said under his breath. He hadn’t heard that name in ages; everyone called him Al, even the cops. “Where’s he at?”

”He went to get some liquor,” Judith said lightly, and Wayne rolled his eyes, finally going to unpack his back, setting his old tin lunchbox on the counter.

“So you his girlfriend or something?” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Judith said, giggling, her cheeks flushing pink, and Wayne’s stomach twisted. He paused, looking over at her, sitting on the ground like a shy little girl, with a bow in her hair, holding the mug with both hands like it was heavy.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I turn twenty next week.”

He blinked. Looked at her. Ached a little inside.

“Why?” she asked, sipping her tea or coffee or whatever it was.

“…You don’t think you’re a little young for Al?” he asked.

“I’m mature for my age,” she said resolutely, nodding a little as though to herself, like she was saying it more for her own sake than Wayne’s. He felt sick.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

She didn’t say anything to that.

They talked until Al came home, and it took longer than it should have if he’d just gone for liquor. Judith asked about his work, about his hometown. Said Al, Allen, talked about Wayne all the time. They met at the garage when Judith’s dad went in for a tune-up. That Al couldn’t take his eyes off her, and she got shy, but she went in the next week on her own anyway, because she liked how Al looked at her. And Wayne wanted to take her away, to hide her until Al gave up, until he fucking died.

He pulled Al aside when he came home, when he went to put something away in the bedroom, leaving Judith in the living room with her cold tea.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he’d snapped quietly, grabbing Al by the back of his shirt. Al was smirking again. Wayne hated his smirk.

”Fuck are you talking about?”

”She’s a teenager, Al, Jesus.”

“She’s twenty in five days.”

”It’s weird that you know that.”

”That I know when my girl’s birthday is?”

“You know what the fuck I mean,” Wayne hissed, his face hot. “Jesus fuck, Al, she’s a fucking kid.”

Al rolled his eyes. Knocked Wayne’s arm away and stepped out of his reach, and he tossed something to the bed, something wrapped in brown paper and tape.

“She’s legal,” Al said. Wayne grit his teeth. “And even if I don’t pick her up, someone will,” he added almost smugly. “You’ve seen her.”

Wayne stood in the bedroom when Al left, shutting the door behind himself, and he buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. He was shaking, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hurt Al more than in that moment. He’d looked at the package after steadying his breathing, picked it up and flipped it over in his hands, but it was bound with tape, and he couldn’t open it without Al knowing. He thought about opening it anyway, just to appease his curiosity and his suspicion, but he tossed it back to the bed anyway.

Al was on the floor when Wayne rejoined them, leaning against the sofa with his arm around Judith’s shoulders, holding a lit cigarette to her lips as she giggled shyly, taking a short drag and coughing the smoke out of her lungs. Wayne swallowed his nausea.

Judith’s parents caught wind of her relationship with Al after a while. She moved in within the month, taking up residence on the other side of the bed, and she stayed sweet even over the years. Woke up in the morning to sit with Wayne, made him coffee and did the paper’s crossword puzzle with him. Her hair grew longer, and she didn’t cut it despite Al telling her to.

Wayne came home to the two of them in the living room most days. His hours were different from Al’s, and Al spent more time at home, especially when his boss cut his hours because he kept flirting with women in front of their husbands.

They were high a lot of the time. Judith was giggly when she was high, pink-cheeked and squinting, tucked into a ball while Al sprawled himself out over the sofa, taking up as much space as he possibly could. Al was quiet most of the time while he floated, staring up at the ceiling with his lips parted like he was seeing right through it to the universe, like it was whispering to him, like the water stain was a galaxy.

Judith was different. She giggled and laughed and talked more than usual, telling bad jokes and laughing herself to tears, and as much as Wayne hated that she was inebriated, she was endearing. He’d listen to her, leaning over the tiny dining table to hear her whisper, smiling absently.

“You know you’re my best friend?” she asked one day, sipping the water Wayne handed to her, holding the cup with two hands like she always did. He paused and looked at her, sitting across from her and tilting his head.

He knew they were an odd pair. He was already balding, going grey sooner than he should have, worn with lines on his face, his fingertips stained from tobacco. She was dainty. Sweet and spunky. Wayne was pretty sure she would be an artist if she were anywhere else, if Al hadn’t hijacked her life.

“‘S kinda sad if your best friend is your boyfriend’s older brother.”

The word boyfriend twisted in his mouth. She didn’t notice, giggling.

“Al doesn’t like that we’re friends,” she said, glancing at Al’s sleeping body. He was snoring, arm hanging over the sofa with his hand resting on the floor.

“Al doesn’t like much of anything.”

She giggled again, nodding like it was funny, like it was a joke.

“He doesn’t.”

Wayne looked at her. Her curls were tied up at the top of her head messily, flying every which way, falling in her face, and her eyes were glassy. She looked younger than she usually did, and Wayne hated how much it was true that she was mature for her age. She was just a kid, especially compared to Al and Wayne, but she was older because she had to be. She didn’t have a choice.

“Judy, sweetheart,” he said softly, leaning over, and she looked at him. He called her that a lot. She was a sweetheart, and she knew it wasn’t meant to be anything it wasn’t, knew it was purely platonic. “You know you can leave.”

She’d blinked her eyes at him, half-smiling.

“You know I can’t,” she whispered.

“Judy…”

“I hate him,” she said, nodding, her eyes almost vacant, and she’d never said it before. She and Wayne both knew it, but it was never spoken aloud. Never acknowledged. “I do, but I can’t leave him.”

“Why not?” he asks seriously, leaning closer. Al snored away. ”You can leave, Judy, you have no reason to stay here.”

“Wayne, I don’t have a family,” she says softly. “My brother doesn’t talk to me, my parents don’t talk to me, y’know, they left town. I don’t have any friends. I got nowhere to go.”

He was quiet, and his heart split open a little bit. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need somewhere to go, that it was okay to just hop on a bus and ride it until she found somewhere to stop, but he didn’t. Knew how she would argue, because he argued it himself when he was just a little younger than she was.

“I hate him,” she said again, leaning closer. “But I love him so much, Wayne.”

“How can you love him, Judith?” he said tiredly. And she looked at him.

“You know.”

He looked at her.

“He’s my blood, Jude,” he said quietly. “I can hate him all I want, that don’t change that he’s my brother. You got no ties to him ‘cept whatever this is,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward Al.

Judith looked at him. She sighed, her eyes flickering with something Wayne couldn’t quite read.

“You ever been in love, Wayne?”

He scoffed.

“You know I ain’t got time for that.”

She sighed again, setting an elbow on the table and propping her chin on her palm. A curl fell in her face, and she blew it away absently.

“He’s ruined me, Wayne,” she said, whispering. “I don’t have space in me for anyone else.”

Wayne’s chest ached. He wanted to cry.

“Not even yourself?” he whispered.

She smiled sadly, tilting her head like Wayne was being cute, like she was fond. And she shook her head.

“I’ve never liked myself much,” she said. “But he makes me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful, sweetheart,” Wayne said adamantly, leaning closer. “But you deserve so much more than what he gives you.”

She looked at him, her cheek squished against her hand, her eyes sparkling. She looked older than she used to, like Al had aged her.

“That’s nice, Wayne,” she said. And that was that.

The drugs were bad. Wayne could only watch as they drained the life out of her, as the sparkle in her eyes faded.

She got pregnant after a few years. She sat Al and Wayne down together in the living room to tell them, and Wayne stared at her as Al let out a laugh.

“‘S not a joke, Al,” Judith said tightly, looking at him from where she stood in front of them, wearing one of Wayne’s flannels that hung down to her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m serious. I— I haven’t been to the doctor, but I’m, like, a month late, and I’ve been sick, and I…”

“Find a doctor to get rid of it,” Al said, lifting his hands like it was obvious, and Judith looked at him seriously, her eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m keeping it.”

“No, you’re fucking not.”

”Yes, I am,” she said adamantly, crossing her arms, her shoulders hunched uncomfortably.

“Why the hell would you keep it—”

“Because it’s my fucking baby, Allen.”

“It’s mine too,” Al snapped loudly, standing up and looking down at Judith. She pursed her lips, setting her jaw defiantly. “You think I wanna fuckin’ baby?”

“Allen, shut the fuck up,” Wayne yelled, and Judith and Al both startled, looking at him, wide-eyed. Al turned away, burying his face in his hands as he swore under his breath, and Judith glanced at him before looking back at Wayne. “Judy, c’mere.”

She sniffled, moving to sit on the softer table across from Wayne, who moved closer, sitting on the edge of his seat and held his hand out. Judith was trembling as she slid her hands into his, looking at him anxiously.

“You’re sure?” he asked softly. She nodded, her lip quivering. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath. Ran his thumbs over her knuckles.

She waited. Al watched.

“You gotta stay off the drugs,” Wayne said, looking into her eyes again, raising his eyebrows and nodding, prompting her into a response, and she nodded. “Keep that baby healthy.”

She nodded again.

“We’ll go to a doctor,” he said, nodding with her. “Figure out whatever we need to.”

“Okay,” she said. Her voice wobbled, and she looked like a teenager again, and Wayne ached.

She fell asleep early that night. Wayne pulled Al into the living room, holding him by the front of his shirt.

“You’re off the drugs too,” he said firmly, looking into Al’s eyes, and Al tried to push his hand away, scoffing.

“C’mon, Wayne—”

”Look at me,” Wayne snapped, pulling him in roughly by the fabric of his shirt, and Al stared at him, eyes wide. Wayne had never gotten physical with him. He’d yelled, and he’d dodged Al’s hands, but he’d never retaliated, never initiated like this. “Every fucking cent you spend on drugs is going to this baby, you understand me?”

“Wayne.”

“Every penny, Al,” he said firmly, his voice shaking, his throat tight. “You fucking got me?”

Al stared at him. His breath smelled like cigarettes. He nodded.

Wayne shoved him away, forcing him to stumble back, and he took a shaky breath.

“You forced her into this life,” he said, his voice thick. His eyes were burning. “And you forced her to stay, you hear me? You owe her fucking everything.”

Al didn’t say anything. He got drunk that night, drunk enough to confess to Wayne that he never loved Judith. That he just thought she was pretty, that she was naive enough to stay. That he couldn’t kick her out when her parents abandoned her, not when she gave him those doe eyes of hers. Wayne told him to shut up.

Judith’s pregnancy went smoothly for the most part. Wayne did everything he could for her. He mentioned in passing that his sister-in-law was pregnant to his co-workers, who were so taken by the small insight into Wayne’s otherwise private life that a few of them scraped together a care package: diapers, baby powder, some second-hand toys and a stroller. When they dropped it off at the trailer, Judith cried.

There wasn’t time to get her to the hospital when her water broke.

Wayne had done as much research as possible just in case, and he still felt so fucking lost. Didn’t know how to help her, how to comfort her as she screamed and wailed and sobbed for God to have mercy on her. She’d cried Al’s name, and he came to her. Held her hand and pressed kisses to her knuckles, and he looked scared when Wayne looked up at him from between Judith’s legs. His eyes were wide, glassy like he was crying, looking at Judith like he was in awe, and even in the heat of the moment, even as he pulled a human body from Judith’s, Wayne knew he’d never see Al like that again.

Edward Samuel Munson was born at sunrise. The sun shone on him as he cried for the first time, wrapped in his mother’s arms, tiny and pink and covered in blood, wailing as she whispered brokenly to him, face sparkling with tears.

My baby, my baby, my baby, my baby, my baby…

Wayne was too old to be sitting on the floor, but he did anyway, leaning against the coffee table with his hands hanging in his lap. They were covered in blood, glistening in the sunlight. It was under his nails, seeping into the lines of his palms and his fingerprints, and he didn’t think he would ever get rid of it.

He looked up at Al. He was rubbing his face, covering his mouth, anxiously, the same way Wayne did.

“Al,” Judith choked, finally looking up at him. “Look at him, look at our baby— Isn’t he beautiful?”

Al slid off the sofa to sit next to her, his arm around her, and he looked at the baby in her arms like he was scared of it.

It could have been a beautiful image. It should have been a beautiful image. Mother and father. First born son.

But there was a pit in Wayne’s stomach, deep and vast, and swallowed his insides whole. He felt fucking sick, the smell of blood and piss in his nose, soaked into the blanket he and Judith were atop. He was shaking.

Judith was rambling like she was high, muttering under her breath to Al.

“Look at our son, he’s so beautiful. That’s our baby, Allen, ‘s our boy. God, look at his hair, Allen, look at his little nose, oh my god…”

Al looked at Wayne, and their eyes met. And Wayne wanted to say something, wanted to tell him that it ends with them, whatever fucking curse has plagued the Munsons for generations. Munson men meeting nice girls from nice families with nice futures, and ruining them. Having boys and leaving them behind.

Munsons always have boys. There aren’t any aunts on their father’s side.

Wayne had wanted to say it. This ends with us, you understand? We’re both fucking sticking around for this boy, for Judith.

But Al’s never been one to make promises, much less keep them.

Judith slept early. Al went out.

Wayne looked at little Edward, asleep on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. He was a tiny thing, squishy and pink and skinnier than Wayne had expected. The doctor that had come by said he would fatten up after some breastfeeding.

The silence felt deafening after everything. Wayne could hear himself breathing.

He sat there until his entire body hurt, his joints and muscles stiff, but he didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to leave the baby alone. Didn’t want the baby to feel alone.

He traced the seams of the blanket wrapped around the baby lightly before he let his hand fall to rest on his belly, feeling it rise and fall slowly with every breath, and his entire body ached. This little baby, so precious and sweet and tiny. He didn’t deserve what this life was going to give him.

Judith went to the doctor a lot after having the baby. Not just for her body. She’d changed, in her head. She was quieter than she used to be, kept herself tucked away in the bedroom or in the corner of the sofa while she fed the baby. But she didn’t look at him the way she did when he was born.

She looked at him. Not gazing, not admiring. Staring blankly, analyzing. Glaring.

“He doesn’t like me,” she told Wayne one day while Al was out.

“What makes you say that?”

The baby was in an old bassinet, staring up at the ceiling like it was something beautiful, his hands waving in the air.

“I just know,” Judith said, looking down at her lap and picking at her nails. “He doesn’t smile at me.”

“He’s still learning to smile, Judy,” Wayne told her gently. “Be patient.”

She didn’t say anything.

Wayne went with her to the doctor. Nonclassical depression, he said. It happens to mothers after childbirth sometimes, he said. Be patient with her, he said.

Wayne did his best. Brought her tea and books when she wouldn’t get out of bed, brought the baby to her to feed him, to hold him, to bond with him. She did her best. Wayne knew she did.

“He won’t stop crying,” she whined one day after calling Wayne back into the room to take the baby. She looked exhausted. She looked old.

“That’s all he knows to do,” Wayne said quietly, picking the baby up and cradling him to his chest, rocking him absently as he sat on the bed beside her.

The baby stopped crying. Judith started crying.

“He hates me,” she sobbed. “Why does he hate me?”

“He doesn’t hate you, sweetheart,” Wayne said softly, touching her arm, and she leaned into the touch, crying as she fell against him. He held her. She drifted off, her tears soaked into Wayne’s shirt.

He stayed still, holding the two of them, listening to them breathing, feeling their warm breaths on his neck. He could feel their heartbeats. They felt small.

He lowered Judith when he heard the front door open. Laid her down as carefully as he could, holding the baby to his chest, and he went to find Al, who was kicking his shoes off, holding a brown paper bag.

“Al.”

”Hm?”

He was off. A little tipsy, or a little high. Wayne couldn’t tell which.

“Sober up,” he said. “‘Nd go hold your girl.”

”What’s wrong with her?”

Wayne stared at him in disdain. He brushed his thumb back and forth over the baby’s back.

“She’s depressed, Al.”

Al had sighed. Dropped his bag. Went to the kitchen to make coffee and rinse his face with cold water.

She started using again around the time Edward started walking.

Little Eddie. Hobbling around like a drunk, eyes bright and shining, arms outstretched as he toddled toward Wayne, sitting on the ground with his hands out. Eddie made his way over and collapsed against Wayne’s chest with a healthy giggle, and Wayne smiled in a way that made his cheeks feel sore. He looked at Judith and the smile faltered.

