#she keeps telling me ‘dogs are a lot of responsibility... are you sure you want one...?’

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before (Y/N) even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” (Y/N) shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” (Y/N) sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty was checking over his shoulder to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[egopathic]

nothing more irritating to me than slightly older friends who have lived pretty normal lives talking to me like i’m 7 and/or giving me life advice on things i’ve been dealing with forever and certainly never asked about.

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[haerinari]

See? It's because of you

pairing: roommate!jungwon x fem!reader

synopsis: Jungwon and you have been roommates for the past two years, even tho you had always find him cute, you didn’t take your shot because you were scared to make things uncomfortable. But all of this changes when he comes drunk into your apartment and confesses his love for you.

warnings: jungwon being drunk, cursing, kissing, nothings else just pure fluff.

want to keep reading? click here ⬇️

It was around 11:45 pm on a lonely friday in your apartment. You roommate, Jungwon, went out with his friends ours ago, and even tho he told you to come with them, the pressure of studying for exams didn’t allowed you to go.

“I can’t read anymore…” i said, holding my head between my hands. “Fuck chemistry, fuck biology, fuck physics.”

ding dong

It must be Jungwon, i thought.

“Jungwon?” no response. “Jungwon is that you? Are you back?” i asked again, just silence.

I got up from my chair and went to open the door, showing a really, really drunk Jungwon laying his head on the wall.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed with a big smile, hugging me tight and giving a kiss to my cheek.

“Wow, wow. Jungwon are you okay? You look really drunk.” his face was a little pale, his pupils were dilated, and every word i said, sounded like a joke to him.

“Yes —nOo— No, i mean yes.” he laughed. “Tayo almost killed me outside.”

“Wonie, what in the world is Tayo?” i asked, a confused look in my face.

“You know, Tayo… the car, vroom vroom.”

“Okey, yeah sure.”

“Oh, Y/N!” he exclaimed, hugging me tightly once again. “It’s so hard without you… i missed you soOoOooOO much.” Jungwon complained like a little child.

“What are you talking about? You’re super drunk Jungwon, how much did you drank?”

“Me? Drunk? NoOoOOooO” he slurred, shaking his head before resting it on ny shoulder. “I’m just… divine— I mean, fine.”

“Let’s go to your room, Wonie.” i said, trying to carry him by putting his arm around my shoulder and closing the door behind me. “I think you need some rest…”

Jungwon held into me tighter. “No Y/N, no bed~” he protested. “I wanna stay here with Y/N.”

“Jungw—”

“Talking about Y/N, have you seen her?” Jungwon asked, scanning the room. “She has like… long hair, beautiful dark brown eyes, she’s like, super pretty.” i blushed at his comment.

“Yang Jungwon, you need to lay down in here, and take a deep sleep.” i said sitting him in his bed. His head was moving in circles, his eyes were almost closed and his hair was messy on his face.

I sat next to him, trying to take off his jacket so he could go sleep only with his jeans and t-shirt.

“But i want to spend time with Y/N.” he mumbled, his head now resting on my shoulder. “WoOooOw, you really smell just like her…”

“It’s because it’s me, Wonie. I’m Y/N.” i giggled a little, i was worried about him, but it was also kinda funny seeing him like that.

“AaaAaAh~ You smell really good, Y/N.” Jungwon said, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“Thank you, i guess.” i smiled nervously.

“You know, can i tell you a secret?” he lifted his head, now looking at me with a silly expression. “Something only and you and me know?” Jungwon smiled widely, his face looking really cute in his drunken state.

“Hm, what is it?” i asked.

“Well, i think i like you. I, I think about you a lot.” he confessed, his face now starting to flush red. “Like, really a lot. And uhmm…” he paused. “And sometimes, I imagine -uh- hugging you, and -huh- holding hands, and… kissing.”

“Jungwon, you’re just drunk.” i said trying to stand from the bed but he caught my arm.

“N-no, i’m not!” his voice slurred. “I’m very serious, Y/N!” he grabbed my other hand and place it in to his chest, allowing me to feel his heartbeat.

“Jungwon…” he looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “See?” he asked softly. “It’s because of you.”

“I don’t think you’re thinking straight, Wonie, there’s a lot of alcohol in your body, your head must hurt like crazy.” i answered, stroking his soft hair with my hand.

