#now i go back into hiding for 2000 business days

[leillorien]

tres hunters….. tw*ttr liked this so i am posting it here 🗡️🪓🏹

[undercoverpena]

viii. tomorrow I'll be gone, save tonight

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eight of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. fluff. falling in love. idiots in love. we're approaching the sadness ✨ wordcount: 3.4k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

It takes longer to get going the next day—mainly due to the number of times one of you begins pulling the other close.

A simple kiss here, a nuzzle there.

The morning ticking away as the two of you remain blissfully happy under hotel sheets. All undressed, sated and smiling.

Now, he’s basking in your laugh.

Laughing at him as he tries (poorly) to explain and rationalise his low score on Snakes. The game you had told him about to begin with.

Tears falling from the edges of your eyes as he tries to argue his case repeatedly. Your little wheeze making his heart clench with joy—your head shaking, hand cupping your mouth as each noise slips out.

“You’re clearly just not good with your fingers.”

He pinches you teasingly. “You know that’s not true.”

You're still smiling, your laugh fading as shyness begins to fall over your features. It starts with your eyes dropping to the bedsheets hiding both of your bare skin, and he waits for the feeble ‘stop’ that’s usually accompanied by a swat.

It never comes.

You lift your gaze back up instead, something twinkling, sparkling in your eyes. “Give it to me.”

“What?” 

Gesturing for his phone, you take it, all devious smirk with a wiggle of your shoulders. Throwing his arm behind his head, sighing—all blissful and content—as he leans against the headboard before you begin shifting in the sheets. Watching as you begin moving so your bare skin is on show as you do so. Slowly, and teasingly, you begin positioning yourself between his legs, as he sits up so your back connects with his chest. 

“Watch the master, okay?” 

He smirks, snorting. But he still slides his hands around your waist, feeling you twitch from the first feel of it before you relax. 

“So what’s the—“

“Shh,” you say, his lips sliding to your cheek, smelling the lingering scent of your perfume from dinner last night—and the two of you. 

His eyes fix on the screen. Watching the digital serpent slide around the screen to the sound of your key clicks—each pixel-bit collected as the tail grows longer. Your movements are quick—far quicker than he can text, never mind play this—

“Wait, you can go through walls?” 

“This one… this one you can,” you reply, words dropping off, concentration hanging on each syllable. 

It’s odd to be in awe of someone in how they control a snake across a screen. But he is. The score racked up, far surpassing the one that took him an embarrassing amount of time. 

Then, the screen flashes, your groan so cute—grunting out of you as you shake your head in annoyance. 

“You should take this off me.” 

“Competitive, are we?” 

Smirking, you hand him the phone as he casts it to the side with relative ease. More focused on keeping you here, close, skin to skin. 

“How am I even meant to beat that score, querida?” His lips find the skin behind your ear.  

“You’ll have to try real hard.” 

“You’re devious.”

“I prefer menace.” 

He’s about to agree, your mouth connecting with his—stealing them. Feeling the way you’re trying to punctuate something to him with your lips. Fingers brushing over his cheek, over the edge of the hair above his lip, before you slowly stop, lashes lifting to shower him in something which both shatters him and heals him all at once. 

“I should shower. Alone.” 

His mouth twists as he fights a smirk, all reluctant to let you leave this time. Like he had been the last time, his fingers softly holding your wrist, as you mumble about being quick, that if he was taking you out for the day, you wanted to not stink of sex. 

Something he wouldn’t have complained about, personally. Until he remembers the scent of your body wash. The one which has been burying itself inside of him, a flurry of softness and sweetness that if he ever smells a single ingredient of it, he’ll think of you. 

“I do wanna take you on all the dates, baby. So, go. Shower. Otherwise, I’ll never get the chance.”

You look over your shoulder, bent over your case. “All of them?” 

“Need to cram in all I can until…”

His words fade as he feels himself lurch. The noticeable hole in his chest began to widen—the one first appearing when you fell asleep in his arms last night.

Now, though, he gets to watch your reaction too. A front-row seat to your bottom lip wobbling, eyes averting him—as though you’re splitting apart two.

He doesn’t think. He just moves. Javi's feet kick the sheets free as he walks over to you. “Yeah, let’s… let’s not talk about that.” 

Burying his lips against yours to rid you of any remainders of it, as he positions your body back against him where he can. The wall greeting your back, his palm boxing you in until the two of you forget all about the impending deadline—and only about the now. 

“Javi…”

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know. You want a shower.”

Your fingers tap his chest lightly, forcing his head to lift, lips pressing a kiss to your hairline before turning. 

Sighing, he runs his hand over his face—hearing the bathroom door close—as the sheets crinkle back beneath him, blending with the falling water coming from the room next to him. 

He was happy. 

Ridiculously so. It runs through him together with looser muscles and more relaxed nerves. It swims inside his chest and balloons his heart. Mainly, it sits in his cheeks—the ones slowly beginning to ache from how often he’s been sporting that grin only you can pull from him. 

should I be worried about how long youre in the store for 

The woman in front of me is returning her entire life and then using coupons to buy a new life. Kill me.

cant. unfortunately I would miss you 

You’d replace with me ease. Have you seen your face?

can’t replace you hermosa but hurry up before I begin taking a bite out of each of the donuts 

You wouldn’t dare.

Id dare because the glazed one looks good 

“We could do nothing.”

It’s not that he hadn’t thought of (or planned) what the two of you could do together, he just hadn’t expected to burn through them all so quickly.

It didn’t help that it had been a while—too long—since he’d dated a person. Rarely ever making it past the first date. Most of them being dinner or coffee, or not even making it to either and finding himself getting what he needed without learning their surname.

Smirking, he runs his tongue across his teeth. “Nothing isn’t a date.”

“Not that way, we do nothing,” you retort, and he shakes his head as he grins. “We’ve done a restaurant, a museum, a picnic. We’ve done a lot.”

“We could go to the cinema?”

“But that means I can’t talk to you for over an hour.”

Javi smiles, hand running across his jaw. “Could make out at the back, though?”

Pulling a face, you sigh. “You drive a hard bargain, you do. But—”

“Fine, no movies. Another time?”

Grinning, you lean back in the booth of the diner, the one you’d requested—determined to make your way through the menu before you left.

Smiling, you sigh contently. “One day, we won’t even need to question it. It’ll be like a weekday date thing we do—once a month, on a Wednesday.”

“You thought about it?”

You hum, glancing back over the menu—brows knitting as you attempt to choose. “What?”

“Us. Dating.”

Your eyes flash up, all wide, full of panic. “Is that… I guess—I mean, like I know this isn’t conventional in the slightest and—and we haven’t, like, talked about it. I… I’m fucking up, aren’t I? Shit—“

“Fuck, hermosa. No. I mean… us going on dates, together. After this week—in one location, a setting a plan.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Swallowing, you shift in your spot. “Um. Yeah, I have. The location is foggy, naturally.”

“Naturally.”

Your eyes fall to the table, fingers tapping along the plastic as you do. “I—I know… well, because I know you have the ranch and your pop, Javi.”

He swallows, rolling his lips as you try to fake a smile. 

“So, I know what that means. As I’m sure, you do.” 

He doesn’t, not a single clue. His brain racks to find it—what it is that you mean—but you clear your throat, eviscerating any further attempt at a push for that information as you smile, significant—all beautiful and charming. 

“What about bowling?” 

“You’re a cheat.” 

Coming up behind you, he spins you on the spot. Welcomed immediately by your grin, the one he’s been able to admire on your face for the last hour.

“Don’t be like that, Spare. You did well. Only 28 points behind.”

Shoving a finger at his chest, shaking your head, “You blindfolded me for one.”

“So, I could kiss you.” 

Smirking, you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, his arms finding their place on your hips. A place they’ve come to know as home. “You were worried about me winning, weren’t you?” 

“You were showing me up.”

“Bet if we went shooting, you’d beat me—Mr DEA,” you say, the latter all a whisper. 

“You’d go shooting?”

“Oh, fuck no. I can barely be trusted at the fair to shoot those little tin cans off the stand—you should not, I repeat not, put a gun in my hand.”

Beaming, he draws shapes with his thumbs. “Alright, noted.” 

Watching you from the corner of his eye as you grin, fidgeting with your jacket before you look up, and come to a stop. Something flashes across your face, glee—excitement—your head twisting to meet him. 

Then your hand slides inside his, the other hand wrapping around his wrist. He doesn’t fight the way you pull him towards it. The little photobooth you’d eyed up in the bowling alley. 

“Please?”

As if he could ever say no. 

Your legs over his, bodies crammed in the small space as he slides the dollar in. Your face is full of glee, your body bursting with excitement. 

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. 

There’s no decision on poses, you pressing your cheek to his as you slap the button, and the two of you grin on command. FLASH. Then after, it’s a quick reposition of movements that the two of you both seem to understand as you both pull a silly face. FLASH.

The next, he’s sure time slows for. Javi’s head turning, eyes lingering on you as your laugh blossoms across your features. His heart thundering in his chest, hammering so loud and heavy as that familiar, wanted, feeling flares up inside of him.

It isn’t until the next flash does he realise how wide he’s smiling. Feels it in his cheeks, as the light illuminates the flecks in your eyes—the ones he wants to fall into and never leave.

Then, time resumes, you leaning in—hand on his cheek, nose tip to his: the almost kiss.

FLASH.

Neither of you move. The two of you hovering as the photos finishes, the machine whirring—

“Kiss me,” you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

And who is he to deny you? Javi would kiss you forever if he could, so he slants his mouth over yours, feeling that rush of warmth in his chest that he gets when he kisses you. When he gets to, your smile presses against him, his fingers sliding up your neck. 

“You’re so handsome, Javi.” 

He smiles, thumb brushing your cheek as the machine spits out the two copies. Your arm diving, body twisting from him as you do—taking them, handing him one. 

But he doesn’t even stare down at his own copy. Javi just watches as you take in yours. How your eyes flick down each one, alternating smiles as you take them all in—lingering back up to the third. 

Just like he is. 

“We look good.”  

You grin, swallowing. “We do.”

You married yet?

shut up murphy 

Tell her I said hi. 

Javier Peña had wished for a lot of things when he was in Colombia.

A lead. A break. To catch Escobar. To take down the cartel. To keep himself intact—to leave with his head held high.

Then he wished for nothing. No reason to, no hope or want that even allowed the thought of one to appear, never mind to request it.

Now all he was doing was wishing.

As each hour of your last day together ticks on, he longs for more. Prays for a phone call that tells you that you can stay—craves a justifiable reason to throw you in his truck and take you back with him.

There isn’t one.

Just a looming goodbye and a prickling pain that’s biting at the edges of happiness and adoration.

He’d wanted to take you for food, but you’d insisted on drinks. Finding your leg between his as you tell him about your friend moving for her new job, about your childhood and how you had a goldfish once.

In the last few days, the two of you had shared so much, that the missing pieces of who the other is began to fill. He’d told you bits about Colombia, his Mom, Laredo.

You’d told him about work, about the people you meet—the issues you have to sort. The things in your apartment, the things you do with Aish and the life you live.

But, the confession that gets to him, is spoken softer, dropped into conversation nervously—as though you’ve been worrying about speaking it:

I like all the things we’ve been doing, but I have missed doing the crossword with you.

It’s that declaration that makes him talk about why. Allows him share that he likes doing them with you too, having done them for something to do—no pressure after Colombia, just a puzzle that needed solving.

Javi isn’t stupid, he knows there’s a bigger reason as to why he likes doing them, and with you. Why they have fallen to the wayside as soon as he had you in his arms. It pulses in his chest and drums along his bones.

And then you take his hand, as though knowing it too. Clutching it tight, a thousand questions bubbling about Colombia, but are never spoken. Because you don’t ask, don’t push.

I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.

Your words make his heart soar. Make the beer on the table fall over as he leans across to kiss you, to cup your cheeks and thank you with his tongue behind your teeth.

Now, he’s glancing over at you—watching you with your legs crossed, eyes shimmering from alcohol. You wrap cheese around your finger, licking it from your skin before taking a large bite. 

“This pizza may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

His mouth slides into a smirk, all about to make a comment when your eyes land on him. 

“Second to you, of course.”

“You been around me a week, and look at the tongue you have on you.”

“Yeah, you’re a bad influence.”

Leaning back, he wipes his fingers on a napkin. “You mind?” 

Shifting his weight on the floor, he watches as you chew—the back of your hand covering your mouth as your eyes roll, chewing more furiously. He shifts again, feeling something digging in, moving his hand to his back pocket of jeans, only to pull out a strip of photos.

The ones taken a day ago. 

His fingers unfold them as he hears you clear your throat, reaching for your red cup filled with wine as his eyes land on the third one down. The one where you’re laughing, spotting how he’s looking at you—not sure if he ever remembers seeing that look on his face in any other photo or in the mirror. 

“No, I—”

“Baby.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it's sitting on his chest again. Rising and falling like waves, and he’s tired of waiting for the storm to pass. Especially when he doesn’t want it to.

Javi wants it. You. Him. So much so, it’s close to erupting from him. The confession which has been sitting there, growing with each minute he spends with you until it thumps independently to his heart and feelings. A thing which has grown, expanded until it's now filling the space in him that he always imagined would be vast and empty. 

“Javi…”

“I want those dates with you. Cinema ones, once a month.”

Watching as your mouth falls open, hand furiously wipes the pizza dust from your fingers onto a napkin as you turn on your hip to face him. 

Clearing your throat, you sigh. “Me too. But, I know you have feelings on long distance, but—“

“Wait. What? What makes you say that?” 

Shrugging, you avert your eyes, lips rolling together nervously. “You said the other day, about how you almost got married. Before the DEA. That you were glad. That the distance wouldn’t have worked, and it meant you could focus.” 

His brow raises, waiting, wondering. 

Thinking there’s more—there has to be. The pieces not fitting, until they slowly slide into view. Your words in the diner, I know what that means. As I’m sure you do.

“Querida, no—”

“Did I… Did I put two and two together?” 

Taking your hand, pizza dust be damned, he sighs. “I… it was complicated. I just… I didn’t wanna marry her, but I didn’t want you to think I was an asshole for that. For leaving her, the way I did—I probably didn’t explain it well. But, it’s different with us. I want to make this work with you.”

His grip tightens on your hand, fingers lifting your chin so your eyes have nowhere else to look other than his. 

“So, we don’t see one another every week. We’ll plan it—talk like we did before, and make sure we have phone dates.” 

Nodding, he watches as your eyes fill with tears. Shimmering, making the flecks in your eyes stand out even more. 

“You don’t think I’m too much?”

His eyes widen, face softening—realising he's doing it again, the puppy face (as you so eloquently called it a day ago).

“No. Not in the slightest. I told you—baby, I never think that. Haven’t once.”

You look surprised, but you swallow it—smiling instead. “It won’t be easy.”

And he wants to laugh. Because he knows that. He knows hard. He’s faced hard, run through and been smacked with hard.

This with you, it could never be described as that. It’s easy, like breathing or existing.

So he cups your cheek, seeing you visibly sobering under the conversation. “I think we can do it.”

It’s more a statement, than a question. Watching you think it over, all unreadable, anxiousness fluttering in his stomach.

“I know we can,” he adds. “Until one day…”

“One day,” you repeat, as though turning the words over on your tongue. “Are you… are you sure?”

Looping his fingers around your neck, he presses his forehead to yours. Intimate, close—romantic. “Of course, baby. I want this—you, us. Do… Do you?” 

A tear falls, skidding down the apple of your cheek as you smile. “Of course. I… I may have cried in the shower this morning… because I didn’t want to say goodbye.” 

He sighs, light—shifting the weight which had been resting on him and closing the hole in his chest. Pressing his lips to your forehead, thumb and fingers stroking your cheek. 

“I can’t let you go, baby,” he whispers, resting his lips against your forehead. 

His ears hear the faint sound of me, either, before your fingers wrap around his wrist, forcing his head to move back before your lips burn the reply against his.

Over, and over, again.

It begins tender, warm—tinged with other words he’s not sure he’s meant to hear—before it moves to something that burns. Your touch is like flames, leaving marks against him he never wants to vanish or be rid of. It grows messy, his tongue licking into your mouth as the pizza lays forgotten as you move into his lap. 

Thighs on either side, fingers in his hair as he grabs your waist tight, pinning you close, until he makes you stand. 

Then the bed is dipping, the sheets crinkling, and he has you close to him. His name falls from your lips as he whispers yours, the two names merging together—blending, just as the two of you are. His fingers spanning your hip, keeping you flush with him, nails in his hair.

Then he hears it, breathy and right up against his ear. 

Mine. 

His head pulls back, eyes staring into yours. “Todo mío.”

if you haven't already, please check out this gorgeous piece that was gifted to me by @ghostaholics 🩵 for this reason, this chapter, the many dates and the way they're falling, is dedicated all to you, G.

[shocymer]

Goodbye Summer

"The friend label is a label I'm going to hate. Our story ended without even started."

Pairing : Mingi x afab!reader

Word counts : 4k

Contents : highschool au, angst, flashback, lived by the beach, TW! mention of divorce, slightly depressed reader, miscommunication issue.

A/N : The fic is inspired by "f(x) - Goodbye Summer". It's been my favorite song since it was released (bcs relatable af). Also this one took a set in early 2000 with Taiyou No Uta as my reference. Oh btw I don't use japanese semester system, I matched it with how it goes in my country. I hope everyone enjoy it! ♡

2nd Year. Autumn 2006

You walked through the class corridor while sorting some papers from the student council. You heard fast paced step behind you,

“Better watch out girly,” he took your papers and continue running again.

He laughs maniacally, at some point he stop in the middle of corridor waiting for you to catch him up. As he saw you getting closer, he lift your paper high up. He amused by your action, struggling to reach those papers.

“Mingi! Can you stop!” You keep trying to reach it.

“Nah, I don’t want to,” he lift it even higher.

“If you don’t stop any moment, I’m gonna-”

“Hmm? Gonna what?” He put his face in front of you, staring into your eyes. You saw the opportunity as he lower his grip.

“Gonna grab this damn papers, thanks by the way,” you managed to get it, swiftly walk away from him.

He followed you, asking if you’re getting busy again as student council. You responded him with annoyance till both of you immersed in conversation as you walked back to your classroom.

2nd Year. Winter 2006

You blew your hands to heat it up. Today is awfully the coldest day since winter started. Silly you, you forgotten your mittens leaving it out nicely on your study desk. You keep cursing to yourself as you only brought limited hot pack and is enough for your stomach only. Everything’s ruined because the exam period.

“You keep blowing it like a freshly baked bread.” Mingi suddenly walk beside you.

You only gave him side eye. Too lazy to respond him. Like who the hell blowing a fresh baked bread out of the oven, that isn’t funny at all. You muttering some words and keep rubbing your hands.

He notice it before he took one of your hand and guide it to his winter coat pocket. He hold your hand tightly. You took a glance at him, he keep a straight face remain unbothered. It’s not the usual himself. You knew him that he’s a playful silly guy who always teasing you whenever he likes.

“Stay still if you don’t mind, I don’t bring mine too,” his eyes darting towards his hands.

You shrugged a little bit, nodding your head. “Thanks Mingi. We almost at school too.”

He smiled and grip your hand tighter in his pocket.

2nd Year. Spring 2007

“.. I like you,” faintly you heard a love confession.

New semester is just started and the vibe suddenly change. ‘New semester new you’ , ‘love is in the air’, and you blame the pollen scattering everywhere as it worsen your allergy. Just like the situation right now, you can find love confession almost every spot in the school including the stairs.

You never get the hype of other students cheering on it like an interesting show. And now you’re trapped, have been hiding for solid 7 minutes on the 3rd floor stairs. Afraid of make them feel awkward if you suddenly pass by them. So you politely hiding in your place. You’ve been on your flip phone to kill some time, but you’re growing impatient wondering who take a love confession so long.

