#one day i'll snap and i'd prefer not to snap at my family they have their own struggles

[sar3nka]

Brain swings violently between "I need to hurt someone" and "I need someone to hurt me" I'm so glad I won't be home tomorrow because holy shit

[bones4thecats]

You can do, Andrealphus x wife female imp pregnant reader, https://es.pinterest.com/pin/890657263795703537/, This is the reader 🧊

Andrealphus Having a Pregnant-Imp! S/O

Characters: Andrealphus (Helluva Boss) Requester: 🧊Anon A/N: Short, yet sweet. My favorite mix. Hope you like it too! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Stella being a bitch ⚠️

Disclaimer: I write Andrealphus as being 3-4 years older than Stella

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╚═════ Andrealphus ════════════════════════════╝

🧊 Imps in Hell normally never came from a high-ranking family. Which was normal, as your kind were considered to be the lowest-ranking species in the entire Seven Rings

🧊 But, you were born into the L/N family. A family that surrounded itself not only with the trading-system that the Sinners brought in, but also with the royals of Hell

🧊 At a young age, you were set to marry a member of the Ars Goetia. Specifically, you were set to marry Andrealphus, the older brother to Stella Goetia, future wife to Stolas Goetia

🧊 You were upset at first, as many of the Goetia family despise Imps, no matter their ranking or use to them. But, shock settled in the place of anger when Andrealphus offered his hand to you to give you a tour around his home

🧊 After you both turned 18, you married. Then, just a couple years later, Stella and Stolas married, before bringing Octavia into the world

🧊 You and Andrealphus preferred to take it all slower than them. So, you guys mainly focused either on yourselves and your own families, or with the responsibilities you both shared with one another. A family together was just out of the equation for a while

🧊 When you did find out you were pregnant, it sent shockwaves throughout your home. Hell, it only took 5 minutes for the other six rings to be discussing everything like it was the best thing since the phone was invented down there

🧊 The day you met up with his sister, Stella, was the day you finally realized why you were thankful to be with your husband. Stella was beyond pissed that her brother copulated with you and resulted in a baby

"I mean- what the fuck?! A hybrid?! Imps are pathetic, Andrealphus!"

"Stella, calm down."

"No! That thing needs to be illuminated now! Fuck, I'll do it myself!"

"Stella! Shut up! This was my choice to allow a baby to be created. Mine. Not yours. Now, if you dare to threaten my wife and child again, I will make sure your plans to end Stolas fail fabulously. Understood?"

🧊 You watched as your husband sat back down from his outburst, putting his suave persona back on as Stella attempted to calm herself down from the surprise of her brother snapping in such a violent manner

🧊 Now you really wanted this dinner to be over with...

»–•–«

🧊 You sighed as your room's door closed. Your husband lightly grasped his crown and laid it on his table while you closed your parasol and leaned it against your own table

🧊 Andrealphus then changed into his nightwear as you did the same, wrapping a large robe around your form as you sat down to read one of your books on pregnancy and motherhood. He sat down beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him

"I never understood why you read such books. You're a polite and caring woman, so motherhood should be second-hand to you."

"Andre', you can stop sweet-talking me..."

"Sweet-talking?" He chuckled. "No, my dear. If I found you useless, I wouldn't have defended you back there. You... are unlike any Imp I have come across."

🧊 Smiling as he picked up your book and laid it on his table instead of yours, he pushed you down and used his magic to turn the lights that were once on off

🧊 He then wrapped his arms around your waist and began to rub his hands against your stomach, which had grown slightly to accommodate for your oncoming baby

"I never thought I'd say this, but... thank you for giving me this chance to be a father, love."

"It's not a problem, Honey. I love you."

"I love you too."

[tiazennie]

₊˚⊹♡ ₊˚⊹♡

All my fault Genre: fluff and a lot bit of angst hahaha Chenle X Reader Warnings: swearing and superpowers which is crazy. corny way of writing, and lastly the amount of times the word guilty and the phrase "all my/your fault" was used lmao. (lmk if there's more!) Background: You've always treasured stargazing. perhaps as a little child, you were amazed by how the stars shone brightly on you despite their millions or perhaps billions of miles away, and it was your only source of comfort when something upsetting occurred. It all began, you and your parents discovering that you generate electricity each time your heartbeat rises above 80 beats per minute. However, today is the day that you had the worst day of your life! Someone chooses to sit in your usual park place, making things worse. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

It was nothing unusual to your parents to see you frowning as you made your way to the park. Most of the answers were the same, and they knew that inquiring would only make things worse. Since it was the weekend and they thought maybe you might go together to the beach to let it out and spend some time as a family, they decided to ask tomorrow instead of letting it go today. Even worsening your already unpleasant attitude was the realization that someone else was occupying your preferred location within the park. You wanted to just run away and electrocute him then and then. However, you remained composed and just requested him to go.  "Um, hi! you're sitting on my favorite spot." The guy looked up at you and gave you an unimpressed look. "Hello, I'm sorry but this has no writing that says 'Please don't sit here' so anyone can sit on it whenever." He replied to which you acknowledged. Most people just roll their eyes and leave, but he was persistent on staying. "This is fine, I like a good challenge." You thought before replying. "Still, you're sitting where I sit everyday." You say emphasizing the letter/word "I" as he poked his tongue out in his inner cheek out of annoyance. "Fine, I'll leave in one condition." You roll your eyes mentally, "every time." You thought. "What is it? Give you five dollars or pick up your things for you--" "Give me your number." He says cutting you off, immediately showing a shit eating grin after seeing your flustered reaction. "My- my number? Please like I'd believe that." You reply ready to leave after you hear a beep from your heart monitor. You had to run and fast! "Wait-" He almost said before hissing after feeling an electric shock throughout his whole body. He felt numb and paralyzed. You looked back and saw him having trouble breathing and shaking uncontrollably. You wanted to shake him out of his situation, but hearing your heart monitor still beeping you thought it would make it worse so you decided to call 911. "H-hi I'm seeing a guy getting electric shocked, please come and hurry!" You stutter before ending the call and crouched beside him immediately wearing your emergency gloves so if things like these, happen you could shake them out of their consciousness, to lessen the effects of the electricity coursing through their veins and knock some senses into them (After you make them lose theirs). "Please stay with me, fuck this all my fault." Right after saying that he stops shaking and carefully stands up. Scrunching his eyebrows in an attempt to remember the things that just happened and why his head suddenly started hurting. "W-what happened?" He asks snapping you out of your thoughts. "I-I you were--" You were cut off by the ringing of the ambulance and the people inside it making tons of noises. Someone pushed you out of their way to check his vitals. "Put him inside now!" Someone shouted, and that someone was your Dad. "What did you do now?" He asks as tears started to build up in your eyes blurring your vision. "I'm sorry, This- this all my fault Dad, I didn't m-mean to harm him." You whispered barely audible for your Dad to hear. But he was sure, you were blaming yourself again. "Just get inside the ambulance." You obey what he said careful not to touch anyone to not make the situation worse.

After that was a blur. You could barely remember anything because you constantly spaced out. Already knowing what's about to come to you in your house. You were cut off from your thoughts, when a nurse called you and said the "patient" wanted to see you. Nervous, you stand up, your legs wobbly from the happenings and the thought that he might want answers to what just happened. You enter his room quietly, not wanting to disturb him from looking outside his window. His eyes were twinkling, just like the stars that were sprinkled all across the sky. "Hi, again." You speak up audible enough to make him look at you in surprise before smiling. His smile somehow made you feel comfort and genuineness. You couldn't even explain what was happening to yourself after seeing his pretty smile. "Hi, so Y/n I need answers on what just happened why I am here lying on a hospital bed." You knew it. he could see the hesitation in your eyes and he was about to say take your time when you replied. "You see um, what's your name?"" You ask out of curiosity as he chuckles, he somehow found you cute in a awkward way. He liked how straightforward you are with your actions and words. "The name's Chenle." He says trying to ask for a handshake as you just looked at it, confused on what to do. Your parents never taught you those things, in fear that you might hurt someone unkowinglly. Although, the name did sound familiar to you. "Here goes nothing." You thought inhaling as much air as you needed to calm down. Breathing helped you in calming down. Especially, when the cause of your heartrate to go up was near your personal space, and was about to pop the little bubble you had always imagined as a kid so people won't come near you. "It's your choice if your gonna believe me or not." You said and explained everything from when you were a child finding out you had that condition and to now, why he was here in the hospital.

"So you're saying, I made you flustered and it caused your heartrate to go up causing you to produce electricity because your heartrate went up to 80 percent. So now, I'm here at the hospital because of electric shock?" You nodded embarrassed and ashamed, you just wanted an earthquake to spilt the floor you were standing on and just swallow you whole, in other words. You wanted to die. He looks at you with a 'are you serious face' before saying you needed to prove it to him, or he'll press legal charges on you (which was a joke, but you totally believed him). "How? Oh! I know." You started running, wishing your heartrate would go up because your shoes squeaking the floor sounded so awkward. After a few seconds your heart monitor finally beeping and you planned on touching your phone to charge it, when instead a mosquito landed on your nose and it kills it. Chenle looks at the mosquito not even a hot second and bursts out laughing, as you just looked at the poor insect full of guilt and now embarrassment after hearing his laughter. Heck, you didn't even know you could do that. "Do you believe me now?" You ask still out of breath. Feeling as if you had just ran on a marathon. He nods trying to keep his compoture and not remember what just happened to the mosquito.

"It deserved it, after almost ruing your porcelaine skin." He thought nodding to himself. "I was actually hoping you could forgive me after what I said in the park, and now." You speak up facing the floor. This was the time where you appreciate how pretty the floor is right now. Scared on what he was about to say. "It wasn't your fault besides, I've always wanted to be electrocuted." He admits in an attempt to lighten up your mood. It wasn't working, not even one bit, and he knew it. When he saw one tear fall down on to the floor. God, your heart felt like it was about to burst because of guiltyness. He was trying so hard to make you feel good that it felt bad. You knew it was your fault, why wasn't he believing it? Why was he persistent on making you feel okay, when you shouldn't be? This was all your fault, all your fault he's here and all your fault that your dad might lose his job again. "Why are you trying so hard on making me feel okay, Chenle?" You say seriousness lacing your voice, you hear him sigh as he attempts (horribly) to sit up from his bed. "Cause it really wasn't your fault Y/n. Your dad came in a few minutes ago, and explained everything to me. He told me that you would oftenly blame yourself on situations like these, and i get where your coming from. I do also, blame myself when something happens in my familly. But, I never really thought how much it affected the people around me, and after seeing you I felt pittyful of myself. I felt so shitty, that the reason why I never gotten close with my parents was because I kept on pushing them away because I was always blaming myself."

Chenle says, making you realize that maybe he was really right. Your parents were trying so hard on being the perfect parents for you, but you couldn't appreciate that because of your ongoing 'all my fault' mindset. You sigh and hug him, which caughts him off gaurd but he hugs you back even carresing your back. "Thank you." You say quietly as he smiles in the crook of your neck. "I'll wait for you Y/n, until you're ready. But don't take too long, I am not a very patient person." He says making you laugh, and he was sure this wouldn't be the last time he'll make you laugh. Fin (hellooo, I appreciate you sm for actually reading until the end to this piece of trash that I wrote also this was kind of short since I wrote this out of the blue at around 1 in the morning. I couldn't sleep because of stress and everything that's going on in my life (jk I have sleep paralysis). Anyways, hopefully you liked this (although it was shitty) and enjoyed reading it! Please stay hydrated and hopefully you get a good day/night. love yaa!) -Ria-

[sporesgalaxy]

updated a little flashback Vladlence script thing that I started writing in like 2020. some of you may remember this comic

Smile :)

•••

[The year is 1990-something-- before Vlad betrayed and temporally displaced Silence that one time. Vlad and Silence (in human disguise) are at some kind of businesspeople shindig. They've stepped outside for some air and are basically alone. Vlad has a glass of wine.]