“No!” he groaned, pulling you harder this time, causing me to fall into the bed. His arms instantly wrapped around my waist, making it difficult to move away.

“What are you doing?”

“I meant what i said.” he said, resting his head on my chest while still hugging me by my waist. “I just… I didn’t think i was capable of telling you before, so I thought that if I got drunk it’ll make things easier. Guess Jay hyung was right about this being a bad idea.”

“Do you… really like me?” i asked, not trying to scape from him anymore.

“Yes, absolutely yes, yes, and yes.”

“Well, i like you too Jungwon.”

“I know.” he simply replied giggling. “What!? How did you knew?”

“I’ve been living with you for the past two years, Y/N. I know everything about you. What you like, what you don’t like, how you react to situations, i know when you’re lying, your favorite color, your favorite food, and i for sure know when you look at me.” I blushed. “ You’re too obvious, and I know you didn’t told me because you were scared of making things weird between us.”

“Wow… you really know me, huh.” he smiled. “I do.”

“Just promise you won’t get this drunk again, at least you can talk properly now.”

“If you stay in my room tonight, i won’t drink a single drop of alcohol ‘till de day i die.”

“But— i have my own room, Wonie.”

“You can’t leave me alone, i’m a drunken boy who needs attention. If you don’t take care of me, i will scape jumping from my window.” i laughed.

“Okay, okay. Fine.”

Jungwon snugged closer to my body, his arms holding me tight while his head was resting on my chest. I started stroking his hair, trying to make him fall sleep quicker, he looked so peaceful like this.

“You’re so cute.” i whispered, thinking he was already fallen asleep.

“You’re cute too, Y/N.” he replied, his eyes still closed. “I thought you were already asleep.”

“I can’t sleep without my goodnight kiss.” he opened his eyes this time, tilting his head up a little bit and staring directly into mines.

“You want a goodnight kiss?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Are you gonna remember this happened tomorrow morning?”

“Absolutely, how could i forget when the most beautiful girl in this world kissed me?” i blushed.

“Oh, God. Stop.” i laughed.

“So..?”

My face moved closer to his and then our lips met in a sweet, quick peck, soft and tender, allowing me to taste the alcohol that remained on his lips. Jungwon was the first to pulled back just enough to look at my face, his smile wide and infectious, the joy of that innocent and quick kiss lighting up his face.

“Finally, now I can sleep as a happy man.” he said in a proud voice.

“Good night, Wonie”

“Good night, Y/N.”

[mr-cha-n]

The Pen Pal Project

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x reader

Genres: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Warnings: Profanities, sappiness, cheating (third party), a tinsy hint of angst

Word Count: 10.2k

Summary: Over a decade of handwritten letters later, you can happily say that the Pen Pal Project was your greatest success.

Reaching up into the top shelf of the wardrobe, toppling onto your tiptoes in order to do so, your fingertips brush against a satin, bowed box. Pulling the box down to your chest, you perch at the edge of your large, periwinkle-sheeted bed, gingerly untangling the pretty blue ribbon and lifting the lid off of the top. Leafing your fingers through the stacks of paper inside, you feel a wave of nostalgia enrapturing your body. Your head rolls back, eyes falling shut as your mind is overtaken by memory.

"Honey, the guests will be here soon!" Your husband yells out from down the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes! Can you take the cake out, my love?" You call back, praying you have the time to reminisce before everyone arrives.

You gently pull out the first letter from the top of the stack.

April 5th 2007

Dear pen pal,

I am writing to you because my class has signed up for the Pen Pal Project this year. Because I don't know who you are or anything about you, I am going to answer some of the questions my teacher has given us, and hopefully you can answer them too in your reply!

1. What is your name?

My mom said that I shouldn't give out any personal information, so I can't actually answer this question. My friends all call me Dusty, so you can call me that too.

2. What hobbies do you enjoy?

I am really into skating, starcraft, hockey and rocks. Yesterday, me and my friends went out to the outskirts of the city to see if we could climb the big oak trees, and I found a piece of dolomite next to the river! I really want to find a meteorite but they're very rare so I think it'll take a lot of searching. I also play in my school's field hockey team - my mom wants me to stop playing because last week I cracked one of my teeth, but I think she's going to come around when she sees our tournament next weekend.

3. What do you want to do when you grow up?

My dad is a teacher and my mom is a nurse, so my parents want me to go to university and become a doctor or a professor, but I'd quite like to be an astronaut or Indiana Jones, whichever pays better.