She was looking. Picking at her short fingernails. Her gaze was blank, almost unsettling, and Wayne looked away, back at Eddie, forcing his smile to widen, clapping when Eddie did.

Wayne watched the light fade from her eyes again. Watched her become quiet and distant, watched her become a shell of the girl she used to be. And he couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the depression or some vicious combination of the two, but he didn’t think it really mattered.

His girl was disappearing right before his eyes, and nothing he did helped, nothing he did mattered. He couldn’t save her.

And it broke his heart that Eddie never knew any different. Never got to remember the way his own mother’s eyes shined at him with love, the way she murmured to him. My baby, my baby…

Eddie grew up. He knew his mother as Mommy, then Ma. Wayne picked him up from daycare, and Eddie showed Judith his colorful drawings, beaming brightly, and she looked at him.

That’s all she did. Looked.

Eddie was undeterred.

He was such a creative kid. He loved color, loved music, loved dancing. He danced funny, wiggling this way and that, eyes closed. He liked the same music as Wayne. He read books, and Wayne wondered where it all came from, all his brains. He loved the library, always had at least three books checked out at a time.

And he never seemed to pay any mind to the looks people gave him in town. He barely even seemed to notice.

And those fucking looks. Stares and glares and scowls. Menacing. Wayne noticed them, of course he did. He was a Munson. The looks were for him too.

Everyone in town knew who they were. Wayne had to pay the price for his stupid brother’s reputation.

But it was worth it to see Eddie’s joy at little things: new books in the library, colorful wildflower along the road, new shirts, hand-me-downs from Wayne’s coworkers whose own children outgrew them. Eddie was such a happy kid. He brought his mom picked flowers even though he knew she wouldn’t react to them, ranted and raved about his favorite books to Wayne.

Wayne may not have been meant to be human, but Eddie was what humans were meant to be.

He was loud. He was bold and bright and everything Wayne could ever want him to be. He missed Judith’s smile, missed her doe eyes, and Eddie was blessed with both. Wayne wanted to keep Eddie smiling as long as he possibly could.

Eddie got quieter when he was in elementary school, and Wayne could only watch as he became sullen and angry. As he came home from school with fresh bruises and torn jeans. As his shell grew harder and he grew colder and meaner. And Wayne was reminded that Eddie was a Munson.

Wayne could never bring himself to act like his own father, who told Wayne the bullying and harassment were his own fault. He could have changed his own appearance, his own mannerisms, to make people leave alone. To make them think he was normal. Wayne knew what it was like to live behind a mask. He didn’t want Eddie to dull and fade the way he did.

But even though he never said it, Al did. Sighed heavily when Eddie came home with a black eye and said, “What’d you do now?”

“Nothin’ he could’ve done could warrant something like this, Al,” Wayne had said, beckoning to Eddie to analyze the wound, looking at the way it was swollen and already flushing with color. “You tell a teacher, Ed?”

”Nobody cares,” Eddie said sullenly, knocking Wayne’s hand aside as he reached up to touch the skin.

“Go get the peas from the freezer,” Wayne said, watching him go.

Even when Eddie was quieter, he was different from the other kids. He looked at things differently, in a way Wayne didn’t know how to explain, even to himself. Eddie’s eyes were wide and almost vacant even when he was paying attention, even when he was focused. It was unsettling in a way to most people. Not to Wayne. Never to Wayne.

The trailer became quieter than it should have been with four people. But Al and Judith were always high, and Judith wasn’t giggly and silly when she was high anymore. She was almost catatonic, eyes half-shut as she stared at the ceiling, her hair frizzy and unkempt, a little bit matted because she never brushed it anymore. Eddie was used to it. Talked to her even though she wouldn’t respond, even though she just looked at him blankly, like she didn’t even recognize him even though they shared a face.

“I’m going to the library,” Eddie said after icing his face for a few minutes, and Wayne watched him go again, watched him put his shoes back on and let the door swing shut behind himself.

“Swear that kid’s a faggot,” Al muttered. Wayne clicked his tongue and reached out to smack the back of his head.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Forgot how soft you are.”

“Shut up, Al.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Al said, scoffing. “He’s a pansy.”

“Shut up,” Wayne said again. “Doubt he even knows what faggot means.”

“I’m sure he knows deep down—”

”Allen.”

Al scoffed again. Lifted his hands in surrender.

Wayne’s always hated hearing him talk like that. Al used to accuse him of being one himself, insisted that’s why he’s so sensitive about it. Wayne always just told him to shut up.

Eddie was just a kid. His parents didn’t treat him like one.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne?” he asked a while later, looking over the table at Wayne, who looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and humming. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm, ‘course.” His voice was muffled around the pencil between his lips, and he lay the newspaper down to focus on Eddie. ”Go ‘head.”

“…What’s a faggot?”

Wayne blinks at him.

“Why do you ask that?”

Eddie pushed his hair back. It looked like Judith’s, dark and curly and beautiful. It was overgrown, too long for a boy. Not that Eddie ever cared.

“I heard Dad call me that,” he said quietly, like Al was going to be on the other side of the door across the trailer, listening. “Heard you say I didn’t know what it meant. What’s it mean?”

Wayne looked at him. Twisted the pencil in his fingers.

“I know he doesn’t like me,” Eddie said softly, his fingers tangling. His pencil had been set aside, next to the scraps of old homework he was drawing on the backs of. “I know it’s a mean word, I just… The boys at school call me it, too. Do you think they know what it means?”

Wayne stifled a sigh, looking at him. His cheek was healing, the bruise colorful and softer now than it was the previous week, and he was precious.

“Some of them, maybe,” Wayne said gently. “Bet a lot’ve ‘em don’t.”

“Why do they say it, then?” Eddie asked, tucking his legs between himself and the table, frowning.

“They know it’s mean,” Wayne said. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Eds, okay?”

“I don’t use words if I don’t know what they mean.”

“You’re smarter than the rest of ‘em,” Wayne said, looking at him across the table seriously, and Eddie gave him a beautiful smile, bright and warm. “Now, fifteen across, hm? ‘Eye for an eye, for instance.’ Fuck’s that mean?”

”Revenge?” Eddie said after a brief moment of contemplation, and Wayne took a moment to count the boxes.

“Goddamn, I don’t know where you get your brains, kid.”

Eddie beamed.

Al and Judith got worse. They lost weight. Their skin dragged, marked with scratches and scabs, their teeth became grey and yellow, and their eyes dulled. They got meaner.

Wayne tried to keep everything as normal as he could for Eddie, but he knew over the years that he couldn’t protect him from everything. He would come home before Eddie got out of school to clean up after Al and Judith, to gather discarded needles and bottles and lighters, to open windows and get fresh air in. To tug their unconscious bodies to the bedroom from the living room. To clean up any bodily fluids or stains.

It was a Wednesday when it went differently. Wayne had long dreaded the day that his routine changed, scared to come home to unresponsive bodies, but it was different than he’d expected.

Al’s car was out front, the trunk open, and as Wayne passed by, he could see boxes in the backseat. Judith was in the passenger seat, asleep or unconscious, her hair covering her face, and Wayne lingered for a moment just to look at her. She looked younger when she slept.

The door was hanging open. Wayne went inside hesitantly, pulling his bag off, looking inside. Al was at the kitchen counter, stuffing cans into a duffle bag.

“Al?”

“Mm.”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re headed out.”

Headed out, he said. Like they were going to get groceries or gas, like they were going for a walk or to see some friends. Like they would be back, like they weren’t leaving.

“Headed out,” Wayne repeated, dropping his bag and setting it aside. Al hummed affirmatively.

Wayne trained himself out of high hopes a long time ago, but he couldn’t help the small glimmer that formed in his chest.

“Headed out to… to rehab, or…?”

Al scoffed. Shot a look up at Wayne and kept packing.

“Al,” Wayne said. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” Al said with a sigh. “We’re just going.”

Wayne looked at him.

He looked so light, he sounded light. He sounded almost fucking hopeful, like he was going on some grand adventure, he sounded like he did when they were kids, when he whispered to Wayne, I swear to the good lord.

Wayne didn’t recognize him anymore. He looked somehow older than Wayne did, his hair a mess, his skin rough and scratched away, his bones brittle. He’d wasted away his life like this, years and years tossed aside just for fix after fix after fix. And Wayne’s eyes burned. Because his little brother was a mess. Because he couldn’t do anything about it.

“You’re leaving,” Wayne said. “Like Dad did, you’re just— you’re just going?”

“Yeah,” Al said lightly, nodding, like it was fine. “I’m leaving.”

“What…”

Al glanced at him. Zipped up his bag. Started toward the door. He was already wearing his shoes. He wasn’t wearing a jacket even though it was cold out.

“Wait, st— stop,” Wayne said, stepping in front of him, stopping him. “Christ, Al, just…”

He rubbed his face in exasperation, and Al sighed heavily, like Wayne was wasting his time.

“Wayne, just get outta the way.”

”No, you— What? Christ, Al, you’re just fuckin’ going? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Al said. “I’m done here, Wayne, I hate this town.”

“You hate this town,” Wayne said. “The town I fuckin’ brought you to because you begged me to get you outta Tennessee? The town I fuckin’ paid for you to come to when we were kids, you fucking hate this town?”

“I was sixteen,” Al said firmly. “I didn’t wanna come to fuckin’ Indiana, Wayne, I wanted to get away from the woman that beat me with an empty beer bottle every night—”

”I got you away from her,” Wayne yelled. Al startled back.

Wayne’s never been loud like this. Never yelled or screamed, never fought back so hard. But he was willing to fight now, willing to find what little energy he had to fight for Al and Judy.

“I brought you here,” Wayne said. “I saved my fucking money for two fucking years to bring you with me, Al, and you just wanna fucking go?”

“Jesus, Wayne, yes.” Al was red-faced. “I just wanna fucking go. Christ.”

“How can you do this to me?”

“I don’t fucking care, Wayne.”

Wayne looked at him. His throat was tight.

“Fuck’s that mean?”

“Christ.” Al dropped his bag and looked at Wayne intently, grabbing him by the shoulders. “I don’t why I gotta tell you this, but apparently I do. Wayne.”

“Al,” Wayne said pleadingly. Al ignored him.

“I don’t care if I hurt you, Wayne. I don’t care if I break your damn heart, because I’m not a good fucking person.”

”Al.”

“I’m not gonna fucking change,” Al snapped, letting go of him, his voice raising abruptly, and for a brief moment he looked like John. “I didn’t change for Judith, and I didn’t change for my own fuckin’ son, Wayne, what the fuck makes you think I’d change for you?”

He shoved Wayne back by his shoulders, and Wayne stumbled, looking at him desperately. And Al’s anger faded just as quickly as it had come, and Wayne realized with a pit in his stomach that he was high.

“I’m a damn Munson, Wayne,” Al said.

He said it almost sadly, an unchangeable fact. His eyes, usually dull and lifeless, were shining now like he was going to cry, like he was feeling this, whatever this was.

“So am I,” Wayne said quietly.

Al smiled a little, tilting his head almost fondly.

“You’ve always been different from the rest of us,” he said. “Don’t think you were meant to be a Munson, Wayne.”

He let go of Wayne and bent down to pick up his bag again, swinging it over his shoulder. He moved to walk past Wayne, opening the door.

“Leave Judy,” Wayne said desperately, turning to look at him, his voice breaking. “Al, just… If you have to go, leave her here, please, she… she’s still got time.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Al said quietly, looking back at Wayne, his hand lingering on the doorknob, one foot outside. “She’s worse than you think, Wayne.”

”Let her get better, then,” Wayne said desperately. “There’s— There’s a good rehab clinic in Indy, I’ve got pamphlets somewhere in here, just stay another night, Al—”

”No,” Al said softly, shaking his head. “‘M not leaving her behind, Wayne.”

Wayne’s lip quivered. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

“You just don’t wanna die alone.”

Al shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Al, if you walk out that door, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Al looked at him.

His gaze was dull again. Vacant. Empty and soulless.

“I know,” he said. “I don’t care.”

Wayne’s vision blurred. The feeling was unfamiliar after so long, after decades of dry eyes.

”You’re leavin’ a boy without a father,” Wayne said as Al headed back out the door, his voice trembling just as much as his hands, his throat so tight it broke his voice.

Al looked at the sky, exasperated, sighing heavily. He stood there for a moment, unmoving, eerily still before he turned around and looked at Wayne.

And he didn’t look like Al anymore. Didn’t look like Wayne’s little brother, the kid that used to call him a sissy and tug on his hair to piss him off. Didn’t look like anyone Wayne knew.

Wayne broke apart. He’d only gone two years without Al in his life, and he didn’t even remember those years. He’d never known life before Al, only known life during him. And Al was looking him in the eye like this, unwavering and uncaring, empty, forcing into his hands a life after Al. And he hated him. Jesus Christ, he hated him, and he hated him more for leaving like this, like their father had, but he loved him too.

“No, I’m not,” Al said softly.

And then he was gone.

The door swung shut behind him, and Wayne couldn’t move. He stared at the door, at the cloudy windows, at the sunlight. It was so quiet.

He exhaled as he turned, looking around the living room. There were needles and rubber bands on the ground next to the sofa, empty glass bottles and discarded cups, scattered leftover traces of Al and Judy.

Wayne’s chest went tight. He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut as tightly as he could, until colors flashed behind his eyelids, and he felt lightheaded. Sick. Shaking, and trembling, and lost. Up was down and down was up and there was a compass spinning aimlessly in his chest. He fell.

He covered his ears with his hands. Pressed his palms into his eyes until it hurt. Lowered his head until his forehead pressed to the floor and listened to himself breathe.

He thought it might have been a heart attack. Thought Eddie would come home to find his parents gone and his uncle lifeless on the ground. He laid flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling, a hand on his chest.

And he cried.

He cried until his face was sore, until he ran out of tears, until his head aches, throbbed under his skull. Until his throat hurt. And he pushed himself up, forced himself into the bathroom to wash his face, into the kitchen to down four glasses of water, and into the living room to clean up.

Just for a little bit, he pretended. Pretended Al and Judy were in the bedroom as he tidied up, gathering the needles into the sharps bin he kept in the kitchen, went outside to toss the bottles in the recycling bin. Threw the rubber bands away. Vacuumed. Sorted the blankets on the sofa.

He was in the kitchen when Eddie came home from school. He could see outside the window, and he watched as Eddie waved to his friend’s dad in the car. Wayne could never remember Eddie’s friend’s names. This one was Jerry or Jeff or Jack or something.

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie said lightly when he came inside, kicking his shoes off and nudging them out of the way. Wayne looked at him over the counter.

He was thirteen. Lean and lanky and cartoonish. He was growing his hair out after Al shaved his head a few years ago, angry that his boy had hair like a girl’s, and it was wild, falling in his face no matter how much he pushed it back. He’d taken to using bandanas to keep it out of the way.

”How was school?” Wayne asked, his voice rough, his hands shaking as he set a plate in the drying rack.

“Eh.”

Eddie walked past him, down the hall to his parents’ room. He always had a sort of bounce in his step, like he had too much energy to just walk.

And Wayne kept washing the dishes. Heard the bedroom door open and shut. Heard the blank silence of Eddie taking in the empty bed. Heard him come back.

”Wayne?”

”Yeah, Ed.”

“Where are my parents?”

”…They left.”

He set another plate aside.

“Left… to Indy?”

Wayne turned to look at him, and he immediately wished he hadn’t. Because Eddie’s eyes were shining hopefully, almost excitedly, and he looked like Judy.

“I— I saw the pamphlets,” Eddie said quickly. “That you had, the ones for that one clinic in Indy— Did they…”

”No,” Wayne said softly, looking back at the sink, scrubbing a cup clean. “They’re not goin’ to Indy.”

“Oh.”

Eddie was quiet. Wayne rinsed the cup and set it aside. Rinsed the sponge of soap and squeezed all the water out of it. Rinsed his hands.

He looked at Eddie as he shut the water off, and then he wished he hadn’t again. He was looking at the ground, his eyes downcast, his eyebrows furrowed a little like he was thinking, like he was worried about something. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. The hoodie was too big for him, bought with his growth spurts in mind.

And he looked up at Wayne. Blinked. His expression softened like there was a switch in one of his pockets.