S: Lord. I'd forgotten how tedious these are.

V: They're really not worth it unless you can drink. It was so much worse when my parents would drag me to these as a child.

S: Hm. I didn't mind my father's business functions, but my ex-husband's were insufferable.

V: [chokes on wine] "Ex-husband?"

S: Well... "Ex" in that my untimely departure left him a widower, yes.

V: ...is he a--

S: [rolling eyes] NO, he is not a ghost.

V: Still! How have you not mentioned him once?

S: [shrugs] It didn't come up.

V: That isn't fair! I've spilled my guts to you for your research. You HAVE to tell me something!

S: You're being ridiculous.

V: ...That's it. I've decided.

S: Decided what?

V: The favor you owe me for bringing you along as my plus-one tonight!

S: Oh, please! All I've learned this evening is that you're still capable of being intoxicated by normal amounts of human alcohol.

S: Now, you've learned that I had a husband once, a very long time ago. I'd say we're already even.

V: [pouts]

S: Why does it even matter to you?

V: .........if I say, will you tell me more about your human life?

S: I--! Oh, fine. Whatever. Yes.

V: Because marriage is--! It's--! Marriage is everything! It changes your whole life! You finally have someone to always be there for you, in sickness and in health and all that.

V: How could you just...[mimes swatting something out of the air with his free hand] move on, after that? It makes no sense!

S: [tuts, rolls her eyes] You're insufferably romantic, you know that?

S: Marriage is not "everything." My marriage had everything to do with finances, and precious little to do with anything else.

V: ...Oh.

S: That's less common these days, I'll admit, but forgive me if I still feel you're overselling it.

V: ...Well...Still, he was there, right? At least you had someone.

S: [annoyed] Sure. Can we talk about something else now?

V: Did you have a family? [leans against the balcony, resting his chin on a hand, smiling expectantly]

S: [frowning] ...Not the change of subject I was hoping for.

V: [just keeps looking expectantly]

S: [sighs heavily] [trying to be annoying on purpose] Well, I had a mother and father, two siblings-- both of which died in infancy-- and on my mother's side, my cousins--

V: [impatiently] I meant with your husband!

S: [twitches] ...No. It was just he and I, and then I died.

V: Oh.

S: [snarky & bitter] ...Then, he remarried a nice young lady who got to keep all of our money. They, I believe, had several children together.

[Silence is quiet in a sort of uncomfortable angry way. Vlad, oblivious, gets lost in his own thoughts.]

both: .......

V: [CLEARLY thinking about Maddie. a bit dreamily] ...do you ever wish that you could do it all over?

[Vlad is looking at the sky, and doesnt see the judgemental, incredulous look Silence immediately shoots him]

V: That you had more time to make it work?

S: [humorless laugh] HAH! No!

V: [snapped out of his reminiscing, looks at her, surprised] No?

S: [like its an uninteresting, obvious fact] My life didn't have anything worth going back to.

V: [disgust directed at the percieved failure of the faceless husband figure] He was that bad?

S: [waves dismissively] No, no. Our marriage wasn't bad. It just wasn't--

S: ......well, it wasn't much of anything, I suppose.

V: [furrows eyebrows] Hm.

S: [after a short pause] I much prefer this.

V: [for some reason, his heart skips a beat] This?

S: [a bit frantically] My research! In the Ghost Realm. The achievement, the influence, you know. Much more fulfilling.

V: [nods, a bit spacey because of a weird inexplicable feeling he's having] Ah. I see.

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette inspected her various flowers one more time. Even as a florist, she probably put too much focus on checking and rechecking her garden, but she adored the process or making things look beautiful. It wasn't dissimilar to her fashion hobby in how it took effort but paid off in the end as long as one knew what they were doing.

Satisfied with her work, she left the greenhouse area and went to the front of the store behind the counter. Placing her hands on the edge, she arched her back, taking a deep breath to inhale the pleasant scent of flowers permeating her whole shop. She was fairly certain the scent had even overpowered her perfume, making her wonder if it was worth using in the first place.

As she was steeping a cup of tea to prepare for another day of work, the bell at her door chimed to indicate that someone had come in. She looked up, wearing her usual smile specifically for customers, but it faltered when she took in the customer in question.

It was a young man, sporting black hair that turned blue at the tips. The hair alone wasn't strange - either people had it naturally or others dyed theirs to imitate it - but it was that he had flowers in it with no sign of what was attaching them.

Marinette knew her flowers as well as her fashion enough to tell that they were not only real flowers, but they didn't seem attached by any sort of hair clip. In fact, she'd never even heard of anyone using real flowers as a form of fashion statement unless it was extremely temporary, whereas the mystery man walked like he was used to it.

"Hi," he greeted casually, stepping up to the counter.

She snapped out of her stunned state, just enough to reply, "O-oh! Hello! How can I help you?" She pointed, giggling sheepishly and adding, "N-normally, I'd ask what kind of flowers you want, but I think you have enough!"

She'd said it to distract from her being distracted, but winced when she considered that it could come off as an insult. Luckily, the man took it in stride, even letting out a chuckle.

"I do, but I'm still here to talk about flowers." He put a hand on the counter and leaned against it, running his fingers through his hair with his other hand.

Marinette watched in silent awe at how his touch didn't disturb the flowers at all. She kept waiting for them to fall out, but they truly seemed stuck there. She could only nod, curious about what he was going to talk about.

"I'll get to the chorus right away," he began. "My family's descended from flower nymphs. The genes aren't that strong, so they might skip a few generations, but some of us wind up with..." He gestured to his hair for emphasis.

She'd heard of flower nymphs before, but never actually met one. Anyone outside the realm of "normal humans" tended to have their own places to go, simply because they preferred living in different areas or having different lives, but she supposed that anyone who only had a few traits passed down could live a "normal" life amongst other non-magical humans.

"S-so those are real?" she asked, then corrected since she'd already known that, "I mean, they're a part of you?"

"Yeah."

Unconsciously, Marinette reached up, almost needing to see for herself. Her fingers slipped into his hair and through the lavender flowers growing out of it. The feeling wasn't unlike normal hair, though somewhat damp as if it had almost finished drying from a shower. She suspected that the flowers still needed moisture in the way that they did from soil.

As she felt, she noted a sensation under her hand and froze. In real time, she saw a bud form between her middle and ring fingers, blooming into what she recognized as a violet. Her lips parted in amazement and she looked down at the man's face, wondering if he'd done it on purpose.

What she ended up seeing instead was a hint of a blush on his face, his gaze averted to the wall. Her eyes darted from the violet, to his face, and then back to the violet again, somewhere in her mind registering shyness.

She pulled her hand back, blushing deeper as what she'd done registered. The experience had reminded her that flower meanings didn't merely come from nowhere - they were often based on whatever flower nymphs were feeling in the moment of growing whichever flower - but she'd also just embarrassed herself and invaded his personal space, so it wasn't ideal.

"S-sorry." She looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. "I get kind of excited when it comes to this stuff."

"It's alright." He cleared his throat, the smile in his voice returning. "My sister already told me what you'd be like, and I don't mind."

"Your sister?" She peeked at him, mulling over who he could possibly be talking about.

He placed a hand to his chest, explaining, "I'm Luka. Luka Couffaine."

"Couf—ah!" Recognition hit immediately, Marinette smacking the counter with a hand. Pointing at him, she blurted out in surprise, "You're Juleka's older brother!"

He beamed, nodding to confirm. She'd heard about him quite a few times, but had never gotten the chance to properly meet him. Juleka herself had also conveniently left out the whole, "by the way, my brother grows flowers out of his hair," thing. The worst part was that she couldn't be sure if Juleka had left it out innocently, perhaps from having grown up with and thus no longer having thought anything about it, or if it was out of a mischievous sense of humor.

She could believe either, but perhaps it was her own fault. While Luka looked nothing like Juleka in terms of physical traits, they had similar ways of dressing. It was almost strange on him with the combination of torn clothing and jewelry, yet paired with a calm expression and a built-in flower crown, but she didn't dislike it.

Luka, apparently having already recovered from the event, tapped an idle melody on the counter and continued, "She told me you used to help her with her hair. I wanted to ask if you could help me too."

Marinette eyed his hair again, but focused on its length this time. It wasn't long by any means, unlike Juleka's.

"I know it's not much to work with," he clarified, "but people get uncomfortable around me when they see these grow." He tugged gently at the petals of the violet. "I can't cover them with a hat or I get uncomfortable, so I thought I could get an expert to take care of it."

She put her hands to her chest, horrified by the mere thought. "You want me to cut off your flowers? That's crazy! People are stupid for being uncomfortable over something like that!"

Even though she'd said it, she couldn't say she was surprised either. In all aspects, she was a "normal" human without an ounce of magic, yet people had looked at her funny ever since she was a kid.

"Thanks." Luka grinned at her, though added in a semi-teasing tone, "I could've guessed that you liked them, but it's still nice hearing you say it."

Marinette blushed, pouting at him, but it was hard to complain about him taking her touches in stride. Maybe he even approved somehow, and she hadn't just ruined the first impression she'd given to her friend's older brother.

He raised his hands up in a show of peace. "Sorry. I don't want to say anything to make you uneasy, or make you do anything you don't want to. Cutting my flowers can stop any more from growing for a while, but if you could figure out a way to hide them instead, that'd work too."

She pressed her lips together, considering the suggestion. Of course, she had so much more to ask him - "Could you get overwatered? Can you swim without worrying about that?" "Do you like to relax in the sun? Maybe you could tell me if my flowers like the greenhouse." "Has anyone ever tried to pick flowers off you before? Or have you ever picked petals off yourself to make decisions?" - but she knew she could ask those sorts of things if they ever got closer.

It only occurred to her then that she hadn't yet said anything about his request. Straightening up, she gave him a reassuring smile and replied, "I'd love to help you if I can. Maybe you can visit after closing time and we can talk a little more?"

"I'd love that." A hint of tension released from his shoulders as he exhaled. Reaching a hand out to shake on the agreement, he admitted, "Honestly, I'm happy. You're one of the only ones I've met who actually likes these."

"One of?" she echoed, not hesitating to accept the handshake.

"Bees."

"Oh." She wasn't sure whether to snort in amusement or be concerned, but he at least seemed casual about it. Would the honey taste like the actual flowers they come from, or would he have his own brand? What would Luka-brand honey even taste like?

"I really want to know what you're thinking about right now," Luka confessed, curious yet respectful, "but we can talk about it later if you want."

"Ah—okay!" Right, they were still mid-handshake and she'd just zoned out in the middle of it. No doubt he could tell that she was thinking about him.

She hurried to let go, certain that however long she'd been in her own head had been too long, but was met with resistance. She raised a brow at him, puzzled, and noticed his free hand going up to his hair. It was hard to see from the angle, but she noticed a white flower bloom, then detach from his hair. She'd presumed that he couldn't pluck the flowers himself or he wouldn't be here, yet there must've been some rule the flowers adhered to in order to come off painlessly.

Just another on the list of questions she wanted to ask him.

Luka smiled softly, breaking the handshake itself but still keeping hold of her hand. With his other hand, he settled the white flower inside and closed her fingers around it.