4. What's one thing you want to know about your pen pal?

I want to know everything about you (more than one, sorry)! What's your school like? What year were you born in (mine is 1995)? What do you do for fun? Do you like dogs? Do you have a phone?

I'm not sure if I'll get a response to this letter, but if you do want to, I hope we can keep in touch for a long time :)

Yours truly, 

Dusty

May 21st 2007

Dear Dusty,

I'm really glad I got your letter. Some of my friends got letters that didn't even have a return address, but thankfully I get to write back to you and answer some of your questions. I was also born in 1995 so we are same-age friends. I'm finding this year in school a bit harder because of all the tests we are doing, but we just started doing football again in Physical Education so it's not too bad. Sports are my biggest hobby - I do football and basketball and I want to start wrestling this year. I mostly like to go and play with my friends at the park. I'm on some of the school teams, but my friends tell me I'm too competitive to play professionally.

I also really like gaming and reading. I finished the Protoss campaign over the winter break, but I've had to stop now that school has started again. My friends are all really excited about the announcement of Starcraft II, are you too? Will you keep going with the original or switch to the new one?

When I grow up, I either want to do sports or I'll study to work a good job in business or finance. Being an astronaut would be so cool! You'd definitely be able to find a meteorite then.

About your other questions, I don't have a phone yet but I do love dogs. When I'm older I want at least one dog, if not more. Do you have any pets?

I hope that we can keep writing to each other too - it's fun to have a secret friend.

From,

Cherry

January 4th 2011

Dear Cherry,

Sorry it's been a while - I've been really busy over the winter break, but I just had my tonsils removed so I have a bit of free time in recovery to write this letter. Before you ask, no - I didn't wake up during the surgery which I was a bit disappointed about, but I did manage to swallow enough blood to make me throw up after waking up so that was kinda crazy.

I can't believe that your friend did that! One time my friend Jiwoo got suspended for unscrewing all of the lightbulbs in the science classrooms, but that was because of a dare, not her own free will! I've never been suspended before, but I came close for tardiness last year. Have you ever been suspended?

I also appreciated your inquiry into the Heiran - Hyunki situation. I can't believe I forgot to update you in my last letter, and you'll be glad to receive it! Unbelievably, they got back together. I know it's what we feared would happen, but apparently Heiran has made some of her own mistakes in the relationship, so she's willing to overlook the whole thing. Absolutely crazy - I think that she's just scared to break up with him, which I suppose is a fair concern - just not for a 16-year-old. The whole situation really made me think about the purpose of relationships and love. All of my friends keep rushing into relationships this year, and I feel like I'm being left behind. I just don't care as much as they do, but they act like I'm some alien creature for not wanting to make out with someone in the school locker rooms. Perhaps this isn't something you can relate to, but it would be nice to know if you think I'm justified in my opinion or if there really is something wrong with me.

The thought of starting school again after the break is actually making me want to run away to the mountains. My sister is leaving for university and I don't want to go to school without her. Of course, I can't tell her that, but it's going to be really lonely walking in on my own. Plus, my parents' attention is firmly on me now, so I can't mess up in exams this year. The amount of pressure is going to make my head explode. How are you feeling about the year? I guess because you have the football season to look forward to your mind is probably focused on that?

I'm thinking about rejoining hockey this year. Even though it was too much last year, I did really miss it and I think I can better manage my time now that I don't have to be in the choir anymore. I think my mom might have a fit when I tell her, but the way you talked about sports really made me miss playing. Plus, apparently, I need an outlet for all these teenage hormonal emotions seeing as I'm not getting it on in the McDonald's parking lot.

Anyways, I need to get going now so I have time to blend some fruit up before lunchtime.

Yours truly,

Dusty

A chuckle leaves your lips as you read back over your letter. You'd been so worried about who was dating who and, more importantly, who you weren't dating. You were always so grateful for someone to discuss your fears with - your friends at the time certainly didn't understand. You'd had your first kiss a few weeks after you'd sent the letter. A party at a friend of a friend's house had devolved into typical teenage party games and you'd been pressured into kissing a boy whose name you couldn't remember. In fairness, you remembered that he was cute - curly dark hair and sharp cheekbones - but you'd made a joke about not being able to engage in tonsil tennis and he hadn't laughed so you'd known he wasn't the one.