“What’s for dinner?”

Wayne set the towel down.

“There’s a pizza in the freezer.”

Eddie smiled.

“Cool.”

They didn’t talk about it. Didn’t mention Allen or Judith, the missing car, the missing clothes and food. Judy took her favorite blanket with her, and Wayne pretended he didn’t miss it.

After time, they felt like a myth. Allen and Judith Munson. (Even if Judith never actually took their last name legally; she might as well have been a Munson. Fucked for life.) They felt like ghosts, haunting the trailer, lingering in every doorway like they were watching, waiting for Wayne and Eddie to just acknowledge them, to look into the air and say hello. They never did.

Life went on. Wayne still led a quiet life. Didn’t tell his coworkers that they’d left, but they all knew anyway. It was a small town, and Al was notorious. His absence was loud.

Eddie got older. Got his first tattoo, a stupid spider on his chest that he was so excited about that Wayne couldn’t even be annoyed or disappointed. Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, lit up the entire room.

His hair got longer. Wayne’s got scarce.

A kid in town disappeared and was found dead, and then he came back. Wayne didn’t get involved except to partake in the search before the body was found. Another kid went missing, some teenager named Barbara Holland. Her name and face were on the news, a lovely photo of her smiling softly, gazing at something behind the camera. She wore big glasses and her face was freckled, and Wayne’s chest ached for her parents.

“We just want our girl home,” Mr Holland said, his voice shaking, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Just— Just please, if you know something, if you’ve seen something, please tell us. Please.”

Mrs Holland was crying. Sobbing. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Wayne could tell she was an otherwise very composed woman, her shirt crisp and ironed, buttoned up neatly. She was wearing expensive-looking slacks and shoes, and her wedding ring sparkled. But none of it mattered to her then. She was crying incoherently, holding her husband’s shirt in his fists.

“You think this town is cursed?” Eddie asks. He was older than Barbara, but Wayne ached just the same at the thought of Eddie vanishing like that, disappearing completely.

“What makes you say that?” Wayne said. It was a stupid question. Eddie hummed indifferently like he was shrugging.

“Heard some people sayin’ it. All that shit with the kid that died and came back. Barb. This town’s just…”

He trailed off. Wayne watched as the Hollands clutched at each other as the reporter spoke of Barbara’s last known whereabouts, some rich kid’s house at a little party. Something her parents wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t gone missing.

“I don’t believe in that shit,” Wayne said quietly. “I think people are cruel. And selfish. And cruelty and selfishness are contagious.”

“Barbara is in her junior year of high school here at Hawkins High,” the reporter said, perfectly poised. “She hopes to graduate as valedictorian or salutatorian alongside her best friend. If you have any information to report, please—”

”Don’t ever let them infect you, Eds,” Wayne said quietly. Eddie had scoffed, but he was nodding when Wayne looked at him. “Think that’s funny?”

“Mm. Usually I’m the one people think is contagious.”

Wayne looked back at the television.

“If kindness is contagious, I haven’t seen any evidence yet.”

Eddie scoffed again. The reporter kept talking, rattling off phone numbers to call.

“Would you look for me if I went missing?” Eddie asked.

Wayne’s stomach twisted, and he looked at him again, turning to look at the side of his face. He had freckles on his nose like Judith did. His hair was finally growing out to the length he liked it, and he’d cut himself some bangs that looked unexpectedly good.

“I’d walk through Hell to find you if you went missing, Eds,” Wayne said seriously. Eddie looked at him, blinking like he was surprised. “I’d turn the damn world upside down, you understand me?”

Eddie blinked again. His lips twitched into a little smile, and he nodded.

“‘S nice,” he said quietly, looking back at the television. The camera was back on the Hollands, clinging to each other, and the microphone was close enough to them that Wayne could hear Mrs Holland crying under her breath, her voice muffled by her husband’s shoulder.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

“C’mere,” Wayne said gruffly, his throat tight, and he reached for Eddie.

Who usually would make a sarcastic comment that Wayne was too sentimental, too mushy for an old man like him. But he just fell into Wayne’s arms like he was ready for it, hiding his head in Wayne’s chest like he was littler than he was, and Wayne held him until the news ended.

Barbara was dead. If Wayne was a religious man, he’d have prayed for her parents.

Wayne never believed in things like curses, despite the consistent destruction that’s perpetually in the path of the Munsons, but he gradually understood why people believed the curse about Hawkins. Nothing ever went right in this town. Even the new mall, the brand-new symbol of progress and thriving capitalism, was a pile of ash and rubble within two years of its opening.

He stayed out of it. Minded his own, kept out of trouble. Eddie didn’t have the same survival instincts.

He was a stupid kid. Taunted the others in town by making devil horns and cackling like a witch, drawing as much attention to himself as he could to draw it away from the other kids in town that the bullies targeted. He was quiet as a child, but when he started high school, he seemed to realize that he could scare the other kids off.

Wayne knew what kind of person he was. He knew he was sweet and silly and kind, knew he was a darling that didn’t deserve the shit he got.

Nobody else knew him like that.

He was a weirdo, a freak, and he embraced it in a way that Wayne fucking admired. He was so bold, so brave and unapologetic, making the most of what little he had, what little he was given. He wasn’t scared to exist out loud.

It broke Wayne’s heart that everybody had these stupid misconceptions about Eddie. He hated that everyone thought he was scary, even if it kept him a little safer.

People acted like Eddie was dangerous, like he was a ruthless predator, but Eddie was soft. He was sick the first time Al brought home a dead deer, trembling and frozen as he watched its head loll around lifelessly. He trapped spiders and beetles under cups and let them outside, watching them skitter away from him with a smile. He cried when he saw roadkill.

Which Wayne thought to himself as he stood in his living room, his eyes on the body in front of him.

The ground was stained with blood. The poor girl, she was a cheerleader. Wayne recognized her little pleated skirt and her sweater, and her hair was up in a ponytail, and she looked so damn young. Her eyes were open, but they were white, like they’d rolled back into her head, and there were streams of blood down her cheeks. Her jaw was wrenched open, broken and crooked, and her bones were broken like twigs, her limbs split in these awful, unnatural angles.

It was silent. The overhead light flickered. Wayne exhaled shakily.

Eddie didn’t have the guts to do something like this.

But someone did. And they took Eddie with them, whoever it was, they had Eddie. They had Wayne’s boy.

His hands shook as he picked up the phone and dialled 911, and his voice shook as he spoke to them, and then he waited outside with a cigarette, looking at the orange sky, at the rising sun, and he wondered where God was. If He was watching Wayne back.

He was questioned. Of course he was. He’d never caused any trouble around town, but he was a Munson. Al’s reputation lingered even after he was gone.

The interrogation room was cold. His chair was stiff, and the table was wobbly, and the air was foggy with his cigarette smoke.

“I don’t know where he is,” he said for the fifth time, his voice still shaky, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “He wasn’t there when I got home, his van was gone.”

“Right,” the cop said dryly, eyeing his notes. “…So you got back after work, and…”

Wayne took a long drag from his cigarette.

“Opened the door,” he said, eyes downcast, resting his forehead on his hands. “Smelled the blood.”

“Right.”

“Called Eddie’s name. Turned on the light.”

“Right.”

“Saw the girl.” Wayne’s throat tightened. “Called for help.”

”And you didn’t do anything between finding the body and calling?”

“No,” Wayne said quietly. “Took me a minute to… to process it, but…”

The cop hums and looks back at his notes.

“He’s in trouble,” Wayne said after a moment, leaning to look the cop in the eye. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The cop sighed heavily, and he set his elbows on the table between them, looking at Wayne. “Look. We both know your nephew is capable of something like this—”

”He’s not,” Wayne interrupted. “He’s not capable of something like this, he’s just a kid—”

”He’s a grown man,” the cop said dryly, like he was bored. “I’ve seen him. He’s strong, isn’t he?”

”He…” Wayne squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his cheek. Ash fell from his cigarette to the table, dusting warm over his hand. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Eddie was strong. Always lugging around speakers and amplifiers, lifting the sofa so Wayne can vacuum under it, hugging Wayne around his waist and picking him up to set him out of the way.

“He’s squeamish,” Wayne said finally. The cop raised an eyebrow. “I had an accident at the plant and got some stitches, and he damn near threw up when he saw it.”

“When was this?”

“Last year.”

“Mm.”

The cop sighed, looking at his notes, and he made a face, tilting his head, before he looked back at Wayne, lacing his fingers in front of himself. Wayne lifted his cigarette to his lips.

“Y’know Bundy had a girlfriend,” he said quietly. Wayne blinked, exhaling the smoke shakily, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Fuck’s that gotta do with this?”

The cop sighed, tilting his head at Wayne like he was annoyed that he had to spell his point out, like Wayne was stupid.

“People like your nephew,” he said softly, almost kindly, like he felt bad for Wayne. “They’re good at hiding what kind of people they are. And people can love them, and care for them, and you think you know him so well, Mr Munson, but you don’t.”

Wayne shook his head, his eyes burning, but the cop kept talking.

“He’s been lying to you, Munson.”

“He can’t fuckin’ lie for the life of him.”

”You think that.”

Wayne shook his head again, and he put his face in his hands.

”He might be hurt,” he said quietly, almost muttering to himself. “He’s fuckin’ scared.”

“Mr Munson.”

“Y’all are sittin’ here, letting the town go on a goddamn witch hunt for my boy,” Wayne said, looking up at him. “Because he’s fuckin’ weird, right? Because he’s got long hair and tattoos, he’s gotta be able to kill that poor girl, right?”

“Mr Munson. You know the things your nephew’s done.”

Wayne shook his head. His vision was blurry, and he fought his tears back, his hands shaking so much more ash fell to the table.

“He’s not like his old man,” he said weakly. The cop just looked at him.

“Being like his mother isn’t much better.”

“You never knew her,” Wayne said defensively before he caught himself, shaking his head, pressing against his eyes again. “Eddie’s not like her either, man, he— he’s his own person, he’s a sweetheart, I swear.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Wayne said, his voice finally rising with frustration, with rage. His hand slammed on the table, and the cop just watched, uncaring. “Where’s my fucking son?”

“Mr Munson,” the cop said slowly, carefully, looking into Wayne’s eyes. “I assure you, we’re doing everything we can to find your nephew. Can’t let this happen to anyone else.”

He gestures to the photo on the table between them, the staticky photo of the poor girl’s body, crumpled like a discarded tissue in front of the old pull-out sofa in the living room. Wayne felt sick.

There was something wrong with Hawkins. There always has been.

Wayne didn’t understand any of it, didn’t have any clue how so much fucking bullshit could collect in such a small area, but he couldn’t do anything but wait. There were men that stood at his door at the new house, which was out in the middle of fucking nowhere, just outside Hawkins, but they didn’t speak. Wouldn’t tell Wayne what was happening, wouldn’t tell him why they were there, what they were guarding. They wouldn’t tell him what the scientists were looking for in the trailer with their fancy machines and hazmat suits. They wouldn’t tell him where Eddie was.

One always accompanied him when he went out for anything, following a few feet behind him as he got groceries, and Wayne didn’t fucking understand why. It felt like he was being monitored, like he’d done something wrong.

But the man never intervened with anything. Just watched.

The press talked to Wayne. Recognized him as a Munson and stopped him in the street as he tried to get back to his car.

But they didn’t ask him questions like they asked the Hollands questions when their girl went missing. They didn’t ask him for a statement of some kind, didn’t ask how he was feeling about his nephew having vanished. They didn’t give him an opportunity to look at the camera and beg Eddie to come home.

“Why did Edward do it?”

“Have you seen your nephew recently? Has he contacted you?”

“Where is he, Munson?”

Wayne’s hands shook. This was gonna send him into an early grave, he just knew it. A heart attack, a stroke. Something. And Eddie was gonna home to find that his absence fucking killed Wayne.

Wayne grit his teeth and clenched his jaw and he didn’t say anything.

The house he was in was decrepit. It was bigger than any place Wayne had ever stayed before, two floors, but the stairs were broken, falling apart. Wayne could swear they were trying to kill him.

He was pretty sure it was just an abandoned house. Out in the outskirts of town, broken windows and overgrown weeds crawling their way through the cracks in the porch. A house of wood rot and water stains.

They wouldn’t let him leave.

He tried. Packed a bag with a flashlight and a jacket and his old pocketknife, ready to go find his boy and bring him home, and they stopped him. A hand to his chest, pushing him back inside gently like they felt badly.

He fought. He pushed past them, shoved them aside. He argued and cursed and struggled, but he was an old man. Worry had aged him. They pushed him back inside easily and locked the door shut and they ignored him banging on it, trying to push it open. They ignored him crying.

He hated the house. Hated the stupid door with the lock on the outside, hated the cracked windows that wouldn’t budge even when he pushed and pulled at them with his entire body weight. He hated the cabinets that hung on their hinges and the few cans of food he’d been allowed to bring with him. Hated the empty bedroom across from his, the broken bedframe and the uneven floorboards. Hated the dim, flickering lights and the dark corners in every room.

Hated that the house was in the middle of nowhere, and no one could hear him yelling for Eddie. And he hated that it didn’t matter even if someone did hear him.

It wasn’t until after the earthquakes that they left him alone. That they decided it didn’t matter if Wayne went out and looked, if he searched until he dropped dead.

The earthquakes ripped Hawkins apart at the seams, destroyed the trailer park and turned the library in town to rubble. Wayne sat in his car outside what used to be his home, what was his home for over two fucking decades, and he looked at the ground, torn open almost unnaturally, and he’d never known a despair like this.

His entire life had been ripped up from the roots, turned inside out and upside down. Everything he’d ever had was gone except a few shirts and Eddie’s guitar. He’d taken it when the scientists and military fucks had kicked him out of his own home, kept it in the living room propped against the wall.

He’d never been a fighter. But somehow he was still tired of fighting, tired of running and surviving. He wanted to be done.

He was an old man.

And Eddie was gone. All Wayne needed, all he wanted, all that he had to fight for.

Wayne kept replacing the missing posters, his heart splitting a little more each time he saw the horrible graffiti. Pentagrams and devil horns and pitchforks. Speech bubbles with awful words in them, ugly words with arrows pointing to Eddie’s head.

The school gymnasium felt like an oddly safe place after it all. Everyone there was tired, exhausted, desperate for any kind of solace and quiet that could come with donated blankets and drip coffee in paper cups. None of them really paid Wayne any mind, even if a few of their gazes lingered on him.

None of them spoke to him except the Henderson kid.

He was a good kid. He watched Wayne cry, and he didn’t say anything about it.

Eddie’s guitar pick hung from Wayne’s neck as he took down the missing poster, pulling the thumbtacks from the paper slowly, careful not to rip it even though it didn't matter. Nobody was going to spot Eddie in town and recognize him by his hair or the Dio patch on his vest. (God, he was so excited about that patch. Sewed it into place himself.)

Wayne never washed the blood from the chain. He couldn’t bring himself to hold it under water, to watch it stain the water pink and fade. He kept it, wore it around his neck and took it off to shower to keep the blood, to keep what little he still had of Eddie.

He sat in the living room. Looked at Eddie’s guitar and held the pick and didn’t eat the food he’d prepared because he felt sick, like there was some hollow void in his gut. And he decided that he did believe in curses after all.

Because Eddie Munson got what was coming to him. His punishment just for being. He existed, and he paid for it with everything he ever had.

Wayne forgot what sunlight felt like. He stopped going to the plant, stopped answering the phone, and he wondered if he was dead too. There weren’t any men outside his door, and his coworkers never came by because Wayne never wanted to be friends with them, and nobody knew Wayne lived outside town. He had a phone, but it never rang. He laid in bed and looked at the ceiling and smoked cigarettes and drank beer, and he knew he was destroying himself, but he had nothing to stick around for.

The house was abandoned, and so was he, and nobody would find him for a good long time. The house would become nothing but its bare bones, and he would be the same, buried under the rotting frames and overgrown weeds, and it would be fine.

He wondered where Al and Judy were. If either of them were still around. If they’d seen Eddie’s face on the news and recognized him as their son. If they’d seen his face and not recognized him, if they’d just seen him as some delinquent, too far down the pit of Satanism and revenge.