"It was nice meeting you, Marinette," he uttered, the warmth of his hands leaving her as he pulled back. With one last, fleeting look at her, he turned away and exited the building, his form disappearing as he headed down the sidewalk.

Marinette blinked, still standing stupidly in place. She'd could count on one hand how many flowers males and females alike had given her over her life, regardless of their meanings, but it was the first time someone had given her one they had literally grown themself.

Staring down at her hand, she uncurled her fingers to reveal the mystery flower: a daisy. New beginnings, her brain provided, though one sip of her tea later, she was already second-guessing herself. Or... was it love?

She blushed, unsure but not daring to dwell further on it at risk of zoning out for her entire workday. Regardless of its meaning, she was looking forward to getting to know him and that was that.

Ending her thoughts on it for the time being, she brought the daisy up to her lips and whispered against the petals, "...Nice meeting you too, Luka."

[joelswritingmistress]

Oh Captain, My Captain: Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: You're tired of living a life you weren't built for. On your family's annual summer trip on the weekend of your twenty-fourth birthday, you find yourself fantasizing about a local boat captain.

Joel x f!reader

You were bored. From the outside looking in your life might have seemed wonderful. Magnificent even. You had just celebrated your twenty-fourth birthday in the company of your family on Martha's Vineyard.

It was tradition - Fourth of July weekend. Family boat. Expensive dinners. You name it. But the older you got, the less material things mattered to you. You enjoyed the company of genuine people, drawing, painting, the arts. Your family often brushed off your, mostly, inner monologue as you being a silly dreamer. At times you wondered if they were right. That you liked to escape reality with foolish dreams that a girl much younger might have. It was confusing.

"All aboard!" A gruff old man with a friendly row of off-white teeth shouted. He removed a chain from where you and your family, along with another large party, waited on a dock. An oversized boat called The Mist of the Sea sat dockside.

"Go ahead, honey," your mom encouraged, guiding you with a hand on the back through the open chain.

You sighed and smiled, stalking the boat at the edge of the dock. When you arrived a man stood there waiting with one hand extended to help you aboard.

When your hand slipped into his, your eyes met and both of you lingered there for an extra second.

His palm was surprisingly warm and his grasp was firm. He wore a navy blue ball cap with the boat's name etched into it in white writing. His dark eyes held you in place for a moment and in your mind you thought the closely cropped beard suited him.

"Go ahead Y/N," your brother encouraged. "What're you scared all of a sudden?"

Your brother's voice snapped you out of the momentary daze you were in and you hopped aboard, releasing the stranger's hand as your father scolded your younger sibling.

"Up top?" You asked your mother, looking over your shoulder.

"I'd prefer it."

You nodded and took the short ladder to the boat's top platform and found a seat. Your parents, your brother, your sister, two cousins and your aunt and uncle followed your lead.

"Happy hour cocktails, anyone?" Your Uncle Mark asked, half-kidding. It opened the door to engage in conversation with the party that sat across from you.

You placed your elbow on the ledge and looked out into the open ocean beyond the captain's quarters. All you could think about was wanting to paint the gorgeous little marina and the sun going down toward the horizon behind it. The thought brought a little smile to your face.

Your eyes were drawn back to reality when the man who had helped you aboard made his way behind the wheel of the boat and reached for the boat's handheld radio to talk into.

"Good afternoon everyone," he greeted, his voice echoing though the speakers to the left and right. "My name is Joel Miller and I'll be your captain for your forty-five minute cruise around the island."

You were lost in him for a moment. He was beautiful. Hair just a little too long. Skin tanned a golden shade from being out in the sun every day. You could see when he moved a bit that he had a slight farmer's tan where his T-shirt ended.

"The ocean's a little choppy," Joel added with a grin beneath tired eyes. He glanced in your direction. "But we'll be just fine."

You tried to suppress a school girl smile but one spread across your face as he hung up the handheld radio and paid attention to steering the boat.

Along the way he gave little tidbits on the history of the area and rattled off a few famous individuals who had stayed nearby during the summer months.

"On the starboard side you'll see the famous Jaws bridge. If any of you are brave enough, it's a popular spot to take a dive."

Finally something that sounded fun. You didn't know if you were being a complete spoiled brat for not appreciating the lavish life your parents continued to give you or if you simply didn't fit the mold and you were searching for who you really were.

Too deep of a thought, you told yourself.

When the bridge was out of view you had your eyes fixed on Joel again. Another picture perfect painting - the handsome captain with the broad shoulders standing with his back to you, the steering wheel in both hands with the horizon in his sights. Now *that* would be something worth painting.

You subtly removed your phone from your handbag and tried to sneak a photo as a reference for later.

"Did you just take a picture of the captain?" Your brother couldn't help but call you out.

You whipped your arm around a whacked him hard on the knee. All eyes were on you now and your parents both flashed a look of disapproval. There was no way you were going to, "He started it," but that's what you were thinking.

You weren't sure but you thought you heard Joel chuckle to himself. It made your stomach sink with embarrassment and you wanted to smack your brother again. Even at twenty-one he still acted like a freshman in high school.

The rest of the cruise was relatively relaxing; quiet. It was what you liked most about being out on the ocean. The quiet, aside from the crash of the waves against the sea vessel.

"Well we are just about back to shore. You've been an outstanding last crew of the night. I hope you enjoy your stay on the vineyard, whether you're a townie like me, live here just for the summer or if you're on vacation."

The boat eased into the space and you saw two men on the dock begin to secure it.

"Thanks Captain." Your father extended an arm and the two men shook hands. It prompted a laundry list of thank-yous from everyone else on the top deck, leaving you as the last.

"Thank you." You barely let your eyes meet his this time but managed a smile.

"You're welcome." Joel gave a little nod and trailed you to the ladder that led down.

You scrunched your nose, feeling the wind from the ocean fighting the bottom of your dress as you scampered to the lower deck. Thankfully your mom was there to hold it in place the last few steps.

"Alright, where to?" Your brother could be heard asking, to which your cousin rattled off a few names of some bars in the area near the ritzy pair of townhouses you were all renting for the weekend.

"Joel," one of the deckhands approached him behind you. "Want to get a few beers down at the Lamp Post before the crowds really rush in tonight? The two of us are going when we clean up."

You leaned an extra ear. You knew of the bar they were talking about but you'd never gone in. Others called it the Rare Duck. You didn't really know why.

"Sure," he agreed. "I'm just going to take a shower out back and then I'll walk down."

"Are you going to go to dinner with your aunt and uncle and your father and I?" Your mother asked.

You continued to try eavesdropping on your captain's conversation. At the same time you watched your brother and cousin high-fiving as they secured some type of plan for the night.

"Actually, um, do you mind if I hang out with them?" You nodded toward the boys and your parents didn't put up a fight.

"She doesn't want to hang out with the old people, Liz," your uncle said with a laugh. "Go have fun, honey. We'll be in bed before ten."

It was enough of an out and you gave a laugh. You sold it and pretended to go catch up to the others. Meanwhile you began to toy with your Maps app to find the quickest way on foot to the Lamp Post.

NEXT CHAPTER

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Blackbird: Chapter 2

Pairing: Stella x (FemKnight!)MC (Cirrus Qrow)

Chapter Summary: The both of you reach the castle, Stella awaits her mother's unpredictable nature. You wanted to find out why you were required to accompany Stella to meet with her mother. Her mother in unpredictable like she told you...

Chapter Warning(s): Stress, Familial Tension

Chapter Theme: Seeing Red - Arrows in Action

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, Bold/Italic = Flashback

A/n: So I'm going to put together an aesthetic of what the Fate version of Solaria will look like... Because we'll never get to see it :(

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

*Cirrus' POV* You open your eyes to the morning glow of the sun. Kat was already out of the dorm.

"Stella," You try to wake her

She stirs.

"Hmm?" She ass, half awake

"We need to leave soon don't we?" You ask

She nods.

"I don't need to pack anything," She says, slowly getting up, "I'll help."

She brushes past you and begins rummaging through your portion of the drawers.

"you sure you don't need to pack anything?" You ask, "I'm pretty sure I watched you on the first day that you brought your entire wardrobe."

"I'm sure that I still have plenty of clothes back home," She chuckles, "I'd share but I don't think your build would fit my clothes."

*Stella's POV* You turn back to Cirrus to see her back turned to you. Your eyes travel all over her back as she flexes her back muscles. Your legs move on their own. Your fingers trace the outline of her biceps.

"Stells, are you trying to distract me again?" She asks, looking over her shoulder

"Sorry," You say, "I can't help it."

"Hah, by the way, dresses aren't my cup of tea," She chuckles

*Cirrus' POV* You finish up packing some clothes, and begin following Stella out to the front gate, where a Solaria vehicle awaited for the both of you. However, when Stella gets into the car, the driver presses his hand against your shoulder.

"Your highness, is this the knight that you plan to accompany you to the castle?" The driver asks

"Yes," Stella says, "Now, let her in please."

The driver gives you one last look before letting you in. But, the look was a look of judgement...

"Cirrus, what's the matter?" She asks

She immediately settles her head on your shoulder.

"Nothing," You lie, "Just thought I saw something..."

The car pulls off and begins driving away form the Academy.

+*+

Thought majority of the drive, there had only been silence almost the three of you. However, it wasn't all bad, you were getting some incredible views through the window.

"Cirrus?" Stella's voice snaps you out of your daze

You turn to her.

"Is something on your mind?" She asks

"Ci-Cirrus..." Stella pants

"Nope, nothing in particular," You try to hide your blush

You hear Stella chuckle: she saw through your little lie.

"You're adorable when you try to hide the fact you're thinking about me," She smiles

"I-I- Stella, I am not...." You try to make up an excuse

She raises an eyebrow.

"I'm just really anxious about what this is all about and why my presence in particular is needed," You finally say

"Hmmm, right," Stella adjusts herself back to laying her head on your shoulder

"Well, that's one of the things on my mind," You confess

"HAH! I knew it!" Stella yelps

"Yeah yeah I'm just giving you the benefit of the doubt," You say

"So you WERE thinking about me?!" She asks

"In my defense, I never said it was-"

"Ladies," The driver clears his throat

The both of you cease your current conversation and look at the driver through the rearview mirror.

"We should be arriving to the castle shortly," He says

You look out of the window a the car begins rolling through the entryway of the castle.

"It's so... Bright..." You say, rubbing your eyes to avoid blindness

"Well, of course Cirrus," Stella says, "It's Solaria."

"Well, Cirrus Qrow has never been to Solaria in her life," You say, "The Crows always preferred their dark, lonely places."

"Are you talking about the bird or you?" Stella asks

"... Yes," You say

You grab your bag out from the trunk and follow close behind Stella as she begins leading you to the throne room. Everywhere your eyes grazed, something always reflected back into your eyes.

Flashy... Literally...

Two guards push the two giant doors apart.

The Queen sits upon her throne, ceasing her conversation with whomever it was as soon as she heard the doors open.

"Stella," She smiles

"Hello mother," Stella forces a smile

"Hello Stella," She greets back, but then her eyes drift to you

"Your majesty," You greet with a bow

She gives a slight head nod but then her attention goes back to her daughter.

"Guards, please escort..." Luna attempts to figure out your name

"Cirrus Qrow, your majesty," You introduce yourself

"Escort Cirrus Qrow to her own Bedchamber," She says

As a guard approaches you, you were honestly hoping for Stella to chime in and offer to do it, but nothing... You were kind of sad, however, knowing how many stories Stella has told you about her mother, and her strained relationship, you understood her situation.

The guard begins taking you out of the castle...