June 27th 2011

Dear Dusty,

I finally asked out Myunghee and she said yes -

Nuh uh, skip that one.

October 23rd 2013

Dear Dusty,

All the kids in the year have planned a big Halloween party to celebrate our last your of high school. It's pretty exciting - apparently, they've bought some major decorations and they're going to set out the host's house to have scary surprises in all the rooms. I wouldn't be surprised if someone dresses up and decides to chase drunk kids around all night. It's a bittersweet feeling - our last Halloween party, but perhaps our best? Do you have any plans for Halloween and the holidays? I'm thinking of doing a Superman costume, but I'm wondering if that's a bit too obvious?

I put off writing about it first because I didn't want to open the letter with bad news, but I wanted to let you know that me and Myunghee broke up. Even though it's pretty sad, I've known it was coming for a while. If you remember my last letter, I told you about the fight that we had about next year, and I think that was really the beginning of the end. I was hoping that we could make it work a bit longer, but she said that we'd just be dragging out the inevitable and I guess she's right. I think I'm still a bit annoyed about the rollercoaster of the last month seeing if she's known the whole time that we should break up but I'll get over it. It's mostly just weird not having her around all the time. Everywhere feels a lot emptier now. I'm glad I can write to you about this - it's a bit awkward talking about it with my friends because they are also friends with her, but I can actually be honest with you. 

Anyway, I hope you are doing a bit better than me. Your date sounded pretty cool - I've always wanted to go on an ice-skating date but I'd be a bit scared of falling over and making a fool of myself so I admire your confidence. If you are still seeing him, I hope he's treating you well. Chocolates and flowers at least once a month - and you can tell him I said so if he asks. If you're not seeing him, I (pre-emptively) can't believe he did that to you! What a jerk...

Are you watching the AFC Champions League final? A few friends and I are going to go down to the bar to watch it together and pray for a good result - either way, it should be fun. I suppose your dad will have it on in the house, but I'll be shocked if you tell me you're going to watch it with him after last time. Best to avoid the flying wrath of a TV remote. There's something about dads and sports, isn't there? I wonder if I'll be like that when I'm an adult. I hope not, but I already get too into it so maybe it's inevitable.

Yours,

Cherry

That date had been a good one as far as you remember, but the memory has become blurry after all the times your husband has taken you ice-skating since. You'd dated that guy for a few more weeks after this, but he made a weird comment to one of his friends when he didn't think you could hear it so you knew he wasn't the one.

Finishing high school and moving on to university had been a formative time for you. You gained a sense of identity that you'd lost as a teenager, and reconnected with your younger self. A smile crinkles your lips as you think about that time. The stupid escapades of adults let loose on their own for the first time, the lifelong friends you'd made, and the wealth of knowledge you'd gained about yourself and about the world. Your husband never attended university so he never experienced any of that, but you suppose he did have his own life-changing revelations during this time.

February 8th 2015

Dear Cherry,

I'm in crisis and I need your advice! I haven't spoken to anyone else about this yet, but I have a feeling building in me that needs to be released and you always give me the best advice. I'm thinking about dropping out of my program. 

I know this sounds super rash and stupid, but I really hate it. I find it so dull and confusing, and everyone else is much better at it than I am. And, if I'm really being honest, I only chose medicine because my mother wanted me to. I would feel so stupid revealing that to anyone else, but I think you already knew that was the case. I'm struggling to keep going with it without the passion that other students seem to have, and when I hear about my friends' courses they sound so much more interesting.

If I actually go through with it, this may be the last letter I write to you. But, given that I survived my mother's wrath, a life studying literature or archaeology sounds so much more fulfilling to my brain even if not my pockets. What do you think about all of this? Is it worth following a passion that may lead to nothing or sticking it out with a stable, reliable path to future success without enjoyment?

As you know, I make very impulsive decisions, so I need your help in deciding whether or not this would be one of those.

Yours truly,

Dusty

P.S. I got asked to the dance by this really attractive guy who works at the coffee shop on campus so not everything is going wrong.

P.S.S. I found a rock which I thought was a meteorite but it was actually a magnetite - better luck next time!