He wondered if Heaven and Hell were real. Where Al and Judy were, if they’d been separated, or if Al fucked Judy up so bad they managed to stick together. If Eddie’s reunited with them or if God kept them apart for whatever twisted reason He could come up with.

It was unfair that he was the only one that lasted. That he was the only surviving Munson.

He didn’t know what day it was when there was a knock on the front door. Three gentle thuds in succession, unfamiliar after so long. Wayne thought it was November, maybe. Cold and dark and lonelier without Eddie there singing carols as obnoxiously as humanly possible.

He went downstairs, walking unsteadily, holding the crooked handrail tightly as the steps creaked. His shirt hung from his body, too big for him now.

He could hear voices outside. Quiet voices. Low and soft, almost gentle, and he usually would look through a window before opening the door, but he didn’t really care anymore. He opened the door.

The Henderson kid looked older. It had only been a few months, but he was taller now, his hair curly and reaching his shoulders. He held himself differently, shoulders squared almost defiantly.

But he was crying.

There were men behind him, a few in uniforms and one in a professional-looking jacket. His expression was light like he was forcing it to be, like he was trying to be kind to Wayne.

“What’s this?” Wayne said. He hadn’t spoken in months, and his voice was rough and scratchy in his throat. It hurt.

And the kid threw himself into Wayne’s arms, hugging him so tightly it hurt a little, but Wayne found that he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been hugged in months.

“We found him,” Dustin sobbed. “We found him, and he’s alive, Wayne, he’s…”

Wayne grabbed him by the shoulders. Looked at his face, at his glistening eyes, shining with desperation and something unreadable.

“You found him,” Wayne repeated vacantly, his voice hollow.

“He’s alive,” Dustin said again.

He’s alive.

The words sounded foreign to Wayne’s ears, like gibberish. And Dustin waited for him. Looked at him, watched him process it.

“Alive,” Wayne said. ”You said he…”

“I know,” Dustin choked, squeezing more tears out of his eyes. “I know.”

“We have some things to discuss,” the man behind Dustin said, his voice light and friendly, and Wayne looked up at him, blinking blankly. “May we come in?”

“Uhm.”

Wayne’s throat was tight, choked up by the idea of Eddie being alive. His heart beating, wherever he was.

Found him.

Wayne didn’t even know what that could have fucking meant. Found. In the ground, under a house, in someone’s fucking basement. In the cracks that formed in Hawkins, somewhere in one of the trenches around Forest Hills, tucked into himself and shaking, scared. And for some reason Wayne’s mind merged Eddie with Judith. He saw Eddie in a void, lost in the woods, wandering aimlessly, looking for the sky between bare tree branches, and his eyes were empty. Hollow and vacant. They shared a face, Eddie and Judith. The same doe eyes, the same lines around their smiles, even though Judith never got to see it.

In Wayne’s mind, Eddie fell to the ground. His bones were broken, his jaw wrenched open like that poor girl’s, and he was crying blood. And it was more sad than it was scary as Wayne watched, like coming home to find an elderly dog had passed while he’d been away. Like watching a car crash in slow motion, like watching his brother walk out the front door.

And he wondered for the first time in his life if that was what it was like to be not just a Munson, but to be human.

Jesus, he’d given his whole life for this. And maybe that’s what everyone in this fucking town had been doing, too. Not fighting, or surviving, or running, but just existing. Going through the motions. Having families and paying bills and celebrating birthdays, living solely for hope and faith and unavoidable fate.

“Mr Munson?”

Wayne blinked. Looked up at the man again. His hair was grey and white, and his eyes were a bluish green. Dustin was holding Wayne now, not embracing him, but holding him up, supporting his body, because Wayne wasn’t standing.

“He’s alive,” he repeated absently, his voice distant to his own ears.

”May we come inside?” the man said again. Wayne blinked.

“Yes,” he said roughly, forcing the word out, and he shifted his weight to stand, reaching to hold the door frame as Dustin set a hand on his chest carefully, watching him move like he was worried, and Wayne was reminded that he was old. “It’s— It’s a mess in here, I’ve been…”

“Grieving,” the man finished for him, and Wayne looked at him. He was nodding like he understood it. “It’s alright.”

Grief had never occurred to Wayne.

Men like him didn’t deserve grief. He didn’t even know the word until he was older, and he knew less what it meant. But it made sense when the word found his ears as he lingered in the doorway of the shitty dilapidated house that he had grown to accept. He only ever found it within himself to fight back when Eddie was gone. He only yelled when it mattered to Eddie, only cried when he anticipated the breakage of Eddie’s heart. He’d never had the energy to fight until he was this disaster of a human, and that fight in him was rage, and that rage was grief.

Wayne went inside.

The man, Dr Owens, was nice. He was patient with Wayne, who was slow to understand anything at all now. He had another man go out and bring food when he realized how empty the kitchen was, and he brought Wayne a glass of water to sip slowly. Dustin sat on the floor. He was still using the cane he’d had the last time Wayne saw him, and there was a black bandana tied around the handle of it that looked familiar.

It was a crock of shit.

Magic and monsters and all the nonsense that Eddie loved to talk about. Owens explained it all in scientific terms, fancy words and drawn out explanations of how it all worked, and Wayne was tired. He listened, nodding, eyes watching Owens’s mouth because his hearing had started to go, and Owens noticed. He spoke slowly. Carefully.

They were there for hours. Sitting in the living room and talking about everything that proved to Wayne that the sky was empty.

Eddie was at a hospital. Unconscious and unmoving, but breathing.

He wasn’t at Hawkins Memorial. That was too well-known, too busy. The hospital he was at was outside town, was more of a lab, and Wayne was confused by it the first time he stopped by, just a few days after learning of its existence. The building was a damn maze, built like it was created to confuse old men like Wayne. The receptionist eyed him when he stepped inside, pulling off his hat as the rush of heat washed over him, a welcome change from his house.

“Can I help you?” she asked lightly, looking up at him, a phone held between her cheek and shoulder, her glasses tilted.

“Uhm, I’m… I’m looking for Eddie. Munson,” he added, but it didn’t seem like he had to. She nodded knowingly, glancing him up and down again like the trailer park was written on him, and she flipped through the clipboard in front of him.

“You’re Wayne, I presume?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hummed a soft laugh at that, like his manners were silly, and she rummaged through a little plastic bin next to her before she pulled out a visitor pass and handed it to him.

His name was printed on it, typed out neatly next to the words Name of Visitor, and above his name, Eddie’s. Not just Eddie, but the whole thing.

Name of Patient: Edward Samuel Munson

Wayne hadn’t seen his whole name in a long time. He’d always been the baby, then Eddie.

“He’s in room two-oh-seven,” the receptionist said lightly, and he looked up at her again. “That’s on the second floor, the elevator’s right down this way.”

She gestured down the hall next to them, and he nodded.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She gave him the same soft hum, and he went. Clipped the badge on the front of his flannel and felt it flop with every step he took. The elevator was too bright, and Wayne squinted. He was still waiting to outgrow that.

He’d never liked hospitals. Not that he’d spent much time in them anyway. He could never afford to go with Al. His work paid for his stitches after the accident last year.

He knew the practicality behind the overhead lights, but that didn’t make him like it. They buzzed loudly, ringing in his head, and the floors were so smooth and shiny that they just reflected the lights brightly, and he squinted as he wandered down a hallway. His shoes clicked on the floor, the sound almost echoing around him, and nobody paid any attention to him.

Room 207 was toward the end of the hallway. The door was shut, and a piece of paper was blocking the window, and it was just a door, but it looked oddly menacing. Wayne stood outside it for a moment, looking at the numbers like he was making sure it was the right room.

And he opened the door.

There was a quiet beeping, steady and rhythmic, and the room smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol. Eddie was laying on his back, his body covered with white blankets, his arms at his sides, and he was quiet.

Wayne had expected that, of course. He knew he was in a coma. But it still hit him like a fucking slap across the face. Eddie wasn’t a quiet person. Not anymore. He even snored when he slept. Rolled back and forth and twisted his blankets around his limbs restlessly.

But he was silent here. Still.

His hair was gone. His head was shaved to the skin, and Wayne had forgotten that Eddie had a widow’s peak. The absence of his hair made his face bolder, his features sharper. His eyebrows looked thicker, his eyelashes darker, and though they’d shaved his head, he had stubble on his jaw and above his lip, and he looked old.

There were scars on his face. Shades of red and pink and purple like they were still raw even though the skin wasn’t swollen or bruised.

Wayne collapsed into the chair next to the bed, rubbing his face, covering his mouth. Eddie was wearing a hospital gown. It had short sleeves, and Wayne could see his arms. Could see the flesh that had been torn away and replaced, stapled and stitched into place, could see his tattoos and their missing ink. He’d been ravaged. Eaten alive.

It was going to make him sick. Wayne knew it. Eddie had a weak stomach.

Wayne moved the chair forward until his knees were pressed to the side of the bed, and he leaned forward. Reached for Eddie’s hand. His skin was cold. He still had his calluses.

Wayne was careful to not touch the IV on the back of his hand as he cradled it to himself, lifting it to press kisses to Eddie’s knuckles. He lifted his other hand to caress Eddie’s head, leaning forward to press kisses to his forehead. He lowered his head to Eddie’s stomach, and he cried.

He went to the hospital every day. The receptionist always saw him coming and set his visitor badge on the counter for him, and he always called her ma’am.

It was never easy to see him. To sit at his bedside in silence, holding his hand and watching as the doctors ran tests, taking Eddie’s blood and forcing his eyes open. But everything was normal.

As normal as anything could be.

Wayne found an odd comfort in the hospital. It was warm.

He mentioned this to Owens one day in passing, that the hospital was warmer than his house. That he liked the tea in the waiting room. And Owens’s face shifted into some expression that Wayne couldn’t quite read, something sort of sad.

The radiator in the living room was fixed when he got home the next day. And the kitchen was filled with groceries. Not just canned beans and corn, not just bread and peanut butter, but produce. Leafy vegetables and colorful fruits and meat in the freezer. Eggs and milk and oats.

Owens told him not to worry about it when he asked about it. Wayne still liked the tea in the waiting room of the hospital.

He took to reading to Eddie with some distant sort of hope that he might be able to hear him. Wayne read slower than Eddie did, but he hoped Eddie wouldn’t mind the way he passed between paragraphs to sip his tea and gaze at Eddie’s sleeping face.

The waiting room was always quiet, less busy than the hospital in town, but a few people stopped by. Wayne saw Dustin a few times with a red-haired girl, leading her slowly as she used a cane to feel the ground around her. Wayne recognized her from Forest Hills. Hair like that, of course he’d remember.

Most of the people in the waiting room wore white jackets like doctors or scientists. Wayne could never tell who was who, but he didn’t really care enough to ask. He was there for Eddie.

The tea was chamomile. He had at least two cups of it every time he went, and for the most part, nobody bothered him.

It was dark out when the woman approached him, smiling kindly and watching as he poured the water into his mug.

“Hello.”

He looked at her. She was wearing a long skirt that reached her shoes. The end of it was wet from the snow outside, but she seemed undeterred, her eyes bright and shining. They were blue.

“Hello,” he said, looking away from her gaze. ”Can I help you?”

”I’m not from Hawkins,” she said inexplicably, and Wayne blinked. “I’ve just seen everything on the news and wanted to come by to provide some support.”

He nodded, setting the kettle down and starting to turn away again.

“Is there any way I can support you?” she asks, and her kindness has shifted into some sickeningly sweet tone that crawled over Wayne’s skin and tugged at it. He squared his shoulders, suppressing a shiver, shaking his head.

“None that I can think of,” he said as lightly as he could. “Thank you, ma’am.”

”I can tell you’ve been through a hard time,” she said as he tried to turn away again, and he took a breath. Held it in his chest. Stepped back as she reached for his arm. “And I’ve been through some hard times, too— Would you like to know where I’ve found my comfort?”

“I really wouldn’t,” he said stiffly, shifting, trying to turn away, but she had him fucking cornered.

“My good Lord has provided more for me than I could even put into words,” she said softly, her voice too breathy to be earnest, and she pressed her hand to her chest over a sparkling cross hanging from a chain around her neck.

“God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Wayne said, losing his patience a little bit. She tilted her head, eyebrows raising.

“So you’ve heard the good word?”

“Heard it,” he said. “Don’t mean I believe it.”

“Well you sound upset,” she said, twisting her voice like Wayne was a child, like he wasn’t fucking older than her. She had to be at least a decade younger than him. Old enough to know when to shut up. “Are you angry at God?”

He paused to look at her. His grip on the mug handle tightened, and his fingernails were pressing into his palm so much it hurt, but he didn’t notice. She waited for him, eyebrows raised, eyes bright and shining like she was hopeful.

Like Wayne was going to roll over and let her be right. Agree with her. Let her baptize him right here and now with his fucking chamomile tea as the holy water.

“God ain’t real,” he said quietly, watching as she blinked and listened to him. It didn’t feel like she was listening. It felt like she was trying to look like she was. “And even if He was, He ain’t done nothin’ for me.”

“What has He done to you?” she asked softly. “Why are you angry, what has He done?”

He clenched his jaw.

“I’ve spent my damn life alone,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “My brother stole my best friend from me, he ruined her life, and I had to watch. They left me. I raised my nephew myself, and I had to watch while you fuckin’ God-fearing folks chased after him with pitchforks and torches his whole fuckin’ life just because he’s different.”

He saw the realization in her eyes. Saw her recognize him. Her eyes flickered to his visitor pass and saw his name. Saw Eddie’s name.

“I’m sixty-five years old,” Wayne continued, his voice shaking, and his eyes stung again. He hated crying. But he couldn’t stop anymore. His father’s training had worn off, and Wayne’s eyes were making up for the decades he’d spent without it. Without feeling. “And I can count on one hand the amount of people that have helped me. I’ve never found kindness or— peace in someone like you.”

She was holding her cross.

“You fuckin’ seen this town?” he said, gesturing vaguely. She stepped back. “You seen the shit God let happen? You seen how they—they had a fucking town meeting to talk about how cruel my boy is?”

His voice broke. His hands were shaking, and he was going to spill his tea, but he didn’t care.

“My boy, he—he’s in a fucking coma, and he’s sweeter than the rest of ‘em, and they wanted him fucking dead.”

He looked at her. She was blurry in his vision, holding the cross and twisting it between her fingers, and he exhaled sharply, letting his breath out of his lungs.

“That’s all what people have done,” she said softly after a quiet moment, hesitant. “What has God done?”

Wayne blinked his tears back, and he swallowed the stone in his throat, and he loathed her.

“He watched.”

She was quiet, and he left her there, turning to head back to Eddie’s room, and he sat in silence with him, his tea growing cold on the bedside table as he tried to warm Eddie’s hands.

He talked to him. Whispered quietly under his breath like someone was outside trying to listen.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

Henderson came by a few times, and he sat with Wayne. He respected Wayne’s quiet, only chatted if Wayne chatted back. He read out loud more smoothly than Wayne did, gradually becoming more theatrical, and Wayne understood why Eddie loved him so much. He was a good kid.

He made Wayne smile.

It felt unfamiliar on his face after so long, but when Dustin noticed, his entire face lit up in a way Wayne knew Eddie loved.

He introduced Wayne to the red-haired girl, Max.

“Max,” Wayne said softly, nodding even though her eyes were blank, white and unseeing. “I knew that.”

“We were neighbors,” she said lightly, tilting her head.

“I knew that too. How’s your mom doing?”

“Uh,” she said, hesitating, and her hesitation lingered for so long that she let out an awkward laugh. “She’s… She’s managing.”

”Y’all need anything, you just let me know, alright?”

“You too, old man.”

And Wayne had laughed.

”Eddie loves you, don’t he?”

She’d grinned and shrugged, and Dustin looked like he was going to cry.

They went back to school after the new year. The town celebrated the new year with fireworks and celebrations of survival, and Wayne watched them from Eddie’s hospital room. He remembered Eddie telling him that 1986 was his year, and he tried to not be upset about it. Eddie was alive. His heart was beating, and the doctors said he would wake up. Nothing else mattered. They would figure it out.