"Uhm... Sir... Where are you taking me?" You ask

"The Guest house Queen Luna had specifically had planned for you," He explains

Oh...

You were expecting to get a bedchamber somewhere in the castle... But, it was better than being put in the dungeon, if that still existed.

+*+

You weren't sure what you were expecting when he told you a guest house... You were expecting a mini-castle... But, it was like a cabin... You weren't going to complain.

Still better than a dungeon cell...

"Thank you," You give your gratitude to the guard

He gives you a head nod and begins walking back the way you two came.

*Stella's POV* "Mother, where did you have the guard escort Cirrus?" You ask, out of curiosity

"Just to our guest house outside of the castle," She answers

"That far?!" You ask, "Why didn't you just have her in one of our bedchambers?!"

"Do not raise your voice at me young lady," Luna's jaw clenches

Your mouth closes instinctively.

"We have many other guests here and we do not have room for her in the castle, the only other option was the guest house," She explains

"'Many other guests'? Mother what is summoning me here, and bringing her all about?" you finally break the question

"You will find out soon enough," She says, "Now relax, you must have had a long journey."

You reluctantly nod your head and briskly walk out of the throne room.

+*+

"Cirrus?" You gently knock on the door

"Come in," Her voice reverberates against the door

When you open the door, you were almost at a loss for words. Everything was small....

"Hey," She greets you, getting out of the bed

"I'm-I'm sorry that you're all the way out here, and-"

"Whoa Stells, slow down," She says, "It's okay, nothing I'm not used to. Besides, I told myself that it was better than being in a dungeon."

You let out a chuckle, "I'm sorry I didn't offer to take you."

"It's okay," She says, "I'm sure your mother had some words for you."

"I got upset that she sent you out here," You say

"Listen, I understand how your mother is, I'm not mad," She says

You could tell she was trying her best to reassure you, however, even her words weren't getting to you.

*Cirrus' POV* You could easily tell how stressed she was becoming... You wrap your hands around her hips and pull her in for a hug. She immediately settles into your embrace.

"It's okay..." You repeat the phrase, "I'll be fine."

"I know it's just... I would have felt better if she treated you kinder," She says

"Not everyone likes a Blackbird..." You sigh, "But, it's nothing that I'm not used to. I'm the outcast at Alfea."

"Yeah, outcast," She chuckles, "Aflea's 3rd best specialist, and she happens to be dating the Crown Princess of Solaria. Can't really call yourself an outcast now."

"I'm the kind of person that gets dragged out everywhere just so she can support her girlfriend," You smile

"And I'm thrilled," She says

"Do you feel any better?" You ask, resting your forehead against hers

"Not really but, being here with you makes me feel better," She sighs

"Won't your mother notice you're gone?" You ask

"I don't care," She says

A knock comes to the door.

"Who is it?" You call out

"I'm with the Royal Guard, Queen Luna requests your presence back at the castle Princess Stella," He says

"And what on earth for?" She asks

"The Royal Ball," He says

The both of you look at each other, surprised. You follow behind Stella as she goes to open the door. Your arm instinctively snakes around her hip; making sure the person that was on the other side of the door was really a part of the Royal Guard. But, You could tell Stella knew he was in the guard.

"Right away then," She clears her throat, stepping away from your arm

"I'll see you tonight then?" She turns toward you as she walks with the guard

You nod.

"The queen has something set out for you too in the closet," The guard tells you, "I will assure you that I will get her to the castle."

You nod, but watch them until you couldn't see her any longer. You shut the door and make your way to the closet next to the bed. When you slide open the door, your slight smile drops.

My favorite color...

+*+

You slowly walk through the open doors, the various conversations making the room echo with life ceases. Dead, quiet... All eyes laid upon you. However, look to the Queen's right side of the throne where Stella sat. Her eyes glistened with delight. As you make your way into the ballroom, eyes still continue to follow you. However, your eyes never left Stella as she made her way to you.

"Evening, Princess," You smile as you greet her

"Good evening my little bird," She smiles back

"May I have this dance?" You ask, giving her a slight bow

You outstretch your hand to her.

"I would be heartbroken if you never asked," She gracefully places her hand over yours

You slowly close the gap between your bodies; one hand holds hers, and the other holds her by the hip. The both of you begin to sway to silence... Neither of you caring if there was no music...

"Pretty sure these Solarians don't like me very much," You try to whisper

"They'll open up to it.. Eventually," Stella gives you a harsh reality

"Eventually," You sigh, "Oh well, I only care about what you think right now."

"What I think?" She asks, "You should already have an idea of what I think."

Conversations and the music slowly starts back up...

"I don't care what these people or my mother thinks," She says, "I care about you."

She presses her forehead against yours.

"Only you," She adds

You sigh into a gentle smile.

"May I have a dance Princess Stella?" A male you are not familiar with, offers his hand to Stella

You look at her and could tell she was about to reject him. However, your hand holding hers; brings her hand to his. You didn't want to let her dance with another man but... You didn't want to make a scene. Especially in front of her mother.

+*+

You wait patiently to have a chance to dance with Stella once more however, just when you believed you had the chance, another man chimed in. However, you could see Stella's eyes drifting away from each man that swiped her hand for a dance. You knew those eyes were looking for you.

Your eyes drift down to the floor, losing hope to get the last dance with the princess.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask me for one last dance," Stella says

You look up and see her, smiling. She reaches and grabs your hand to lead you back to the dance floor. She spins on the ball of her foot and guides your hands to settle on her hips and rests her hands on your shoulders.

"I'm the type of person to wait my turn," You chuckle

"Well, if you really want something, you should know when to take it," She says

"Guess I really need to learn to go with my heart then," You chuckle

"And what does your heart say?" She asks

"Hmm... It says that-"

Before you could even tell Stella that you want to take her to bed, the conversations and music ceases. The both of you look up to Queen Luna, who arose from her throne.

"Everyone, I give my profound gratitude for your attendance this evening. Please, I would like to give our warmest welcome, to Cirrus Qrow," She announces

There were no applaud for you. But, you didn't care. you mostly cared about what ever the hell the queen was doing.

"What is she doing?" Stella whispers to you

You shrug your shoulders... Trying to catch on what her mother was announcing to the people.

"... Over the next few days there will be a series of Trials for Cirrus Qrow," Luna announces

Your stomach drops...

"What kind of Trials mother?!" Stella takes a few steps in front of you

"Ones that will prove to me that she is worthy of your hand," She explains

Your heart drops...

Chapter 3

[sorcharavenlock]

10. Just Another Manic Monday

"I can't stand those stupid internet lists," I grumble. I woke up in a mood. "Top Ten Most Attractive Avengers! Really?!"

"Please tell me Thor is not listed," Loki rolls his eyes.

"Number one, every single time. It's not even fair when half of his competition wears a mask or a helmet!

Besides, he's not even that handsome, to be honest. I mean, I can see why some people would find him attractive, but it's clear who got the best looks in your family."

I have to stop myself from slapping my hand over my mouth. Did I say that out loud?

Loki turns from bright green to bright pink. Did I just make a ghost blush?

After breakfast, I sit down to write. Loki is quiet, and I presume he's studying in the basement.

When I go to make a cup of tea, however, I find him in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"This contraption is absolutely fascinating!" Loki declares. "It keeps spinning around, tumbling your garments through soapy water!"

"Wait, you've never seen a washing machine before?" I ask. "How did you do laundry in Asgard?"

"I didn't, Loki shrugged. "I had servants for that. I simply dropped my clothing on the floor and I'd find them clean in my wardrobe eventually."

I think for a moment. Getting Loki to help with the chores has been difficult. I suddenly have a cunning plan!

"Well, I'd prefer it if you wouldn't touch the machine. It is complicated and expensive equipment, and I do'nt think it's a good idea for you to operate it."

Loki frowns. "I have you know I was using far more advanced technology long before you were borne! Surely I am more than capable of operating this one!"

"I do'nt know..." I hedge, trying to hide a smile.

"Do not insult my intelligence!" Loki snaps.

"Okay, If you think you can handle it, I'll let you work the washing machine. I trust you."

Loki smiles smugly, happy he got his way.

I show him how to open the machine when it's done and how to add the laundry and detergent.

"You'll have to hang this load out first, after that, you can put the new load in. Call me if you aren't sure what to do!"

"That shall not be needed!" Loki waggles his finger at me.

I leave him guarding the laundry, trying not to smile.

Marianna: 1, god of mischief :0!

Loki spends the rest of his day studying.

In the evening we watch a horror movie together:

After that, I go to bed.

loki however, is suffering from a manic episode and he can not sleep.

First, he practices his magic:

Then he tries to read again, but he can not concentrate. A little while later I wake up to the sound of Heavy Metal.

I find Loki and a friendly spirit rocking out in the sitting room.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!" I yell.

I turn the music off.

"I can't sleep," Loki complains.

"Then find something quieter!"

Loki returns to the basement. The woodworking table that we moved to make room for his bed catches his eye:

Soon, he's made a little statue.

"This will make a nice surprise for Marianna," He thinks to himself.

Loki places it in the sitting room and steals my phone to send a picture to Nea.

He takes a bunch of selfies as well and hangs them around the sitting room.

Above my desk, so I can look at him all the time!

Loki is pretty pleased with himself.

My PC gets his eye next. Not long after, he sets himself up with a social media profile. He's been looking over my shoulder enough when I was checking mine to know how it works.

He also cleans the cat litter box with magic...

hugs and plays with the cats...

... and takes a selfie with Becca when she gets up:

It is the dawn of another day, and we are still no closer to returning Loki back to life...

[purplesurveys]

1834

Do you prefer hardly toasted at all or burnt toast? I generally enjoy the taste of certain foods more when it's on the burnt side, including toast. Also with fries and hotdogs. I like the crunch and the slight smoky flavor.

What time do you have to be out of bed by on a typical day? I work from home and if we're being extremely loose with the rules, I technically don't need to get up until 9 AM. But I like to have ample time to take a shower, make my coffee, pet the dogs, and clear the emails that came in the night before – all these let me get into the ~right mood for the day – so these days I've been waking up at 8 AM to be all ready at my work station by 8:30.

When was the last time you cleaned your bedroom? Start of the year when I did a hard restart to the room, especially after all the gift wrappers and paper bags from Christmas accumulated in one spot.

In real life do you laugh like 'haha', 'hehe' or something else? It depends exactly on the kind of laugh I'm making, or the context why I'm laughing. I can do anything from a hahaha to a hehehe to a hohoho lmao.

Do you know anyone who says things like 'lol' in real life? I know people who say it as 'lol' or as 'el-oh-el.' I do both of them.

Do you have any unusual skills? I have an abnormal amount of knowledge on the Twilight Saga...lol. I never realized how much info I've retained through the years till like 2 weeks ago when Angela, Hans, and I had this random ass trivia contest on the series.

Do you have any bug bites right now? On my legs, I'm sure there are. I've been at the rooftop a few times and mosquitoes have been lurking around there more than usual.

Is there anything annoying you at the moment? 1/2 of my glasses' frames has snapped open so I've had to DIY it with superglue for now so I can still see from both eyes, while I'm unable to get a new prescription altogether. DIY anything just puts me super on edge cause you never know when it's gonna fall apart, and if it does you don't want it happening in public where it can be embarrassing lol. 

Who's your favourite person? I'd go with my dad.

Are you more of a cat or dog person? Dog.

Do you live out of the nearest town? Not sure what exactly this is asking. I live in some part of town regardless? Hahaha.

Do you like to look at other peoples' houses? Sure, especially when they are obviously rich.