You'd dropped out of your medicine major the moment you'd received the reply. Of course, your pen pal was a lot more supportive of your decision than your parents were but they got over it in time. Your fate had been decided the moment you'd stepped out of your first archaeology class - heart beaming and mind brimming with all of your plans for the future. Despite your parents' apprehensions, it had been the right decision. It didn't take long for your burning enthusiasm and insatiable appetite for learning to be picked up by your professors, and by your second year in the major you'd been invited on an exclusive trip one of your professors was going on with a handful of other students. 

It was around this time that you'd started wondering more about your pen pal. The flutters of your heart each time the small envelope appeared in your dorm pigeonhole had been drowned out by the rush of university life. Reflecting back, your obliviousness to your own emotions makes you shake your head in disbelief. But then, you'd met Daejung. He'd taken you out dancing, brought you flowers and laughed at your jokes, and you began to wonder if he was the one.

May 16th 2017

Dear Dusty,

Officially, you may know me better than anyone else. I know I already sent you a letter this month that you probably haven't even received, but I realised that it is the tenth anniversary since I received your first letter. Not to be soppy, but it truly means the world to me that we've been able to keep up this correspondence this whole time. 

As far as I'm aware, we won the Pen Pal Project. No one else I know stayed in touch with their childhood pen pal for nearly as long as we have, and I think that we deserve some kind of reward for it.

But, beyond any records we must have broken, I'm most grateful for the friendship we have developed. In any other circumstances, I would have said that it was impossible for people who have never met to be each other's closest confidants, but I can confidently say that there is nothing I wouldn't tell you. If it turns out you've been some 60-year-old man this whole time, consider me logged off from this life. 

My wish is that we can keep doing this for as long as we are able to hold pens in our hands, and even then I'd consider getting a scribe to write the letters for me.

As a gift, I feel that it's about time that I tell you my name - my real name. If you (and your mom) still don't feel comfortable sharing yours then Dusty is still perfectly fine for me, but the fundamental disconnect between telling a person your deepest secrets and not telling them your name has gotten too overwhelming for me, so it's time to rectify that.

Yours, 

Seungcheol

P.S. If you still want to call me Cherry that's also a-okay!

The first time Seungcheol revealed his name to you, you remember you'd dropped the letter in shock. As if knowing his name changed things, as if he didn't live a completely separate life from you already. It wasn't like knowing who he was would change anything about your life - you had no connection to him other than your letters - but the intimacy of his name had you staggering a few steps backwards, eye bulging from your head at the fallen letter. It seems rather overdramatic now, but in hindsight it always does.

This letter had been a bit of a turning point in your relationship, beyond the end of the nicknames you'd used for ten years. You'd always felt close enough to Seungcheol to pour your heart out to him in writing, but the closeness you felt was compounded in this letter. You wipe a few rogue tears from your eyes as you read back over it, moved by the raw declarations Seungcheol had been brave enough to express. If you really think about it, this letter was the first time you'd truly tried to picture what your pen pal looked like. Up until this point, you'd been enflamed by his words and unloaded all of your deepest thoughts to him in return, but this was the first time that you'd realised that your pen pal was a real man your age that you were already deeply connected to. The thought had been scandalous in your mind, and the shame that overwhelmed you when you'd met up with Daejung later that day made it hard to look him in the eye. Fantasising about a man you had never seen before had felt as bad as cheating, and the various forms of him that had appeared in your dreams for the rest of the week only compounded your guilt.

August 4th 2018

Dear Seungcheol,

Happy 24th Birthday! It's actually shocking to me to think that we're this old already, but I think mid-20s is a label that suits you well these days. Jokes aside, I hope you have a really lovely day doing whatever it is you have planned. I'll assume you're off bungee jumping with Jeonghan or on an all-inclusive golfing retreat until you tell me otherwise. In all cases, I hope that you are surrounded by friends and family to remind you how special you are.

Also, congratulations on your new job! I can't believe you didn't tell me that you were interviewing for it, but I suppose you didn't want to jinx anything by putting it into writing. I always thought that coaching would suit you - you could scare me into coming to practice any day! You should be really proud of yourself; I know that I am.

You'll never guess who got in contact with me this week! All out of nowhere, I got a message from Heiran of all people inviting me to her and Hyunki's wedding! I guess I was really wrong about that one... For their sake, I hope that their relationship is a bit better than it was in school. I was very surprised to be invited seeing as we haven't spoken in years, but I suppose it'll be nice to see everyone from school again. Perhaps I should tell Daejung that he can't come and you can be my plus one instead - I think you know the couple better than he does!