Usually when the door opened while Wayne was in the room, it was a doctor or nurse coming to just check in. Feel Eddie’s pulse, test his blood, check his eyes, monitor his wounds. Other times it was Dustin, stopping by to sit with Wayne, to read whatever book Wayne was reading to Eddie.

But the sun was just rising, the sky still dark out, just beginning to lighten, and the kids had school. Wayne looked up, his mug pausing on his way to his mouth, and there was a boy there.

He recognized him. He had a familiar face, a little soft and square, wide eyes, a strong nose, spotted with moles. His hair was overgrown in a way Wayne didn’t see often on boys in town, pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and he was wearing a red sweater. He looked out of place.

He was holding flowers. A little bouquet of daffodils, tied with a red ribbon, clutched in his hand.

He jumped a little when he saw Wayne, pausing in the doorway and looking at him like Wayne was going to attack him, like Wayne was something scary.

“Who’re you?” Wayne asked, sipping his tea.

“Steve,” the boy said quietly, shyly. “Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington,” Wayne repeated, closing the book and looking up to look at him. Of course he knew who the Harringtons were. You couldn’t live in Hawkins for forty years without knowing them. “What are you doing here, Steve Harrington?”

“I’m, uhm…” He paused, holding the flowers up and gesturing toward Eddie vaguely. “Just…”

“You know him?” Wayne said, raising his eyebrows.

“I… Not as well as I’d like to.”

Steve’s face flushed a bright red, and he looked at the ground, his hair falling in his face, and Wayne just let out a light laugh.

“Sorry, I…” Steve trailed off, shaking his head. “I haven’t talked to people in a while, sorry.”

“‘S alright,” Wayne said, sipping his tea again and leaning back in his seat. “Figured a guy like Eds is gonna have some strange friends.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

He put the flowers in a vase. And he sat in the chair next to Wayne, his hands tangled in his lap shyly. Wayne looked at him. His visitor pass was hanging from the end of his sweater, and his jeans were worn, torn a little at the knees in a way that looked incidental instead of intentional like Eddie’s.

He fidgeted, and Wayne looked at his hands. He was wearing one of Eddie’s rings, the stupid mood ring that Eddie claimed looked “mystical,” around his index finger. Wayne didn’t say anything about it.

There was a chain hanging around his neck, and from it hung a cross. It was simpler than the one the lady in the waiting room wore. Steve’s was plain and gold, shining when it swung forward as he rocked back and forth.

“You religious?” Wayne asked, and Steve looked at him, following his gaze to the cross. He scoffed again.

“My parents want me to be,” he said lightly, and Wayne hummed understandingly. “…Are you?”

Wayne hummed again, gazing at Eddie’s hands. He didn’t have the IV in anymore, but the mark had yet to fade.

“God wants me to be.”

Steve laughed lightly.

They were quiet again. Looking at Eddie and watching him breathe.

“I found him,” Steve said abruptly, turning toward Wayne a little, sitting on the edge of his chair. “When we were— When we were down there, we had to… to take care of some stuff. And I found him. He’d moved.”

Wayne nodded, looking at Eddie’s arm. His veins were visible under his pale skin, green and blue and purple and colorful.

“You left him the time before?” he said, looking at Steve.

Steve nodded.

His eyes were glistening suddenly, shining with unshed tears, and Wayne wondered briefly if he just had this sort of effect on people around him. They kept crying. He didn’t mind.

“The gates were closing,” Steve said weakly, his voice tight in his throat, and he blinked tears out of his eyes. They fell down his cheeks almost gracefully. Wayne didn’t really know what he meant by that, but he didn’t care.

He turned toward Steve, lifting a hand and setting it on his shoulder, looking him in the eye.

“Steve Harrington,” he said firmly. Steve looked at him, his eyes wide like he was scared. “You brought my boy back to me.”

Steve took a shaky breath, and he nodded jerkily. His hands were so tight in his lap that his knuckles had paled, and Wayne reached over to take them gently, easing them apart. Steve’s fingernails had carved into his palms, and Wayne smoothed his thumb over them.

“Thank you,” he whispers brokenly.

Steve shook his head, but he was crying too hard to respond, his eyes squeezed shut as he fell forward to hide his face. Wayne moved closer, letting go of his hand and his shoulder, and he drew him closer. Let him fall against his chest and held him as his shoulders shook, as he sobbed. The book in Wayne’s lap fell to the floor, and he ignored it as his vision blurred.

Steve Harrington wasn’t what Wayne expected.

He wasn’t anything like his parents, who Wayne never met personally but saw around town. They were rich fucks, dressed like they were going to tea instead of to the local grocery, and they looked down at everything, eyeing the world from over the end of their nose like they were disgusted by it all. Like they weren’t a part of it.

Steve snorted when he laughed. He sat like Eddie did, drawing his knees to his chest or sitting cross-legged in a chair. He bit his nails, and he actually liked the books that Wayne read aloud to Eddie. Wayne offered them to him for him to read himself, but he declined politely, saying something about a few too many concussions.

He was sweet. He brought Wayne tea from the waiting room, and he brought him lunch from home, sandwiches wrapped in foil or dinner leftover in Tupperware. He drifted off more than Wayne did, dozing while Wayne read. A few times Wayne came into Eddie’s room to find Steve asleep, resting against the bed with his head next to Eddie’s lap, holding his hand, and Wayne let him be.

Neither of them were around when Eddie woke up. A nurse was.

The sun was just starting to rise as he got to the hospital, the sky lightening along the horizon, and the air was misty and crisp in Wayne’s lungs as he ran across the parking lot. He didn’t get his visitor pass. Linda didn’t care.

He stopped in the doorway of Eddie’s room, holding the door open. He was sat up, leaning against the headboard, his hands in his lap, the hospital gown falling off his shoulder. Wayne could see his shoulder and collarbone, and he looked so fragile.

He was looking up at Owens tiredly, nodding as he spoke, but Wayne couldn’t hear anything. He watched as Eddie shrugged, muttering something between his cracked and dry lips, and closed his eyes as he lifted his hand, hesitating before touching his finger to the tip of his nose.

Wayne let out a laugh.

Eddie jumped and looked over at him, his hand falling, and the sun was suddenly shining through the window, golden on Eddie’s pale skin, sparkling in his eyes as they filled with tears and he raised his arms like a child, moving like he wanted to crawl across the bed toward Wayne. Wayne let the door shut, and he was still a little out of breath from running inside, gasping as he wrapped his arms around Eddie and Eddie wrapped his arms around him.

Eddie was weak, frail and thin, and his voice was rough as he sobbed into Wayne’s chest, almost wailing like he did when he was tiny enough to fit in Wayne’s hands. He was trembling, and Wayne was trembling too, running a hand over the top of Eddie’s head. His hair was longer, a little softer, and Wayne couldn’t help but think that Eddie had time to grow it out now.

He kissed Eddie’s temple. Kissed his cheeks and nose. Kissed his tears away. Cradled him like he was a baby again, like he wasn’t a grown man. He rocked him back and forth, and he held him by the wrist to feel his heartbeat. And Eddie fell asleep there, his face pressed against Wayne’s chest, his fingers curled weakly into the fabric of his shirt.

And Wayne cried, and he cried, and he cried, his eyes closed with the warmth of the rising sun on his face as he murmured under his breath even though Eddie couldn't hear it.

My baby, my baby, my baby…

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get to know me game (I was tagged by @rimouskis and @sportsthoughts ... thank you both!)

do you make your bed?

Yep! In part because I like having a nicely made bed, in part because I use my bed as my design board/work space when I'm quilting. And, in part, because it's an easy way to have some small bit of tidy space in a house that has too much stuff. (My core being is "neat freak" but my reality is "please pull a truck up so I can toss stuff out the window".)

what's your job?

I am a newspaper copy editor/writer.

if you could go back to school, would you?

It depends. Would I need to keep working? Would it put me in debt? I like learning, but I already don't have enough time in my day to do everything I want to do. If I had to write term papers and study for tests while working a full-time job and still taking care of my household (groceries, laundry, meals, yardwork, running errands, all the other odds and ends involved), I think I might crack.

can you parallel park?

Yes, though I rarely have the need. (If you follow the instructions carefully, it's amazing how well it works.)

do you think aliens are real?

IDK. I accept the reasoning that it's unlikely we're alone in the vastness of the universe, and that it's a bit arrogant to think we're the only ones. But I also think it's unrealistic to assume others take a form we'd immediately recognize. And, if there is intelligent life out there, why, exactly, would it mess with us?! Have you seen us lately?!

can you drive a manual car?

Yes. My brother loaned me his pickup truck to drive after I graduated from college. (He didn't need it at the time because of his job.) The idea of not having to make a car payment was great incentive to learn.

guilty pleasure?

I'm not sure I feel guilty about any of my pleasures. But they include Tumblr/fandom, writing fic, Pens hockey, quilting and a daily mug of good-quality hot chocolate.

tattoos?

I have a permanent spot on my skin from when I accidentally stabbed myself with a pencil as a kid. I'm pretty sure that's as close as I'm going to get. (Mine is big enough and dark enough that doctors routinely panic when they see it, thinking it's skin cancer, until I remind them we've had that conversation before.)

favorite color?

black with all the bright colors, particularly the off colors (fuchsia, turquoise, teal); and all the blues that make up the ocean (There's a reason why batik is my favorite type of fabric. Solid colors aren't nearly as interesting as lots of colors playing together.)

favorite type of music?

The most straight-forward answer is rock, particularly classic rock, though I like a lot of different types of music on a song-by-song (or artist) basis. Most country music doesn't do much for me. My last two musical purchases were Disturbed's cover of "The Sound of Silence" and Sufjan Stevens' "Illinois" album, which is the basis of "Illinoise" the Broadway musical.

do you like puzzles?

I guess you could say that, since I quilt and "Tetris" is my favorite video game.

any phobias?

I'm not into snakes. I'm trying to do better about not panicking over them, but I still have absolutely no desire to see them, whether in my yard or in a photograph.

favorite childhood sport?

Riding my bike.

do you talk to yourself?

Of course. (At least, that way, I know someone is listening to me!)

tea or coffee?

Nope. I prefer drinking clean water to dirty water. (The idea of having a cup of tea is appealing, but the reality has never done anything for me.)

first thing you wanted to be be when growing up?

A photographer.

what movies do you adore?

"Dave" and "The American President" are both older movies but they have lead characters (Kevin Kline and Martin Sheen Michael Douglas, respectively) who are kind of my fantasy president. Can't find funding for this program that helps children? No worries. We'll just stop paying $500 for a screwdriver we can get at the hardware store for $5 and use the leftover $495 (per screwdriver) on food programs and after-school programs and utility-assistance programs. It's not that hard.

I'll tag @pr-scatterbrain and @maljic and @ehghtyseven and anyone else who wants to play. (Maybe I want to know you and just don't realize it yet! )))

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FIVE

SHADOW BEHOLDER

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of drugs, profanity, mentions of alcohol and smoking, slight yandere themes (if you squint);

Words count: ~10.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[July 3, 2019; 07:02pm; hunter's headquarters]

Cumulus torn clouds floated breezily ahead framing the overcast sunset in the distance, and something dark stretched out on the horizon; it was unclear whether it was the peaks of the sunset-shadowed mountains, or a dark long cloud. The breaking sunlight colored the damp haze rising from the sea orange, and the sight of it made her eyes ripple. Or maybe it was the wine.

Rachel walked drunkenly down from the rock outcropping toward the cliff holding a bottle of wine in each hand high above her head. Her feet tripped over every little rock or tiny notch, but she'd rather smash her face than the bottles of red semi-dry.

Sitting on the sunbaked grass, Shoko looked at her sympathetically. She took another drag and let the tart smoke of the cigarette billow out of her lungs to freedom. "Alcoholic."

Rachel clumsily plopped down next to her and placed the bottles on the ground as neatly as possible. "Hey, ya actually drank more than me."  

"Unlike someone, I know how to drink," Shoko put out her cigarette on the ground and threw the butt into the fire pit. "Did you bring a corkscrew?"

Rachel leaned on her arm squeezing her flushed cheek and drunkenly clucked her tongue. "Shit."

"Let's do old school then," Shoko said handing Rachel a bunch of keys.

Rachel took the keys accompanying the action with a respectful oblique nod. "As ya say, my queen," She began picking at the sawdust cork with the key edge trying to push it inward. Once Rachel had the point about halfway into the cork, she covered the key with her palms and applied force to push it in, and at that moment, a red liquid enveloped her hands and face.

"Elegant," Shoko said rolling her eyes irritably.

"But it worked," Rachel chirped wiping the wine from her face with her sleeve. "Gimme your glass."

Rachel poured the alcohol into wineglasses and leaned against a ribbed rock gazing out at the burning sun. The sound of the wind-disturbed forest could be heard behind them, and the waves crashing against the rocks tried in vain to reach their feet.

Rachel took another sip and turned back to Shoko. "Ya know," Rachel said stretching her words drunkenly. "When I first saw ya, I couldn't even imagine ya being quite the outgoing person."

"Guess I'll have to put your name on my list of people with stereotypical thinking now," Shoko said deftly pulling another cigarette from the pack.

Rachel pouted her lips and gave the most contrite look possible. She realized from Shoko's raised eyebrows that she'd gone a little overboard. "Forget it," she snatched the cigarette out of Ieiri's hands and took a drag.

"Listen," Shoko turned around and looked back at the windows in the cliff. "Are there really so few hunters? I thought it was us who had manpower problem."

Rachel shook her head slightly fearing more dizziness. "Old generation hunters live in Hopetown, and our higher-ups just put the voidrunners away from everyone else. They figure that if the dioreacts planning a large-scale attack, we'll be the first ones to get hit, since we've trespassed on their territory."

Shoko could no longer make out the clear lines on the horizon, the rainy sunset blurring into a gray-orange mess. She set her glass aside and rested her head unashamedly in Rachel's lap staring up at the sky. "Well, the hell is the old generation for?"

"To level up and learn to enter the void, hunters have to put your consciousness through isolation. Not everyone is willing to do that, so they stick to the old ways," Rachel rested her head on the rock gazing upward with Shoko. "I can't even tell ya what exactly is going on in isolation because when maintainer escorted me through, I didn't even realize it. It was like fingers snapped and something changed inside me."

Shoko hummed skeptically. "Not everyone is willing to spend a second of their life to become stronger? So much for nonsense."

"Who knows how much time we actually spend in there? Only maintainer feels time in isolation," Rachel said exhaling heavily.

"And I still don't see it as a big deal."

"Coz ya only see survivors," Rachel said and completely forgetting about the glass reached for the bottle. One must either avoid unpleasant conversations or drunk them down. "Most of hunters who wished to become voidrunners died before they were able to enter the void. Their consciousnesses were lost in isolation. Or they dissolved there, dunno. "

"I see," Shoko said coldly. She was twirling her auburn curl around her finger out of old habit. "Your higher-ups have gotten comfortable. Putting people through isolation and the only ones who managed to survive are shooed away like lepers to take the hit."

Rachel chuckled softly pressing the bottle to her flaming cheeks. "They're not the ones leading us in. The higher-ups don't really like us at all, or maybe they hate the very idea of entering void. Not much difference. They think that doing it this way we only make dioreacts angrier, and endangers the rest of hunters. So they give us more work between raids making us get rid of demons the old-fashioned way. They're mad as hell."

"Then who leads you out?"

"Uh, it’s-" mumbled Rachel stuttering. The cloud on the horizon began to thicken with as much force as the air around the girls. "It's Y/N’s doing."

Shoko immediately stopped playing with a strand of hair. "You mean- you're saying that she-" she stammered trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry if I misunderstood you, but what you're saying is that she k-"   

Shoko's face turned red. Not from shame, not from embarrassment, not from anger. It was from spilled wine. The bottle slipped out of the drunken Rachel's hands, and the remnants of the alcohol ended up on Ieiri's face. "God, Shoko! I'm sorry!" Rachel frantically tried to wipe Shoko’s face with her sleeve.

"You're not drinking anymore today," Shoko muttered sullenly, rising from her seat and fighting off Rachel's hands.

"Come on, it looks better on ya," Rachel pointed out slyly. "You look really sexy."

"Shut up."

"Speaking of sexy!" exclaimed Rachel, unable to keep her interest in check. "Do ya date a lot?"