Curiosity kills the cat like people said, you took a little peek between the railings. You saw the girl, but you’ve got no idea who she is. Then you tilt your head to get a better view, you saw the tall familiar figure. You recognize those side profile, those tall nose, and those eyes, it’s Mingi. Your heart sting for a while then you sat on the stairs quietly trying to grasp the situation. At the end you only heard their laughter slowly fading away.

2nd Year. Summer 2007

“Got some plans for summer?” Mingi poked your arms.

You lift your head trying to look at him. Headache taking over you as today is the last day of exam. 2 weeks of distress you only facing your books non-stop. And finally your hard work has paid of when the summer break getting closer.

“Dunno, gotta wait the result come out first.”

“Wanna go to the beach?” He asked you again.

You let out a heavy sigh, “I’m worried if I’ll take summer class.”

“We’re going afternoon, incase if one of us get that supplementary class,” he assured you.

You nod at him. He pat your shoulder before leaving you to talk to another classmate. Everything felt awkward after you saw him that day on the spring. First of all you’re not that close to him. Both of you only a casual classmate. But since that day, you tried your best to avoid him hoping it’ll hide the strange feeling in your heart. Deep down inside, you intended to move on from him hoping you can be your usual self. And this summer break is surely a perfect timing.

⁠✧

The summer breeze blew your hair gently, leading you to grip your hat tightly. Mingi told you to meet him before the railway that separate almost half of the town. You waited him, sitting on your bike. Your eyes look towards the sea from this distance. The beach is not difficult to reach, it only took 10 minutes from where you live. But going with him is a rare thing.

There’s still no sign of him. You pull out your flip phone, trying to check the time. Undecided whether sent him a message or not, you keep opening and closing his contact. During the summer break you didn't contact him at all. Still unsure about your feelings, you’re afraid of falling too deep. So you just wait for his message if he remembers those plan he made before. You reread his last message,

(Minkimingi) Meet me by the railway tomorrow afternoon, cya!

You let out a heavy sigh and finally send him one,

(You) Where are you? I might get carried by the wind cuz waiting you for too long.

The vibration startled you, didn’t expect him to replied you so soon.

(Mingkymingi) I don’t live by the shore my dear princess, please be patient.

Gasped by the nickname he gave, you slump your head to the bike handlebar. ‘Goddamit Song Mingi, I shouldn't have come, right?’ Still battling with your inner thought, suddenly you feel a cold sensation at the back of your neck. You turned quickly only to find him chuckling while holding a can of cold drink.

“As a good friend, I know you must be craving this,” he handed you the drink.

Yeah friend. You forced a smile before reaching those drink. Open it up instantly then chugging it. You’re observing him without you realize. He’s still in his summer uniform. As you guess he took the supplementary class. Beads of sweats rolled down his forehead, of course that’s the result of him riding his bike in a hurry. Till his eyes met yours, returning your gaze.

“I never expect you’ll suit in those white.. flowy.. dress..”

“Friends do not do that,” you put emphasis on your words by reflex.

“That?”

Without thinking you answered him quickly,

“complimenting each other.”

He ruffled his hair as frustration drawn on his face.

“Well.. let’s say it’s not a compliment, but what’s wrong with friends complimenting each other?”

Fed up by every time he mention that label, you pedal your bike away towards the beach leaving him alone. You heard him yelling from distance,

“we’re still waiting others! Where are you going?!”

“I’m tired of waiting, meet me at the beach!” You yelled back at him.

⁠✧

The sky began to show its golden tinge. The seagulls flew to and fro over the sea. The waves rolled rhythmically and some of your classmate surf on them. Everyone is enjoying this moment, some of them playing volleyball, some of them splashing the waters towards each other, then here you are sat on the beach while thinking about your original intention of coming here.

You guessed nothing changes. The fact you’re still bitter by him is irritated you even more. You’re eyes are always on his presence, knew damn well that he’s still looking good without even trying. Just like right now, he wear a loose black t-shirt damped by water mixed his sweat, school uniform pants still hanging on him, and those brushed back damped hair while riding his surfboard.

“Say cheese!” One of your classmates push the camera shutter. Capturing the summer break moments before the new school year starts. You couldn’t help but pose for a few photos, until you didn’t realize Mingi pulled your hand. He mouthed you to follow him.

Obediently follow him, you started pedaling your bike behind his. He took you to a higher place than the shore. Stopping his bike, he look back waiting for you. Not too long, you stopped right beside him.

“We can get a better view here,” he smiled at you while his hand is pointing the sky.

You raised one of your eyebrow in confusion. He chuckled by your expression. Then he continued his words,

“I don’t know what you’ve going through. Somehow lately you seems.. different. I hope this will makes you better.”

Suddenly some loud bursts heard along the night sky decorated by the flickering light of fireworks. Leading you spontaneously looking up at it. It’s beautiful just like him. Like the light in the midst of a dark frantic mind. Even the fireworks weren’t enough to keep you entertained, you end up staring at him. Capturing the way how the smile carved onto his face.

“I like you Mingi,” you said it in a whisper.

You know it won’t be heard. You know that he belongs to someone else. And you know he appreciate you as a friend. At least this will ease your feelings even just a little.

⁠✧

The nights were getting colder. Both of you walked side by side while leading the bikes towards home. You talked to each other properly after a couple of months dealing with your antics, avoiding mingi by making some excuses whenever he came close to you.

You stop at the railway, he continue to lead his bike till the other side of railway. He gave you a small waved. You return it while looking at his back getting further away.

“Mingii! I hope we’re in the same class next year!” You yelled at him.

He looked back, raised his hand to give an ok sign from a distance.

3rd Year. Spring 2008

You rushed out from your class only 2 minutes before the class started, not in the mood to be a good and obedient student today. You’re gonna exploded in any minutes, home is in a mess and so does your head. Still hesitated skipping class at the library or leaving the school, you stopped your step right in front of the school gym door. Peeking through the window, you saw someone is dribbling the basketball.

You open the door slowly, decided to skip your class here. Startled by the sound he look into your direction. You thought there’s another students but none of them. It’s only him.

“Oh.. Mingi?” Yes that’s him, who you never talk to since those summer. Both of you only passed each other for a few times. Just saying hello and nothings more. Human can only wish, but fate said the otherwise. It all happened because you’re completely in different class.

“Hey, what’s up,” he greeted you back before tossing the ball towards you.

You catch it, slowly dribbling it towards his direction. He played along with you, a wide smile adorning his face. Trying to grab the ball before he asked you,

“How’s life?”

You almost tripped taken aback by his question.

“Um.. yeah.. great I guess,”

Finally you passed him through then you managed to shoot the ball. Mocking him, you jump out of the joy. He put a ‘Just watch, I can do better’ expression towards you. The squeak of shoes and laughter filled the gym. Both of you were playing in the joy, even you forget all of your tangled mind.

The least thing you ever wanted coming all of a sudden. You saw your teacher’s silhouette through the window. You quickly grabbed mingi’s hand and guide him to hide under the window hoping your teacher won’t notice. Both of you stayed still for a couple of minutes.

He checked if it safe already, then decided to leave the gym quietly while holding your hand. You both tried to stifle the laughter and keep walking only to find your teacher waiting for you at the corner. It ended by the punishment after such a long tired lecture. Mingi and you were on the knees side by side while raising both of your hand right in front of the gym.

“Sorry, we're busted,” he whispered to you.

“It’s not even your fault, please don’t blame yourself,” you mouthed back to him.

After quite some times, he looked at you with a mischievous smile. You're pretty sure he got some wicked plan. He gave the signal by counting down in whisper. You take steps, risking for everything he’ll do. On the last count you both ran away from your teacher hand in hand, giggling all the way.

3rd Year. Summer 2008

Everyone gathered, some of them were hugging each other with laughter, and some of them were crying in joy. Today is the graduation day. Right after the graduation ceremony you strolling around the school, trying to recall everything that was happen for 3 years you studied here.

Library was your best friend in your senior year. You swept the bookshelf with your palm as you walk pass through it. Opened one by one of your favorite books, before putting it back to the shelf. You leaned to the wall, closing your eyes. Last year of school is the roughest. Your parents divorced, you lose the desire to make some friends, leading you alone in the most of your times, and you lost him in some type of ways.

You saw him from the window. He’s friendly as he ever be. Talking and laughing with his friends. He never changed and so does your feelings. He always be the one you’ve crushed the most. But you know your place and never engaged those feelings. You wondered if you can talk to him for the last time.

Your 2nd year classmates waving at you. Shouting from the schoolyard under where the other students gathered including him,

“Heyyy!! Come here!” They keep calling your name with the smile on their face.

“Yeahh wait for me!” You shouting back at them as you hurriedly left the library going down through the stairs.

When you reach the schoolyard, you throw yourself at them. Hugging them in joy. Tears almost rolling down your eyes, you didn’t talk too much with them either for the last year. Even though you passed each other at school, you’ve been busy by your own problems that ended up distancing yourself from others.

Your classmates keep taking pictures, asking you to join them. They’re busy pulling in everyone whoever been the same class with them to take pictures together. As all of your classmates are almost gathered, you positioned yourself to take a group picture. Your shoulder bumped with someone accidentally.

“Oh sorry, I don’t mean to-”

“No problem,” his eyes widen before he smiled at you.

It’s Mingi. He’s standing next to you, joining as you do. You took a glance at him, he lose the second button of his uniform already. You shake your head, then you look into your friend’s camera, ready to take the group picture.

Before you left the group’s photo session, he pulled your hand as if he wanted to say something. The expression on his face was hard to read until he finally sighed and smiled at you.

“What?” waiting on his response.

“Nah, nothing. See you later princess.”

He pat your shoulder for the last time before he left you standing alone. Your tears fell without you realizing it. There’s no “later” for you. You won’t be here and you don’t know when you’ll be back. At the end you only murmuring to yourself.

“That should be my line silly.”

Summer 2023

“Babe I remind you once more, don’t forget about today reunion okie.”

You chuckled, betting that she’s already telling you for a hundred times this week.

“I promise you I’ll come. Don’t you hear me right now? You can guessed where I am.”

The sound of crashing waves and birds chirping is in the background. You walk along the beach while on the phone with your friend. You just return to this town full of memories early in the morning.

“Wha- what! why don’t you tell me when you arrived?”

“It’s not a surprised if I tell you sooner.”

Both of you talked animatedly for a while until you ended the call, assured her for the last time that you’ll come to the class reunion.

15 years since you left this town to a completely opposite province. Moved to your mother's hometown, helping her business after your graduation the aftermath of your parents divorced. You lose contact with everyone and ended up missed two reunions. But somehow last week an unknown number called you. That was your 2nd year classmate back in the high school, excitedly inform you that there will be a reunion soon.

⁠✧

The restaurant atmosphere is filled with laughter by your friends, reminiscing their memories when they were still in high school. They chatted with each other lively. Some of them enjoying the dish while chugging the beverages, and some of them are curious about you due to your disappearance without a trace for years.

An hour passed by the event started. A figure you didn't expect and missed appears. He slide open the restaurant door. The same wide smile adorned his face as he greeted the others. Unless he looks much more mature. Short black hair neatly styled with a few strands fell over his forehead, glasses hanging on the nose bridge, a silver necklace with a cross pendant dangle on his neck, button up white shirt that it’s sleeve rolled up almost touching his elbow finished with a black vest and pants perfectly fit on his body.

The smile slowly faded when his eyes fall into yours. A look of disbelief crossed on his face when he saw you here. He brushed away those expression immediately then took a seat in front of you. You two exchanged glances for a moment. You wanted to talk to him, but your voice hitched. Heavy feeling fills your heart, opening up the old memories that you thought were all over.

He tapped his fingers on the table looking a little nervous. Occasionally sipping his glass of beer to divert it. Without realizing it, your eyes fell on his ring finger. A white gold ring circled his finger sweetly. Somehow makes you feel a little relieved to open up a conversation.

“It’s been a long time Mingi.”

“Yeah, good to see you,” he took a deep breath before continuing his words.

“You’re… gone. Just disappeared without a single notice.”

“I went back to my hometown.”

“Why don’t you tell me before?” He showed you the same expression as the last time you saw him.

“It’s just so sudden, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you”

He sighed for a second time,

“As long as you’re fine. That’s all.”

“I’m doing great. Thanks for your concern.”

You pat the back of his hand, assured him that you’re completely fine. He only replied you with a bitter smile.

“Listen.. listen! Guess what? I managed to print the damaged photo,” one of your friend raised a big photo album proudly.

“Why it seems like in every reunion you always got new photos for the same reason.” Chirped by the other friends.

“Shut up! You don't even know how difficult it is to repair an old damaged roll film,” she rolled her eyes.

She put the album to one of the tables before instruct them to take turns if they want to look at it.

“And.. this one for you.” She handed you a big brown postal envelope,

“everyone already got all of this photos. I don’t know why some of it are missing so others who likes taking pictures complete it, including him.” She pointed Mingi with her head.

“Ah.. thank you.” You received the envelope and looked at it carefully.

Meanwhile Mingi immersed on seeing the album. He turn the page one by one slowly. Sometimes he chuckles when seeing some funny moments. Until he noticed the page with unfamiliar photos.

Oh maybe this is the newly printed, he thought to himself. He always pays attention to you in every photos that was taken. Only to realized your eyes were always on him in almost every photos. He turned the page quickly to confirm that.

Before you open the brown envelope, Mingi tap your hand lightly.

“Can we talk outside? If you don’t mind.”

You nodding at him, proceed to follow him outside.

He took his glasses off, pressing the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger. Then he looked at you in miserable stare. You notice something doesn’t feel right.

“What’s wrong Mingi?”

He averted his eyes before pull out a wedding invitation to you. Stammering on his words,

“I’ll.. get married next month.”

It doesn't hurt that much when you receive it. You definitely expect it. However life still goes on doesn't it?

“Oh! Congratulation on your wedding. I hope you’ll enjoy your new life.” You tried to smile at him.

Clenched his jaw, he’s trying to suppress the frustration. He's been looking for you for almost 11 years. Until finally gave up in the last few years, and only to find you appeared at the class reunion unexpectedly.

“Is it easy to say that?”

You don’t quite understand what he really means,

“..isn't it easy as long as she's the love of your life?”

Lowered his head, reality just hits him back.

“Yeah.. Right..”

He pulled you into his arm tightly. You’re frozen by his sudden action, still trying to digest what was just happen. When you intended to let go, he told you his final request.

“Please let me hug you for the last time.. as a friend.”

⁠✧

Your eyes wandered out, sitting by the train window. It’s quite a long day, you take the last train after returning from the reunion. Can’t deny it, you feel ecstatic after meeting them.

Shifted your bag to grab the phone, your hand touched the brown envelope that was given to you earlier. You decided to pull it out from your bag, loosen up the strap to see it’s content.

You look at the photo by photo carefully. School festival, school trips, graduation day, and mostly summer breaks, everything’s stored well. Except one photo tucked in between has a contrast vibe.

The paper is duller and it was taken at night unlike the rest. You recognize it, that was your side portrait with fireworks in the night sky. You turn the photo over, there is the date and a small note written on it.

August xx, 2007

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it my princess?”

Covered your mouth in disbelief. Tight feeling rises in your chest made you lose focus till some photos fell over the train floor. You pick them out one by one while looking at it.

Your eyes automatically on him by the photos. He always looks at you from a distance just like you did. The tears flowed unstoppably. All this time he also felt the same way. You hate him who always hide behind the word “Friend” as if he’s pushing you away. You closed your eyes, it's all too late now.

“I liked you too Mingi.”

Only the sound of train tracks was heard afterwards.

⁠✧

The friend label is a label I’m going to hate.

The feelings I’ve hidden still remain as a painful secret memory.

The photos that can’t define our relationship is a heartbreaking story.

Our story ended without even started.

- Goodbye Summer

a/n :

They used analog camera that contains film roll in it.

"He lose the second button of his uniform." That means he already gave it to someone who's supposed to be important (romantically) because it's located near the heart. People believed it's same as giving your heart to someone. Based on japanese students when it's graduation season.

Cutie patootie looks like this in the reunion, minus the tie.

"The moon is beautiful" is a popular japanese phrases 「月が綺麗ですね」 (Tsuki ga kirei desune). It means "I like you."

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 8

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

A/N: Reader is plus sized, femme. No other descriptors used.

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: Insecure reader, Violence referenced but not written. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 7 -- Part 9

Series Masterlist

Curtis tried to ignore his phone. Rogers was trying to get hold of him again, but he wanted the line clear for Jake. Unfortunately Rogers kept calling so Curtis had to answer if only to tell him to stop tying up the line. 

“What,” he snapped at the phone. “I’m waiting for Jensen. What’s so damn important?”

“We have her location,” Steve intoned. “I’ll give it to you if you calm the hell down.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rogers? We got someone kidnapped! How is she not a priority?”

“Because if we’re not careful a lot more people will be hurt and killed. And I know you know that. The last thing we need is Berserker. Now get yourself together, Everett. Put away the axe and I’ll tell you where you can get her. Full stealth operation.”

When Curtis doesn’t answer Steve asks, “do you really want her to see you like this?”

That got Curtis’s attention. He’d been the cause of your tears once. If you saw the monster he could be…he couldn’t live with himself if you ever flinched away from him. If you looked at him with fear. “Fuck,” he muttered. He took several breaths and let out a primal, rage-filled scream he’d been holding onto before going back to the phone, “I’m keeping the axe but promise to only use it as a last resort. Now tell me where she is.”

Steve was quiet for a few seconds before telling him.

You’re startled awake by someone gently shaking you. You let out a scared gasp before you realize it’s Curtis. As soon as your brain registers it’s him you’re overcome with a sense of relief, “Curtis!” 

You move to hug him but he stops you, “we’ve gotta get moving. Stick with me and do exactly as I tell you.” You nod your understanding. Instead of taking you to the elevator he leads you to a side door and uses a small device to open the electronic lock. It’s a stairwell that you figure is reserved for staff or emergencies. 

Curtis leads you down a few flights, thankfully never letting go of your hand, before leading you out to one of the hotel floors. He’s frequently looking around before taking any turns, keeping himself between you and any other people on the floor. He takes you to a staff elevator and uses the device again. He moves to keep you behind him while he watches for signs of unwanted company. When the staff elevator doors open he moves you inside before following you and pressing the floor for the basement.

“Curtis,” you whisper, hugging his arm tight, “he said if I ran he’d hunt me down.”

“He won’t get to you,” Curtis vows. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

Curtis looks at you, surprised at your concern, “I won’t.” You search his eyes and nod when you see his sincerity. You trust Curtis and nod your acceptance.

The elevator doors open and Pine is leaning against the wall, holding an axe at his side. You move to hide behind Curtis without letting go of him, but neither man gives you any indication that there are problems. 

Curtis hands him the small device he’d used to unlock the staff areas, “thank you, again.”

“Yes, well,” Pine mutters, as he hands Curtis the axe, “when one gets told Berserker is heading towards their hotel, one tends to be inclined to amenability.” His tone is sharp and his look at Curtis even sharper, making him look down in shame. “Thank you for agreeing to my terms and not turning my hotel into a literal and figurative bloody mess. Please let Mr. Levinson know that we are now even.” 

You’re lost on what’s going on other than that Pine is helping so you whisper, “thank you.” He turns to you and gives a slight bow before gesturing to the way out for you and Curtis.

When you’re finally out on the road he seems to relax, if only a little, “do me a favor and text Hal that you’re with me.” You nod and do as he asks.

The drive is quiet. Curtis is focused on keeping an eye out for a possible tail and you’re lost in your thoughts, berating yourself for everything that happened. A few tears slip out and catch his attention, “are you hurt?”

His voice gets you out of your head but you don’t register his words. You’re beyond drained. All you can say is, “I’m so sorry. You were right, I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to think I’d be okay. I’m so, so, sorry you had to come rescue me. I’m sorry you had to put in danger because I was dumb enough to think-”

“Enough,” Curtis gently interrupts. “I was only partially correct. You going to Ransom’s gave us some intel that’s already saved lives.” He takes a calming breath, “so I may have been right about you being in danger but it wasn’t done needlessly.”