Another one of my friends just gave birth to a baby boy. All of this marrying and birth-giving is really screwing with my head. As far as I was aware, that's a thing that proper adults do and we're nowhere close to that yet. Even if I know that 24 is a very common age to be doing that stuff, it's still more than my brain can process. Once again, I am left behind as everyone else moves on to the next stage of life. I'm grateful, at least, that Daejung is pretty relaxed about all of that stuff. Hoping we can have a few more years before we start thinking about any of it - I still have so much travelling to do, things to see, and meals to eat before I flush all of my money down the toilet.

Jiwoo got really excited this week because she thought she saw Lee Byunghun walking past her work, so that made me feel a bit better about my life priorities.

Yours truly,

(Y/n)

P.S. I'm spending extra money to make sure this gets to you on time, so if it doesn't you cannot blame me.

P.P.S. My new address is - XXX

That year you and Daejung had finally moved in together. The apartment was small and in a less-than-nice area, but you'd been ecstatic at the chance to live with the man you loved. It had been a rough year before that - Daejung had missed out on a job offer for his dream role and you weren't able to go abroad on an excavation because he didn't want you to leave for months just as you were moving in together - but you'd seen the new apartment as symbolic of the new beginning you two would get together.

You'd also thought a lot about meeting up with Seungcheol that year. Looking back, it was crazy that you never did. Both of you expressed a will to do so, but something had always prevented you from actually doing it. You were completing your postgraduate degree part-time and working a service job that was supporting both you and Daejung at the start of the year, moving in together in the middle of the year, and Seungcheol had gotten busy with his new job in the latter half of the year. Even though you had never met up before, that you weren't able to that year was the first time it felt like a loss.

December 12th 2019

Dear (Y/n),

I've been thinking about you a lot recently. Writing to you has been the highlight of my month for a while now, and I'm so proud of you for everything you've achieved. It's amazing that you're already being asked to go on your first excursion as a proper expert, and I hope that Daejung comes around to the idea of you being away for so long. I'm sure that I'll miss your letters so I can imagine he's feeling much worse about it - but that shouldn't stop you from going. You might find an ancient vase and accidently release a curse upon the world, or discover a new dinosaur! Even if you go and are just digging up dirt with no results, I'll still be impressed.

One of the kids I mentor asked me if I knew what Starcraft was yesterday, and at that moment I really felt my age. I think it's led to some level of introspection I usually avoid, but one thing that has become clear to me is that I'm very grateful for this friendship. I hope that one day soon you can perhaps travel to Daegu and visit, or I can come see you in Seoul. Or perhaps it will take away the great fun of having a pen pal if we meet - you may be expecting someone completely opposite from me and seeing me may ruin the magic?

But the main reason I've been thinking about you is because I finally finished Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. You were very correct in your recommendation - I can't believe it took me so long to read it! Summary of thoughts: I'm raging and also apologising to my mother and grandmother every time I see them. You have to send me another recommendation now that I'm finished - maybe some sort of mystery or thriller if you know any?

Yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. I suppose I should send you a whip and brown fedora and then you can officially say you're Indiana Jones. 

January 7th 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I'm glad you had fun on your trip! The picture you sent of the mountains was absolutely gorgeous and was a hilarious reminder that I have no idea what you look like. I keep saying I want to go to Japan but can hardly find the time, but after seeing the picture I really must go now.

I have some big news.

Daejung proposed and we're getting married!! 

I know it's a bit out of the blue - I was surprised too. He's been putting off any mention of marriage for the last few months so I assumed he just wasn't interested but I guess that was all a cover to stop me from suspecting the proposal. It happened a few days after I got back from Vienna. It was really sweet - he threw this big party with all of our close friends and family to celebrate the end of my project and proposed at the end of the night. I was pretty shocked which I suppose was the point, but I'm really just excited that we're taking that step together.

My main purpose for writing is that I wanted to invite you to the wedding. It's a big step, but it wouldn't feel right to get married without one of my oldest friends there. If you decide you don't want to and you want to keep our friendship strictly on paper then I'd totally understand. But if you do want to come, we'd love to have you with us. I'll cover any travel and hotel fees if it means I can have you here.

Your continued support via letter means the world to me. 

Yours truly, 

(Y/n)

The wedding. Oh, the wedding.