Shoko stared at her in amazement as if she were insane wrinkling her nose slightly at her tactlessness. "And when am I supposed to do that? Between patients and filling out paperwork? And anyway, ever since I contacted the doc, I don't even have those five minutes to spare."

"I refuse to live in a house with so many workaholics," Rachel protested. "Come on, not going out at all? And you don't even, well, um... You don't even relax with anyone?" asked Rachel shamelessly scrutinizing Jeri's discouraged face. "Not even with Gojo? Come on, you've known each other for about fifteen years, there's no way there's nothing going on at all!

"Ew!" squeaked Shoko, and Rachel blurted out a smile pleased that she had finally seen a little more than Shoko's usual cold look. "Just shut up. No, nothing happened. And it won't. It's like sleeping with a relative."

"All right, all right, I believe it," a still radiant Rachel softly stretched out. "By the way, where's that troublemaker?"

"No idea," Shoko said resting her head in Rachel's lap again.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm; Tokyo Prefecture, Tokyo, Bakery N]

The small bakery decorated in muted yellow colors was filled with the smells of freshly brewed coffee and ruddy crisp dough. On the wall behind the cash register, there were small boards on which the names of confectionery products, it’s prices, and the day's promotions were handwritten in multicolored chalk. A pretty salesgirl in a funny yellow beret was chatting with the customers advising them and helping them to make a choice. Only the sorcerer squatting in front of the glass display case for baked goods and paying no attention to anyone frowned annoyingly.

No matter how rarely you were home, you always made time for Gojo. You made time to send massage to him and ask if he was all right when he was on a mission. Every time you listened to his endless stream of chatter, and if he did something ridiculous or violated your personal boundaries, he never heard a sigh of annoyance from you. Gojo had never heard you hold a conversation in which he was being bad-mouthed, whether it was in jest or in truth.

With you, he felt as if he was understood. Whether it was because you were in similar positions in life's vicissitudes or something else, he did not know. It didn't seem to matter to him.

After all, you found out and memorized some of his features before you even met him, while he didn't bother to find out what kind of sweets you like for six months.

Indignant at his own neglect he squeezed his cheeks with his hands with vigor continuing to stare at the display case under the oblique glances of the visitors, paying them no attention.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, someone’s lonely silhouette sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

The door one of the rooms clicked open. As you left Danielle's room, you glanced at his drooping form barely visible at the other end of the hallway. You quietly closed the distance between you and Gojo and sat down across from him as carefully as you could.

Drawing attention to yourself was not part of the plan, but not leaving a man wallowing in reflection in a strange place was a matter of principle.

He was used to stares, but the way you did it seemed too shameless. Your gaze was straightforward and, if only it were not a play of imagination, surprisingly soft.

"What is it?" he grinned softly. "The first time we met you refused to even look my way, and now you can't take your eyes off me. Am I that handsome?"

"Ya know," you squinted your eyes as if evaluating something. "I think you'd still be handsome even if you had your eyes pulled up on your ass."

Gojo bit his tongue and his chest began to convulse. "What-" barely opening his mouth he hissed with a gasping laugh. "What kind of compliment is that?"

"I'm trying!" you blurted out indignantly, looking at the way he hid his face in his palms trying to calm down.

"Yeah, I really appreciate it," he said on an intermittent exhale wiping the corners of his eyes.

 "Uh," you began hesitating. "What ya doing sitting here alone at this hour?"

He stretched his legs out casually, but avoided your gaze carefully. "Your beds are too soft. And pillows are rough," he said with an indifferent shrug. "And I can't open a window to air out the room because of loud sound of the waves."

"Got it," you said stretching the words teasingly. "If it's that bad, you can sleep in my workroom. I've got a firm mattress and air conditioning, too. About pillow...," you paused for a second, thinking. "Guess for a princess like ya, I might as well go to the store and get a proper one."

"Hey," Gojo snorted unhappily, gently nudging your thigh with his foot, to which you chuckled softly. He sat there hesitating, unsure how to take your words, but he wanted to believe it was a sincere suggestion and not a simple sneer. "Did you...," he coughed, hearing the hoarseness in his voice. "Did you really mean it?"

"Would I mock a man who sits in the hallway looking like a stray puppy?" getting another poke in the thigh from him, you gave up. "I really meant it. If ya can't sleep in your room, come and sleep in workroom if ya want."

"What about you?"

"We've got a bunch of unoccupied rooms here," you put up your hand gently, pointing down a long hallway. "Still, sometimes I work nights filling out paperwork and all that other bureaucracy, so if you're in the workroom, you'll have to put up with someone's presence and the clacking of keys paired with the squeak of a pen."

"That's how," he mumbled and felt his fingertips burning hot. "Anyway, I like having something... buzzing under my ear. I'll graciously accept your offer, but only if you promise me you won't stare at me much while I sleep."

"Nope," you shook your head stubbornly. "I'm sorry, I can't promise that."

Gojo sat back and tried to suppress a smile, not even thinking about the fact that he might look like an idiot.

At the end of the dark corridor on the second floor, two someone's non-lonely silhouettes sat on the floor outside one of the rooms.

When the salesgirl finished serving another customer, she gave Gojo another confused look. It wasn't often that one met a man so unusual and attractive. "Sir," she addressed him and noticed with fear that her voice had cracked with excitement. She coughed quickly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Huh?" Gojo absentmindedly raised his head. He blinked and stretched out to his full height and walked to the cash register, causing the salesgirl to look embarrassed. "Actually, you can. I'll take the whole thing. Two servings each, please," he said bestowing her with a welcoming smile.

The salesgirl was confused by such an order. "You mean everything at all? Even carrot bread?" she asked in a stammering voice.

"You know, I'll take one carrot bread, though, I guess," he said mentally noting that he definitely wouldn't eat that.

The salesgirl pulled a roll of craft paper from under the counter and placed it on the table, then began wrapping each dessert in it with shaking hands. She thought the man was glaring at her back, but his eyes were actually fixed on his phone. He'd texted you asking if you were home, and waited patiently for a reply.

Gojo was brought out of his detached state of reality by a girl's voice. "Uh, sir. That'll be 39721 yen, sir," the salesgirl mumbled as she placed six stuffed paper bags on the counter in front of him.

"Sure," he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and counted out the bills. Gojo was already grabbing the handles of the bags when the salesgirl, redder than usual, handed him a small piece of paper folded in half. He looked at the girl questioningly. "That's my phone number."

"Oh," he said grinning slightly. "Sorry, but-"

"No, no, it's nothing!" she rambled in a stammering voice, tucking a piece of paper into her pocket. "It would be foolish of me to think you aren't dating someone. Have a good day, sir."

"Till next time," he said over his shoulder already heading for the door.

[July 3, 2019; 07:16pm Kumagaya, Saitama Prefecture, Bar N]

Each step leading up to the underground bar made a rusty creak in your footsteps, and the room itself was more like a warehouse than a public place. Metal round tables stretched along one wall, and a bar counter stood opposite; behind it, shelves of alcoholic beverages illuminated blue gave the bar a dank atmosphere.

A chubby, rosy-cheeked girl whose hair was tied with a pink bandana was vigorously scrubbing the surface of the bar. She deftly lifted vases of nuts and cutlery stands to clean the dirt beneath them.

"Lu!" you called out to her in greeting. As soon as you took a step toward her, the customers looked up at you. It seemed like it wasn't just the blue lighting that made this place cold.

She tucked a rag somewhere down under the counter and waved at you, beckoning you over to the bar. "Hey! Long time no see," she smiled pulling one of the snack vases toward you.

"I've got my hands full," you said sitting down on a high stool and placing the airtight small container you'd been holding the whole time on the bar.  "I see ya business is booming. Lots of visitors," you shook your head lightly over your shoulder looking slyly at Lu.

"I work here day and night! Can you imagine how frustrating it would be if it didn't pay off?" she said pouting her lips.

You pulled the vase of snacks closer to you. "It would pay off. It's not the alcohol that draws everyone here, it's ya charisma."

Lu's already rosy cheeks turned crimson, and she waved you off carelessly. "Flattery gets you nowhere."

"It helps me sneak in anywhere," you chirped popping a peanut into your mouth. "Any news?"

Lu looked at you as if you'd took her at gunpoint. "Y/N, you know... the longer we spend in this state," she wrapped her arms around her shoulders squeezing them slightly. "The less we feel for others. It's like we become separate individuals and... You know. Humanizing."

Her behavior made you frown. "Lu, why ya acting like I'm threatening ya?"

"You are a hunter after all," she mumbled quietly to herself.

"And ya're an insider. We're not touching ya. Even if ya don't have any information," you tried to sound as soft as possible, but it came out like you were telling the girl off. "I just have one question. Ya don't know anything about the creature that calls itself Rei?"

The corners of Lu's lips quivered, and she squeezed herself even tighter in the embrace. The air in the bar had gotten so thick, it felt like you could grab a fork from the bar and stab it. Lu's whole look screamed that she didn't want to enter that state.

"Okay, I'm leaving-,"

"Wait!" squeaked Lu causing you to sit back down. "Uh... What does the body he's wearing look like?"

"Well," you stretched the word out furtively peering into your memories. "A man, somewhere in his late thirties. Face perpetually smug. Moronic grin. Black hair, a couple strands of gray. And a hu-u-uge scar across his face."

Lu squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could. Her fingertips were slowly, as slowly as the sun walks across the sky, crawling in ugly black patterns. Her abruptly opened eyes became blacker than the worst night and began to dart from side to side; Lu herself stood motionless, not even her chest heaved as if someone was forcefully squeezing it. 

After a moment, she closed her eyes again and suppressed the demon in her with a sharp intake of breath. She looked up at you and bit her lip in frustration. "I'm sorry, I can't find it. But maybe you can get help from someone else," you threw her a questioning look as she gibbered to herself. "But he's not an insider, so there's a chance he won't want to talk to you.

"Who is he then?"

"Just a dioreact," Lu shrugged. "As far as I know, he's trying to live a normal human life and has nothing directly to do with the kidnappings and murders, but... He's kind of helping demons get in touch with people who, you know... Trade drugs. And people. Maybe that's how he got in touch with Rei."

"Where can I find him?" 

"He has his own auto repair shop on the outskirts of Tokyo, in the Edogawa ward," Lu said taking a pen out of her pocket and writing something down on your hand. "He closes at eight at night, so you'd better hurry."

"Thank ya for your cooperation," you chirped covering the written address on your wrist with your sleeve. "And these are for ya," you said sliding the container closer to her.

"You shouldn't have," Lu muttered embarrassedly, hesitating to touch the container.

"Ya don't always have to steal from hospitals," you said looking slyly at Lu. You reached into the container and opened it, pulling out a single bag of blood and stowing it in your backpack. "I hope ya don't mind if I take one with me," the girl nodded silently at your words. Turning around, you were faced with the same cold stares that greeted you here. One of the visitors' eyes were black, and he held a glass to his mouth tapping away nervously at it with his finger. "See ya, guys!" waving goodbye to them, you ran out of the cold bar towards the warm air.    

On the outskirts of Tokyo countless tangled wires of transmission lines dangled from poles so low that they gave the impression of an urban spider's web. In one of the narrow streets, dilapidated buildings with unglazed balconies greeted you; on one of these, a man with a cigarette in his teeth was hanging clothes after washing; on another, an elderly woman was shouting to someone at the end of the street that dinner was ready.

The phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from contemplating the everyday life of local people.

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: mochi

[07:21pm] Gojo Satoru: u home?

[07:23pm] You: nope

[07:24pm] Gojo Satoru: where r u?

[07:27pm] You: I'm busy

[07:27pm] Gojo Satoru: I asked where u r, not whatcha doin dummy   

[07:31pm] You: got a couple things to do in Edogawa ward

[07:31pm] Gojo Satoru: there's a metro museum in that ward, u know where it is?

[07:32pm] You: yep

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: I'll meet u there in an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: no, in half an hour

[07:32pm] Gojo Satoru: don't be late

You stared at the phone screen for a while wondering how a person could contain so much impudence. You came to your senses when you heard the echo of someone's booming laughter from the back alley. A group of guys came around the corner talking loudly and gesticulating vigorously. You glanced at them, and your gaze fell inadvertently on the frail little man the young men had passed. The man was pushing the heavy metal gates; they yielded to him with a heavy, long creak. He finally closed them and wiped something off his forehead with his dirty sleeve; you were already standing near him.

"Closing already?" you asked glancing at his hand, which was desperately trying to find something in his pocket. "It's not eight at night yet."

"I apologize," he smiled nervously, greeting you with a quick bow. "Family emergency."

"I see," you said nodding your head understandingly. "Too bad, my car's been needing an emergency inspection for months now."

The man finally pulled a key out of his pocket and awkwardly tried to get it into the keyhole. "A car? What car?" he hiccupped as if suppressing a hysterical laugh.

You looked around the narrow street and only now realized that there were no cars here, which made you cluck your tongue annoyingly. "Well, that was awkward."

He finally locked the gate and without looking in your direction, he took a quick step away. You followed him. "I just want to ask ya couple questions!"

"Leave me alone!" he shrieked, and despite his feet stumbling over everything he could, he broke into a run. As soon as the man turned into the alley, his eyes widened and he immediately stopped: you were already walking toward him from there. With a desperate shake of his head, he turned around and wanted to run back, but you were in front of him again.

He rushed down the street, and you exhaled tiredly as you watched him.

The man kept running. He ran and looked around frantically. His blurred vision merged the whole landscape: houses, bushes, signs. He wouldn't have stopped if it hadn't been your hand that yanked him sharply by the scruff of his neck into one of the alleys.

Standing behind him, you squeezed his neck with one hand and with the other you pressed the edge of the dagger against his carotid artery. "Just a couple questions," you spoke in a low whisper. "Or I'll send ya to judges," hearing the last word, a ragged sob escaped the man's lips. He nodded, and you immediately let him go.

You waited for him to cough and come to his senses. You pulled a bottle of water out of your backpack and handed it to him, but all you got in return was an incredulous look. "Whatever," you said putting the bottle back away. "Straight to the point. How long has Rei been in contact with you?"

"I didn't- I-" he tried frantically to force the words out. "Last fall."

Was it normal for Rei to stay out of contact with this creature for so long? "Ya sure? Maybe he just changed bodies?"

"I don't know if he changed his body!" the man wailed hysterically. "But I do know he hasn't contacted me all this time!"

"Okay, okay," you said throwing up your hands at the man's sudden outburst. "Ya don't have to yell like that-"

The man slid down the wall holding his head with his hands. "I didn't do anything wrong," his muffled sobs could be heard. "I was just trying to live in this condition."

A skeptical grimace appeared on your face. "Oh, really? Aiding and abetting slave traders and demons out of the goodness of your heart, too?"

The man raised his head and gave you a panicked look. "They threatened me! They threatened to kill my wife and child!" with every word he uttered, your eyebrows crept upward. "Or rather... This body's wife and child. But that doesn't change anything," struggling to utter the last words, he wrapped his arms around his head again.

"What am I hearing? Have human feelings been nurtured?"

The man's shoulders shook. He tried to wrap his arms around himself as if trying to maintain control. He raised his head again. "You don't understand how much we can feel!" he bellowed in your direction. "We didn't choose all this! We're being merged with bodies not of our choosing! But we want to live too. Even if it's just... like this."

"So that's what this is all about," you hissed looking him in the eye. The man sitting on the pavement already looked tiny, but something made him shrink into a lump. "I was wondering, since ya care so much about your wife and child, why ya didn't just surrender to the judges right away," you covered your eyes and tried to regain your breath. When you opened them, you gave the man another dark stare. "Ya know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to live. Just don't ya dare cover your selfish ass with good intentions," you reached into your backpack again, and rifling through it for a bag of blood, threw it at the man's feet. "Thank ya for your cooperation," after throwing out the words through your clenched teeth, you disappeared around the corner.

All that was left was to get to the Tokyo Metro Museum.     

It was quiet here in the square. The museum staff had long since gone home, having turned out the lights throughout the building. You stood in front of the glass doors trying to see either the dark room or your own reflection.

He was late. You were standing in the square at the main entrance of the building right under the blue sign shuffling from foot to foot with fatigue, and he was late. No call, no message.