You take solace in his words before asking, “is it okay if I ask about the axe? Or the Berserker that Pine was talking about?” Curtis’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly and you clamber to apologize. 

He gently interrupts you, “do you remember me telling you not to work for Wilford & Gilliam?” You nod and he continues, “I told you that they’re horrible people who fund even worse people. I know because I used to work for them. My little brother, Edgar, got mixed up with their circles. Accidentally crossed the wrong people. When I protected him, I caught their attention by…I…I killed several of their people.” 

You can see his face contort in pain at the memories. You try to reach out to comfort him but he shakes off your hand before continuing his story.

“It wasn’t for the money or other…benefits. It was Edgar. As long as I followed orders, he’d get to live. I ended up getting sent into some of the worst areas. But the longer I survived the stronger my reputation became. I became known as Berserker because I would tear through people and not notice any hurt until well after. I couldn’t aim with a gun to save my life but I could wreak havoc with an axe.”

“But it was never enough for those monsters at the top. They kept pushing and pushing me. I fought so damn hard but, as you recently re-educated me, the human body can only take so much. I failed a mission and barely got out with my life. They killed Edgar in front of me and left me for dead.”

Curtis’s tears break your heart. It’s a sight you never thought you’d see and you wished you could comfort him in any way.

He wipes his eyes quickly before continuing, “I was rescued by Rogers. He offered me a place with their family. I’d witnessed them doing good for the people in their territory and wanted that for myself. I had no fire left in me but that worked in my favor. They didn’t want the Berserker. They still don’t. I’ve worked, ever since, to try to do good for people. To keep myself from losing it ever again.”

By now he’s wisely pulled the truck over, letting himself crumble a little. He doesn’t push you away when you go to hold his hand. Your own tears mirror Curtis’s.

You try to say something but he stops your thoughts when he says, “then you came along. You spin my world on its head and I don’t hate it. You make me take care of my team and things are going a lot better for them. You upset everything but make it all better, somehow. And all I want to do is keep you safe from my world. Safe from me.”

“Curtis, I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that and I’m so very sorry for my part in bringing it all back to you.”

As the silence filled the truck Curtis noticed the giant bruise on your arm. He gently held your arm and asked, “did he do this to you?” You nod and he brings himself to attention, getting the truck back on the road. “Gotta get back to work so that he never touches you again.”

“You’re taking me with you, right?”

“Absolutely. You’re not leaving my sight until I know you’re safe.”

“Thank you, Curtis. Thank you, so much.” You let yourself relax enough to fall asleep for the rest of the drive. 

When you arrive at the base-of-operations Curtis gently wakes you and helps you out of the truck. Inside feels like barely controlled chaos as different people are running different intel, follow ups, phone calls, and more. The only person who’s staying still is Jake. 

“Why is Jake wearing a pirate hat,” you ask Curtis.

Curtis huffs, “it’s his Focusing Hat. A compromise to get him to stop stripping down to his boxers to take care of a heavy task. He’s currently trying to hack the hacker who’s watching Ransom, and probably more people.”

“Curtis!” You both turn to see Mace marching towards you. “I’m still pissed at you for ditching us.”

“Understandable,” Curtis affirms.

“You’re going to be able to focus and help us?”

“Yes.”

“Apology accepted, Boss. Now get your ass to work,” Mace hands him some papers and updates him on everything that they’ve found so far. 

Curtis doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time. You’d think with the abnormal amount of attention you've gotten today you’d want to withdraw but you find comfort in his touch. And he seems to find comfort in having you around. When he gets stuck on a problem he rubs your hand with his like a worry-stone. 

Everyone jumps when Jake suddenly shouts, “YO-HO-HO AND A BOTTLE OF RUM, BITCH!” He’s thrown his fists in the air in celebration. “I finally got the fucker! All his systems are MINE! I’ve got trackers on Lloyd AND all of his friends!” He takes a second to look over things before yelling “Boss! They’re at Ransom’s place!

“Get the info sent to the appropriate parties,” Curtis barks. “Mace, call the Higher Ups and supplement Jake’s info with the stuff you and I got. Once that’s done, we’re going into standby mode.”

As everyone else bustles around you ask, “what’s standby mode?”

“We’re the intel gatherers and the cleaners,” he explains. “We only get called into fights when it’s desperate. Standby mode means we get ready to either fight or clean up, depending on how things go.”

“Does that mean I can get some sleep?”

“We don’t exactly have a bed or anything in here. Might need to fix that.”

“Don’t need a bed,” you groggily shake your head. You lead him over to a couple of the comfier chairs and set him down in one before moving the other directly next to his. You sit in the other and snuggle his arm as you let yourself drift off to sleep. 

You don’t see his face soften as his heart melts. It finally hits him, he’s in love with you. Has been in love with you for a while now. You drove him crazy in so many ways and he never wanted it to stop. If you’d have him, he’d treat you like the angel you are. If you didn’t want him…he couldn’t think of that right now. Didn’t want to think of you turning him down. Not now while you’re silently telling him that you trust him. That you feel safe enough to sleep around him. That you want him around. 

A couple hours later Hal came running, calling for him, but stopped when Curtis gave him a glare and gestured to you. He whispered to Curtis, “the place got shot up. Rumlow is dead. Ransom is in the hospital. But Lloyd escaped.”

Curtis whispered back, “are we tracking him?”

Hal shook his head, “we can’t. He crushed his phone, removed all devices. We’re looking into security footage for a license plate we can use to follow him but it’s not looking good.”

Part 7 -- Part 9

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would. 

@alexakeyloveloki

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Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[glassrowboat]

From the Past: Dottore x reader

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Gore, psychological torture implied, toxic dynamic, and Dottore. Yes, he is a warning.

Authors note: The doctor and reader were not in a romantic relationship previous to the contents of this fic.

The sounds of wailing screams must have stopped hours ago now as Dottore walked back into the lab, the silence he was met with almost startling compared to the banging fists and pleas for help that filled the air as he left. That is if he didn't already expect this outcome. To the doctor this is just another day like any other, even as the screech of metal dragging against the floor hit his ears, a black line worn into the ground from the amount of times he's opened and closed this particular cell. 

Just another thing to fix later.

Dottore didn't even flinch as the smell of blood hits his nose in waves. Far too used to it to be nauseated now he walks through the door, bits and pieces of flesh coating the walls as blood reached high enough to cake the ceiling. The sound of a drip, drip, drip melodic. Though none of that mattered compared to the sight of a messy head of hair, the light slipping through the door way just enough to illuminate the figure that sat there as she turned to look at him.

“It appears you have outdone yourself again, my favorite test experiment. Did you have fun while I was gone?” Judging by the fact there's barely any remains to be had of the live test subject he threw in there with her, the answer had to be yes. 

“I did.” Ahh, simple and to the point as always. Or at least as it always is now. “Welcome back Dottore.”

“Glad to be back.” Smiling down at her he offered what could barely be called a woman anymore a hand. She may have appeared just as she did once upon a time but the blood covering her mouth was a clear indication as to otherwise. Such a sweet little face so clearly hiding a brutal and ravenous creature only he truly knew the extent of. “Now that you are fed-”

Without even bothering to accept his hand she was right in front of him in an instant. Matted hair tickling Dottore's neck as she leaned in. There was no point to be startled, or to even act afraid, not when he knew this one would never hurt him. He was confident in that.

The quick sound of a sniff however still had him looking down at her with a raised eyebrow though. “You smell like the other harbingers. Were you in a meeting again?”

Dottore chuckled softly at her question. After all, a day (y/n) actually chose to converse was a good day in his books. “Yes, I did just attend meeting with the other harbingers,” he replied, his breath brushing over her cheek. “And what is to you if I did?”

“Well,” her eyes fell down to the floor, a sight one could almost miss in the dark room. “You used to tell me when you were busy. Now you just leave without a word.”

We used to be so much closer.

“Right.” Dottore grumbled. “Things have changed. My priorities have changed; I'm sure you understand. I can't be with you all the time anymore.” He has work to do, tests to run, papers to write, just…things that keep him busy over all.

Waiting for a moment Dottore looked down at her, waiting for that sharp tongue he had grown so used to. A comment along the lines of: ‘well maybe if you had told me of this before you wouldn't come across as such a prick.’ Yet the woman leaning into him said nothing of the sort, no sharp bite to share. Not this time.

Of course she wouldn't.

“Let's get you cleaned up, dear.” Placing his hand on the small of her back Dottore led her out the cell. It wasn't meant to keep her captive anyway. She wouldn't go anywhere even without a door that screeched in sheer agony everytime I was forced open locking her in. 

The remains of what was once her meal left behind as he pushed her towards the small wash station right up until she was standing under the shower head. He didn't even bother to warn her as he turned the water on, already knowing she wouldn't mind. The freezing water beat down on her in a way that would have Dottore shivering in her place if their positions were swapped, but she barely showed a sign of recognizing what just happened.

There were no complaints of the cold to be had as she hissed at him about being a bitch. Simply standing there. Watching. 

“Are you really so unbothered by this?” Why did he even ask that, he already knew the answer. Maybe, just maybe the sound of the water would drown out the pointless question, but he knew it wouldn't. 

Dottore already made sure of that long ago. (Y/n), something that was somehow more than and less than human all at once. Needles that once filled her skin now having marked her skin with scars that were slowly being revealed as the blood washed off of her, swirling and pooling on the floor. Seconds passing by as the stark red faded to pink. It'll be clear soon enough.

“I'm fine. Just need a change of clothes.”

“Of course,” he sighed, watching as bits of flesh fell from the folds of her shirt that would have to be fished out of the drain later. “I'll have that settled soon. Just wash off, I don't need you dirtying the lab again.”

A small mutter of a “thank you” could be heard as he turned on his heel, already knowing not to bother to search for any trace of light in her like had used to so many times before. Humanity long since forgotten even before the first time she tore her teeth into a test subjects flesh. At least this time she didn't ask to be allowed to hunt her prey down. 

It was so easy to forget the woman she once was when you look at her now, the name Siearra seemingly almost belonging to an entirely new person. If that is something she call still be called to this day. He certainly wouldn't say it was the best description for her.

These old tile floors his shoes clicked on as he walked to fetch her something to change into had once reflected a woman who would easily poke and prod at him with words alone. How something he once considered so annoying could be endearing now is beyond him.

Nostalgia, such an easily blinding tool.

If she said something like that today…well, she wouldn't even dare. No calling him out for being a jerk, the guts to snap back at him the instant something proved to be displeasing almost vanished into thin air. She truly had changed, just as was intended. These days she is monstrous, can tear through a carcass with ease. She is a pride of his, a true show of just how much his work has come to grow, so there's no point missing her old self. This is simply a change of behavior as any human being would exhibit after being put through-

Dottore stopped for a moment, tongue clicking as he realized just what was going on through his head. Self rationalization? Now? Pointless. There may be memories of (y/n) curled up in a corner of his lab before one of the few heaters, but that is simply the past. It doesn't matter if he and gotten used to her presence there, had begun to expect it. It doesn't matter that if he would comment on her habit of trying to steal the warmth all for himself she would tell him “be a good little scientist and discover this thing called a coat then.”

How he had to bite back a smile, had to bite back from saying “you could have just asked for a blanket you know.”

Enough of this.

Quickly grabbing a change of clothes for her Dottore turned back to the monster that was now before him. This was (y/n) now, no matter how alike they may look. The figure sitting down on the floor with a fluffy towel draped over her shoulders and still wet hair dripping droplets onto her skin was the present.

How she looked so much like a cowering animal as she sat there simply waiting for him to return. Before Dottore could even stop himself playful words tumbled out of his mouth. “You really need to learn how to dry your hair properly, dear. You look like a rat.”

And just how she'd always respond to his snark these days followed suit, a simple “okay.” He shouldn't have expected anything else.

Things truly have changed.

“Put on your clothes already. I don't need you catching a cold,” he snapped.

“Right. Sorry.” Getting up off the floor she slipped the clothes on, so numb seemingly to every little thing. There was no strong sense of dignity from her. (Perhaps stripped the moment he first heard her begging for the pain to stop and Dottore simply told (y/n) to shut up and push through like a good experiment). 

“Don't apologize to me, just do things right the first time.” He could see her slowly mouth opening, most likely to apologize again. “I just ask of you to follow orders.” There wasn't a point to look at her to know she was nodding so instead he sat down, the old chair slotted behind the old workbench working well enough for now as he sighed. No matter how much he tried to calm down she had such an ability to rile him up. Silence or her old snark, it was all the same.

She once looked upon him so sweetly as another one of those novels were in those hands, some flowery title he didn't bother to remember printed over the cover. The anemones that were so intricately drawn however were a different story. How she cooed over the main love interest even as Dottore told her multiple times he wasn't interested in hearing about her love for romance.

(Y/n) ignored him easily, still chatting away to the point he had almost managed to tune her out between the catching of a quil on paper. That is until she playfully remarked “one day I'll find my perfect match just like in this story and then I'll run off and get married.” The rest of what she said didn't matter, not at that moment. To run off with someone and just leave him. That's what she had implied.

“Come here.” He ordered, now addressing the monster that sat a few feet away from him.

And just like he had forced her to, how he might as well have programmed into (y/n)’s once human brain, she obeyed. The skirt of the dress she had only just thrown on a moment prior dragging under her, halting and stalling the woman's movements as she crawled over to him. There was no dignity to be had, no pride, no hint of who she once was. Not even as she hung her head in front of him.

What a good girl.

“Look at me.”

His little monster, his prized experiment, his masterpiece, his dead look in her eyes that slowly settliled on him. Hesitantly so. This was how it was meant to be. It didn't matter of thoughts of doubt were running through her mind, if she was waiting to be thrown either a bone or her death penalty, all because now she can't leave. There's not a choice in the matter.

Perhaps he'd mourn the woman she once was, wish for her attitude to come back and hope to hear a comment or two that would remind him of her. But what would the lack of what once was do besides fill him full of unwelcome memories he doesn't want to recall no matter how much both of them still clung to their past?

“Have you realized your place in life yet? It's quite obvious but I want to hear you say it.” 

Without missing a beat the little creature he made her be whisper out, “by your side.”

Yes, exactly. She's finally learned. And if she dared say anything else? Well, that's just another thing to fix now.

[lovergirly]

the love languages (wednesdays version)

hi my loves! i’m sorry i haven’t been here, i’ve been horribly busy the past couple days. i met the love of my life over break and i’m trying to start a relationship with them so fingers crossed 🤞🏻

this isn’t a request, but feel free to leave me some! <33

they say there are five different ways to display your love to a person. love languages. conventional couples constantly love showering each other with affection and giving each other flowers or go to the drive in for dates. wednesday was the opposite of conventional. she finds it hard to believe she was even capable of loving someone, let alone be able to let herself be vulnerable around someone. even her girlfriend she struggles with showing affections to. her girlfriend however was able to see every single love language wednesday provides for her.

1. words of affirmation

waking up was always the hardest part of your day. who was sadistic enough to make teenagers wake up at 6 in the morning everyday?

“mi amor it’s time to wake up.”

of course your macabre girlfriend enjoyed this torture. you don’t answer her and instead groan into your pillow. unknown to you she rolls her eyes and starts to open your curtains. this doesn’t give her the reaction she wanted as you only hide more into your blankets.

“y/n we have school and i can’t be having you late. get up, my love.” you still don’t move and now wednesday is getting annoyed. “cara mia, if you don’t get up i’ll deny you your kisses for the rest of the day.”

knowing she was 100% serious with that threat, you slowly force yourself out of bed causing your perfectly dressed and composed girlfriend to smile, “you look absolutely miserable.”

“thank you, i am.”

“well even while miserable you look absolutely breathtaking mi amor.”

2. acts of service

after getting ready for your day, you and wednesday had to seperate and go to your classes. the only problem is these kids have been teasing you. a group of three girls tried to start a rumor about you and nearly tripped you just in this period alone. finally after they “accidentally” spilt their drink on you, you run out of the classroom only to see wednesday standing right there with a bag of muffins she got for you. she saw you nearly sprinting out with tears in your eyes and a group of girls all watching you and laughing. she realized she either had the option to kill then now or go check on you and kill them later. knowing you’re worth more than those imbeciles were, she ran after you to see you sitting with your knees to your chest crying in a random corner. she saw how vulnerable you looked, and wished she could take away your pain just as fast as those girls inflicted it.

“querida mia, what happened?”

“wednesday those girls are just awful! they tried to make up a rumor about me and they’re just so mean.” you stuttered while sobbing. her heart broke for you. just because she had thick skin and can easily take down a bully doesn’t mean she knows you get too overwhelmed to defend yourself in situations like this.

“y/n don’t let them get to you. they’re a bunch of clowns who are jealous of what you have.”

“what do i have that they don’t?”

“me. the love and adoration i try to provide for you.” she simple walks away after that and unbeknownst to you, is planning a way to get back at those intolerable girls. it wasn’t until the next day when you saw how your girlfriend sent thing to cut giant chunks out of all the girls’ hair and a horrified expression when they see you with your beloved.

3. gifts

wednesday comes from a rich family. it wasn’t a shock. she was a trust fund kid and often asked her parents to take out money to get you some lavish presents. you weren’t used to the high class lifestyle she had, so she made sure to buy to the most luxurious items. you like that jacket? it’s yours. it’s $500? that’s not too bad, she thought it would’ve been at least $2000. wednesday wouldn’t say she’s carelessly throwing away money, even if your closet had got restocked by her. she just enjoyed the look on your face when you got the newest all black Balenciaga bag or the softest pair of pink pajamas money can buy. the presents you liked the most, however, were when she tried to be romantic with her gift giving.

one night, wednesday walks into your dorm with her hands behind her back.

“hello my love! i missed you so much.”

“i missed you as well y/n. i actually got you a present.” she pulls out two viles and a little needle.

“i want to show you that i am completely enthralled by you and wish to grow old with you until we both face our demise.” she goes to sit on your bed “i want to give you some of my blood that you can wear as a necklace. it’s supposed to represent the deepest trust and love i have for you. you of course don’t need to give me one, but i want to give you one.”

“oh my love of course i’ll give you one. will you do the honors of pricking my finger for me?”

with that you and wednesday spent the rest of the night making and presenting blood necklaces for each other.

 4. quality time

wednesday doesn’t believe in small talk. she thinks it’s a waste of time. she does enjoy a good conversation with you, but she doesn’t want to hear the little details about who said what last friday and why it’s so bad. her writing hour was her time. she frequently kicks enid out during that time because she needs to think and get inspiration. people don’t give her inspiration. she hates people. viper de la muerte hates people. well everyone except her girlfriend. vipers girlfriend who is a little too similar to you. how did she get the inspiration to creat vipers girlfriend? by making you stay in the room while she writes. the first time you stayed in the room it was a nuisance. you were with enid and laughing the full hour. it was torture, and not the kind she enjoys. now, she can’t write without you in the room. whether you’re just reading over her shoulder, she loves your critiques. even if it’s just a simple “i love your writing my love!” or “i like this part!” she needs those words to allow her creative mind to continue. she feels pathetic , relying on you to do something as simple as writing, but nothing makes her happier than seeing your face as you read her writing or give her shoulder rubs the second she finishes her writing hour. even if you’re not reading with her, just you in the room gives her a calm feeling. she loves when you’re both in her dorm alone, doing your own thing silently. it makes her feel like you’re already a married couple and the dorm room is simple your house.

5. physical touch

if wednesday hates one thing the most, it’s physical touch. the only people who can touch her without dying is her family, and even they barley can touch her without her pulling away. you might think you’re an expection, but wednesday addams doesn’t do cuddling. she hates it. not because she gets hot or anything at night. she just simply hates it. the only way you’ll even get her to consider cuddling with you is after constant begging. you literally have to get on your knees in front of her (which she liked more than she’d like to admit) just for her to put her arm around you in bed. she’ll never be caught dead being the little spoon. whether you’re her height or six feet tall, she’ll be the big spoon. she likes the feeling of protecting you at night. you’re her love, it’s her job to keep you safe.

and while wednesday would deny any of this as love and would never admit to “mellowing out”, the wednesday addams found a love. a love she can cherish and treat just as her father treats her mother. she wants to cherish you and protect you from the world in the only way she knows. the love language of an addams.