Are there any chores you actually enjoy doing? I have my mood where I'll like washing the dishes, but keyword there is mood because I don't always want to do it haha.

What's the weirdest compliment you've ever received? I've definitely gotten strange ones before but I'm usually quick to erase them from my memory so that I don't need to dwell on them anymore, so it's hard for me to remember off the top of my head.

Do you remember all those rhymes like 'i before e except after c'? We were taught this rule in English class, but not through a rhyme. The teacher just said it in plain sentence format – "If it follows a c, use ei" something like that hahaha.

When did you last have an 'Oh, I get it now!' moment? Earlier this week when I was reading the plot of Interstellar.

Would you say you're more witty or childish about jokes? Idk, I can appreciate both.

Do you get on with boys or girls better? Girls, 100%.

Do people often confide in you? Do you like it? Sure. Yeah, it makes me feel nice in a, "It's cool that they trust me" kind of way. I was most surprised when my mom asked me for advice two years ago about job options. She's never asked her own kids for advice for anything, so it was part heartwarming and part overwhelming when she did it with me. It was like...wow why are you pouring your feelings all of a sudden lol? This family has walls, where is it????? hahahahah.

Who is someone you really admire? My dad.

Do you prefer piano or guitar music? Piano.

Do you like helium balloons? I think they're slightly more entertaining than normal balloons lol.

Have your parents ever suspected something untrue about you? Yeah, at one point they were so convinced I was a smoker only because a cigarette got stuck under my shoe once. I didn't know how else to convince them otherwise so I just invited them to smell me as much as they want because they were never gonna get that nasty nicotine smell from me.

Do you have any fears that seem weird to others? I'm scared of cooking...it's more the fire I'm scared of, but yeah it makes me act weird around the kitchen and hypersensitive to any sparks and weird sizzling noises when someone is cooking. In short, I keep away from kitchens for world peace lol

Have you ever wished you'd been born someplace else? Yeah because nobody ever wishes they were born in the Philippines. Why would you hate yourself like that?

What d'you think about videogames? It's fascinating to see how far it's come. From blocks to open-world shit that's so close to resembling real life...it's really cool. I'm not a gamer per se but I grew up around gamers, so I have a soft spot for video games.

Are there any forms of art you personally find pointless? Maybe not pointless, but there are types of art that I don't particularly get drawn towards...like digital art, audio-visual pieces, pencil on paper.

What would you, or do you, study at college? I took up journalism.

Are you tired right now? A little bit, only cause I lack sleep.

Have you ever had, or wanted, a pet ferret? Nope.

Is there anything you find undeserving of the hype it received? Yes, I can think of a few things.

What's something you do a lot? Do these.

Are you currently on any other websites? I have YouTube turned on at the moment, but that's it.

Are you good at using Photoshop? Hard no. Tried tinkering around with it, never got the hang of it.

What were you last embarrassed about? My mom decided that loudly LOUDLY L O U D L Y blasting music at 7 AM earlier was the Best Idea Ever, so not only was that the reason I woke up with a pounding headache, but also why I was on edge the whole morning just waiting for some neighbor to knock on the door and ask her to knock it the fuck off. It wasn't even like jazz or lounge, it was party fucking anthems, the kind of shit you'd play at a bar at midnight.

Are there any clothing items you really want but can't find? I have a green top I haven't seen in a while.

Have you ever been told you naturally tilt your head a certain way? Nope.

What does your dream house look like? I want it extremely modern. Just a big concrete square, lol.

Do you wear a lot of make-up? I don't.

Do you have any projects on the go right now? I mean, just work projects.

What's a habit you find gross? Spitting.

Would you rather have a Poloroid or a Lomo camera? Lomo.

When was the last time you were jealous? Not sure, it's been a while since I've felt jealous.

Are you one of those people who see things for sale and say 'I could've come up with that!'? No.

Do you, or did you, really look forward to when you can finally move away? I do, but I'm not in a hurry either. Being able to move out would give me a sense of accomplishment more than anything else, but I would miss the comforts of the home I grew up in, of course.

Are you the one who holds everyone's bags at theme parks while they ride? Yes that is definitely me, I am that friend, I'd love to hold all your bags instead of wanting to feel like I left my stomach 100 feet in the air.

What's the worst tattoo you've ever seen? I don't think I've ever personally seen a bad tattoo.

What's your favourite name ever? I don't have an all-time favorite name. It always changes, depending on what I think sounds nice at that moment, or what's in style.

Are you a hat person? Mostly a bucket hat person, but sure!

When was the last time you were totally grossed out? Like a half hour ago when I ordered Monte Cristo at this restaurant I'm currently in – this place usually serves it with blueberry jam, so I requested if they can take it out...but when I got the order it had blueberry jam and actual blueberries all over the sandwich. Yes it's a first world problem I GET IT but ick ick ick, gross.

Have you ever forgotten how to do something simple? Sure.

Are you ever jealous when you see couples or friends together? No.

Has anyone ever approached you in the street and asked to take your picture? Nope.

Have you ever disliked something just because most people liked it? It only gets annoying when I see it everywhere, like when I go from one IG story to another and it's like 30 people in a row who went to The Eras tour or whatever it's called. But I don't judge The Actual Thing that people go crazy about.

Does anything hurt on you right now? I'm pretty fine right now.

What song's stuck in your head? Enhypen's Pass the Mic.

[casspurrjoybell-25]

The Healer of Shakkara - Book Two

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 7 - Traces - Part 1

By the third day, Behn was sick and tired of snow and rejoiced when, at last, they left the thick drifts behind and entered a warmer climate.

Obi and Triss were equally pleased with the change... the party's spirits had sunk very low over the past night, which had been particularly miserable and cold and lifted noticeably as they passed into a region where a warm autumn yet reigned in full glory.

Triss apologized for snapping at Behn over breakfast and Obi, who had fallen into a sullen silence the day before, struck up a friendly conversation with Behn, asking him about his uncle's stables and what they ought to expect once they reached Lastiff.

"I've only visited a few times," Behn admitted.

"And I wasn't there long. I used to go with my dad to the annual ale festival. There are competitions and prizes for the best brews, not to mention bragging rights for the winners. Once I got old enough to handle myself, though, my dad started leaving me behind to run the shop while he was away, so he didn't lose the revenue for the week. I kinda missed traveling with him, though."

"You'll see him again soon," Triss said, coming to walk alongside them as the path widened.

"In fact, it might be easier to convince your uncle to lend us only two horses rather than three. You could take a wagon back to Dern. I'm sure your father will be glad to know you're alright. Harrald, too. He must be worried sick over Galen."

Behn frowned at the implication that he would opt for an easy ride home rather than press on into further hardships at her side.

"Your mom must be worried, too," he said pointedly but immediately regretted it.

He knew that Triss's mother was a touchy subject and he hadn't meant to bring it up like that but the words had escaped him as unstoppably and unexpectedly as a loud, stinky fart.

Judging by the look Triss shot him, they were about as well received as one, too.

"Sorry," he said, flinching under the flash of her glare.

"I'm sure she is," Triss said.

"You can give her reassurances for me as well, when you see her."

"You can give them yourself," Behn said, with forced cheerfulness.

"When we return home together."

"I'm a deserter, Behn," Triss snapped.

"There's no 'triumphant return' in my future. If I'm caught, I'll be sentenced to forced labor or hanged... preferably the latter, from what I've seen."

She shook her head.

"Once this is over... once Galen is safe from The Order... I'm not going home. I'm going north, into Yotaim."

"Yotaim?" Behn crinkled his nose.

"What's in Yotaim, apart from frozen wastes and a few scattered villages? Oh and ice giants, if you believe the tales."

"My brother," Triss said.

"Tristan's last message came from an outpost there."

"Triss..." Behn knew his pity would be, if anything, less welcome than his mention of her mother but for some reason, he couldn't convince his stupid mouth to stop talking.

"It's been years. Tristan..."

"Is dead. I know," she snapped.

"I'm not expecting a happy reunion. I just want to find out what happened to him. I couldn't give my mom the family and the crowd of grandkids she hoped for but at least I can give her that, even if I can't give it to her in person."

"You're only twenty," Behn argued, squaring his shoulders stoutly.

"You've got plenty of time to do anything and everything you want. You can adventure across Sakkara until you find someplace and... and someone to settle down with. Then you can..."

"What? Have twelve children and take up knitting?" Triss scoffed.

"No thanks. I'd rather meet an early, honest end than wither and worry myself into dust."

"You're not your mom," Behn said, taking an ill-advised guess at the root of the problem.

"Everyone she loved has left her, one by one but that won't happen to you. You just need to find someone who can make that promise honestly. Someone who'll stick by you, no matter what."

An ugly expression twisted Triss's pretty features into a sneer.

"Someone like you? No thanks, Behn. I don't need anyone to take care of me and I certainly don't need to be stuck taking care of someone else for the rest of my life. Some people are better off alone."

She quickened her pace abruptly and Behn fell back and let her go.

If that's how it was, maybe they would part ways in Lastiff after all.

Behn would serve his purpose and then he'd go home.

He had no desire to hang around where he wasn't wanted.

A familiar hurt settled over his heart like a dark cloud.

There was a reason he spent so much time at home, helping his dad and it wasn't simply a desire to be useful.

Before he'd met Triss and Galen and other than Triss and Galen, he had no friends.

Nobody wanted to play with the fat little baker's boy... unless they were in it for the free cinnamon rolls... a conclusion he had reached too often in the past.

It had left him distrustful and fearful that anyone who wanted to be his friend really wanted something else.

Except for Galen and Triss.

Now it seemed like maybe even their companionship grew more from pity than from true affection and in that, at least, he and Triss were similar... pity was the last thing Behn desired.

Triss felt awful... like she'd kicked a sweet puppy and made it cower or tossed a kitten in a pond just to see if it could swim... like she'd done something incredibly mean, in other words, which she had.

The look on his face was proof enough that her sharp words had struck Behn's heart... as she had intended.

She had hoped to save that conversation until they reached Lastiff, had hoped that Behn might even raise the idea of returning to Dern himself but when the opportunity arose... when he had unwittingly stoked her anger and prodded at her inmost fears... the words had come easily enough.

Now she regretted them bitterly but could not take them back.

Once or twice, Behn approached her with an open, questioning look on his sweet face, clearly with the thought that they might yet reconcile and set things right but Triss forced herself to turn and walk away from him each time, knowing that if she gave him half a chance to speak, she would not be able to resist reassuring him of her friendship and affection.

Thus, while their surroundings grew increasingly pleasant and warm, the atmosphere between the two friends remained cold.

Both spoke to Obi but hardly spared a word or glance for one another.

Obi proved to be an expert forager and supplemented their diet of dried food with fresh mushrooms, which baked nicely in the coals of the fire and brewed an invigorating tea from the bark of a young sapling, which he cut in careful strips so as not to harm the tree.

It wasn't much but after a few days of nothing but bean paste, it seemed like a feast.

Soon they had even better fare and enjoyed a salad of peppery watercress Behn found growing beside a clear stream and the roasted flesh of a pheasant that Triss shot with her bow.

They whispered a prayer of gratitude to the bird whose life had been cut short to sustain theirs but the sense of pure nourishment derived from the meal quickly assuaged any trace of guilt.

No edible part was wasted and the rest they left for scavengers to enjoy.

Of their quarry they saw little evidence but Triss picked out traces here and there that, while not conclusively made by Rea, were, at the very least, signs of someone traveling fast and light in the same direction as themselves.