The ground heated by the day's sunlight was already starting to cool down, which made you shiver a little and finally pull your phone out of your pocket to dial his number.

"Still looking for me?"

The sound of the voice came from nowhere, but it was everywhere. You pulled your head away from the screen of the phone to look at the reflection of the glass doors. There was no one behind you.

"Don't turn around," you thought to yourself. "Just don't turn around."

"Pet."

If the feeling of rage was something tangible, it would definitely be a liquid. A liquid that you squeezed and put into a steel box, but that voice just drove a thousand sharp nails into that box like a hammer, forcing the liquid out.

You turned around.

You turned around and bumped your forehead against the concrete wall. Your side vision caught the flicker of a dim light bulb, which made a clicking tinkling sound. "I guess I fucked up," you exhaled disappointedly and turned around, thus creating a shuffling sound. The light bulb went out and all that was left in your ears was the ringing from the silence that came. There was an positive side to the darkness: the walls which seemed about to crush you were not so visible.

You stood like that for another minute letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. The long corridor with wall openings at various distances screamed that you were in a maze.

"Relocate."

You remained standing still. "Sure," you thought to yourself rolling your eyes irritably.

[July 3, 2019; 08:06pm; hunter's headquarters]

Music played softly in Megumi's room. The sound of the melody was occasionally interrupted by the sound of the pages of the book Danielle was reading on the bed. Megumi was sitting on the floor beside her looking at something on his phone screen.

Danielle had to reread the paragraphs over and over again because she couldn't concentrate on the text because of her poorly concealed excitement. She threw another fleeting glance at the boy and jerked her foot awkwardly, causing her to stiffen. He hadn't noticed, had he?

Megumi locked the screen of his phone and set it aside. "Dany?"

"What?" she squeaked, her voice hoarse with trepidation. She put her hand to her mouth in horror and pretended to cough.

"You okay?" the boy inquired leaning his head back on the bed and examining her.

"Y-yes," Danielle mumbled awkwardly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "The air in the room is just dry. I should at least get a humidifier. So what did ya want?"

"How much longer do you think the hunters will let us live here?"

The girl rounded her eyes. "Why on earth would ya even have such thoughts? No one is chasing you out of here."

"Dunno. I wouldn't wanna overstay my welcome."

"I think you're the only one who thinks that," Danielle said with a giggle.

It seemed to Megumi that they had really stayed here for a long time. On the other hand, all he could think about was how much he wanted to stay here at least a little longer. That's how his thoughts darted from one to the other creating confusing coils. "Aren't you, uh, going to get in trouble with the higher-ups for this?" he asked nervously rubbing the edge of his t-shirt.

"They don't seem to have shown up yet. I think even if there is a problem with them, the elders will handle it," the girl assured him.  

Megumi nodded briefly, but that wasn't all he was interested in. He nervously held onto his index finger, which had blackened for the tenth time in the last six months. "Dany, listen. What's your technique?"

"Technique?" she asked absentmindedly dimming her gaze. "We honestly don't have such concepts."

"I meant abilities," Megumi explained as carefully as possible, feeling the tension building up in the room.

"Ah!" exclaimed Danielle in relief. "I don't have a pronounced ability yet, Y/N haven't put me through the insolation yet," she eyed Megumi's frowning face with an edge of her eye. "It's to increase the body's conductivity for dark energy. Growing a new sense organ or something like that."

Megumi only squeezed his index finger harder. "What abilities are there anyway?"

"Actually, there are quite a few. Some are mandatory, and others you only learn if ya feel ya can handle it. Well, also each ability can either be specifically targeted or diffuse."

"And then what are the mandatory ones?"

"Relocate and regeneration," Danielle said as if she were reading a textbook. "Relocate not only allows you to teleport from point to point, but also to enter the void."

"And the others?"

"There really are a lot of them, I can't list-"

Megumi couldn't keep himself quiet. "At least tell me about the ones you know about."

"Well... let's say our Doc. Though regeneration is mandatory, he has it at a level that no one else can reach. And that's despite the fact that he's never been through isolation and has been high conductive since birth. Also with his replication ability, he can replicate anything, even configurations of atoms. So with severed limbs we run straight to him," the girl tried to joke, but the awkwardness created in the room seemed like it could be gobbled up with a spoon. "Uh... Well, or Rachel. One of her powers is tranquility. She can stop whatever processes are going on. From photosynthesis to uranium decay. Also, when she makes tranquility diffused around an area, it gives the impression that time has stopped there!"

The girl finally saw a fleeting smirk on his face. "You know, that sounds cool. Is there anything else?"

"It's actually really cool because the use of each ability is limited only by your imagination, so spin it however ya want," Danielle mumbled softly, trying not to hesitating over her words. His fleeting smile stood before her eyes. "Y/N uses shading. You know, she can use dark energy to make photons absorbed and reflected from her body transform into shadow ones. Kinda invisibility."

"We rarely see her anyway," Megumi said exhaling noisily. "And all of you- uh, you can't catch curse energy at all?"

"Nope," Danielle said having long since forgotten about the book lying right in front of her nose. "But honestly, ya could show it to me."

His cheeks turned slightly pink. "How?"

Danielle's second burst of courage ended as soon as she wanted to enact what she'd planned. "Uh, ya know," she said in a stammering voice and slid off the bed trying to hide her trembling knees. She sat down across from him. "Would ya mind folding your palms like this?" she interlocked her palms, leaving a space between them. He obediently closed his hands and didn't dare to raise his gaze to her.

She glanced at his hands, a concerned exhale escaping her chest. "Megumi, what's wrong with your finger-"

"It's fine. Doc said it's just a side effect of the treatment. It'll pass soon," he lied without blinking an eye. A quick change of subject was necessary. "So what did you wanna show me?"

"I-I'm honestly not sure it's going to work out well, I'm still just a student after all," Danielle muttered excitedly. "You can release a steady little stream of cursed energy, right?" 

"Sure," he tried to nod his head, but from the side it might have looked like he was having a muscle spasm.

"Okay, then on the count of three do it," she covered his hands with hers. "One," he felt her warm skin. "Two," he closed his eyes because he didn't want to embarrass her by looking at her. Didn't want to embarrass himself even more. "Three," he wished there was a window open in this room because the waves would muffle his hitched breath.

They released energy at the same time.

Whether only a minute had passed, or whether time didn't exist at that moment at all. He wanted to touch her a little longer, but her voice made him open his eyes. "Ready?"

"Ready," he said on a quiet exhale.

She slowly spread their palms apart. There was a butterfly. It was barely visible, one wing slightly larger than the other, but it seemed beautiful to Danielle. "It worked!" she squeaked quietly, pleased with the result. With a flap of its absurd wings, the butterfly rose into the air and flew toward the window.

"Where is it going?" asked Megumi absentmindedly.

Danielle chuckled. "Ya didn't think she'd stay with ya forever, did ya?" She admired the butterfly that perched on the window. He admired her profile. Admired it so long that he surprised himself when the fingers of his hand gently touched her cheek.

Danielle turned toward him. She looked scared and confused, but he couldn't find the strength to took off his hand from her cheek. "Dany," he whispered softly. "Can I ki-"

They were pulled away from each other by the sharp sound of the door swinging open. "Guys!" exclaimed Itadori. "Doesn't anyone wanna go to movies?"

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" shouted Megumi disappointedly. He jumped to his feet and started shoving Yuuji out the door.

"Hey, this is actually my room too!"

Your eyes had finally gotten used to the darkness allowing you to move around without any problems. Pros: there was a light source coming in from somewhere outside and reflecting off the surfaces. Cons: it was not a pleasant environment.

Every time you looked away from the concrete walls, the straight construction joints seemed like curved ugly grins. You were followed by the echo of a shrieking noise that sounded like the singing of cracking ice somewhere in the middle of the Arctic. You kept moving forward not letting the sound catch up with you.

Upon reaching a dead end, you turned right.

The noise kept up. It seemed more and more insistent and faster. You quickened your step, and it began to sound louder, closer. You furtively glanced at the walls making the ugly smiles you'd imagined disappear.

It's a dead end again. You returned to the opening and turned right. 

There was the distant sound of the wind rushing in panic in the blizzard. A loud long rumble followed another crackle.

One thing that reassured you was that you didn't hear footsteps in front of you or behind you. Though that couldn't stop you from glancing behind you from time to time.

When you reached the fork, you turned right.

Something warm felt on your earlobes. Warm and viscous. You touched your ear, and when you looked at your fingers, you saw something dark on it.

Your gaze went back to the road.

There was someone coming at you. It was walking slowly, barely moving his feet. You absentmindedly tried to stare, straining and squinting your eyes. A long curly lock of hair fell over the silhouette's face. It came closer and closer, and a blank, open gaze was directed at you (or through you).

It wasn't Rachel.

You backed away, turned and rush away from there. As you glanced behind you, you had the creepy realization that it hadn't made any attempt to catch up with you; it was still following you, slowly but surely.

This behavior is inherent in a creature that already knows where you're going to be wherever you're going.

You found yourself in another corridor. The only thing left to do was not to rack your brains and always turn to the right, trying not to listen to the next crackle of ice.

The surroundings didn't change even after a hundred turns and seven blisters on your feet. Another dead end on the horizon made the growing lump of irritation inside you burst out with a jagged exhalation. You turned around to walk back to the missed opening, but just as you were one step away from your goal, a tall figure stepped out from behind the corner, forcing you to retreat a few steps. White hair was visible in a glow even in the darkness.

You were already walking in the other direction when a voice called your name. The familiar cracking and howling sound stopped, replaced by silence. The abrupt transition from one to the other was as painful as simply having the first. You grabbed your aching ear and clenched your teeth.

Gojo's hand gently touched your shoulder, and you were finally relieved. "Are ya real or what?"

A sly grin appeared on his face. "What is it? You see me so often in your dreams that you can't tell the difference?" he murmured softly, leaning closer to your face.

You paid attention to his provocation. Something else was more important to you right now. "Ya alright?" your concerned voice made him stiffed and leave no shadow of his previous smirk. "No one touched you? You didn't see anyone?"

"Uh... no?" Gojo mumbled incomprehensibly, puzzled by either your questions or your anxiety. "Should I?"

"Look," you nodded pointing somewhere behind his back. Out of the darkness, step by step, came the outline of a man in a familiar black uniform, and dark strands of hair falling over empty open eyes.

He swallowed. "It's not Megumi, is it?"

You shook your head. "Nope," and with that, you took his hand on automatic heading in the other direction away from the creature. "How did ya even get here?" Gojo didn't even hear your question, all but staring at your interlocked hands. "Hey," you snapped your fingers right in front of his face.

He perked up. "What did you say?"

"I asked you how ya got here."

"I was approaching the museum, and then I heard someone's voice. It seemed weird, like it was coming out of my head. I just turned around, and I bumped into a concrete wall...I think?" Gojo rambled on trying to line up the memories in his head in a coherent row.

You continued to wiggle between the openings. "Well, we are two idiots," you chirped summarizing.

"This is not how I wanted to spend this evening," he said with annoyance in his voice pouting his lips.

"Well so did I. When I followed the right hand rule I wanted to find a way out and I found you," you said with a shrug. "Life is full of disappointments. Get used to it."

"Rachel was right, you're just a little bully," his dramatic tone came out overly deliberate again. "And actually, I'm kinda glad we ended up here," Gojo clucked his tongue. You still couldn't get used to his quick change of demeanor. "You finally took my hand. Look," he lifted your clasped hands, and you stared at them in amazement as if you hadn't initiated it. You immediately unclenched your fingers and tried to pull your hand away, but Gojo only gripped your palm tighter with his fingers. "Nope, no way. Get used to it."

"Okay, I give up," you said squeezing his hand again.

Your touch made him forget his teasing remark that you should have done this from day one. There was no way to suppress the excitement. He urgently needed a distraction. "Listen, who are those creatures?" asked Gojo pointing a finger somewhere behind your backs.

"I've never encountered them myself yet, but Frank told me about something similar," you mouthed thoughtfully, looking behind you. "They're kinda like mimics. Just following in your footsteps. I wouldn't really wanna to find out what happens if they get to us."

From the far doorway someone stepped out. A red collar could be seen in the darkness.

"Is there no way to kill them at all?" he asked feeling an unpleasant tingling in the back of his neck.

You threw the dagger that appeared in your hand toward the creature hitting it squarely in the forehead. The mimic vanished in a cloud of smoke. "Does that look like it's fucking dead?" you asked rhetorically, a frown wrinkling the bridge of your nose. "I think it just showed up somewhere and is headed our way again."

"Do we have a tracker hanging on us or something?"

"It's possible. Unlikely ya've ever looked under your skin."

Gojo shuddered. "It won't take long to become paranoid with you."

"Welcome to the club, buddy," you said chuckling merrily. "That's why they're not running after us. There's no point in us hiding anyway, so they're just biding their time until we're exhausted."

"And your sorcery doesn't work here?" Gojo asked taunting you.

"One would think you're still here for some other reason."

He pretended not to hear you as he continued to tease you. "I thought I'd really met someone strong, but sorry. You are weak."

You bit your lip to keep from cracking a smile. "You're right. But take responsibility," your voice softly shifted to a whisper. "I'm weak only for ya."

You were so unfair. So unfair that Gojo swallowed his words and walked beside you silent, occasionally touching his burning cheeks.

For a while, you walked on in hush turning right at dead ends; only your footsteps could be heard. Only yours?

You stopped short a dozen feet before reaching the next turn.

"Something wrong?" he asked worriedly, squeezing your hand lightly.

You drilled your gaze to the right wall. "Do ya hear that too?"

Gojo fell silent. He tried not to breathe. He heard someone's footsteps behind that wall advancing towards the opening. "Mimic?"

"Mimics don't make sounds," you shook your head accompanying the sound of footsteps with your eyes. You perked up and turned around to him peering into his eyes. "Wanna go for a jog?"

***

After a couple of hours, at least some difference was waiting for you around the next corner. Albeit the same concrete and empty, but still spacious room, from which there were only two exits - the one from which you came and on the adjacent wall. Is this what the center looks like in normal mazes?

"You're not even breaking a sweat," came an indignant panting exclamation from behind you. "When you said 'jog', I thought it would be a light jog, not a marathon." 

You glanced behind you. Gojo was standing bent over and resting his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "I think we outrun 'em. Let's take a little break," you said heading to the far corner.

You both sat down on the cold dusty floor. You took off your backpack and started to fish out something from the contents. After a while, you handed him a bottle of water and a chocolate bar. It wasn't much, but it was all you had.

Gojo hesitated shifting his gaze from the provisions to you. "What about you?"

"Don't worry," tired of holding your hand with the groceries, you placed them in his lap. "I've got more. I'm not hungry yet anyway."

Frustrated thoughts of six irretrievably lost bags of baked goods popped into his head. Awkwardly twirling the bottle in his hands, Gojo opened it and took a couple sips draining half of it. "Do you have any thoughts?" he asked opening the chocolate wrapper.

"Well," you began trying to pull your thoughts together. "We're kind of still on Earth. Light gets through here, and it's not easy to create an alternate light source, and we were here in literally seconds, so... We haven't turned to bloody dust yet, so the atmospheric pressure is the same, we're breathing normally, we're not off the ground. So whatever this place is made of, it's limited to Earth settings."      

"Sounds soothing, but it's no use," Gojo muttered chewing on a piece of chocolate.

"That's actually pretty good," you tried to reassure yourself. "No idea about elsewhere in the universe, but we don't have measurable continuous quantities here in physics. Everything around us that appears to be continuous is not." 

Gojo crumpled up the chocolate wrapper and tossed it somewhere in the darkness. "You definitely have a screw loose."

Again there was the familiar notes of delight in your voice. "Well, not me. More like the creator of quantum theory," while you chattered to yourself, Gojo kept staring at your profile. Staring and unable to find the strength to tear his eyes away. "All that remains is to capture the moment itself. I don't know what it will look like, of course. It's hardly a portal or a breach."

"What is it then?" his voice came out softer, more quietly. Against his will.

You shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's something that's out of place. Something foreign. But so far all we've encountered are walls, walls, and more walls." You turned to him and he immediately turned his head away. "Ya can rest for now. There's no telling when another opportunity will present itself. I'll keep an eye out," you looked around at the two exits.