————————————————————————

i hope you guys enjoyed, i wrote this in one sitting so it might not be the best. i really want to make each of these little snippets it’s own story, but i’m not sure yet. definitely leave a like if you enjoyed though and leave more requests <33

[dragcnbreak]

crazy for this boy

Ness is taken aback by a pretty man entering the diner and maybe moves a bit too fast with him.

Also cross-posted on AO3!

◞♡࿐

Ness was gay, which is a fact that is pretty much as old as time itself. Even with the year being 2000 and living in the state of Utah, he didn’t much try to hide it. That may have been the main reason why he was staring at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life. Ness worked at a dinner called Sparky’s and he does meet a lot of pretty men who catch his eye but none quite like this one.

The man had the most intense hazel eyes, matted hair that was still somehow cute, and a gorgeous chiseled jaw with an endearing five o’clock shadow. Ness pouted internally when he saw him sit at a table that he wasn’t waiting. So before his coworker, Tara, could approach, he began to bribe her for the table. She gave him a knowing glance, letting him have it.

“Hi. Welcome to Sparky’s, sugar! What can I get you started with?” Ness rolled up to the table with confidence. It’s only when the man blushes that he realizes he let a pet name slip. “U-um, just a… water is fine.” Ness peered down at the stuttering man, smiling at the name tag on him reading “Mike”.

“Gotcha, Mike! Anything else? Lunch is the most important meal of the day after all.” Mike frowned at that. “Is it really lunchtime already? Damn it.” The sentences cause Ness to frown too. “Is everything okay?” He can’t help but ask, wanting to know more about the guy in front of him. “It’s none of your business.” Mike shook his head.

“I’ll be right back.” Ness says, an idea forming. He reported to his manager, Clyde, and explained that he would be going on his break now. Clyde nodded and Ness grabbed two waters on his way back out, one for Mike and one for him. The mentioned is taken aback when Ness comes and sits with him.

“I’m on my break so don’t worry,” Ness sipped his water, “but spill. You seem like you’ve got something worrying you and I want to help.” Mike furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t even know you… Ness.” He said, glancing at the other’s name tag. “So?” Ness kept the conversation going, ignoring how his heart fluttered when Mike said his name.

Mike just sighed softly, drinking his water as well. “I guess… Um, I just can’t find a babysitter for my little sister for tonight. My usual one is sick and I really need to go to work.” Mike explained while he stirred his drink with his straw. “I can watch her!” Ness almost yelled, nearly spilling his own water.

The shorter blinked owlishly. “Seriously? Again, I don’t even know you.” He let go of his drink, staring at Ness, who just waved his hand. “The name’s Ness. And now you know me!” He smiled brightly, making Mike want to reciprocate it. “I’m free tonight and you need a sitter. I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. Just a guy who wants to help a pretty boy like yourself.” Ness reached over the table, clasping Mike’s hand and looking into his eyes. The words and actions caused them both to blush and Ness quickly moved his hand away.

Mike sighed again, reaching back to scratch his neck. “I… I guess? I get paid tomorrow so I can pay you then. Just don’t hurt my sister or I’ll make you regret it.” Mike threatened Ness but all Ness saw was an adorably angry puppy. But he filed away that thought for later and nodded. “Don’t worry about paying me! This’ll just be my good deed for the day.” He reasoned.

The other didn’t argue, figuring it would be a losing battle to try to. Instead, Mike grabbed a napkin and a pen he kept in his work uniform. “Here’s my address and my um, my phone number.” He stuttered over his words, writing said things on the napkin.

Ness gave him a kind smile. “What time should I be over tonight?” Mike thought it over for a second. “7 works for me.” Ness nodded. “And 7 works for me too. My break should be about over but I’ll see you then, pretty boy.” Ness grabbed the napkin with one hand and the other took Mike’s hand again. Confidence filled him as he reached down and kissed the hand he held. Mike watched, flustered, as Ness then stood up and walked away.

◞♡࿐

Ness turned up to the Schmidt’s house 10 minutes shy of seven o’clock. He was a bit nervous about meeting Abby for the first time and babysitting her so he tried to channel some of the confidence earlier.

But then he knocked on the door and Mike answered it shirtless and his attempts were thrown out the window. The shorter must have just gotten out the shower the way his hair was wet and a towel was wrapped around his waist. “Sorry about… this.” He motions to his chest. “Shower. Um, I told Abby about you. She might be shy…” Mike talked more than he ever had before and here Ness was, spacing out and practically drooling at the sight of Mike.

“Ness!” The mentioned blinked a few times, returning to the world of the living. “Y-yes!” He nearly shouted. “Are you okay?” Mike asked with furrowed brows. “Of course! Why do you ask?” Mike frowned. “You’re bleeding.” He pointed to his nose, indicating where the blood was coming from. Ness swiped a finger under his nose. He copied Mike’s frown when he saw blood on the finger.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll help you before I go to work. Don’t get blood on the floor!” The shirtless man left the room, his little sister taking his place. She stared at him knowingly and suddenly, Ness wanted to die right there and then.

[joe9cool]

Invisible String- Collide

This takes place after the story and before the epilogues. Just a cute little story while listening to Invisible String by Taylor Swift

Mike Wozniak was in his attic, normally this was something his wife would be doing, but this was something that was driving him nuts since he discovered the tall young man that stole his youngest daughter's heart.

Justin looked familiar, but he couldn't put his place on it. Then the lightbulb went off in his head when he remembered Justin was from Oregon. He had never gotten a proper chance to mention it since everyone had been fussing over him the entire time he was visiting

After hours of searching through photo albums, he made an "Aha!" Noise as he grabbed the two photos he was looking for

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dad, I thought you were taking this slow. You just had a medical emergency." Sara had decided to go home for a week to check on her dad before Justin's training camp started. She had just finished wrapping up promotional press for the shows new season premiere. Sara was cleaning her home when her dad surprised her with food and an envelope. "Where's mom?"

"Probably at her art class. Who knows?" Sara laughed and crossed her arms. "And how pissed would she be if she knew you were here with Chinese food?"

"Really pissed. But she will be gone for a few more hours and there's the farmers market on her way home. Plenty of time to hide the evidence." He set the food down as Sara got out the paper plates and plastic utensils. "What's in the envelope?"

He slid it across the dining room table as he began to plate some of the food. "Take a look for yourself."

Confused, she tucked a piece of her dark hair around her ear before opening the envelope. It was a series of photos. She studied the first one. It was a picture of her, Alyssa and their dad outside what looked like a stadium. She looked at the back, in her moms handwriting

7/12/2002

Autzen stadium, Eugene Oregon 

"Oh my god. How do I not remember this?" Sara examined the photo. She and Alyssa were dressed in typical early 2000s kids clothes. Their hair in pigtails, and they looked like they would have rather been anywhere but there. "I told Justin I'd never been there before but I guess I'm a liar."

Mike laughed. Taking a bite of his food. "It was an overnight business trip and I took your girls at the last minute since you were upset about Katie and Brittany going to Florida with your cousins. I didn't know anything about the area, saw this massive football stadium with Duck gear everywhere and got you this since you cried." There was a bag that he reached in. He pulled out a small stuffed Duck with an old Oregon logo on it. "Maybe one day, you could give it to your baby."

Sara took the duck and smiled. "I don't even remember having this." Her dad smiled. "Well you kept it in your room for a few days until Brittany made fun of you for having too many stuffed animals and then you threw them in the basin. You're lucky your mother is a sentimental hoarder."

He picked up the envelope and took out another photo. "This was when I went to New York for work because my company was sponsoring the college football awards. In 2019 I attended the national college football awards banquet to see my buddy Steve present the William Campbell trophy to a young man. I didn't know much about him, but he was very smart and polite in the brief moment I shook his hand."

He flipped the photo over and there was a group photo. All of the big execs surrounding Justin, and sure enough her dad was all of the way at the end.

"Who would have thought I'd be meeting my future son-in-law." Mike smiled as his daughter rolled his eyes. "Dad please."

"I'm just saying." He held his hands up.

—

"Wow. Now I feel bad, I didn't even recognize your dad when I met him in the hospital." Justin smiled as she showed him the two photos and the stuffed Duck. Sara laughed. "How would you have known?"

"True." He smiled. "You're a liar though." She looked confused. "Huh?" He got up and walked towards her, cornering her, he spoke slowly. "You told me you've never been to Eugene" She smiled, catching on by his tone. "I guess technically I did lie. Does that mean I'm a bad girl and need to be punished?"

She squealed as his hand snaked around her to squeeze her ass hard. "Bad girls always get punished."

—-------------------------------------------------------------

A week after she showed him the photos something else had happened. She was scrolling on her tiktok page when a photo she recognized came across her for you page.

It was an old photo that her college roommate Cameron had posted back in 2017 on instagram. Fans must have dug up the photo as the old friend's profile was open.It was a photo of them at a UCLA football game, one of the few she attended. They were on the field, her name starting to pick up as she gotten some guest star roles on tv shows and was gaining traction in movies. Her and Cameron were by the end zone. She captioned it

One day she will get into football.

The person who posted it had used the song 'invisible string' as the sound

Isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some invisible String, Tying you to me

Sliding over the person had zoomed in on the same photo. Sara gasped as she recognized the guy on the field throwing a few feet behind them

It was Justin, her Justin.

She smiled widely. She vaguely remembered that game. From what she did remember, she was bored and on her phone messaging a douche that she was dating while waiting for call backs.

How close she was to meeting him. His hair was buzzed short, and he paid no attention to the chaos around him as he was getting ready for the game. Typical Justin.

Smiling, she made a few calls.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Justin was at camp as Sara had just gotten in from another day of protesting for the writers. She was cooking dinner when he walked in. "Hey babe." He kissed her. "Smells good, as usual. I'm going to change."

"Okay when you're done I have a surprise for you." He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh?" His earlier task was forgotten. "Is it another workout?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"That's for later. I'm talking about an actual gift."

Justin sighed and Sara laughed, deciding to show him earlier, she grabbed the frame from one of the drawers. He took it and was confused for a second. "Who is the girl with you?"

"My roommate Cameron this was when we went to the UCLA Oregon game." She smiled as she saw the recognition on his face. "Hey that's me in the back!" Justin looked up and laughed. "This was in 2017. Oh my god."

She smiled. "Who would have known? It's too bad you had that shaved head otherwise I would have definitely tried to fuck you." He rolled his eyes. "You know I had a girlfriend at this time?"

“So was I, well kinda, we were seeing other people on the side.” He narrowed his eyes “Hey I was a hoe when I first got into the La/Hollywood scene”

“I don’t want to hear about that.” She laughed at his jealousy. “You know the chicken needs some time to cool off, I need to keep busy.” She dragged a finger down his chest. Catching on, he put her over his shoulder and immediately went into the room. Unbeknownst to them, the music playing in the background begun playing ‘invisible strings’

A.N. This was just something cute I thought of while listening to the song

[fantasy-mixtapes]

Riz Gukgak Season 1 Playlist Breakdown

Yeah so I really quickly posted my Character playlists to get them out there asap but god I put sooooo much thought into them and I love them so much so I want to talk about each song so you can take a peek into my brain and see what the worms have been cooking. I'll make like a masterlist with links and stuff once I get more out but yeah this one's going first because I decided to go table order right to left.

For all my playlists I choose songs based on a bunch of criteria which is but is not limited to :

vibe

whether I think the character would like the song/artist

whether I can picture the song playing in the background

If the lyrics match up to a specific scene or feeling

if, when put together the general character arc can be reflected in the playlist

if the songs cohesively go together (i.e. similar vibes, genres, themes)

For Riz, the playlist consists of a mix of Alt Rock, 80s/90s, Math Rock, and Punk/Grunge. Here's the playlist if you haven't listened to it

Without further ado... Lets get into it

1. Happy to Hide, Pile of Love

Smiling between my teeth Acting up accordingly Why do I waste my time performing? I don't see the comedy you see In all the scenes involving me As if I wasn't dull and boring I'm happy to hide I'm happy to leave with no goodbye Would you believe me if I said I couldn't cry?

I wanted to start with the classic early 2000s "I'm a nerd in high school" movie song. I can picture this at the start of a movie starring Riz, where he gets to school and gives out his business cards, and it's Not Working, and he doesn't understand why. I also love the way that being "happy to hide" works with his rogue class :)

2. We Are Detectives, Thompson Twins

Someone is on our tail We think they're openin' up our mornin' mail (Whoa) And now each time the telephone rings We think of frightening things We are detective We are selective We are detective Come to collect

This song is so fun and so camp, very 80s alt, I think Riz would love it. I also think it kind of shows how while Riz is definitely extremely serious about the Missing Maiden Case, he is also playing out one of his biggest fantasies and is a high schooler snooping around corners.

3. Daysleeper, R.E.M.

I see today with a newsprint fray My night is colored headache gray Don't wake me with so much The ocean machine is set to nine I'll squeeze into heaven and Valentine My bed is pulling me, gravity Daysleeper

We love our insomniac little guy

4. Cops and Robbers, The Hoosiers

Got your revolution, now you're waging war again Marching on the spot when you should have made amends You say you fight for us, cross your heart and hope to die You're a bully in the playground and we'll hang you out to dry Blame Simon 'cause he said You've got two lives down and one life left Blame Simon 'cause he said You could think better with a hole in your head

Listening to The Hoosiers brings me back to my high school days. This song for me really gets at the change in tone that the "mystery" goes through, specifically with Riz and his relationship with Biz Glitterdew. The way the song kind of starts out as a fun kitchy romp and then devolves into a screeching violent swirl really shows how out of everyone, even though Riz was probably the closest with Biz at the start, he was definitly the one ready and willing to hold him violently accountable for his actions. Riz shows you how to deal with violent incels.

5. Big Sea, Crash Of Rhinos

We'll stand trial, our will won't be broken Your mistake is not that you care, it's that you don't notice Our favorite part is not how this ends It's just how its starts And just that it starts I'll paint you from my memory

I do think that Riz would absolutely love math rock and I do not mind going to jail for that opinion (because every guy that I've met that likes math rock has been proven to be not great - but I'm holding out). Either way, do you guys remember how they literally were in jail for months. Like Riz "son of a cop (at the time)" "The Ball" Gukgak spent several months in jail not being able to do anything but ruminate on the case, what he could have done differently, and what could be happening without them present. Yikes.

6. Black Dragon Fighting Society, My Chemical Romance

Yeah, I drink juice when I'm killing 'cause it's fucking delicious ... Switing out my style bring a friend out with Better grab your soul from the fingers of death I got a medical emergency A medical emergency We got a medical emergency A medical emergency (Mayday, they call the shots, yeah)

This is the type of song that you play during a full throttle drag out feral goblin fight, and its' the song that Riz deserves to end the season with, since he and his mom ate the fucking dragon that killed his dad. Hell yeah.

[jimmy-johns-was-taken]

can i get toby, ben and sally with a reader who acts as an older brother figure to them? i think they all need that sort of person in their life lol they've been through a lot

Bro they all deserve the WHOLE world

“Ticci” Toby, BEN Drowned, and Sally with an older brother figure

“Ticci” Toby :

You guys would meet one night, Toby is out on a mission and dives into a random house to escape the cops. It turns out to be your house, where loud, probably thrash metal, is playing

You just kinda stare at them for a little while, then shrug and go back to whatever you were doing

Toby eventually comes back and your house ends up being their “hide-out”

Very slowly, you and Toby bond. It takes forever but you guys slowly open up

Y’all’s relationship is along the lines of “protective older brother” and “younger brother who’s more dangerous than protective older brother”

Toby being a little brother to you makes you really protective of them. You want to be there, but don’t know exactly how. You want to help guide them through stuff, but don’t know how.

Whenever you first met Tim and Brian (you don’t get to meet Masky and Hoodie), you were super protective of Toby and definitely pulled a knife on Tim and Brian

BEN Drowned :

Your who BEN gets his style from

Your definitely an older brother who grew up in the 90s and 2000s and you act like it/have that aesthetic

You and BEN probably meet one night where you’ve got the Diamond Eyes album by Deftones playing while playing COD and you and BEN meet through that

He adds you on Xbox or PlayStation (whatever you play on) and y’all just become friends

You have the relationship of “only I can be mean to BEN anyone else who’s mean is going to get their ass beat”

At times you pick on BEN a lot, but it’s all ok, it’s just how you guys are (BEN is really mean back)

Y’all have frequent nerf battles and get outside and play basketball

You’ve met Jeff, and y’all definitely team up on BEN

But later you apologize to BEN and make sure he’s all good

You’d never admit it, but you love him (in a platonic way)

Sally :

One day you were minding you own business, just taking a nice walk through the woods

And then a small child covered in blood appeared

OLDER SIBLING MODE ACTIVATED

You took in Sally and did your best to patch her up, making she was comfortable and safe

When she left (she just kinda disappeared) you got really worried until she just showed up at your door

Now your her 2nd home

Y’all’s dynamic is “child who appears to be very innocent but could kill you” and “older brother who loves his younger sister and believes she could do no wrong”

I don’t think anyone else at the mansion would know about you, Sally is oddly good at keeping secrets

You have frequent tea-parties, dress up days, and you bought Sally all the Barbie, monster high dolls, and other doll stuff she could ever want

Your such a supportive and great older brother :)

[dudadragneel]

Hello guys! It's me!

How are you?

AND IT'S FINALLY HERE! 2000+ YEARS LATER! A NEW FIC!

This one was requested by 💗! Again, I'm sorry that it took so long, my dear 🥺

Hope you enjoy it!

💗

hello Duda! Felix stan here! I’ve been wanting to do an ask for you for some time but i’ve been too shy, your recent post made this feel like it was a good opportunity. I would love if you would do a fic where felix wakes up with a really bad headache, and tries to hide it from his members, but chan takes one look at him and knows he’s unwell. Felix’s condition gets worse throughout the day, especially at dance practice. I would love to see a moment where chan is like, are you okay and Felix tries to say yes but is feeling nauseous and ends up throwing up. hair holding is the best!! A trope i like is a sickie with constant nausea, keeps thinking he’s done and there’s nothing left, but then there’s another small gush and they end up having to camp out in the bathroom or with a bucket. Also the trip of a sickie who likes having company when sick, but doesn’t like having people touch them a lot and appreciates some privacy while throwing up.He can’t keep anything down and has a high fever, headache, body aches, etc, basically he is just miserable. After a day or two of this they take him to the doctor and he has the flu, but Chan and the members take care of him.

HIDING

An idol's life consisted of basically recording songs, filming mvs and other content for their fans, dance practices, concerts, music shows, photoshoots, you name it. Of course, they had breaks throughout the year and sometimes they used them to visit their families or they would record surprise content for STAYs.

Because of their busy lives, injuries, and illnesses were quite common, and to the disappointment of a lot of STAYs, being sick not always kept them from taking part in activities. Even if they were injured or sick they would still attend concerts and other activities.

They would usually sit out any schedules if they were really ill or if the injury was serious and they were in a considerable amount of pain.

The boys were in the middle of preparation for their new album, which meant they had a lot of photoshoots, song recordings, choreographies, and other stuff. It was an overall stressful time, even if they loved what they did.

Since Felix had to minimize his participation during MANIAC promotion because of a back injury, he wanted to give 110% on the other comebacks. He did take part in music shows but his dancing was cut to a minimum, just the amount he could do without further injuring his back.

Today they had mostly dance practice, as they were still in the process of creating the choreography and making adjustments.

Being a main dancer, Felix looked forward to dance practice but today wasn't exactly like that.

He woke up and immediately noticed his head was hurting, he'd even risk saying it was hurting even before he woke up. But because it was winter season, he quickly brushed it off as being due to cold weather.