A few nights before your wedding Daejung had come to the hotel you'd been staying in that week to finalise all of the preparations and observe some old-fashioned pre-wedding rituals your mother insisted on as if you and Daejung hadn't lived together for years before that. He'd given you a marriage gift a bit early because you were supposed to go straight to your honeymoon in Japan on the day of the wedding. Your heart fluttered in excitement as you opened the box, electrified at the surprise of what your future-husband could have gotten you to symbolise your union together. The reality had been, you could now admit, disappointing. The necklace had been pretty, and certainly not cheap. A silver heart set with a gleaming diamond to match the ring that Daejung had picked out for you. You'd smiled, thanking him for the gift and tried to ignore the discontent brewing in your own heart.

The first time you saw Seungcheol was at your wedding reception. Because of his job and the distance, he hadn't been able to make your morning ceremony, but the fact that he even chose to come all that way meant a lot to you.

"Who's the hunk with the green scarf?" One of your bridesmaids, Jiwoo had asked, pointing out a man standing alone by one of the drinks tables. 

For a moment you didn't want to believe that it was him, but who else would be at your wedding that you didn't recognise? Tall and broad with fluffy hair and a handsome-beyond-belief face, Seungcheol had been a picture to witness. All dressed up in a suit, you thought he looked rather like a super spy or a CEO from one of those corny romance books. In any case, you were shocked to your core that that was the man you'd spilt your darkest secrets to for over a decade now.

"Oh, I think that might be Seungcheol," You breathed, voice wavering with uncertainty even though you were now certain it was him.

"Seungcheol - hmm, why does that name sound so familiar?" Your other bridesmaid, Mirae, pondered, her brow crinkled as she tried to identify the name in her memory.

"Oh my god, you invited your pen pal to your wedding?!" Jiwoo exclaimed, spinning on her heel to give you an incredulous look. 

"Of course I did, I've known him for almost as long as I've known you!" You stuttered, your head still trying to play catch-up after the dizzying appearance of said topic of conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me that your pen pal was so hot?" Mirae scoffed, mock fanning her face in a way that made you feel shamefully irritated.

"Surprisingly, he didn't mention it in his letters." You responded, offering her a deadpan look and an eyebrow raise. She shrugged, but you'd known that wouldn't be the end of that conversation.

About 15 minutes later, you'd finally managed to make your way over to Seungcheol's perch. It was hard to decipher if your delay was because of all of the people trying to talk to you at the same time (perks of it being your wedding) or because of the unexplained fear and anxiety that was bubbling inside you at the prospect of finally meeting him face-to-face. As you finally made eye-contact, and he'd flashed his teeth at you in an infectious grin, you'd felt all of that melt away from you.

"Hi," You greeted, not able to wipe your own smile from your face.

"Hi," He responded, a peace settling between the two of you. "You look really beautiful."

Your face was all ablush and you felt a sense of dread at what would happen if you started like this. Starting down at your dress, you were unable to look back up at him.

"Thank you, I had it specially made," You smiled, your eyes gleaming as he chuckled at your joke. "I really appreciate you coming all this way, it means so much to me that you're here. Please let me know if there's anything you need - have you eaten yet? I can get you some-"

"It's okay, I'm feeling great." His hand reached out to still your own, which you hadn't realised was nervously picking at at skin around your nails.

"I can't believe that this is how we're first meeting," You breathed, a sense of shyness overwhelming you at the feeling of his skin against yours.

"If you ask me, we've definitely met before. Just not physically." His words had your head spinning so much that you were struggling to remember that you were both at your wedding.

"Poetic," You agreed, trying to present at least outwardly calmer than you felt inside. 

"Oh! Before I forget, I got you this." Seungcheol extended a hand out with a small, wrapped box in his palm. "It wasn't on the registry, and really it's only for you so I thought I should give it to you personally instead of putting it on the gifts table."

"That's really generous of you, you didn't have to." You offered him a shy smile, taking the gift from him. The neatly wrapped box had been laced shut with a pretty blue ribbon, and you remember the thumping of your heart in your chest as you undid it. A small gasp involuntarily left your mouth, your hand moving to cover it in shock. 

"Important backstory - I found it a few years after you told me you were looking for it. I wanted to just send it to you then, but I thought that I should keep it for when we met. I never thought that it would take so long to do so, but I hung on to it just in case."