Then, on the fourth day after leaving the snows behind, Obi discovered the remnants of a small campfire at the base of a meadow,and among the ashes found conclusive proof that they were still on her trail.

[castielafflicted]

For the fanfic asks!! 🤡🌞👀

hiii taylor thank you! Ask game here!

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Here's an exchange from This Is Normal, Right? aka thee shaving fic.

"Dean, I don't know why you told me I needed to shave if you were going to turn around and tell me you didn't trust me to do it cleanly," he snapped back. The conversation was going further down the drain with each passing second. "I was trying to offer to do it for you!" Dean yelled. He flopped backwards to face the ceiling. There wasn't any normal way to offer to shave your best friend’s face, let alone when he’s the man you've been having weird feelings towards. This one was clearly the wrong way though.

This one makes me laugh because jesus christ Dean you are a wreck. The other exchange is the last two lines of Laughter in a Corn Maze, because it's so adorable that it makes me giggle.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

After sundown, regardless of what time of year it is. In winter I can start writing at like 5pm without issue, and summer it's easiest if I wait until 10pm. My favorite days of the week to write are Saturday and Sunday, and that shows on my spotify daylist.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Oh my god Taylor I love you for this. I am not back from my writing break yet but I love talking about the fics I'm writing. I put a clip of one fic here that I'm excited for, but one that I'm looking forward to being done and posting even more is my sutober day 3: Inspired fic.

I have no idea how complete it actually is, but as of right now (aka October 23rd) there are four different poems in it. The first one was an unfinished piece I wrote before a family cat died back in October that I edited slightly to make work for the fic, and in doing so it made me realize that it being unfinished was actually how to finish it and titled it Unfinished Finality. The second poem currently titled Thing in my Soul has been unfinished since July and I'm still foaming at the mouth over it not being done but don't know how to finish it and intentionally left it unfinished in the fic. The third poem is specifically a destiel poem titled Pollution was unfinished until I was writing this fic, and is used as the major plot point in the story. The fourth poem is titled Lazarus Arise and I think you can guess what it's about. I'd been wanting to write a 4x01 poem for months and it turns out all I needed to do was start writing a "short fic that would only use one poem that was already mostly done". The spoiler I will give you on this poem is that it makes Cas laugh, and that's all that matters in life actually.

Once the fic is posted, I'll definitely post Lazarus Arise on here separately. I might post Pollution and the unedited version of Unfinished Finality too. My brain is slowly starting to rotate fics again because of this ask which is good 👀

I just realized I didn't say anything about the fic besides the poetry, so very quick. It's completely Cas POV and that's always something exciting for me to write. He is absolutely doing things in this fic that he should not be doing <3 Dean draws and writes poetry in his cute little diary (journal) as a coping mechanism and Cas reads it (he should not be doing this).

Also I'm excited about an destiel omegaverse outline that I have fully done, so if anyone wants to hear about that I can talk about that too.

[respectthepetty]

Hiya! What BL series would you recommend the most? So far, I've loved watching KinnPorsche (it's THE best!!), I Told Sunset about You, Cutie Pie & Bad Buddy. I also got into To My Star because of you, so cheers for that!

Anyway, I would love to watch more shows but I find it a bit hard to navigate because there's so many (and no offense, but some of which I initially started watching ended up being quite lame imo), so I would love to hear about your favs! Thanks in advance if you decide to reply. Have a lovely day/night wherever you are x

I have had this question several times over the past few months, but yours has been, by far, the kindest ask, so I'll answer now:

You don't want my trash recommendations.

So many others on here do it better, like @absolutebl! They have entire spreadsheets to break down preferences while I have five rules:

Don't bury the gay (MANDATORY!)

Be gay. Do crime! aka "Eff the police" (literally and figuratively)

I'm a messy bi, and I'll cry if I want to

Adulting is hard like my sexual attraction for you

Vice Vers(a) - Flipping the norms and changing dynamics

If a show gives me two out of four (since I will never allow a show to Killing Eve me again!), I'm going to fight random people AND their unborn kiddos in the street for it. Case & point:

HIStory 4: Close to You (2021, 10 episodes, Taiwan - 9/10) - I loved all of. Not some parts. Not only one of the couples. No! ALL. OF. IT! Every couple. Every situation. Including the stepbrothers relationship and the whole ridiculous top/bottom conversations. LOVED IT! It had the messy factor that others only aspire to achieve.

Taiwan has a tight hold on passionate men in sweatpants and a basic shirt down, and for that, I'm grateful!

Now that you know this is my floor, hopefully you understand that like my fave, Marie Kondo...

I was raised on telenovelas and soap operas, so if an evil twin kidnaps the protagonist then sleeps with him and has a child who is given up to an orphanage only to grow up and fall in love with his rich (unknown to him) brother and uses witchcraft to give the rival love interest amnesia, I'd be happily sitting every week to witness it with no qualms. Who am I to judge?! Makes sense to me!

Which means I don't LOVE some dramas even though they are great because my basic rules don't apply, the messiness is missing, or they will be too tough to rewatch:

Bad Buddy (7/10) because I wanted one of them to snap, crackle, and pop off at their parents for passing on generational trauma. Also, being in love with Bad Bunny yet trying to say this title was too difficult for my brain.

I Told Sunset About You (8/10) is rude and feels like a personal attack. You've seen it, so you know what I'm writing about. We don't speak about the sequel.

Semantic Error (9/10) hurt because anyone who has been in a group project knows the pain that the lead felt, yet it tried to convince us that he was in the wrong. Team No Group Assignment!

Cherry Magic's (8/10) second couple made me irrationally upset. Cats can bring people together, but these two? Really?! Cats are better than this street dancing moment!

Gameboys' (7/10) whole plot of the dad going out to look for the son and catching COVID was...yeah, no. And if the lead said "baby" ONE MORE TIME, I was going to make like a balloon in a toddler's hand and POP!

We Best Love 1 & 2 (8/10) gave us a five year time jump between the first and second part, and if it weren't for that *excellent* drunk moment, I would have stopped watching it and stored part two in the horrible-sequels-we-don't-speak-about pile.

But a man plotting from the age of ten to manipulate his whole family into accepting him sleeping with his stepbrother (HIStory 4 - 9/10), I fully support.

Therefore, you don't want what I'm peddling. Unless you do...

Trying to spotlight more recent ones because they will be easier to find

Be gay. Do crime: Too focused on one a**hole to notice the many plot holes.

Manner of Death (2020, 14 episodes, Thailand - 7.5/10) - A story of two men trying to have sex while EVERYONE around them is being killed. Oh, and then there is a cactus and a baby murderer horribly fighting his feeling for the smartest/dumbest guy in the town.

KinnPorsche (2022, 14 episodes, Thailand - 8/10) - A story about a family that is determined to dickmatize the first person who is kind to them, which you already watched, so you know they succeed.

Eff the Police: Tend to have issues finishing, but always a fun ride *pun intended*.

Not Me (2022, 14 episodes, Thailand - 7.5/10) - Literally, eff the police...but also, figuratively.

HIStory 3: Trapped (2019, 10 episodes, Taiwan - 8/10) - If we can't avoid the cops, sleep with them, so at least we can have a good character witness.

Messy Bi: There will be tears. Lots and lots of tears.

Love Mechanics (2020 and remake in 2022, 4 episodes/10 episodes, Thailand - 7/10, remake 8/10) - Polyamory is the answer, but the characters refuse to share.

Hello, Stranger (2020, 8 episodes, Philippines - 7.5/10) - A jock decides flirting with a guy is easier than actually doing his portion of the group project. The movie sequel is not on this level.

Adulting is Hard: The angst is strong, but the chemistry is stronger.

To My Star (2021, 9 episodes, South Korea - 9.5/10) - When being a big star is too difficult, stop showing up for work, crash at someone else's house, and pop his pimples. To My Star 2 is not on this level but still brought the chemistry, so if you didn't watch, do it.

He's Coming To Me (2019, 8 episodes, Thailand - 8/10) - Life is hard, but the afterlife is harder, so pester a kid for a decade until he decides to solve murders. The way the main's sexuality is handled is perfect.

Vice Vers(a): The confessions are ALWAYS a 10!

Old Fashion Cupcake (2022, 5 episodes, Japan - 9.5/10) - When in love with a boss, walk a delicate line of being the best employee while letting him know exactly the eight ways you can blow hi...his mind...with your mo...monumental organization ski.. Oh eff it him!

My Beautiful Man (2021, 6 episodes, Japan - 9/10) - Just an ordinary man who wants to be loved and the guy who wants to worship him in every way possible.

DNA Says Love You (2022, 12 episodes, Taiwan - 8/10) - The audience knows the whole time what is happening, but has no idea what is actually happening. Is it a ghost story? Is it about a soul reincarnating? Is this about amnesia? Nope. Well, actually...yeah, still no.

I have a lot more, but this is already too long.

All in all, embrace what you like. If you like a certain aspect of show, latch on to it and explore others that showcase that particular plot device. Also, don't be ashamed of what you like. Even if others think it's lame, if you like it, then I love it. Believe me, if China had finished Addicted, there be a lot more people living in glass houses keeping quiet instead of judging us because some guys in the mafia actually do bad things.

[wh6res]

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic. 

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane." 

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. 

"bitch," you mutter under your breath. 

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again. 

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?" 

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway. 

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?" 

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him. 

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath. 

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement. 

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year. 

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her. 

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" 

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living. 

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing." 

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done. 

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way. 

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement. 

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears. 

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend. 

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word. 

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel. 

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode. 

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information. 

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics. 

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve. 

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too. 

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today  —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?" 

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind. 

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head. 

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest. 

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!" 

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys. 

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history." 

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said. 

"do you really want to know why?" 

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart. 

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss. 

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone. 

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment. 

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day. 

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor. 

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down. 

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud. 

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand. 

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't… 

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper. 

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused. 

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going. 

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back. 

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video. 

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers. 

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples. 

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration. 

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin. 

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day. 

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder. 

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp. 

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time. 

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside. 

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home. 

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off. 

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung. 

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him. 

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with. 

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it...  but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you. 

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob. 

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face. 

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

[shallyne]

Because you're my Friend Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 (Alternative Ending)

I still don't know if there will be more parts. Like I said, when inspiration strikes! Here's part 2. I really hope I get some inspiration because I like this series :)

TW: none

Feyre begins to feel more comfortable around Rhys

It was a shock to Feyre that Nayas Mac'n'Cheese were absolutely delicious. She still thought about it now, sitting in Rhys's room.

"You can sit on the bed or on the floor." Rhys said when she entered his room. It was cleaner than Feyre thought. She imagined chaos everywhere, for whatever reason. It was the exact opposite, it was clean and tidy. Not one thing out of place. Feyre didn't know why she was so surprised, he lived in a mansion. They probably had maids and what not.

When she sat on Rhysands bed she let out a sigh. "Wow."

Rhys was looking for something in his desk. When he heard Feyre he turned his head to her and asked with a smile "What?"

"It's so comfy. It's like sitting on a marshmallow." Feyre said. She didn't remember ever laying in a bed so comfortable. She knew that she did lay in a bad that comfortable once, before her family lost everything. After her mothers death. She knew but it was so long ago that she didn't remember how it felt.

Rhys was silent for a minute until he said "Yes, it is." he turned to her fully now, a writing pad and some pens in his hand. As he sat on the other side of the bed he asked. "When do you have to work?"

"Seven." Feyre answered.

"Okay, so we'll leave 6:45." he said.

"First of all, no." Feyre answered. "I'll need longer than that. Second, what do you mean we?"