He got out of bed and went straight to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He wasn't going to take a shower before dance practice because he would get sweaty anyway. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, but when he lifted his head to look at the mirror, he felt lightheaded, he wouldn't say it was dizziness because it felt different, it felt off but he couldn't properly explain what he felt. It was as if he had lost balance.

He took a deep breath and washed his face one more as if to shake off the odd feeling and went back to his bedroom to get ready to leave.

By now Chan was already walking around waking up the remaining sleeping members and met with Felix in the hallway.

- Good morning, Felix

- Good morning, hyung.

Chan immediately noticed something was off about Felix, he wasn't as bubbly as he usually is and he had this slightly pained expression on his face.

- You okay?

- Yes. I'm still a little sleepy.

Chan knew better than to keep pushing them to tell what was really going on, so he accepted the answer and continued with his task.

Felix changed his clothes and decided to take something for his headache so it could go away quicker. He knew he shouldn't do it on an empty stomach but desperate times call for desperate measures. He just wanted that pain to be gone, he didn't want it annoying him during practice.

He ate breakfast with the other members, gathered his stuff and they all left for the company.

They started the day with song recording and things already started going wrong from there. He hadn't noticed it at first when he woke up but his throat was kind of itchy, as he could tell by how it was a little difficult to sing in a lower tone. Every time he tried, some he succeeded but others he had to hold a cough so the members wouldn't get worried.

But Chan always coordinated recording sessions, so he, more than anyone else, knew something was wrong.

- Felix, let's take a break.

He said from outside the recording booth, he didn't want to keep asking what was wrong because he wanted to respect Felix's space. If the boy wanted to say, he would.

Felix was more than grateful for the break his hyung gave because his headache had increased a bit during the recording.

While the other members were recording he went to get some water then got back to the studio and stayed with Chan, Changing, and Han.

After a few minutes, he started dozing off and thought the medication was finally kicking in but strangely, the headache wasn't going away, it was getting stronger.

It hurt him to admit but even the members talking was starting to annoy him. And he kept thinking how he'd be able to practice later, with that blasting song inside the room.

At one point, he completely zoned out, he kept his eyes glued on the floor and it took him a few seconds to realize the members were calling him.

- Yongbok-ah?

- Felix? Hey, Felix?

Chan and the others said gently tapping him on the shoulder.

- Hm? I'm sorry

- Are you okay?

- Yes...I guess I'm a bit tired...

- It's your turn again and then we'll wrap up this part.

- Okay.

Felix got inside the recording booth and took a few deep breaths to control that annoying ticklish sensation in his throat. Fortunately, the first recording session ended great and he thought his hyungs didn't notice anything wrong.

They had a little break before the other recording session and then a lunch break.

Felix just lay on the couch and covered his head with his hoodie, the light was starting to bother him a little bit and honestly, he just wanted to rest.

Eventually, Hyunjin came in and cuddled with him for a bit before returning to work. Felix wasn't sure how he felt about that, at that exact moment, if he wanted to or not but it definitely felt comforting.

The other half of the recording session went better than the first and was quicker as well.

Lunchtime came as fast as everyone wanted, except Felix. Even though he should be hungry because he ate very little at breakfast, his stomach had a burning sensation, because he decided to take medication on an empty stomach.

While all the others were happy to get some food in, Felix was facing a difficult choice - eat something even though his stomach didn't seem like it would accept it well or not eat, worry his hyungs, and risk passing out during practice.

He went with the safer option, but he decided to eat a little less than usual, which he thought the members wouldn't suspect anything, after all, one's appetite can change a lot.

He ate his lunch, way too slowly for his own liking, not only because his stomach didn't want anything, but also because the tingly sensation in his throat had turned into a mild sore throat.

He did manage to eat everything and drink some juice but afterward, he felt full, way too full for someone who ate so little. The burning sensation was now replaced with a feeling of being bloated.

Thankfully, they had a little rest before beginning dance practice, after all, doing harsh movements right after eating is never a good decision.

Although lying down right after a meal is not the best for your stomach, that's everything he needed right now. And that nap right before dance practice was heavenly. For a moment, he didn't feel anything, no sore throat, no headache, nothing. He thought that all he needed after all was a proper meal and a good rest. But he would soon find out things were just starting to get bad.

Creating new choreographies can be challenging and idols are known for their performance, so to master a choreo, sometimes they'd spend an entire night on the company.

Lee Know was one of the main dancers of the group and the one who usually helped create and perfect the choreos. Dancing sessions could be fun and sometimes as serious as one could imagine, after all this was their job.

Because of his back injury, Felix couldn't take part in all dance practices so now that he has recovered he wanted to give 110% of himself even during practice.

He wasn't going to let a headache and some mild sore throat disturb him, not now that he could actually dance.

Practice began, easy at first, since they were still in the process of coming up with the steps. Much to Felix's misery, this part required listening to the same song over and over again, bit by bit, to get the rhythm and the beats and then start to create the choreography.

It started with nice, easy steps, counting and following along to the beat slowly, not needing to put so much effort as of the moment. But then it started to get bad.

By the nth time the song was playing, Felix's headache was almost throbbing along to the beat, making him feel frustrated. Since they were not actually dancing yet, he stepped away to drink some water and calm down to see if he could get rid of that throbbing sensation.

He didn't notice, but the whole time, from the moment he stepped into that room, Chan kept checking on him. He didn't want to frustrate Felix by insisting that he sat out that session but he would step in if things got worse.

Again, the same process repeated, listening to the song, counting, steps, repeat. It went on for about an hour before they had basically a whole potential choreography ready to be fully rehearsed.

By now, Felix's headache was almost begging him to stop and rest, the throbbing sensation from before had increased.

Before they started the actual rehearsal, they had a little water break to make sure no one was dehydrated. Felix grabbed his water bottle and took careful sips of it, something felt strange in his stomach. But as he finished drinking, he had a small coughing fit that caught the others' attention.

- Hey, Yongbok-ah, are you okay?

- Y-yes, hyung. I just choked.

He said trying to laugh a little bit. He was now wondering for how long he would be able to keep the facade of "being well" up.

They finally started practicing the newly created choreography, and just like always it had really dynamic movements, much to Felix's misery this time.

As he danced, he felt every muscle in his body start to ache, as if he had been dancing since last night, non-stop. And Chan didn't take his eyes off of him not for one minute.

As they finished passing the choreography 2 times, Felix broke into a harsher coughing fit, to the point where he almost gagged.

- Hey, Yongbok-ah, are you sure you're okay?

- Y-yes, it's just dust, it made my throat really itchy.

He wasn't lying, his throat felt itchy, but his stomach was also acting weird. It felt heavy, gurgly.

He took another sip of water and took deep breaths before they started dancing again.

As they were passing the choreography for the 5th time that day, Felix's body started to show clear signs it didn't want to keep moving, but he was determined to practice, he didn't want to sit out anything this time. However, just his force of will wouldn't be enough this time.

Each movement just made his head sting in pain over and over again. And his stomach as well, he could feel everything sloshing around with every movement he made.

Each step just made that feeling worse, as if his stomach was spinning inside him. He tried to keep himself focused on the dance but the steps by the end of the choreo were even more dynamic, everything he ate that day was threatening to make an appearance soon.

Him wanting to keep dancing wasn't enough, as his body started to not keep up with the rhythm anymore, his movements became sluggish, which was unusual for him. Chan and Minho noticed that and the leader glued his eyes on Felix for the rest of the choreography, if anything happened he'd be there to help in a flash.

The song ended, finally, and everyone just fell to the ground, exhausted. Felix just stopped and blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the throbbing sensation in his head. Now that he had stopped moving, everything he was feeling while dancing, intensified.

The nausea was basically unbearable, everything was sloshing around and he could feel it start making its way up his chest, and to top that, he was feeling dizzy as well. He straightened his back and took deep breaths as he started swallowing the thick saliva filling his mouth.

Chan made his way close to Felix and put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

- Hey, Felix, are you okay?

Feliz wanted to say yes, but he knew there was nothing he could actually hide from his leader.

He tried to answer but was immediately cut off by his stomach contracting and sending hot liquid up his throat faster than he could've reacted.

He bent over quickly as his stomach contracted one more time making him gag harshly and making vomit gush out of his mouth hitting the ground with a sickening sound.

- Oh my god! Felix!

Chan said as he started rubbing his dongsaeng's back. Everyone in the room was shocked by the sudden situation, some froze and some ran towards him to which Chan immediately told them not to.

- Don't. Give him some space and get me a trash can.

The boys did as their leader told them and quickly grabbed the trash can in the room and placed it under Felix's mouth.

He grabbed his knees for support while Chan held his hair out of his face. Felix spat out a few times before his stomach let out a concerning sound and sent even more chunky vomit out of his mouth, now hitting inside the trash can. He didn't even have time to catch his breath before throwing up one more time, now with such force his back arched painfully and vomit came out of his nose as well.

- Breathe, Felix.

Chan said as he tied the poor boy's hair into a bun and changed his approach. Now he decided to rub Felix's chest and tummy to try to provide some comfort.

- I'm right here.

Felix spat out a stream of saliva and he thought he was done, that everything was out.

- Straighten your back a little.

Felix did as he was told and took deep breaths. For a brief moment, he felt some relief. But it was indeed just for a brief moment, his body was decided to get rid of everything inside his stomach.

He bent over again and Chan proceeded to rub his chest and tummy to try to help him vomit whatever was still upsetting his stomach.

Chan pressed down gently on his stomach, which answered quickly by sending up another thick wave of vomit.

- There you go. Get it all out.

Another wave of watery vomit came right after, mixing with the putrid mess inside the trash can. After this, he kept gagging and gagging but nothing was coming out.

- Felix, I think you're done. If you keep forcing it you'll hurt your throat.

He handed him a bottle of cold water so the boy could rinse his mouth.

- How are you feeling?

- Awful, hyung...

- Let's sit down for a bit. Kids, get your stuff, we're leaving early.

Chan guided Felix to sit on the couch with him because the boy was looking pale and he could actually faint at any moment.

- How long have you been feeling like this?

Chan asked while still rubbing Felix's back.

- Since morning... It started with a headache but things just escalated...

- What are you feeling now?

- My head hurts a lot and my stomach is churning...

- Maybe you caught a cold?

- Maybe...hyung can we go home? I want to sleep...

- Yes.

The kids grabbed their stuff and Felix's while Chan helped him walk to the van.

Felix sat beside Hyunjin and the poor sick boy quickly fell asleep on his shoulder. Chan, who was in the front seat would turn around every now and then to see how the boy was doing.

- How is he?

- Still sleeping.

The boys answered. For half of the ride, everything was going smoothly but then Felix's stomach let out a loud gurgle, that everybody in that car that didn't have earphones on, heard.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head from Hyunjin's shoulder.

- I'm gonna throw up...

The boys quickly started to search for plastic bags or anything he could be sick in. And thankfully Minho had a plastic bag with him from something he had bought to eat.

He passed it to Felix who barely had the strength to hold it. Changbin who was sitting beside him as well, helped him hold it as the poor boy proceeded to throw up one more time, Hyunjin rubbing his back throughout the process.

- Felix, do you want us to pull over?

- N-no-

Was all he managed to say before another bout of vomit escaped from his mouth, mixing with the liquid inside the bag.

- It's okay. You're okay.

Hyunjin said as he continued to rub his back.

Thankfully, they got to the dorms quickly and proceeded to take care of the poor boy.

Chan helped him out of the car and wrapped his arm around Felix's waist to help him walk to the elevator.

Once inside the dorm, the leader gave out the orders to try to get Felix comfortable as soon as possible.

- I'll stay with him so he can take a shower. I want you guys to get a change of clothes for him, make some light soup, and get his bed ready.

- Yes, hyung.

It was the right choice to stay with Felix inside the bathroom because a few minutes into the shower he started to feel faint. All the exertion from the day caught up to him in a flash.

As he was taking his bath, he felt his feet start to sink beneath him, as if the ground had suddenly become like jelly and he saw black dots in his vision. To add to his misery, his stomach also responded to the sudden malaise, building up a strong nausea.

- Hyung...I feel weird...

Chan who was looking at his cell phone and still keeping an eye on Felix, quickly tossed the phone aside.

- What's wrong?

He said, already hurrying to his dongsaeng's aide.

He managed to get Felix before the boy collapsed and carefully guided him to sit down.

- Do you feel like you're gonna throw up?

- Hmm...

Feliz gagged right after answering and felt liquid coming up his throat. He just leaned forward as a stream of thick bile came out without much effort, his body was tired and his stomach was basically empty. Chan just rubbed his back, and held his hair back and patiently waited until his dongsaeng felt a little relieved to help him back to the shower.

When he finished showering, he felt as if he had only the strength to go to bed, but he needed to eat something so he could take some painkillers for his headache.

Chan walked out of the bathroom supporting Felix and guided him to the couch where the boy almost sunk into the cushions. In a few moments, the others appeared with some soup for him.

- Thanks, guys...

He said, really softly.

The soup smelled nice and it tasted even better. He ate it very carefully so as not to upset his stomach and risk throwing up everything.

It took some time but he managed to eat everything and right after he started to doze off.

Chan woke him up very tenderly to take him to the bedroom.

- Hey, Felix, let's go get some sleep.

Felix barely opened his eyes, so Chan helped him up and took him to the bedroom. He lay him down and covered him and within minutes, the sick boy was fast asleep.

Chan's instincts told him it would be better to stick around in case Felix needed anything so he told Lee Know to go sleep in his bedroom, as the boy was probably tired from teaching all the choreography.

And he wasn't wrong, a few hours into the night, Felix started to feel even worse than before.

He was tossing and turning on the bed and no position was comfortable. His headache was still there and his stomach was acting up again.

It started doing flips, so he tried laying on his back and covered his eyes with his arm.

On top of that, his whole body was aching and he was shivering too much for his own liking, he was drenched in sweat as if he was inside a sauna but he felt too cold to take the blanket off.

Because he was shivering, his body was tense and kept contracting with each shiver which made the nausea build up.

He felt something come up his throat, his mouth started to fill with saliva so he started swallowing convulsively while keeping his eyes squeezed shut and taking deep breaths.

It passed for a few minutes so he decided to turn to lay on his side again, but that was the last straw for his stomach. The movement made it jump and sent its contents rushing up, he knew he wouldn't be able to swallow it down this time. He needed to get to the bathroom otherwise he would throw up all over the bed.

Chan, who was sleeping close to him, noticed all the shifting and woke up to assess the situation of the younger boy.

- Hey, Lix, is everything okay?

- Hyung, I need to throw up.

Chan took a quick look at Felix and noticed he looked pale and at the same time really flushed and his bangs were sticking to his forehead. He helped the young up and took him to the bathroom.

However the sick boy's temperature did not go unnoticed, the moment Chan touched Felix's skin he was alarmed by how hot the boy was.

- Oh my god Felix! You're burning up!

Getting to the bathroom, Chan immediately guided Felix to kneel in front of the toilet as he would probably pass out if he kept standing.

As soon as he was down on his knees, his stomach contracted sending what he had eaten a few hours ago gushing out of his mouth.

- There you go.

Chan said as he held Felix's hair and checked his forehead.

- You're really burning up Felix.

He felt the sick boy shivering under his touch as he rubbed his back after tying his hair into a ponytail.

Felix's stomach contracted forcefully arching his back to the point Chan grew concerned about his previous injury.

Watery, gooey vomit escaped his lips hitting the toilet water with a sickening sound, almost making Chan gag.

He was getting really concerned, it's been some time since he last saw Felix in such a state.

Felix coughed a few times before his stomach sent even more vomit up making him arch his back. Chan kept rubbing his back, changing between up and down and circles.

After a few more rounds of mostly gooey vomit, Felix was just gagging unproductively and panting. He felt too hot and suffocated, as if he was inside a sauna and couldn't breathe and his throat was hurting a lot.

- Felix, straighten your back a little, I think you're done.

Chan said, flushing the toilet to get rid of that awful sight and smell.

The sick boy was shivering even more than before, Chan kept rubbing his back, but even the slightest touch was hurting, his skin was on fire, and even his clothes were hurting him.

He started crying, everything was too much, his head was throbbing, his throat was aching and his whole body burned.

- Hyung, it hurts! I just want it to stop!

The boy said breaking down in tears.

Chan proceeded to rub the sick boy's chest trying to provide him some comfort and calm him down.

- I'm right here. You'll be okay. Let me take your temperature.

He grabbed the thermometer that was inside one of the drawers of the bathroom cabinet.

- 40°c! Oh my god, Felix! We need to go to the hospital. We need to find out what's going on.

Felix was barely there, he felt too tired from everything and he was getting sleepy.

- Hyung...I'm tired...I just want to sleep...

- It's okay. You can go to sleep, hyung is right here with you.

By now, all of the boys were already up and just waiting outside the bathroom, as they heard some noises coming from the inside.

- Chan hyung, is everything okay?

- No. Felix is really sick. He needs to go to the hospital. Can someone bring my phone?

Lee know quickly got back with Chan's phone and handed it over to the older boy who called the manager.

- The manager will be here soon. I'll go with him. The rest of you stay here and try to get some rest. I'll keep you guys updated.

- Okay, hyung.

The manager arrived, Chan picked Felix up and took him to the car.

He lay all his weight on his hyung, he wanted someone to take care of him, he wanted comfort and he also couldn't control his body anymore.

In a few minutes, they arrived at the hospital, thankfully the manager had contacted their doctor before leaving the dorm so he was waiting for them.

- Felix, we're here. Can you stand?

- No...

- Okay, I'll help you. Come on.

Chan helped Felix out of the car, wrapped his arm around the boy's waist, and walked with him to the doctor's office.

Taking just a glance at Felix, the doctor immediately told the nurse to put him on IV drips, given how pale he looked, he knew he was dehydrated and that the case was serious.

- Yongbok-ah, what happened? What are you feeling?

The boy could barely keep his eyes open and he was afraid that if he started talking, he'd throw up again.

- I started feeling weird when I woke up... I thought it was just a headache but it kept getting worse. It started throbbing, my throat started hurting and my stomach felt weird... I ended up throwing up and when I was sleeping I started sweating... And Chan-hyung noticed that I had a fever...

- We'll take a blood sample and see what's going on. For now, you'll stay here on IV drips because you're obviously dehydrated and malnourished.

After a few minutes, the doctor came back with the results.

- Well, from what we discovered from the blood sample, you have the flu. That's why the symptoms got worse throughout the day, and they were aggravated because of how much strain you put your body through during dance practice. I'll give you the prescription for the medications and I advise you don't take part in any sort of activity for at least a week. Otherwise, this flu won't get better and it could actually get worse because your immune system is already under pressure.

- Understood.

- You're free to go once the IV drip is done.

- Thank you, doctor.

Felix was coming in and out of consciousness because of how weak he felt and how high his fever was. Chan sat by his side and texted the others to give them an update on Felix's health.

- Hey kids.

- Chan-hyung! How's Felix?

- He's on IV drips right now. He was too dehydrated and malnourished when we got here. They took a blood sample and found out he has the flu.

- But it was so sudden...

- Actually, he said that he felt weird since morning but his symptoms escalated too quickly throughout the day. The doctor told him to stay put for at least a week. The manager will see how our schedules will change.

- Understood. You're coming back to the dorm, right? He won't need to stay in the hospital, right?

- The doctor said we could go home once the IV drip is done. Can you please change Felix's bedsheets and get him a change of clothes, for when we get back?

- Of course, hyung.

- See you soon. Bye.

When Chan finished texting the kids, Felix woke up for a while, still looking green.

- Hyung...I wanna throw up.

Felix said already trying to get up.

Chan quickly got a sick bag for him and held it in front of his mouth since the boy barely had the strength to hold it.

Felix opened his mouth and vomit gushed out, watery and gooey just like before, because his stomach was completely empty but still wanted to make him feel miserable.

He burped which brought up another stronger wave that arched his back and Chan placed a hand there and started rubbing circles on it.

- It's okay. It's best if you let everything out. Hyung's right here.