Gojo hummed looking at your legs. It would be a crime not to take advantage of the opportunity. Without hesitating, he rested his head on your lap. "You're not going to make me sleep on cold concrete, right?"

"Yeah, right," you grinned and made yourself comfortable leaning against the wall. "Ya know, it's dangerous for you to be with me," Gojo only snuggled harder into your lap. Whether it was true or not didn't bother him at all. "I mean, we got here at the same time, but you said you didn't bump into anyone. So the mimics are here for me."

Oh. So you meant the maze. "Nah, that's okay. You can stroke my hair if you want," Gojo murmured sleepily, not specifying that he wanted it himself.

Your hand was immediately in his hair. You were gently scratching the shaved back of his head with your fingertips, and he was half asleep, unable to resist the goosebumps that spread up his spine. You tried not to lose concentration or look at him too much.

So you stayed there. Gojo peacefully asleep in the godforsaken place on your lap, and you watching the doorways intently; one of your hands running through his hair, the other playing with the dagger, deftly moving it between your fingers

Rachel tried unsuccessfully to make out the caller's name on the phone screen through her blurred vision. Completely desperate, she turned the screen toward Shoko and tapped her finger on the phone.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, but still read the caller's name. "It's Frank."

The spoken name literally made Rachel come to her senses. She answered the phone and straightened her back as if he'd walked into the room. "Hey, dad," she said loudly and distinctly-embroidering each word.

A disgruntled snort was heard on the other end. "Young lady, how much did ya drink?"

Rachel exhaled in astonishment. She wanted to lay her head gently on the table, but she miscalculated her strength, and a dry loud thud rippled through the room. "Just a little bit."

"If this keeps up, I'm going to talk to higher-ups about cutting your funding," the bass in the receiver was so loud Rachel had to tear the phone away from her ear.

"Actually, we're not financially dependent on them anymore," Rachel drunkenly stammered.

"Then I'll talk to Y/N about it," Frank didn't relent.

"Dad-"

Rachel interrupted his angry tone. "Cut it out. I have no desire to watch my daughter drink herself to death. If ya're not thinking of yourself, at least think of your son."

She suppressed the sob climbing to her lips with her hand, pretending to cough it out. "Got it."

"Good girl," Frank's voice became an order of magnitude softer as did his heart. "How are the others doing?"

"Kyle's in raid, Y/N's missing again."

"As soon as they get home, tell them to call me," the man said worriedly and at times like this he sounded especially parental. "By the way, I'll be sending a replenishment to ya soon," he added in between.

"What?" muttered Rachel grudgingly. "More students?"

"No. One of the hunters expressed a desire to join the voidrunners. I fought the higher-ups out of him, they wouldn't let him go," Frank said grinning unkindly. "The only thing is ya'll need to train his stamina and then take him through isolation afterward."

"Ya talk about it like it's a shopping trip. Anyway, one person? Ya serious?"

Frank took a deep breath. "Don't take your frustration out on me. Anything is better than nothing. The kid's twenty years old, name's Issu. Unsociable, but he knows his stuff. Even without isolation he's doing well, so don't get upset early."

Rachel nodded, oblivious to the fact that the person she was talking to was not sitting in front of her. There was a second's silence on the other end of the line.

"One more thing," Frank finally broke the silence. "How are things going with your coworkers?" he sounded casual, but that was what alerted Rachel.

"Well... fine, I guess?" she said as cautiously as possible. "Why?"

"It's just... It's just that some of the higher-ups still aren't thrilled," Frank's casualness was immediately replaced by indignation as soon as he said the phrase aloud. "Quote, 'hunters haven't messed with such the dirt yet'."

"Dad," muttered Rachel wrinkling her nose. "What are they gonna do to us? Let them say what they want as long as they don't crawl out of their holes."

"Fine," Frank said trying to push the feeling of anxiety away. "Make sure you tell those two to give me a call. Love ya."

"And I love ya, too. See ya later," Rachel said and hit the disconnect button.

She looked up from the phone and was surprised to see Shoko staring at the living room. Following the direction of her gaze, Rachel also stared at Mei-Mei, who was seated on the couch watching TV. She was wearing nothing but a oversized light-blue shirt.

"And here I thought people like her could afford at least one set of pajamas," Rachel mumbled disappointedly, getting up from the table. "I'm going to bed," she waved to Shoko and headed for the second floor.

Shoko glanced at her, watching carefully to see if Rachel would trip on the steps. When she heard the door slam, she turned to Mei-Mei. "Is it so hard to follow the rules of this house?"

"Does any of the rules here have any legal force? I don't think so," Mei-Mei said winking slyly at Shoko.

"Change your clothes," the doctor said sharply.

"I won't," Mei-Mei cooed. "This gift means a lot to me."

"I have no idea what you're trying to accomplish," Shoko said getting up from the table. "But I do know that when someone takes someone else's stuff without permission, it can hardly be called a gift."

Mei-Mei chuckled softly. "It's just an unnecessary circumstance for no one."

"Watch out that you don't pave your way to grave with these circumstances," Shoko mumbled indifferently as she walked up to the second floor. Her voice grew quieter with each step she passed. "I wouldn't piss off the locals if I were you." 

"How dangerous," Mei-Mei whispered hiding a smile beneath the fingers pressed to her lips.

"..., hey."

Either in a dream or in reality, a hand gently stroked Gojo's cheek. He fidgeted in his half-slumber trying to get comfortable, holding something soft against him. It would have continued like this until someone forcefully flicked him on the forehead. He jerked his eyes open. The sudden realization of where he was made him jump up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you said quietly, holding out a water bottle to him.

He took a couple sips, and then wiped his eyes. "Morning," he muttered in a hoarse voice. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just that we should get going. You've been asleep for three hours, so they're probably getting close to us by now."

In the darkness, you saw the outline of his round eyes. You grinned thinking that Gojo was stunned that he'd slept so peacefully in such a place for so long. He thought about the fact that you had actually been sitting in the same position the whole time so as not to disturb his sleep.

Gojo stood up stretched out to his full height kneading his stiff limbs. "Impressive," you whistled getting up from the ground and looking at his figure.

"Listen," he began in a still sleepy voice. However, sleepy thoughts can often be delusional, full of illogic, but in your situation, every one of them could fit. "Isn't that us?"

"Huh?" you stopped shaking off your feet and raised your head to look at him. "What do ya mean?"

"You said a breach is something that's taken out of the setting. Isn't that us?"

Something cracked. You wished it was an insight, but it was the floor beneath your feet. A few inches away from you, the ceiling collapsed at once raising a cloud of dust and dirt blocking your already meager view. You glanced down; the floor was literally breaking into pieces and falling into the void. Your head snapped up sharply and you darted from side to side, desperately trying to find Gojo amidst the cloud of concrete dust in the chaos of the falling ceiling and breaking floor. Your pounding heart wasn't calmed, but nearly burst as someone's hands clamped you down to chest shielding you from everything.

You opened your tightly squeezed eyes when the noise of destruction finally died down. The summer breeze touched your dusty hair. The smell of burnt wood, peppermint and something sweet hit your nose. Gojo still held you close to him. 

You stood in a small square in front of glass doors and a there was a blue sign above you. "Gojo," you called out softly, grabbing his forearm. "We're in the middle of the street."

"No," Gojo mumbled stubbornly into your shoulder, clutching you obstinately in his arms. "We're still in the maze."

You suppressed a chuckle against the fabric of his sweatshirt. "Let's go home already."

***

Already changed into your pajamas, you stood in the bathroom brushing your teeth. You were holding a coaster in your hand, and you looked at it in surprise: there was another toothbrush in it. You hadn't noticed it before. How long has it been here?

"Weirdo," came a voice. Gojo stood leaning against the doorway watching as half the toothbrush evaporated somewhere in your mask. "I still can't figure out if it's the mask, or if it's just that you have a freakishly huge mouth." Gojo walked over to you and took the toothbrush from the coaster, and you set it back down with a clatter.

The only sounds in the bathroom were the water running from the faucet and the rustle of brushes. You weren't used to someone else standing next to you in the bathroom. Gojo was not used to having someone else standing next to him in general.

But you were learning.

"Nice pajamas," he muttered inarticulately from behind a mouthful of toothpaste, peering at you and your pajamas with the funny little avocados through the mirror. "Staying in the workroom tonight?"

You spit the toothpaste into the sink. "Yeah, I need to get some more work done," you said and wiping your face with a towel walked out of the bathroom.

You went to the desk and opened the bottom drawer pulling out a stack of blank sheets. Sitting down in your chair, you tossed it onto the table; your eyes caught the folder where the stack had fallen.

"How much longer you gonna work?" asked Gojo taking a seat next to you.

"Ya wanna sleep here? I'll try to keep it short," you replied picking up the folder with Rachel's recent raid report.

"That's not what I'm talking about," he muttered awkwardly shifting his intertwined.

"Meg, put the kettle on, please," you said running your eyes over the lines.

The voice that answered you was full of indifference. "Put it on yourself."

Muttering sarcastic words of thanks to yourself under your breath, you wanted to get up from your chair, but his hand came down gently on your shoulder stopping you. "I'll get it done," Gojo stood up and headed towards the kettle; once he was at the target, the kettle clicked on and turned green. "What, does everyone in this house have a similar sense of humor?" he exclaimed splashing his hands indignantly. You only shrugged guiltily.

The kettle finally boiled, and he set the mugs on the table. You stared in horror at the sixth sugar cube he was throwing into his mug.  

Gojo handed you a cup of hot fragrant tea. "So kind of ya," you said leaning back in your chair and putting your feet up on the table. Your gaze drifted back to the report.

There were warm and insanely soft red socks on your feet. Gojo stared at them watching you clench and unclench your toes. Cute. "Your socks are nice too," he commented taking a sip from his mug.

You tore yourself away from the papers throwing a glance at your feet. "Thank ya," you chirped. "I always match my socks to the color of my underwear."

A mechanical voice cut into your conversation. "You're not wearing any underwear right now."

In the silence that hung, you phlegmatically wiped the tea off your face, which Gojo choked on. "Thanks for input," you muttered and turned to him. His face was red from intense coughing. Or so you thought. "Need help?"

"N-no!" exclaimed Gojo in a hoarse voice moving farther away from you.

"Okay," you said with a shrug.

You put the report aside and started filling out blank papers. Finally coming to his senses, he caught a glimpse of you writing about today's incident. "Y/N," you responded with a nod of your head. "Do you know the person who led us there?"

"Yeah," you replied dryly, continuing to trace out the letters on the paper.

Gojo bit his lip nervously, not knowing if he could go a little further. But testing the waters is not criminalized, is it? "Who is he?"

"My teacher, if you can call it that," you said crossing out some word and crumpling the piece of paper.

Gojo looked at you spitefully. "What? You were trained by a demon?"

"Can you imagine?" you exclaimed softly under your breath. "Life in general is an amazing thing."

Your behavior only misled him more. He gripped the cup tighter in his hands. Gojo wish he could keep his temper in check, but he didn't even know what pissed him off more: the information he'd gotten or your indifference. "He called you a pet," behind the pile of papers, you didn't notice the pouring disgust in his voice.

"He had a lot of strange habits. Never mind," he saw you rub your collar as you said it. It was high even on your pajamas.

The cup he was clutching in his hands cracked.

You turned at the sound. Gojo was holding a mug covered in tiny cracks; it looked like it was about to fall apart. "Put it neatly on the table. I'll clean it up later."

"You really wanna talk about fucking mug-"

"Look," you cut Gojo off halfway through tossing your pen wearily on the desk. "I need to write it all down," you tapped your fingers on the stack of paper. "And at least half of it will be scribbled about how sweet you sleep and how loudly you snore. So whatever it is, let's have a chat about it later," your voice sounded lower due to exhaustion. "Go to bed, 'kay?" you added more softly.

"Whatever you say," despite the anger in his chest that you hadn't noticed, he wasn't about to leave the workroom. On the contrary, he walked over to your bed and leaned on it tiredly, holding one of the pillows to his chest. Gojo had never seen you sleep here, and yet the pillow smelled like you. He burrowed his face deeper into it, leaving only his eyes to steal glimpses of your image. With each deep exhale, he calmed down little by little. You were here, with him, in the same room.

"Good night, boxy."

"Good night, mochi."

His eyes closed involuntarily. Falling into sleep, Gojo left behind those days in which the forecast had promised him endless rain and an eternally lonely room.   

next ⊳

[buf309]

Tagged by @piracytheorist.

1. Named after anyone?

No. Because in my culture, naming your kid after any relatives (traditionally this meant EVERYONE up to 3 generations before you) is a big no-no, a taboo. It shows a lack of respect for that person. Nowadays, the rule is much looser, just eliminating the names of the grandparents and the parents' sibling(s) from both sides of the family, then the young parents can give their children any names they think sound good.

2. Last time you cried?

Last September, when my dog passed away.

3. Any kids?

I can't stand loud noises, so... Hell NO.

4. Sports played/playing?

I'm just too lazy to play anything.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yeah, when I'm annoyed or angry. Sometimes I have to consciously tone it down. You can't snark at your clients, unfortunately.

6. First thing you notice about people?

Their passion/obsession? I can forget a person as soon as they're out of my eyesight. But if you rant to me about the thing you like, I'll remember you for years.

7. Eye color?

Just brown.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I used to love scary movies as a young teen. After a while, all of them seem the same to me, so I got bored. Now? Happy ending is the top choice.

9. Talents?

Drink 3 cups of black coffee and still being able to sleep like a rock after that.

10. Where were you born?

Vietnam.

11. Hobbies?

Drawing and reading.

12. Pets?

None right now.

13. Height?

167cm (5'5"???). I'll forever be salty about not being able to reach 170cm during my growth spurt.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Computer.

15. Dream job?

Manga author. Yeah, step-by-step, I'm still working toward that goal.

Tagging @whateversawesome, @nire-the-mithridatist and @tare-chan, this is simply for my own curiousity so please only do this when you have free time to spare and feel willing to share.

[a-little-unsteddie]

i was thinking about things and i decided i was going to share it with the world in hopes that someone will write it and tag me. (hint hint nudge nudge)

Eddie has always loved the forest that surrounded Forest Hills, finding a peace there that he never could find in other places. He would go out and walk in the forest every chance he could- usually right after school. He felt a companionship with the plants that he couldn’t find anywhere else and because most of his friends had other things to do, he would find himself surrounded by the trees every day, sharing about his day. He talked to them like he was their friend, or they were his. Because they were, in his eyes. They listened to everything he said without judgement or ridicule.

Steve looked after the forest. He loved the forest just as much as Eddie, if not more. He was the guardian of the forest, making sure that nothing happened to detriment the life of the forest. He had existed as long as the forest had, looking after and protecting everything within its’ bounds. He watched as life moved forward around the forest, never being allowed to leave its limits. He listened to the needs of the forest and attempted to give it everything it needed. Sometimes that meant making sure that logging companies didn’t stick around. Sometimes that meant taking care of the wolf cubs in the forest when their mother had been poached.

And Steve. Steve was lonely. Had been lonely for as long as he lived. Which was longer than he’d cared to keep track of. At some point, the forest started whispering to him about a visitor. Someone who made sure to thank the forest for whatever he took, but never took too much. Always things that the forest gave freely. Talking to the forest as if it were alive and breathing and to be fair it was but no one had ever realized it before. And maybe the visitor didn’t realize it, but he still respected the forest. Made sure to never take too much to cause harm.

Steve needed to meet this stranger. This visitor who the forest loved so much. He set out to wait for him, and for awhile he just watched. Watched as the beautiful stranger talked to each of the plants he interacted with and thanked the forest for whatever pretty rock he picked up.

Steve never planned to actually say hi. To meet the beautiful stranger. He knew humans and Beings of Old didn’t interact with humans. So he was content with just watching the beautiful stranger.

And then one day the stranger is crying and running to the forest being chased and well. That just won’t do. So Steve uses the magic within himself to help the beautiful stranger escape and hide.

Eddie ran through the forest, being chased by Carver or some other asshole from town, running to where he felt safe. And then suddenly the forest was closing around him and he was face-to-face with something he’d never seen before.

Steve smiled timidly at the stranger. “Hi.”