He looked at her as if she's crazy. "I'll drive you. I drove you here and I'll drive you to work."

Feyre was about to snap something but she remembered their talk from earlier. About being friends. So she let herself fall back on Rhys's bed and said "Thanks."

He waved his hand as he asked "Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yep." Feyre answered.

"Same shift?"

"Yep." she repeated.

"So you'll have time to meet at the library after school?" he asked.

"I would have time but why would we go to the library?" Feyre asked.

"Because it's Stryga and she prefers it old-school." Rhys answered.

"We can lie and say we found that stuff in some of these stupid books."

"Nope." Rhys said. "Trust me, I'd prefer it to not use a thousand old books, too, but she knows. Somehow Stryga knows."

Feyre snorted. Their teacher was always...well, special. Rhys wrote something on his writing pad and he said something but Feyre didn't listen. She couldn't listen as she drifted off into sleep.

She just realized that she even fell asleep when someone softly touched her shoulder. Rhys. Rhys touched her shoulder. "Feyre." he said quietly.

"Hm?" she asked.

"It's 6:30. You'll have to work soon." he said softly.

Feyre opened her eyes. Rhys sat beside her. "I fell asleep?"

He nodded and smiled. "Don't worry, you don't snore. But you drooled a little."

She rolled her eyes as used her sleeve to wipe over her face. Rhys kept his promise and drove her to work. He even let her freshen up a little before they had to go. Feyre quickly washed her face and braided her braid new. Not even 10 minutes later they stood before the diner.

"Alright." Rhys said, putting his hands in his pockets. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you." Feyre said.

"Don't mention it, Feyre darling." he said.

"Feyre Darling?" she asked. "Really?"

Rhys just smirked as he made his way back to his car. "Have a good shift!"

A smile tugged on Feyres lips as she entered the diner. That night she was back home at 2 again. Again she took a quick shower before she fell into her bed.

The next school day was the same. Feyre was exhausted and barely listened in class. She sat on her usual spot during lunch break when Rhys came to her and slid a box to her.

"What is that?" Feyre asked.

"It's the rest of my lunch. My mom hates it when I don't eat everything and it's too good for Cassian to inhale." Rhys said, sitting doing beside her. Not waiting for an invitation.

Feyre opened his lunch box "Did you even eat anything?"

Rhys laughed. "I ate enough, she's always packing way too much."

"And she's mad because you don't eat it all?" Feyre asked.

Rhys just shrugged and changed the topic "You still good for meeting at the library later?"

Feyre nodded as she slid a grape into her mouth. "Yeah."

Rhys nodded and looked at her shirt. Feyre looked down. It was the same shirt she wore yesterday. She didn't know why Rhys would stare at it like that, it was still fine. Yes, it had a few holes but they were so small that they were barely visible. It wasn't dirty, either. Feyre had that much dignity left.

When Rhys realized he was staring he quickly looked away. He opened his mouth when the bell began ringing, signaling the next class. Feyre was about to give him his lunchbox but he declined, saying she should keep it for now and that she can give it to him later. Then they parted.

Feyre emptied the whole lunchbox while she hid in the library, skipping PE. The rest of the time she used to search for books, for Rhys's and her project. She still didn't get why they couldn't just look up this stuff in the internet but Rhys would know what he did, after all he was the one who always got the good grades.

She didn't have to wait long for Rhys to join her. He looked surprised when he saw her, Feyre didn't if it was because of the books or because she was already her. Or because she was here at all. Which, honestly, kinda offended her. She said she would be here and she never broke a promise her entire life. A damn promise kept her in this city, working at the diner while still going to school.

Without saying something she slid the lunchbox to Rhys. Without saying something he put it into his backpack.

"You already got the books." Rhys said.

"I hope they're the ones we need. I just got whatever sounds right." Feyre said.

He smiled at her as he sat opposite from her "They're perfect."

He took half of the book stack and slid a piece of paper towards Feyre. "I made a list yesterday about all the stuff we need, just look for it and write it out. It doesn't have to be pretty, we worry about presentation later."

Feyre nodded and pulled her half of the book stack to herself. They began working in comfortable silence, even if she felt Rhys watching a few times. She didn't care. She didn't say anything, kept her snarky comments to herself. He was her friend.

Feyre wasn't even halfway through her book stack when he took a book from her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I am done with my stack." he said. Feyre looked up from her notes. He was right, he was already done with his part. "Oh." Feyre said, looking at her books. Was she that slow?

"Don't worry." he said. "I didn't find much, you're writing more."

A look at his notes proved that that was a lie but she kept her mouth shut and they continued to work in silence.

"Rhys!" chirped suddenly a voice behind her. She turned around to see Mor coming to their table. She smiled brightly as she said "Hey Feyre."

"Hey." she said, trying to smile back. She talked to Mor sometimes during their english class. They were friendly but they weren't friends. Seeing Mor here, smiling at Feyre, she realized that that was probably her fault, too.

She turned to Rhys as she asked."I don't want to stress but are you done soon? Or do we have to call your mom to pick us up?"

"I told you to ask mom." Rhys said.

"I know." Mor said, sighing. "We just thought you'll be done a little earlier. Cassian gets hangry."

Rhys snorted. "We're not done yet, call mom."

"Alright." Mor said. As she fished her phone out of her pocket she smiled at Feyre "I like your braid."

Feyre touched her braid. She didn't put any effort into it, she just quickly braided it this morning. Still, she smiled at the sincerity in Mors tone and said "Thank you."

Mor smiled again and walked out of the library, already calling Rhys's mom.

"Talking of calling." Rhys said. "I need your phone number. So we don't have make super spontaneous plans here in school."

"I am alright with making super spontaneous plans." Feyre said.

"Then give me your number to talk about other stuff." he said.

Feyre sighed. "Alright." Rhys gave her his phone and she typed in her number. After that they worked through the rest of the books. Because it was already late when they finished, Rhys drove her home. Not much later she got a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: 'Hey, it's Rhys! Do you want to hang out tomorrow?'

Unknown: 'Not working on our project, just hanging out'

Feyre: Wow, you don't want to work on our project? That's crazy!

Rhys: Funny. We made good progress today, I don't see why we couldn't take a break.

Feyre wrote about 200 responses that she deleted again because they all sounded too excited. She ended up with

Feyre: Alright, sounds good :)

She put her phone away and sighed. Feyre stood up and began cleaning their apartment. It was already messy again because she wasn't home yesterday to clean. So, the little time she had before work she used to clean. In a unusually good mood this time.

[nakachuchu]

Cherry Lollipop | Fushiguro Toji

SYNOPSIS: Neighbors AU - Someone new moves into the neighborhood.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 1051

WRITTEN: 04/07/2021

NOTES: Thank you for requesting from my event! This was so fun to write. "Careful of wandering hands. I bite."

THE FIRST DAY

A new person moved into your neighborhood and they so happened to be your new neighbor.

You liked to eavesdrop, so you peered out your window to watch the moving van and the new owners.

You saw a man holding a child so you assumed he was the new neighbor since no one in their right mind would bring a child with them on the job.

He was lifting furniture with one hand while the other held onto the child. As if he noticed your staring, he turned toward you and grinned.

You immediately closed the blinds and breathed heavily to stop the hammering in your chest. It was absolutely embarrassing to be caught watching someone.

You headed to your kitchen after deciding last minute to bake something for your new neighbors.

Because of the child, you decided to make cupcakes with cherry frosting. You never had a child before but you knew most of them enjoyed sweets.

After dancing and singing around in your kitchen while baking, the cupcakes were finally done.

It took a while and the sun had already set, but it wasn't too late to gift the cupcakes to the new neighbors.

When you first moved to the neighborhood, you baked all night and gifted the various sweets to your neighbors the next day.

Your family always taught you to be kind and welcoming to everyone because you never knew what doors they could open for you.

As you grew up, you simply enjoyed giving people sweets because of the smiles on their faces.

You picked up the tray of cupcakes and headed out the door, crossing your lawn to make way to their doorway.

You rang the doorbell and waited patiently. When the door opened, you had to step back and tilt your head back to look at your neighbor.

"I baked cupcakes as a welcome to the neighborhood," you said. "I noticed you had a kid."

"You're the one who was peeping on us," he said with a smirk.

"I—I wasn't peeping," you defended. "I was glancing."

He laughed. "Sure, sure. What flavor are those?"

"Chocolate with cherry frosting."

"Well, my kid does like chocolate. Megumi, this peeping Tom brought you cupcakes," he said as the child wedged himself between his father's legs.

"I'm not a peeping Tom, you old man," you snapped.

You considered yourself a kind person, but you did have a mouth that ran wild at certain times, courtesy of your mother.

He raised an eyebrow. "Name's Toji. I'd prefer that over 'old man.' "

You huffed. "I'm Y/N."

"Old man, can I have a cupcake?" Megumi asked.

"Oi, don't call me that," Toji retorted. "And introduce yourself."

You snickered before extending your hands out. Toji took the tray of cupcakes from you and Megumi's eyes followed them.

"I'm Megumi," he said as he forced his eyes away from the tray of cupcakes.

"Well, it was nice meeting the two of you. I'll see you around, old man," you said as you bowed and walked away.

Toji hummed. "I'm not that old."

Megumi shrugged.

THE SECOND DAY

The next afternoon, you decided to go out to your patio to read a book in the sun.

Your eyes widened a bit when you saw Toji shirtless, working on his garden while Megumi read a book on the steps.

You quickly looked down at your book to distract yourself. You rolled the cherry lollipop around in your mouth, focusing on your romance novel.

"Up to no good?"

You jolted and the book fell out of your hands and onto your lap. Toji was standing outside the railing of your porch, resting his arms on it.

You took the cherry lollipop out of your mouth and licked it to get rid of the saliva.

"Up to reading," you corrected. "What are you up to, old man? Exercising to lengthen your old joints?"

"I'm still young."

"Sure, buddy. Did you need something?"

"Just came to check up on my neighbor like the kind person I am," he said.

"Somehow, I don't believe that."

THE THIRD DAY

You closed the door to your car, then opened the trunk to grab your groceries. A cherry lollipop was in your mouth, rolling around your tongue.

Cherry-flavored candy was your favorite. It helped you focus and if you were angry, you'd bite it instead of taking your anger out of something else.

Grocery bag in your arms, you walked up the steps to your house and stood there, trying to find your house keys in your back pocket.

"Hey, neighbor."

"GAH—" You slipped and would have fallen if Toji hadn't caught you. "God, don't do that!" you exclaimed. "You scared the life out of me, old man. Hey, Megumi."

Megumi hummed.

Your hand moved to wrangle yourself away, accidentally roaming Toji's chest and abdomen. Despite teasing and ridiculing him, you did not regret what you felt.

"Careful of wandering hands. I bite,” he said with a grin.

You turned to glare at him, but then he took the cherry lollipop out of your mouth and placed it into his. Your eyes widened and you smacked him on the chest.

Maybe you smacked him a bit too hard because your hand was stinging from how hard his chest was.

"Get your own!" you exclaimed.

"What did I just say?" he questioned. "I may bite you the next time you touch me. Don't tell me you're into that."

"I'll sew your mouth shut," you retorted.

"Feisty."

You rolled your eyes. "That was my last cherry lollipop too, ya know? You owe me a new bag."

"When most people say that, they're referring to high-end bags."

"Well, I want a bag of cherry lollipops. Think you can do that, old man?" you questioned.

"Careful there," he warned.

You huffed and turned around to put your house key into the slot. "You're not invited to dinner tonight, but Megumi is."