Felix coughed up another wave mixing with what was already inside the almost completely filled sick bag.

- Felix, you're just dry-heaving now. Your throat is already hurting, if you keep doing that it will only worsen.

Felix knew that but he felt nauseous either way, he didn't want to get away from that sick bag, even though he felt his stomach empty, there was still this lingering feeling that he was going to throw up again, anytime.

- Come on. Let's breathe together okay? Take a deep breath in...hold it...and now exhale... Keep going...

Chan guided Felix through this pattern for a few minutes before the boy felt somewhat less nauseous, at least better enough to lay back down and wait for the IV drip to end.

In the meantime, the nurse noticed Felix had thrown up again and came back with an intravenous nausea medication.

- This will help with your nausea. It will feel strange at first but it will work in a few minutes.

- Thank you.

Felix went back to sleep and within 1h30 the IV drip was finally over.

He did feel a little better, the nausea wasn't completely gone but it had died down a little, thankfully. The doctor gave them the prescription and once again told them that Felix needed full rest to be able to get better.

The ride back to the dorm was calm, with no incidents along the way, with him dozing off all the time.

Arriving at the dorms, 6 worried boys were waiting for them.

- How's he, Hyung?

- The doctor said he has the flu. He told him he needs a full week of rest.

- There's a set of clothes in his bedroom.

- Thank you, guys.

Chan was taking Felix to his bedroom when the boy halted on his feet.

- Hyung... I'm gonna throw up...

- Okay, come on.

He brought the sick boy to the bathroom and guided him to kneel in front of the toilet.

Felix opened his mouth and coughed until he gagged. He kept gagging but nothing but thick saliva was coming up. A wet burp brought up a tiny wave of watery vomit but nothing more, leaving the boy feeling miserable.

- Felix, I know you're not feeling well, but your stomach is empty...

- But...I feel too nauseous...

- I'll bring an antiemetic to you, wait here.

Chan came back with a pill, that thankfully was a capsule because Felix was sure that if he tasted any medicine he'd throw up in a second. He took it with a sip of water and waited in the bathroom in case he felt sick again.

After some time, his stomach was feeling a little less nauseous.

- Do you think it's safe to go to the bedroom?

- Yeah...

- Can you stand?

- No...

- Okay, I'll help you.

Chan picked him up and carried the sick boy to the bedroom.

He lay him on the bed and covered him with a blanket to help with the fever. He also brought a bucket and placed it close to Felix just in case something happened during the night and also to not make the boy walk all the way to the bathroom every time he needed to throw up.

Chan settled beside Felix, wanting to be there to help at any time.

The others also gathered up in the room to keep them company and also to be of help.

The following days consisted of numerous trips to the bathroom, with Felix barely managing to keep anything down. His fever spiked every so often, with the boys taking turns to take care of him.

Needless to say that as he was getting better, the others fell ill one after the other, because they didn't want to leave each other's side.

[undercoverpena]

wicked games you play

javier peña x f!reader | bonus scene of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: smut. p in v. fingering. cunnilingus. javi pov. wrap it before you tap it, people. 18+. PLEASE read chapter six before this one.

Javi’s unsure who moves first—when the words leave your mouth.

All he knows is his lips are on yours, he has a fistful of your tee, and you’ve buried your nails into his scalp. 

It’s heavy, all smothered in desperation and wrapped with lust as he begins drowning again. So willingly, almost wishing too. Feeling your presence seep into his bones, making his brain turn silent and everything else wake up. 

Then you whimper, and he has to fight a grin. 

That night on the phone coming straight back to him. How you’d gasped, moaned, right down his ear—how it had kissed his brain and made him hard. How pretty you sounded.

Now he gets to see it all. Hear it all.

His fingers sliding over your neck, your quickening pulse hammering against his fingers as your eyes open. And they’re ablaze with want, dousing him in it, coating him—becoming the only layer he wants to wear. 

“Been thinking about this since the phone call.” 

“Quite tame for you, Javi. I’ve been thinking of a whole lot more, honestly.” 

He likes it when you’re quick. When your quick-wit slides from your tongue.

He likes it more that it’s you who begins to remove his shirt, palms sliding over his shoulders, fingers under the fabric as it slides down his arms until it flutters to the ground. Yours follows, his thumbs hooking under, knuckles grazing your skin before it’s over your head and in some corner. 

Then your lips begin to play a game. You pull them from him, making his mouth chase—doing so until he grasps your jaw and cheek, licking into your mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock—it hardening—uncomfortably so—against the zipper of his jeans. Rolling his hips against you as you moan.

Thankfully, the other clothes practically melt from the two of you. Javi guiding you out of yours, you sliding his jeans down with a doe-eyed look before kissing up his calf, past his knee, along his thigh—

Javi pulls you to your feet.

“I get first taste, baby.”

It’s an earlier promise he’s calling on, cashing it in. One you had given him—sweetly saying you promise— when you were so close down the phone to him.

His mouth finds your neck, tongue swiping over your collarbone, tracing a line down the skin close to the cup of your bra before he lightly sucks. 

It’s just enough—but not enough to mark. Hands winding around you, undoing the second to last piece of clothing on your body, freeing your chest to him—your nipples pebble under the cool air, before his tongue wraps around one and his palm the other. 

“Fuck.” 

He smirks at the breathy way you say it, your hand burying in his hair, tugging lightly. 

It’s then you mumble that you’re safe, clean. 

That you haven’t been with anyone in months. 

Javi kisses you for that. Not because he’s possessive, but rather he paints your lips in relief that he’s not at risk of losing you to someone else. Someone possibly better, who can offer you more.

A thought which niggles and roars, depending on his mood and day. But this, the two of you together and your confirmation calms a part of him that he’s tried not to let get to him. Something you must be able to tell because your palm tilts his head back up to you. 

Strict demands—instructions: bed, top drawer, protection. 

Tomorrow, when he runs his fingers up and down your side—now knowing how soft and warm you are—he’ll comment on your prepared presumption. Watch in awe as you likely go embarrassed again—hide yourself behind that smile until he pulls you close, kissing you, assuring you. 

Maybe he’ll tell you then that his room has some too. That he hadn’t assumed, having been happy to just meet you, but if it happened, he hadn’t wanted it to fall on you to sort. Wanting to be prepared.

In truth, he’d have been happy just to enjoy the feeling of you smirking against his lips as he clutches your cheek, presses his forehead to yours, and curl into the feeling of your hands digging into his side. 

But, if he gets to reap, he’ll reap. Sliding his hand down your neck, fingers brushing over your breast, thumb and finger lightly squeezing the peak of your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch once more.

“So pretty,” he murmurs.

Sliding his tongue across your smooth bottom lip—tasting the salt from the chips earlier—the scent of shampoo that he’s had driving him insane since you were in his truck. 

You make the prettiest noises too. 

Do the prettiest things. 

Feeling your hand stroke over his cloth-covered cock, fingers lightly sliding up and down, up and—

“Can I taste you, cariño? Please?” 

Your hand pauses its teasing, eyes meeting his, and then you nod. 

And fuck does he. 

Peeling your underwear from your hips, he leaves them balled up at the foot of the bed he has you splayed on. 

Javi knew you’d be soft, smooth. His cheek brushes your inner thigh as your fingers resume their place—tangled in his hair. 

He’s barely touched you, barely ran the tip of his tongue over you, but you’re trying to move your hips. Patience not a current virtue, by any means. 

Please, you beg. 

On another night—after sharing many of them together—he’d make you wait. Pin your hips to the bed, drag it out until your voice is hoarse from begging him. 

But he wants this, too. 

Needs you. All desperate to take you apart—to have your taste on his tongue, the scent of you in the hair above his lip. He wants to hear you make the noises you did for him down the phone, but here in person—all live, just for him. 

Maybe, on another night (if he can be so lucky), he’ll be able to see what you did that night. Watch, hand around his cock as your fingers bury themselves inside you at his words, at his praise. Because you are so good. Like being told it too, from the way, you whimpered when he told you to get on the bed. 

Good girl, he had said and he watched as your pupils swallowed all of the shades that make up your eyes. 

Gripping the back of your thigh, thumb digging into your skin, he slides his tongue over you. Feeling you keen. Mastering you as though he’s read books on you. Hearing you drop curses like they’re full sentences, teasing and taunting, before he breaches you with a finger, then another, sliding them in and out as you moan. 

It’s takes him a moment to realise his own hips are rocking against the bed, desperate for friction. 

Because you’re incredible, beautiful, gorgeous. 

From the sounds and how you look at him, to how you curl into his touch and say his name. His cock straining in his underwear, almost desperate to bury it inside of you—feel how warm you are wrapped around him. The thought willing him on as his nose catches your clit, his name dropping from your tongue as though it weighs something important. 

And he can feel how close you are. It is punctuated by how your breath is hitching, remembering it well from the phone. 

Your body craving what he’s doing to you—all tense because of him. Dangling, all set to fall and be flung over the edge. Pushing you closer and closer, your fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his tongue inside you, both hands keeping your thighs in place, and he’s waiting, bracing—

Then he hears it. 

How you snap.

The way you spill his name from your swollen, lovely lips as he works you over the edge. Feeling it ripple through you, tasting it on his tongue as you spill into his mouth. 

He expects you to need a minute, but you lift onto your elbows, eyes heated—all lust-filled, drunk on him. His tongue licking the taste from his fingers, watching your orbs darken before you pull him towards you.

You allow him a brief moment to take you in. His eyes spotting the way your collarbone glistens with sweat, your brow and forehead too. He’s unsure what he expects when your breaths die down, but it isn’t your interlocked fingers around his neck. It isn’t your lips crashing, slotting, forcing themselves against his as you pull down his underwear, wrap your legs around him and press your mouth to his ear: 

Fuck me. 

That’s what you whisper—more breath than syllables. 

And you’re warm, under his palm and body—hot and searing, threatening to burn him alive. He is a man who thinks he deserves to be on a pyre, an array of guilt that is squashed down—built into the foundations of who he is here, back home and in Texas. 

With you, he feels like something else. Someone whole. Better. Aware of his mistakes but confident he’s done time for them. Choosing, instead, to burn from your lustful gaze and the way you want him. 

His fingers brush over your cheek, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. Show you how you’ve shaken his foundation—made it quake under your kind laugh and perfect smile. He could name more things—of all the ways you’re perfect. 

But he hears your fingers finding something that crinkles, mouth pulling from him before your teeth rip it open—his lips curling into a smirk. 

Wide eyes asking, without your tongue moving, “Do you want me to do it?” 

He ascends. He’s sure he fucking does, anyway. Nodding, suddenly quiet—more quiet than Javi has ever known himself to be in this predicament. 

Because usually, he’s a talker. 

He’s the one who has someone on their knees, hand around the back of their neck as he makes their ass ripple. 

But, you’re not them—and he isn’t who he used to be. 

Your hand, all warm, smooth and silky, takes him, thumb brushing over his leaking tip as your other hand remains holding the rubber. 

It’s never been like this. 

Not when he was away, feeling things for those who’ll allow him to pretend; not back when he was younger, mind full of getting out of town. 

This is heavenly, fucking everything. You’re something else entirely, mumbling about putting it on with your mouth next time.

Next time. 

A sentiment his mind echoes in repetition when he lines up against you, another time I’d make you come again. But I need to be inside you. 

And fuck, when he slides in, a voice screams in the back of his head at how your walls wrap around him, the sharp, sweet gasp you emit as he bottoms out inside of you. 

You consume him. 

Holding you, hand on your hip to keep you close, another around the back of your neck, feeling your breath dance along his chin and neck. It mixes with the moans he had mentally saved from the phone call, now stitching to the way your lashes flutter as he starts to move. 

A few thrusts and he feels your nails cutting into his shoulders. His mouth leaves marks that your clothes will hide tomorrow as he stretches and ruins you, setting a pace that feels like bliss. 

Dragging himself out, before filling you again—making your lips part, nothing escaping except a breath and his name. 

And then you’re clenching around him, your body begging him, pleading for a second release as he pauses, groaning internally at his own teasing. 

Dropping to his elbows, boxing you in, he latches his lips to yours. Your pleas bleed into his mouth as he slowly rolls his hips—not enough to push you over but keep you there. 

“Please.”

“Please, what?” 

Your mouth slid against his ear, pants falling in plenty. “Please, baby—please.” 

His hands slide under your back, lifting you, sitting back on his knees. You’re in his lap. Fingers sliding up the back of your neck, face buried in your neck as he thrusts up into you—watching as your mouth parts, his name falling:

Javi. Javi. God, Javi. 

He knows. 

Fuck he knows. 

“Baby, so close—I’m close—“

He knows that too. 

Just like he knows how fucking good it is when you call him baby. 

an: smut is not my skill, so forgive me. normal romcom, text, banter continue tuesday.

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 5 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: No child feels as though they'll ever live up to their parents' expectations of them, but it's almost worse when their fiance doesn't. Both Gloria and Michael find this out the hard way.

Note: Just a little clarity, there’s no “J” in Italian, and the name Giacomo is pronounced almost like “Jah-koh-moh” making “Jack” or “Jackie” a common nickname for Italian-American immigrants with that name. It’s obviously less common of a name now among Italian-Americans than in the past. In reference to the brief discussion about Laika between Gloria and Jackie, the truth about Laika’s fate wasn’t revealed to the public until the 2000s, after the fall of the USSR. Prior to that, Soviet accounts implied the below.

Warnings: A lot of family-related angst, and period-typical slut-shaming, but that's about it.

Chapter 4 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Do not interact if you're under 18 or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

By the end of April, their lives had been packed neatly in boxes and transported to New York. Almost the entire family had relocated to the Long Beach area. Michael told Gloria that before the family’s move to Nevada, the entire block had been like the Lake Tahoe compound, walled off and closely guarded with only family living inside the perimeter. After the move, the wall was torn down, and all of the houses except theirs had been sold off to strangers. 

Gloria appreciated the change in the neighborhood’s occupancy, excited at the prospect of socializing with people other than Corleones and their associates. Some of the neighbors she’d met on her morning walks up and down the street were especially friendly and welcoming. She could hardly keep track of the number of invitations for coffee or dinner she’d tentatively accepted on her and Michael’s behalf. 

After all, a few of the housewives didn’t hesitate to tell Gloria how odd the old neighbors were. Nice enough, but kept to themselves. Always had people coming and going at all hours of the day or night. ‘Isn’t that so strange?’ they’d ask Gloria, eyeing her as if hoping for some insight on the situation. All she could do was shrug, promising that her family wasn’t antisocial and she’d just have to check with Michael when they’d be free to visit. At the very least, she could bring Anthony and Mary over in the afternoons for playdates. The mid-school year move hadn’t affected Mary much, but it was clear Anthony missed his friends back in Nevada. Still, it seemed like everyone on the block had kids around their age. 

“I ran into a few of our neighbors on my walk,” Gloria said one morning. “They want us to come over sometime and—“

“What did you tell them?” Michael asked.

“Just that we moved back here from Lake Tahoe because you thought it’d be better for the kids. Why?”

“That’s fine, just be careful what you tell people outside the family.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. In their years-long affair, she’d hardly told anyone about him. The only people who knew even any details had been his family. Her own family didn’t even know he was in her life until she called to tell them about the engagement. 

“Do you think I want these people to know about me ? ‘Oh, the slut moved into the neighborhood. Hide your husbands.’”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“Michael, I was just—“

“I don’t care,” he said sternly. “I’ve never called you that. I’ve never let anyone else call you that or anything similar.”

Gloria fell silent as ‘let’ hung heavy in the air. Such revelations made her uneasy, reckoning with how she and Michael could have been on such different wavelengths in how they regarded their relationship for so long. She wondered who had called her that, or tried, at least, and what he’d said or done in response.

“They only know what I want them to know,” she said. “I understand you’re busy, but it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly. People noticed how whoever used to live here never bothered with anyone.”

He sighed. “Why don’t we work on seeing your parents first, and then we can socialize with the neighbors, alright?”

Her parents. Only two days until she and Michael went over to their house for lunch, her parents begrudgingly agreed to host her and their future son-in-law for a meal that wouldn’t be as significant as dinner. She wondered how he fared with Kay’s family, whether they had any clue as to what Michael did for a living the way hers did. 

She was quiet until he left for the day, giving her a soft kiss. She sat at the kitchen table, scanning over the day’s newspapers until her back began to ache from the hard wooden chair. As she made her way into the living room, she tried to think of how to occupy the rest of her day. The house had been almost completely unpacked and all of the new furniture delivered. Anthony and Mary were in school, and as much as she loathed the idea of housework, that was mostly taken care of by the hired help who puttered around the place, seemingly reluctant to socialize with her. She’d expressed to Michael that she felt uncomfortable being waited on, which to him meant that they should simply avoid unnecessary interactions with her.

She hadn’t bothered keeping in touch with any of her old friends when she moved to Las Vegas for the job at the casino, not expecting to move back to New York. After the novelty of her postcards had worn off, they’d simply lost touch. Not that it would have mattered, they were probably all in different houses with new phone numbers anyway, vastly different people than when she’d left them. She had surely changed over the years, too. So her greatest hope were her new neighbors, solidly middle class and her age or older, with their PTA meetings and Avon parties, nothing like the nightclubs and shows that had been at her fingertips in Vegas. Still, it was something. She didn’t dislike spending time with Connie or Sandra or any of the other Corleone women by any means, but if that was to be the extent of her social life, she may as well have been a dog following its tail for fun.

Gloria flinched when the phone rang, shocking her out of her thoughts. 

“There’s a man on the phone for you,” Margaret, one of the maids, said. She was the first to be hired when they moved into the New York home. An older woman with graying hair and kind green eyes who humored Gloria’s conversations every so often. “He says he’s your brother?”

“I’ll take it. Thank you, Margaret,” Gloria said, rushing over to the phone. “Jackie! How are you?”

“Good, I was wondering when you’re free to get coffee? Me and Viv have time this afternoon and–”

“I’m free right now. Where should I meet you?”

“How about that diner by my house? The one we went to when you were here for Thanksgiving.”

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Gloria said, hanging up with a wide smile on her face. 

Things had been so busy, she couldn’t remember the last time she went out for something besides errands.

On the notepad next to the phone, she quickly scrawled, ‘Getting coffee with Jackie and Viv. Be back later.’ She grabbed the car keys and dashed out the door. 

Since the neighborhood was no longer exclusively occupied by Corleones, the usual bodyguards couldn’t hang around outside the house so openly. A relief for Gloria, who despite being able to otherwise come and go as she pleased, hated feeling as though she were asking permission to go anywhere. With none of them to be seen, Gloria got into her car–a shiny new Cadillac that was another engagement present from Michael–and made the fifteen minute drive to the diner. 

As soon as Gloria saw Jackie and Vivian already sitting in a booth, she nearly lost a shoe in her rush to hug her brother, feeling her chest tighten at being around him again after so much had happened since they’d last seen each other. Her thoughts drifted to Fredo. From what she could tell, Michael was hardly on speaking terms with him when he died. Surely he must have regretted not reconciling sooner. 

She could still remember when Jackie finally came home from his service in the Pacific, he’d been thinner than she remembered, more haggard too, his hug feeling as though it were missing something compared to the one he’d given her at the train station before he shipped off for good after boot camp. For a while, she felt almost suspicious of him, as if someone who looked like her brother had come home. He didn’t act the way she remembered and had no interest in explaining why he was that way. It took only one night terror for him to decide to get his own apartment, quietly saying he needed space.

Things only seemed to look up a few months later when he met his wife, Vivian. He’d taken up working as a truck driver, making local deliveries at night to stave off the horrors that’d replay in his sleep. He’d regularly drop off medical supplies at the hospital Vivian worked at as a nurse, helping with receiving late deliveries sometimes when the night shift was slow. Most people regarded Vivian as brash and opinionated, but Gloria admired her tenacity. It had to have been what breathed some life back into her brother after so long. 

Since then, Jackie got a job at the post office, Vivian still a nurse, and Gloria never went more than a few months without seeing them. The thought of being able to see them more often made her feel at ease for the first time since the move.

“Hey,” Jackie said, laughing a bit, “I missed you too.”

“It’s great to see you again, Glo,” Vivian said as Gloria gave her a hug almost as strong as the one she gave Jackie. “We went ahead and ordered your usual for you.”

“We’re glad you’re back in town. I mean, I guess we could’ve tried harder to visit you in Nevada, but–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gloria assured him. “So, how have things been?”

“Every day’s the same,” he said. “It’s all going as good as it can.”

That was how he preferred things for going on fifteen years. Simple and predictable. A go-with-the-flow type of guy who avoided conflict to an almost problematic degree, which made him the perfect match for Vivian, a go-getter who preferred to take the lead. The first time Gloria met her, she admired her determination and audacity, traits that got her promoted to a nurse supervisor only a few years into working at the hospital. 

A waiter brought over coffee for the three of them, along with a slice of apple pie for Jackie, a cheese danish for Vivian, and Italian rainbow cookies for Gloria. She poured the milk on the table into her mug, sipping it to check the taste.

“Your dad says you’re marrying a gangster,” Vivian said.

“Not so loud!” Gloria hissed, practically slamming her mug down.

Jackie cracked the slightest smile. “We didn’t hear the end of it at Sunday dinner.”

“God, we’re going over there for lunch soon,” she groaned. 

“Glad I won’t be around for that,” Vivian said. “What’s he like, your fiance? I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”

“It wasn’t that serious to begin with. At least, I thought it wasn’t. Up until two months ago, he was married,” she said, grateful Jackie wasn’t one who cared for details or specifics, though she knew she’d end up telling Vivian everything anyway at some point. “Michael cares a lot about his family. You could never tell, but he has a great sense of humor when I can coax it out of him. He’s…someone who knows how to get what he wants.”

“What does he want from you?”

“A son.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You remember a couple years back, when the Ruskies sent that dog into space, knowing she wasn’t gonna be coming back?” Gloria asked.

Vivian nodded. “Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

Laika. The papers called her Muttnik. A stray dog plucked from the streets of Moscow and lifted into the annals of scientific history. Survived about a week in space and then euthanized through poisoned food before her oxygen ran out. She wouldn’t have survived the return to earth. Sputnik 2 burned up as it raged back down through the atmosphere. Her demise was inevitable, essential, even, to the mission’s success. But she was alone up there. Terrified as the stars twinkled in her eyes the way no one else had ever seen them.

“I think I know how she must have felt.”

“You and me both,” Jackie said.

The days leading up to Michael meeting her parents for the first time flew by far more quickly than Gloria would have preferred. They wouldn’t be bringing Anthony and Mary to meet them just yet, not when Gloria knew her father was going to have choice words about her engagement to Michael regardless of who was there.

Her parents’ resentment toward the New York crime families stemmed from the organizations meddling in politics and union affairs for their own personal gain. The draft dodging during the war didn’t help either, though that thankfully wasn’t the case for Michael. Her parents worked respectable jobs, Jack a stonemason and a union man, and Julia a typist after two years of night classes when Jackie was barely a toddler. 

Despite her warnings about her dad’s inevitable hostility toward Michael, her fiance seemed unfazed, confident that he’d somehow be able to change her notoriously stubborn father’s mind. That confidence was unwaning until her mom welcomed them in through the front door, her dad standing a few feet behind her with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, hands in his pockets, brows furrowed.

“Dad, this is Michael, my fiance,” Gloria said. “Michael, this is my dad, Jack.”

Michael extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Marino.”

Her father’s tone was flat as he shook Michael’s hand. “Yeah, you too.”

“I’d like to speak with you privately—“

Jack shook his head dismissively. “I gotta talk to my daughter first.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, though he nodded, putting his hand on Gloria’s lower back. “Go on, darling. I’ll keep your mother company.”

She gave him a terse smile, kissing his cheek. She hoped her mother wouldn’t be so blatant in her distaste for Michael. Julia was an anomalous blonde among an extended family of brunettes and seemed to be keenly aware of the unfortunate stereotypes surrounding her intelligence as a result of her hair color. As a result, she read extensively and went to libraries and museums to attend talks by all manner of authors, historians, and artists. She knew more about politics than most of the pundits in the papers through her own personal involvement with campaigns. Gloria always felt as though she fell short of her mother’s academic aspirations for her, working service jobs and moving to Las Vegas on a whim instead of going to college.

She expected Michael to be thoroughly grilled by her mother on his attending Dartmouth nearly two decades prior. Her mention of the Ivy League school had piqued Julia’s interest, especially considering Michael abandoned his studies after joining the Marines. Then, he returned home to be pulled back into the orbit of the world he was trying to escape from, the one that made her parents reluctant to welcome him into their home, their family.

Sparing another glance at Michael, Gloria followed her father up the stairs, creaky old wood muffled by the carpeting that’d been laid down over it less than a year prior, easier on her parents’ joints as they got older. Vivian had already argued with them about moving their bedroom downstairs. That was a compromise. 

With both Gloria and Jackie out of the house for some time, their childhood bedrooms had been requisitioned into a craft room and a guest room, respectively. Gloria’s old bed had long since been moved out, replaced by mismatched tables and TV trays with spools of thread and paints left haphazardly on them. Some finished paintings and embroideries hung on the patterned wall along with framed family photos. 

“Dad, you really shouldn’t have spoken to Michael like that,” she said.

“I have to deal with that shit in the union and now in my own home,” her father huffed, lighting another cigarette. “Do you really want to marry him? If you don’t, I’ll tell him to leave you alone. I don’t care what his last name is, I’m not afraid of him.”

She had to turn away from her father slightly so as to not let him see her face become flushed, tears nearly welling up in her eyes. Her gaze landed on a clipping from a local paper he had framed, a short article about an award she’d won in grade school for selling the most cookies during St. Catherine’s annual bake sale fundraiser. The article had hardly been a margin in one of the back pages, the accompanying photo of Gloria with a nun was small enough to be laughable, practically a waste of ink, yet he kept it. 

“Gloria?”

Clearing her throat, she said, “I love Michael. This’ll be good for me. I’m not getting any younger, that’s what all of mom’s letters said.”

He groaned. “Him, though? Christ, Glo, when you said you were moving out to Las Vegas, we hoped you’d meet some nice, hard-working Western man out there.”

“A cowboy?” she joked weakly.

No, that wasn’t what her father had meant at all. Jack and Julia had raised their children as cultural chameleons. English was spoken at home, and only English. They were Americans, after all. Her mother was born to Napolitano immigrants in Brooklyn and given the Anglicized version of the name Guilia. Her father emigrated from Sicily with the rest of his family at the age of ten but took great pride in his adopted country. In his teens, he’d taught himself how to speak English without a heavy accent by mimicking radio hosts and began going by Jack, rather than his given name Giacomo.

“Better than a gangster,” he hissed. “They’re all disgraceful, but that family is among the worst. That farce of a hearing, as if they’d ever be held responsible for all the damage they’ve done, the lives destroyed, the blood in the streets, the drugs, the politicians, even my own damn union—“

“Please don’t—“

“Has he got you living in some fantasy world? Where all that shit won’t touch you? That if you look the other way or keep your head in the sand, nothing will happen? He has no right promising you peace or safety when he deals in the opposite.”

Gloria could only stand silent as her father ranted. She could hardly imagine what he’d say to Michael. In a brutal irony, this man of unwavering principles recognized that his daughter’s union would make him untouchable to this figure of the shadowy institution he so despised. From then on, every time he would see his son-in-law, he’d be a buzzing fly, an unwanted, brutal conscience until his natural death.

“When you come to this country, you scrape by and try to make an honest living while becoming part of things here. Him and his ilk? They bring their violence and barbarism over from their Stone Age caves to build themselves castles, and we hard-working Italian-Americans get lumped in with those savages.”

Jack and Julia considered themselves patriotic, envisioning the promises of American prosperity for their children. They couldn’t have been prouder when Jackie signed up to join the Marines after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Active in the war effort at home, they bought war bonds and rationed, even sold their car to contribute the steel and rubber. 

Finally turning to face her father again, she said, “Michael was a war hero. He has those dreams, like Jackie does, where he thinks he’s there again. The other half of the time he can’t even sleep because it stays with him.”

“I’m glad something has,” her father grumbled.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Look. I respect what he did for this country, and only that. You don’t forsake what’s right for what's easy, Gloria. If you want to marry into that family, fine, you’re an adult who can make her own decisions.”

After a few moments of silence, she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Her father’s weathered face softened, and he took her in his arms. “Hey, c’mon, you could marry a Martian, and I’d still love you.”

“I think you’d prefer that.”

He laughed, releasing her from the hug. “I think I would.”

“Try to give him a chance, alright? Michael isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” she said, as if her suspicions surrounding Fredo’s death hadn’t been occupying her subconscious since the move back to New York.

As far as she knew, Michael hadn’t killed anyone himself. She suspected he had committed the Sollozzo and McClusky murders despite his denying such at the hearing. No, the Don didn’t kill, from what she pieced together over the years, he ordered others to do so. Delegation was key in that thing of his. The hierarchy existed to protect those at the top. They were untouchable, at least, that was the idea. She’d never asked Michael about the murders of the Dons of the other families. The gossip mill at work had run strong for weeks following Moe Greene’s murder, surely no coincidence that he was dead, giving the Corleone family their opportunity to move in on the casino after he unequivocally turned down their offer to buyout his stake.

He nodded, patting her shoulder. “Alright, honey.”

Fear flashed in Jack’s gaze as he looked at his daughter, momentarily soul crushing, the prospect that he had told her what she already knew and didn’t care, not enough to do anything about it. Out of everyone in her life, her father had always been in the most denial about her selfish streak despite his and Julia’s best efforts to raise her differently. The wool had been torn from his eyes the second she defended Michael, however weakly she’d done so.

Gloria could hardly manage a weak smile as she and her father made their way back downstairs. Faint laughter grew a bit louder as they approached the two in the living room, Gloria relieved that it seemed like her mother wasn’t too hard on Michael.

Julia and Michael stood in front of a wall covered in family photos. Somehow, no matter the occasion, Julia always found a way to make room for more frames to be squeezed in. 

“—well, you know how she is.”

Michael snickered. “Believe me, I know.”

“Oh, you’re just in time. I ran out of embarrassing stories to tell your fiance,” Julia said upon noticing Gloria standing in the doorway. 

Gloria rolled her eyes, though her amusement fell slightly when she noticed her father had hung back by the stairs. “Dad’s waiting,” she sighed.

Julia gave Michael a fake salute. “Good luck up there, Marine.”

Michael smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Marino.”

As he neared Gloria, he took her hand in his and kissed the top of it, a fondness in his gaze that felt surprisingly intimate for him to express with others around. She watched as Michael followed her father as he trudged back up the stairs.

“C’mon, honey. Help me get lunch ready,” Julia said, leading her daughter into the kitchen.

“I hope you like Michael more than dad does,” Gloria said when the men were out of earshot.

“He’s polite, humored my little stories, but Glo, he’s divorced,” her mother lamented. “You won’t get a wedding mass.”

“He’s petitioning for an annulment. His ex-wife had an abortion while he was in Havana. He didn’t know.”

Julia’s eyes widened as she made a sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

“It’s been really hard on him.”

“Can I ask you—how long have you and Michael been…involved? It seems quite soon for him to remarry.”

“About four years.”

“Gloria,” her mother groaned. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

“I know, mom, but we’re doing the right thing now and getting married,” she said, hesitating before speaking the only words that could possibly salvage her mother’s opinion of the situation. “He wants to have a baby with me.”

“Doing things a little backwards, don’t you think?”

“When have I ever done anything forwards?”

“Never. I’m surprised all this is happening in the first place,” she said, silent for a moment as she took stock of her daughter. “A pregnancy hasn’t stuck yet, and you’re glad for it.”

Gloria huffed. “He has two kids already and I barely know how to interact with them—and they’re good. They’re sweet kids. But they know I’m not their mother, and he wants me to be.”

“Two kids? Why didn’t you bring them over?”

“I’m sure Anthony and Mary would love to watch their father get the third degree.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “Bring them over for dinner Friday night. We’ll behave. What do they like to eat?”

“About the same as me,” Gloria said. 

She watched in amusement as her mother stood up from the kitchen table, rushing over to take stock of what was in the refrigerator. The warm glow from inside the appliance highlighted the deep smile lines on Julia’s face and illuminated her excitement at the prospect of finally having children in the house again.

“I can make chicken cutlets and mashed potatoes. Maybe a nice Jell-O salad, too,” she mused aloud. “Then I can get a strawberry shortcake from the place up the street for dessert.”

“I gotta check with Michael, mom.”

“You love him?” she asked, as she closed the fridge, startling her daughter with the abrupt question.

Gloria struggled to find the words that would make her mother understand that she did, in fact, love her fiance, when saying as much did little to convince her father of it. “In Las Vegas—I didn’t see anyone for as long as I saw him. None of them were more than a few weeks, but with him, for years. Things have been so different since the engagement. I had a lot more fun loving him before all of this.”

“Love and marriage aren’t always the same thing, Glo. Most people only get one or the other.”

Except for Jack and Julia. Despite having gone to different high schools, they met their senior year at a multi-parish retreat that brought the city dwellers out to Long Island for a weekend. Their mutual admiration for St. Francis was the ice breaker that led to a bond over their shared idealism and passion for eliminating the inequality they saw so rampant in the city. For months, Jack and Julia were friends, crafting elaborate plans to change the world for the better. Neither remembered when exactly their friendship morphed into a romance, but by the winter of 1923, they were married. Less than a year later, Jackie was born, and changing the world was put on hold to raise a family.

“You and dad got both.”

“We got lucky,” Julia said, glancing in the direction of the stairway as they began to lightly creak. “Maybe we got too lucky, didn’t save enough for you.”

Michael and her father returned downstairs, both looking some degree of annoyed. Gloria almost thought they’d be leaving prematurely, but instead, Michael told her mother he was looking forward to lunch. Jack’s eye twitched ever so slightly.

They sat down at the circular kitchen table, Michael and Jack across from one another. Lunch was a simple pasta salad with antipasto that Julia set on the table. Gloria could hardly eat, waiting for the other shoe to drop and one of the men inevitably leap across the table and throw the first punch.

Instead, Michael was calm and collected as ever as he led most of the conversation, her father occasionally chiming in, but mostly eating in silence. Gloria was taken aback when Michael shifted his chair closer to her, resting his hand on her knee beneath the table. His affection was usually reserved for when they were alone. Then again, even without her father’s blessing, which she was sure Michael requested and was unequivocally withheld, they were a legitimate couple set to be married, no longer clandestinely meeting in hotel rooms.

Perhaps he wanted to prove as much, show them how seriously he took his relationship with their daughter despite Gloria already emphasizing it to them herself. 

After such intense conversations with her parents, lunch flew by, much to Gloria’s relief. As soon as she noticed her father becoming tense again, she mentioned Anthony and Mary, and both of her parents lit up at the prospect of having them over. She was grateful that for all that Michael had supposedly done, they didn’t hold any of it against his children. For their devout Catholicism, she found it interesting that the concept they had the most vocal opposition to was original sin, the idea that misdeeds are passed down, for each subsequent generation to shoulder and inevitably add on to. In their idealism, they believed people were inherently good and instead chose to do wrong because it was easy. 

Gloria felt exhausted by the time the meal was over, eyelids heavy when she and Michael got into the car.

“What did my dad say to you?” she asked, after he’d driven a few blocks away.

“You really wanna know?”

Gloria groaned. “Oh my god, was it really that bad?”

“He feels afraid and threatened right now. He’ll see reason soon enough,” he said. “Your mother’s more personable. She has the same sense of humor as you.”

“I can tell them we can’t do dinner Friday night.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s alright.”

“Really? After all that?”

“I know how much they mean to you.”

“You mean a lot to me,” she said, hesitant before adding, “and I’m embarrassed at how they treated you.”

“I wish my mother had more time to come around to you. She thought the family was changing too much by making you part of it.” His voice was quiet then, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Didn’t seem to matter that you’re Sicilian. That almost made it worse, like she expected more from you.” 

Gloria’s stomach dropped. She’d been unapologetically honest when speaking to his mother at the engagement party. They hardly interacted following that encounter, though Michael visited his mother often to check on her, especially as she became unable to visit their house. At the time, she’d chalked up his returning home distressed to Carmela’s failing health. She’d never considered some of it was because of her. Carmela already had made up her mind about Gloria before even meeting her, much like Jack about Michael, and Gloria merely confirmed her assumptions about her future daughter-in-law.

Calling herself a slut even in the context of outsider opinion just a few days earlier had triggered something in Michael. Undoubtedly Carmela, unimpressed with her son’s choice of a new bride, had thought the same of her and expressed as much to him. Bile rose in her throat. He shouldn’t have had to waste his breath defending her honor, or rather, lack thereof, to his sick mother, of all people. He could have let it go. She would have preferred he did. For how close the Marinos were, the Corleones were ten times that, and his taking up for her to the family matriarch, his own mother, made her head spin.

As her troubled gaze shifted to his profile, he reached over, taking her hand in his and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[fuckmeyer]

How do you imagine the Cullens and Bella dressing like in your book?

similar style but slight adjustments.

Bella probably goes through the biggest change. she starts off In the Afterlight wearing jeans, band tees, chunky sweaters, & very eclectic pieces (bowling shirt ABSOLUTELY exists). in Come Nightfall she changes - she 1) won't wear anything she stole from Edward (i.e. sweaters and flannels), 2) does so much activity outdoors she's wearing exclusively athletic wear, and 3) is forced to hide her scent later on so objectively dresses WORSE with stained, mismatched thrift-store clothes. doesn't own a khaki skirt. in By Starlight, now that Edward's home, she's back to athletic wear. Edward likes this very, very much.

Edward has the same style with more color. NO sleeveless white button-up because what the FUCK. when he's hunting, he's a jeans and flannel shirt kinda guy - he'll often wear clothes he hates when hunting. (ofc, now that Bella wears his flannel shirts, he's rethinking his tastes.) otherwise, day-to-day, he's a loose slacks, undershirt, & suspenders kinda guy (think 1950s or 20s). nice button-ups and dark fitted sweaters in deep, dark colors like navy, burgundy, phthalo green. extremely lame in a cute way. light spoilers for future chaps, but this man is literally always trying to hide his body.

i picture the Cullens dressing mostly in timeless outfits and styles.

Esme adores dresses and skirts à la Audrey Hepburn. classic, chic, evergreen. she would wear neutrals the most day-to-day but adores flowing prints and polka dots when she feels in the mood :) definitely wears ratty skirts or jeans when gardening.

Rosalie's casual/business casual style has some Princess Di influences with some modern trends mixed in (thanks to Alice). keeps some greasy old jeans and overalls for her mechanic work.

Carlisle really misses wearing embroidered brocaded waistcoats & frilly shirts. thinks modern men's fashion is boring. slacks and button-ups for this man. CARDIGANS ALL DAY. misses wearing ascots, but likes scarves. god, he hates modern men's fashion.

Jasper actually loved his 90s grunge/punk era and never really left it. army boots/doc martins (with the coded laces OFC), ripped jeans, plaid shirts, band tees, beanies, leather jackets with handsewn patches.

Emmett is jeans and tees all day. James Dean kinda guy with the boots, slacks/jeans, nice white tee, bomber jacket.

Alice is a freak. she's following every trend. she says it's to keep the Cullens in the modern world (true - to their dismay, she WILL go through their closets and add/subtract items). but really, it's her way to stay connected to the present day. she has ofc rare commissioned pieces from different designers, beautiful pieces from eras long gone that she can't bear to part with (because ofc everything comes back in style), weird pieces from niche trends... but she absolutely DOES dress like she's straight from a 2000s-era issue of Seventeen. for better or worse.