“I wanna go,” said Megumi.

“See? The kid has taste. What do you like? Steak? Have you ever had steak before?”

He shook his head.

“He’s getting steak,” you informed.

“What do I get?” Toji asked.

“I said you weren't invited.”

“That's not very neighborly of you,” he retorted.

“Fine, you can have steak but you're sitting at the kiddie table.”

[valberryy]

oh, eurydice (it's an awful sound). — venti

de l'autre côté de l'eau, comme un écho. / tu dis que c'est la fin du monde, c'est ton silence mon eau profonde.

um,, idk what to say cause i dont want this to b my venti summoning post but. anyways. also tagging @starfell-traveler look i finished it!!!! b proud of me /hj

pairing: venti x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions/descriptions of alcohol & blood/injuries, major character death, it's just heavy angst i'm sorry

one.

Venti still remembers the first time he heard you laugh, warm and clear and bright, like the chiming of cathedral-bells.

In those golden days when he was getting used to his new face, he often found himself wandering—much to the chagrin of his friends. If he wasn't in one of the many taverns of the newly-built Mondstadt, he was wandering these new, free lands.

And that was how he met you, the spritely scion of house Gunnhildr, who had strayed away from your envoy with a bottle of wine and leaves in your hair. He noted the mischief dancing in your eyes, the sunlight dappling on your skin, the way your mouth formed a small "o" when you saw you were not alone.

Your eyes had lit up when you caught sight of him. "Oh, my lord!" you called, "Fancy a cup and a chat, perhaps?"

Venti stood still for a moment to ponder your request, but at the sound of you popping the cork off the bottle and pouring it into a cup you had brought, he found his resolve weakening. He took a seat next to you as you pulled a stray leaf from your hair, taking a sip from your cup before passing it to him.

How brazen of you, he mused.

While cherry wine, in his opinion, could never hold a candle to the dandelion wine he had grown fond of, it tasted all the sweeter coming from you.

You had laughed at this sentiment of his, clear as the water from the lake nearby. "Is that so?" you asked. "Perhaps I'll bring some more of this kind especially for you, dearest bard."

Venti responded with a playful pluck at his lyre-strings. "I'd prefer if you called me by my name, young master Gunnhildr."

"And what would that be?"

Just as he was about to respond, the two of you caught wind of voices yelling out your name, and you flinched. "That must be for me," you said. "I shouldn't have expected to be able to hide forever."

He helped you stand, stretching out his arm to pull you up—your hand was soft and warm against his own, and the "thank you," that rolled from your lips made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to.

"I'd love to see you again," you said, and he smiled.

"You talk as if this is goodbye forever!" Venti joked. "We can meet here again, if you so wish."

"Then it is done," you said, and squeezed his hand as if in confirmation of your new arrangement.

And with the lightest press of your wine-stained lips to his cheek, you had run off without another word—only the sound of your distant laughter and, "Sorry, sorry! I'm back now, mother!" left in your wake.

two.

That promise had soon become habit, and habit a new way of life—one wherein you would sneak away from the rest of your family to rendezvous with Venti in the forest, to share wine and song and sweet, honeyed words alike.

(And as time wore on, you pressed your wine-stained lips to more places than just his cheek, and the cheeky bastard would have you do it again, and again, and again.)

"What d'you reckon your family would say if they figured out you were sneaking away for this?" Venti mused, "Like a hero in a romance novel."

With a laugh, you lay your head over his lap and smiled when his hand came to rest in your hair, his fingers gently playing with the strands. "Scold me, I suppose," you said. "There are worse fates than not being allowed outside for a month, my love." 

You plucked a stray dandelion out of his hair, blowing the seeds to the wind. 

"Hmm? And what would those be, I wonder?"

"...You're so infuriating, Venti," you grumbled, and he simply laughed and took another sip of wine—elderflower this time, tasting like spring upon his tongue. "I can't even dare imply that I want to be with you forever without you teasing me for it—what kind of lover are you? Hmph."

He paused, a teasing grin growing on his lips despite your previous words. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

An odd noise left your throat. "I mean," you said, "unless you want me to take your surname instead? ...Now that I think about it, Venti Gunnhildr doesn't quite sound the best."

A laugh, first from him, soon followed by one of your own. "Your family won't allow it, would they? But if the fates allow…there's nothing I'd love more than to be with you," he said. Gently he untangled his fingers from your hair, weaving his fingers between your own instead. "That is, if you want it too?"

A world of just you and him, a life where he would never have to stray far from your side—perhaps this was what Amos so desperately craved for, in those days. Venti watched as you removed the signet ring from your pointer finger and fit it snugly on his own, admiring your handiwork and smiling up at him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

three.

Somehow it felt odd to see you in clothes other than the casual attire he had always seen you in. When you were seated upon your horse like this, dressed in richly-dyed leathers and embroidered silks with your family crest hanging proudly from your breast pocket, you seemed much less like the cheeky [Name] that would pluck his lyre from his hands to play your own tune, and more like the young scion of house Gunnhildr that the rest of the world saw you as.

"I'm sorry, dearest," you said, your voice thick with regret. "They only told me about this last night, so I've had no time to tell you… And father wouldn't let me refuse, so—"

Venti laughed, "When did you become such a worrywart? It's only one round of hunting, right? I'll be waiting for you back here."

You huffed, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Then I'll be sure to hurry on back to you."

He pulled you back down for another kiss, square on the lips this time, before letting you go. "Don't miss!" he said, calling after your horse, to which you turned and yelled back at him,

"If I do, it's your fault!"

He laughed, settling down beneath a tree and closing his eyes. You'd be there to wake him when you returned.

When Venti awoke, it was not to your hand shaking his shoulder but to a thud and the worried whinnying of a horse. His eyes snapped open as you groaned, one hand clutching your stomach and the other propping you up. When you caught his gaze you smiled weakly, too much blood in your teeth and not enough light in your eyes.

"I'm back, dearest," you said, and he had stumbled over to catch you before your arm gave out.

He pressed down on your torso, where three large gashes ran down from your chest down to your stomach, large and jagged as if from the claws of a bear. You groaned in pain and he pressed a kiss to your hand in apology, your skin pale and clammy in a way that reminded him too much of harsh, cold winds and a boy with his lyre. 

"You should've seen me, Venti," you breathed, "I shot it right in the throat…are you proud of me?"

"Very," he said. "I'll always be proud of you."

You laughed, broken and pained and sad. "Good," you said, "good." Then you looked up at him, the tears welling in his eyes, the reality of his fate—your fate—finally looming upon him. "Don't look at me like that, love," you cooed. "Please, smile for me, okay? Sing for me…can you spare me at least that much?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "All of that and so much more, dandelion," he said. "Please…"

"So much more, huh…" you mused. "Then, how about one last kiss before I go?"

"...You talk as if this is goodbye," he says, but doesn't protest when you pull him down by the collar, your red-stained lips pressing weakly against his—

—But instead of the sweetness of wine, there was only the sharp bitterness of your blood in his mouth.

four.

"How far would you go for me?" was something Venti had thrown around a lot, never expecting you to give him a straight answer—not with how you shoved his shoulder and said, "Just because there wasn't a ceremony doesn't mean I'm not your spouse, Venti. Wouldn't the answer be obvious?"

But he still recalled the first time he had asked you and the first time you answered, your fingers tangled with his and your head buried in the crook of his neck. Your voice had been softer, gentler, lacking the playful edge but just as genuine as always, "From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest to the highest peaks in the sky," you said, "Until my hands wither away into dust."

"Maybe you're the bard instead of me, love," he had said, then.

In this new world without you he found himself clinging to whatever remnants of you he could—the dappled sunlight in the forest, the slightest sting of alcohol going down, the glint of your family crest on the ring that adorned his finger.

One of his many laments was how he could never mourn you in the way he felt you deserved—he had not the power to turn back time, lacked the dominion over anything static and permanent to immortalise you with. He only had his lyre and his voice and his winds, and all he could do was paint the skies grey in his grief, have the gales sing requiems that you would never hear.

From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest peaks in the sky he would go for you and back—and if the darkest depths of this world contained the secret to getting you back, perhaps even a mere spirit on the wind could bear the trek through the dark. 

(After all, Venti knew in his heart of hearts that you would have done the same for him.)

The heart of the Abyss wasn't a land of mindless bloodshed and fire—it was cold and calculating, like a predator lying in wait. It was this place, in the depths of Teyvat and in the winding depths of their palace, that he knew could somehow bring you back to him. 

"Are you the one for whom the skies wept, bard?"

Venti swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I am," he said. "I want a deal."

The person before him raised an eyebrow, canting their head to the side. 

"One life," they said, "and no second chances."

Cold, and calculating, and inevitable—but still he would try. Venti owed you at least that much, no?

five.

He squeezed your hand as you trailed behind him, muttering to himself: don't look back, don't look back, don't look back. No matter how much he longed to hold you, to see your face and feel your skin beneath his, he kept his gaze to his feet as you both moved onwards into the dark.

(When he saw you again, just as beautiful as the day he lost you, he dropped his lyre to run into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck and surrounding himself with only you, you, you. 

"Venti," you said, and he nearly wept at the way his name rolled from your tongue. "Let's go home.")

You squeezed his hand back, so gently that he almost couldn't believe you were really there. "Why don't you sing me a song, dearest?" you quipped. "Anything you like."

In spite of himself, in spite of the cold around him and behind him and in his own hand, he smiled. "Have I ever sung you the one with the mist flower and the sparrow?"

He heard you huff behind him. "That one again? You know how bad I am at hitting the notes in that!"

"Hmm, sure, sounds like an excuse to me…"

"Venti!"

He laughed and squeezed your hand again, as if to remind himself—you were here, and he was taking you home, and you would be able to feel the sun on your skin and taste wine from his cup in the way you had always loved. He would be able to write you songs and guide your hands across his lyre, and he need never stray far from your side.

You need never go somewhere where he couldn't follow.

"We're almost there," he said, resisting the urge to turn around to smile at you. "There's a bottle of wine waiting for us. It wouldn't do us any good to leave it for too long, you know?"

He squeezed your hand again, but you didn't respond.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. His footsteps hastened, quicker and quicker until he was near-running towards where he knew the surface lay. Had he been tricked? Were you never there all along? Had you gotten lost, or fallen, or left, and left some other person in your stead?

Anxiety clutched at his heart like brambles, and Venti found his mind wandering back to those days with the wintery winds and the friends he had lost to the storms. Not again, he prayed, please, never again.

He ran until his legs ached, ran until the first drop of sunlight finally kissed his skin, and he let go of your hand to turn around—

—to see your face still shrouded in darkness, your eyes wide, your hand still reaching out for him.

"What?" he breathed, "No, please, I can't lose you again—"

You smiled, and though your teeth weren't coated in blood and your body was free from any wounds, Venti's heart had sunk even further than when he had caught you that day. 

"No, love, please, I'm sorry—"

"Venti," you said, "I'll see you again soon, okay?"

"Please—"

"I love you." 

With whatever time you had left, you reached out further to brush the tips of your fingers against his cheek. "Smile for me, okay? Sing me one last song…" 

And before he could reach out to you again, you had once again gone somewhere he couldn't reach. 

(Yours was a song he sang without end, even when all of Mondstadt had forgotten your name—and even when he felt like he didn't deserve to bear your memory. 

On days when he uncorked a bottle of cherry wine or caught the Acting Grandmaster's eye, Venti found himself staring down at the ring you had placed on his finger in those golden days—and if he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to it the way you had done to him, he swears he can still hear your laugh, warm and clear and bright.)