[nothingtolosebutweight]

| Title: Little Goatie | Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund | Words: ~2000 🙈 [AO3] |Summary: Heahmund has a present for Ivar that he considers very questionable at first. Only when he takes a closer look at it does it bore deeply into his heart. | Warnings: None - It's just fluff with a bit of humor. | Notes: My participation for the Norse Tales for Winter Challenge:) It is dedicated to @vaire-gwir. I hope this little story will serve you as a plushie on your long journey home. One day we'll find you a real one that's squishy enough! Until then, we have to go on many more adventures together ♥.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The apartment door was pushed open with a swing and fell noisily back into the lock. Shoes were carelessly brushed off the feet and left on the spot in the hallway. The jacket along with the scarf followed next. They landed on one of the dressers on the way to the living room. The coat rack didn't get any attention. Ivar was in a hurry. He had no time for neatness - never, actually.

The steady sound of his crutch hitting the floor echoed through the hallway as he walked toward the first room to his right. In the doorway to the living room, Ivar stopped for a moment, peeked in, and let his gaze wander searchingly across the room. He didn't find what he was looking for, but something else made him pause for a moment, confused. With a shake of his head, he averted his gaze, as he had another matter on his mind at the moment.

"Heahmund, you still there?" he finally shouted through the apartment, hopes high that he hadn't come back too late.

"I'm in the kitchen, love," came the prompt reply, and Ivar exhaled in relief. He immediately turned and made his way into the room where his lover sat at the counter, a steaming cup and his laptop in front of him.

"Let me guess, hot milk with a hint of cinnamon?" Ivar asked without hiding his disgust at the content of the cup as he bridged the distance and came to a stop next to Heahmund.

"Yes, of course. It calms my nerves best before a trip," Heahmund said as he typed three last words in his mail before pressing the send button and finally closing his laptop completely. When Ivar was next to him, he immediately put his arm around his beloved's waist and pulled him closer.

Ivar bent down a little, at first wanting only to press his lips against his boyfriend’s temple, but Heahmund stood up and gave him a tender kiss as a welcome instead. Immediately after the kiss, Ivar wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, which made Heahmund laugh out loud. Knowing how much Ivar hated milk, he didn't take offense, but went straight for another kiss, this time on the cheek.

"I have to leave in a few minutes, unfortunately. But I'm happy you made it home in time for some goodbye kisses." Heahmund already disliked being away from Ivar for a few days, but his job, which he also liked a lot, forced him to take business trips now and then. Now, once again, he had to travel to another country for eight days straight without Ivar being able to accompany him.

"Some torture, you mean?" Ivar said with a grin, before leaning forward again, surrendering to his fate with a spark of love in his eyes. He leaned his crutch against the counter and wrapped both arms around Heahmund's neck. Their lips touched only feather-lightly, caressing each other in delicate nudges. They lingered like that for a while, enjoying their togetherness, before Heahmund broke away with a sigh and briefly stood tall to plant a kiss on Ivar's forehead.

"I should get going." Heahmund drank the last bit out of his cup and went with it to the sink to clean it directly and then dry it and put it back into the kitchen cupboard. Ivar watched the scene with a grin, but refrained from commenting.

With the laptop under his arm, Heahmund made his way to the living room, but stopped in the hallway, his eyes darting alternately to Ivar's jacket and shoes.

"Are you serious, my love? How many times..." Heahmund turned to Ivar, but was stopped mid-sentence as a finger settled on his lips.

"Shh. Save your energy. I was in a hurry. Does that count as an excuse?" 

"Actually...not, no. It would have taken you just two seconds…" Heahmund handed Ivar his laptop to hold it for a moment while he took care of what he perceived as chaos in the hallway, neatly setting Ivar's shoes aside and hanging his jacket on one of the designated hooks, scarf included.

"I can't believe it," he muttered, snapping his fingers against Ivar's temple, who had the audacity to just stand by and grin, leaning on his crutch. "You're like a savage..."

"I know," was the simple reply, which earned him an additional slap on the butt as Ivar turned around to continue his way to the living room. Once there, he placed the laptop on top of Heahmund's suitcase, knowing that he shouldn't even try to pack it himself. His boyfriend had a very precise system, which he would only destroy if he would try to help. 

With one finger Ivar pointed to the coffee table. "Why is there a goat plushie on the table?" he asked, the confusion about the little thing evident in his voice.

Heahmund turned his head to look at the little fellow and a smile appeared on his face. "I saw it at the mall and it reminded me of you...of us in a way."

The look on Ivar's face only became more confused due to this explanation. "Why is that?"

"Goats are just as stubborn as you are," Heahmund began his explanation as he tapped his index finger against Ivar's temple. "They're strong-headed, always on the go to bash each other's heads in."

"And that reminded you of me?" 

"Absolutely!"

Ivar rolled his eyes, but grinned back at Heahmund. He knew there was a pinch of truth in it. He could be damn stubborn and often got into heated arguments faster than he himself would have liked.

"And what about the us part?"

"It's more of a 'me' thing. The noise the goats make always sounds to me like they're complaining a lot..."

"Oh yes, that suits you perfectly," Ivar interrupted Heahmund directly, who in the meantime had stowed his laptop into his bag and now turned back to Ivar and headed towards him.

"See, that's why this little fellow represents us perfectly." Heahmund positioned himself behind Ivar and wrapped his arms around him, letting his chin rest on his shoulder.

"But for what reason did you bring it home? You could have brought me a real present instead. I wouldn’t have mind to get something useful." Neither of them were collectors of stuffed animals, which is why Ivar's confusion hadn't completely faded. He leaned against Heahmund, putting his hands over those of his beloved.

"It's useful!" came Heahmund to the goat's rescue. "If you miss me, you can cuddle with it," he continued and kissed Ivar on the neck shortly after, which made him shiver pleasantly.

"Why should I miss you, huh? With your constant complaining about household stuff and neatness, you're miserable to be around. You just said it yourself." He turned his head to face his beloved, his eyes and voice full of mischief.

"Because I keep you warm at night," Heahmund said with a smile and poked Ivar in the side, making him squeal.

"So I can set this thing on fire then?" This suggestion brought him another poke in the side before he laughed out and Heahmund lured him into another kiss.

With a heavy heart, Heahmund packed up the last of the odds and ends and left the apartment less than ten minutes later. Not without many more brief kisses and Ivar's promise that he wouldn't do any harm to the goat.

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

Two hours later, Ivar had made himself comfortable on the couch. Cookies and tea next to him, a series on the TV, which he followed halfway attentively. The other half of his attention was on his cell phone. He was scrolling through apps at random and waiting impatiently for Heahmund to send him a message that he had arrived at his destination in one piece.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the goat plushie staring at him the whole time. Shaking his head, because he still couldn't believe that Heahmund had spent his money on such nonsense, he turned his eyes toward it.  

Half an hour later he got up to warm himself some food in the microwave. On his way back he stopped by the plushie to grab it, carrying it with him back to the couch. As he looked at it more closely, thoughtfully touching and tossing it from side to side, he noticed that there seemed to be a pushable button in each of the hooves. Curious, he got to the bottom of the matter and found a switch hidden in the belly, which he switched to on.

Immediately after pressing the front left hoof, Heahmund's voice rang out.

"Don't forget to wash the dishes, love. Things don't get cleaned up on their own." 

After a brief moment of puzzlement, Ivar began to laugh and he looked with amusement in his eyes at the little goat, which returned the stare with its lifeless beady eyes. He could clearly hear the grin that Heahmund must have had on his face during the recording, and it was beginning to rub off on him.

"What an idiot," he spoke to himself, inwardly filled with love for the man who always managed to get into his heart and to make him soft.

Curious, he pressed the next hoof.

"Don't get crumbs all over the couch, and if you do, there's an invention called a vacuum cleaner. You don't need a driver's license to operate this one."  

Again, Ivar let out a laugh, before he looked down, caught. With a quick flick of his wrist, he swept the already scattered crumbs of the cookies on the blanket to the floor. At best, these would disappear into the long fluff of the carpet, never to be seen again, without him actually having to do any housework.

With a big smile on his face, Ivar pressed the next of the two remaining ones.

"I love you just the way you are my messy little slob..." For a short moment Ivar thought that the message was already over, because he heard nothing more, until Heahmund eventually continued. "But please keep the chaos at bay anyway. I'd rather have my hands on you when I get back than in the cleaning bucket."

This message made his smile grow even bigger and his fantasies briefly went on a journey, coloring his cheeks a delicate red.

Without hesitation, he pushed the last remaining button and already a second later his heart warmed up and his eyes became watery. 

"Sleep well, my love. I will be here by your side, protecting you from anything that tries to haunt your dreams."

It was their good night ritual that had become a daily habit over the past few months. Not a day went by that Heahmund didn't whisper those sweet words in his ear as they lay in bed together, often in a tight embrace, all snuggled up. It had helped Ivar to get a grip on his previously frequent nightmares and moreover, to fall asleep with a feeling of security.

Still amused, and deeply touched at the same time, that Heahmund had actually taken the time to record him this kind of messages, Ivar hugged the stuffed animal tightly for a moment and buried his face in its soft fur. He felt ridiculous that he was cuddling with a plush toy, but at the same time so full of love and somehow also so close to Heahmund. He already missed him and despite the somewhat funny messages, Ivar could also feel Heahmund's love for him. It was audible to him in every little syllable and it made him replay all the messages again.

He allowed himself a brief moment to dwell in his happiness before setting the little goat beside him and reaching for his cell phone to send Heahmund his love in return.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

@youbloodymadgenius@istorkyou@ivarlover

[whoneedsapublisher]

Transformed into a Tryst

I just finished Persona 5: The Royal the other day (I played the original back near launch) and I was inspired to write some Shuake, inspired by another tumblr post.

Words: ~2000

Summary: Platonic outings to western restaruants were fraught with social pitfalls, apparently. Or so Joker claimed.

Also on Ao3

*******************

Goro Akechi was not entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation.

“Amamiya,” he said. His face was a perfect mask of civility, as always, but he wondered if perhaps by now Joker knew him well enough to see through that. “You were listening to what I said during our previous meeting, correct?”

“Of course,” Joker adjusted his glasses. It wasn’t something he did out of any practicality, given that Akechi’s research had uncovered that Joker had 20/20 vision, so it must be either for effect or some kind of nervous habit. Akechi strongly suspected the former. “I always pay attention to what you say.”

There was a curious edge to that last statement. It was part of why talking to Joker was always so interesting, despite how infuriating Akechi found him. He was never quite sure exactly what was going through Joker’s head. Akechi was sure that he’d played his part perfectly. That the Phantom Thieves had accepted him as one of them, or at least a temporary ally. Everything was going according to plan. And yet, somehow, that offhand phrase from Joker almost sounded like a warning. A careful reminded that Akechi needed to watch his words, lest he give himself away.

Regardless…

“I take it that you recall the part where I said I hate you then, right?” Akechi said.

“I do,” Joker replied, unfazed.

“Then why are we at this western themed steak restaurant together?”

Joker shrugged nonchalantly. His bag sat on the floor next to him, and, as far as Akechi had seen so far, Morgana wasn’t hiding in it this time. It really was just the two of them.

“You tell me,” Joker said. “You accepted the invitation.”

…Well. He certainly had him there. It was true- even if he was playing friends with the Phantom Thieves currently, he didn’t need to go this far to build their trust. He could have claimed he was busy, at the very least. It wasn’t if this was a team meeting, where he had to show up to put on an act of sincerity. He could just claim he had something else he had to do, like he had all those times Joker had run into him in Kichijoji.

And yet he’d accepted this invitation anyway.

The waiter appeared, saving him from answering for the moment.

“Hello! Welcome to the Outback Steakhouse. Can I get you any drinks or appetisers for today?”

All of a sudden, there was a mischievous gleam in Joker’s eyes that Akechi had learned to watch out for. This time, hopefully, he wouldn’t have his hair mussed. “I’ll have a large strawberry kiwi lemonade. With a couple’s straw, please.”

“Ah…?” the waiter said, looking uncomfortable. Well, of course he did. He couldn’t tell how to take Joker’s comment. He’d delivered it with that deadpan tone that he loved to use for his strangest jokes. The waiter didn’t whether Joker was serious, and clearly wasn’t comfortable being unclear how to act in this situation. And probably wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea that it might not be a joke.

Akechi faked a smile and managed a disgustingly false polite laugh. “Ahaha, Amamiya, you’re always such a joker.” He turned to the waiter. “He’ll be fine with a regular straw. As for myself, I’ll have an iced tea. And could we also have a blooming onion, please?”

“Right!” the waiter said, looking relieved. “Strawberry kiwi lemonade, iced tea, bloomin’ onion. Coming right up.”

Ugh. He actually said it bloomin’, complete with the twee apostrophe. Doubtless a requirement of the job, but it still made Akechi slightly nauseous at the simpering corporate submission of it.

“Thank you,” he managed, complete with a thankful smile.

“Uh oh,” Joker said, as the waiter strolled away out of earshot.

“What?” Akechi said.

“This was just a platonic event,” Joker said, leaning forward and tenting his fingers in front of his face. “But by ordering the “bloomin’ onion”, registered trademark-”

Ugh. It was like Joker could tell how much the blasted apostrophe and corporate precision irritated him, and had doubled down on it just to get under his skin. And yet, Akechi couldn’t quite decide whether to be irritated at it, or amused at the sardonic overcompliance.

“-You’ve transformed this outing irrevocably into a romantic tryst.”

“Is that so?” Akechi said, flashing a fake smile. “Well, I’m glad that I know for next time to just get the onion rings.”

“So long as you’ve learned, I’ve done my job,” Joker said, continuing his absolutely deadpan delivery. “Just make sure to be careful. You’ll get people’s hopes up.”

“Perhaps I should tell them in advance that I hate them, so that they’ll have realistic expectations,” Akechi siad.

“Probably won’t be enough. There’s all kinds of love, you know.”

How the hell would Akechi know? What the hell would he know about LOVE?! Akechi could feel his rage boiling, but he forced it down. Let Joker make his little quips about love and friendship. It would make the moment when he died in a rotten jail cell, alone and hopeless, all the sweeter.

“Thank you for your advice, as always,” he said. “I hope none of the entreés on this menu will give any kind of unspoken signal.”

“Let me check,” Joker said.

That was another thing Akechi despised about Joker.

He really could be damn funny.

*******************

“Here again? What, do you actually like this overpriced foreign garbage?”

Once again, Akechi found himself sitting in an Outback Steakhouse with Joker. A Joker who managed to be quite the wildcard indeed, considering how he’d managed to weasel his way out of certain death, and then defeat Akechi with his little friends.

And then it had been Akechi’s turn to weasel out of death. Although the method was… uncertain.

“I thought it would make a nice bookend,” Joker said. “This was the last place we went to before our little mutual betrayal.”

“Mutual? Please. You don’t need to sugarcoat it and pretend like there was an equivalence there. I betrayed you, and you stopped my plan succeeding. I don’t recall you violating the deal we made.”

“Didn’t I? We promised to steal Prosecutor Nijima’s heart, didn’t we?”

“Hmph. And who was it that stopped you doing that? Don’t pretend like I didn’t do all the actual backstabbing.”

It was so like Joker to twist things like that. To soften Akechi’s cruelty down to a rivalry between them. To turn his serial killings into Shido’s fault. Akechi didn’t need any of it. He’d made his own choices. He didn’t need Joker’s cheap mercy, that kind hand that he’d stretch out for any sad puppy that crossed his path.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Joker said. “So as payback for betraying me, I’m dragging you to this foreign restaurant you don’t even like, and I’m not even going to treat you.”

Akechi smirked.

“That’s an awfully petty revenge, isn’t it?”

“I’m not that creative,” Joker said. One of his more outrageous lies, but as usual, delivered completely deadpan.

“Fine,” Akechi said, picking up the menu. “I’ll humour you this time.”

One last time. Before they saw Maruki tomorrow, and gave him the calling card. The end of their new “deal”. Where they’d part ways again.

A waiter appeared and spouted the same corporate boilerplate as last time. This time it disgusted Akechi even more. This was supposed to be Maruki’s saccharine world of unrealistic perfection, wasn’t it? Where no one had to be sad. Which meant this waiter wasn’t suffering through spouting this drivel because he had no choice, he was alright with this.

Or Maruki had screwed up. Considering that Akechi had spotted more than one homeless man during his investigation, and they seemed less than elated at living on the street, it was clear that their so-called god-like entity was far from omniscient.

So far, anyway.

“I’ll just have water,” Akechi said.

“Okie dokie, hokie pokie!” the waiter said, and Akechi’s eye twitched at the folksy twee of it all. “How about you, pardner?”

Joker’s eyes had that gleam again.

God, Akechi hated it. The way that it always made him a little bit curious about what Joker was going to do next, like a moviegoer gripping the armrest and leaning forward as the camera zoomed in. It irritated him.

“I’ll have a lemonade,” he said. “And a Bloomin’ Onion.”

“You have a short memory,” Akechi said, as the waiter wandered off to deliver their orders to the doubtlessly grease-soaked line cook that spent their days in Maruki’s “ideal world” in the kitchen of this damn restaurant.

“Oh? I think my memory’s pretty good,” Joker said. “Otherwise how would I remember you talking about pancakes for such a long time?”

Akechi made a sour face. That was a reminder that he didn’t need.

“You forgot what you said last time about the appetisers here,” Akechi said. “You were quite clear about the supposed hidden meaning of that fried onion you’ve so blithely ordered for us.”

“I didn’t forget,” Joker said.

Akechi paused momentarily.

There was a sudden seriousness to Joker that make Akechi think this wasn’t just another one of his jokes. This wasn’t him playing games with their relationship for his own amusement.

Akechi should tell him in no uncertain terms that his feelings hadn’t changed since he challenged him to a duel. If anything, he hated Joker even more, seeing his mix of compassion and conviction as he dealt with his brainless brainwashed bunch of bandits. Soft. Too soft. If he was going to respect their delusional acceptance of Maruki’s world, he should let them rot in it, and if he was going to tear them free he should bring their false lives down around them in flames. That gentle guiding touch infuriated Akechi.

The two of them were too opposed. Too different. Akechi would never bend to fit into Joker’s idealistic little world. Joker would never break to join Akechi in his anger.

He should get up and leave. To laugh in Joker’s face for this pathetic farce. 

If for no other reason than it would make Joker less fond of him. Hopefully, even make him angry at him. So that when the time came, if Akechi was right about how he’d evaded death, Joker would make the right choice. Not one clouded by his stupid affection towards someone who had used and betrayed him.

“If you’re expecting a kiss at the end of the night, you’d better take Maruki’s offer to join his world of dreams,” Akechi said. “Because it won’t be happening in reality.”

“That’s okay,” Joker said. “You’re probably a bad kisser anyway.”

“Maruki couldn’t manipulate me. Don’t think that your second rate reverse psychology will fare any better.”

Joker grinned at him.

That hateful, infuriating smile. Like he looked at Akechi and saw someone he wanted to stay beside. Someone who mattered to him. Not some distant celebrity. Not a burden. Not a tool.

Akechi couldn’t stand it.

*******************

Joker paused before saying it. That pause was the longest in Akechi’s life.

“We’re stopping Maruki,” he said. His tone was flat, but it wasn’t the deadpan delivery of a joke. It was matter of fact. Resolved. Determined.

Akechi smiled.

He should have known. This was the man who’d put his life on the line to save someone who tried to kill him. That would take a promise to a murderer seriously. That would hold on to a dead man’s glove, hoping that they might still get to duel again, one more time.

Of course he’d choose such a disgustingly selfless option when it was put before him.

“All right,” Akechi said. “I’m relieved to hear it.”

His eyes hardened. “I will never accept this form of reality. I’m done being manipulated.”

He still remembered the leering face of the cognitive Akechi. Remembered the disgust at seeing himself in Shido’s twisted view of him as a disposable lapdog, ready to be put down if it tried to bite its master. He wouldn’t let himself become that kind of puppet under Maruki either.

“Let’s go back… to our true reality.”

In the peace of the grave, he’d never have to think about what could have been.