A small chunk of dark meteorite sat in the box in your hand. Looking up and down between Seungcheol and the rock, you felt your eyes well up with tears that you had to force back down to not ruin your wedding makeup.

"Oh wow," Your voice cracked, "Seungcheol, this is seriously so sweet. I'm shocked that you kept this for me."

You felt unable to tell him all of your emotions, hoping that the gratitude in your eyes was enough to express them all to him. The sweet, adoring expression on his face told you that he understood without you needing to say any more.

That, unfortunately, had been the highlight of your wedding.

Not an hour later, it had all gone to shit, starting with a well-intentioned comment from your best friend.

"The wedding is so gorgeous (Y/n), I'll have to take notes for my own." Jiwoo gushed, pointing at all the flowers that had now been revealed as people moved into the outside area of the venue.

"I know, Daejung did a really good job picking out this place." 

"I'm so happy for you two, especially after the whole Vienna situation."

A bolt of alarm rang through your bones as you a struck still by the comment. You didn't miss the panicked look Mirae sent Jiwoo, who looked equally as confused as you felt.

"What-" You tried to compose yourself amongst the rushes of fear that were threatening to render you completely useful. "What do you mean the Vienna situation?"

Jiwoo was now floundering, looking between you and Mirae with a gaping mouth.

"I just meant - I mean, nevermind - I thought... I thought you knew?" The last whispered part had your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. Mirae was refusing to meet your gaze, and that was telling you all you needed to know.

"Did something happen when I was away?" You demanded, your voice slick with emotion.

"(Y/n)..." Mirae started, but the withering look you gave her immediately stopped her placating.

Four words later and your entire life had exploded. He cheated on you. Whilst you were away, no less. And then, as if it would magically make everything better, proposed instead of telling you.

The look on your then-husband's face when you stormed up to him demanding to know the truth was enough to convince you of the reality of your friend's words. You could now admit, amidst all of the hurt, anger and disgust you felt towards Daejung at that moment, your overriding emotion was utter panic at the thought of having to tell all of your guests that the wedding was to be stopped and annulled. A trivial emotion amongst the personal grief you were experiencing, but undoubtedly the cause of your greatest distress at the moment.

You didn't see Seungcheol as or after it all happened. Any pretence of calm instantly slipped the moment you began speaking to your family and friends - a speech which ended with you in floods of tears being escorted away from the hosts of shocked guests. It was only hours later that you realised that you hadn't said goodbye and, worse, that you'd invited him all of this way just to witness the shitshow that was your failed marriage. Too ashamed to burden him further, you chose not to write to him for months afterwards He gave you space too, and you weren't sure if you felt grateful for it or utterly alarmed that he may just never want to speak to you again.

May 6th 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I'm deeply sorry for my complete silence, although I suppose I do not need to explain to you the reason for it. My hand has been itching to pick up my pen and write to you every month that goes by, but only now have I overcome my own shame and disgrace to do so. First of all, I have to sincerely apologise for making you waste your time coming to such an awful event. I can only hope that you managed to get a slice of cake before it all fell apart so that I could at least offer you the condolence of a delicious snack. I also must apologise for completely abandoning you during your trip to the city. I was really looking forward to showing you my favourite spots, and I let my own misery get in the way of being a good host.

I hope you are well. As I haven't heard from you in a little while, I don't know what's going on with you so I have little to comment on. But, at the very least, I wish for your good health and general happiness. If you are worried about me, you don't need to be. I have taken the last few months to put my life back together, and I feel like I'm making better progress these days - hence the letter writing. I'm thinking of getting a dog for companionship since I have vehemently sworn off men for the foreseeable future.

I also wanted you to know that I treasure your gift. As it turns out, meeting you and getting a meteorite was the best part of that night, if you'll believe it. I have it kept in a special box on my desk just to make sure that it's safe and that I'll never lose it. I wish I could have given you something in return. If we end up meeting again I'll have to start planning now to make sure my gift is just as good as yours was. Speaking of, you are welcome to come and stay with me any time you want, and we can rain-check that city tour. Alternatively, if you want to ignore this letter and never speak to me again, I'd also understand.

Yours truly,

(Y/n) 2021

May 19th 2021

Dear (Y/n),

I'm so glad to have heard from you, and that you are doing okay. As much as I appreciate all of your apologies, none of them are necessary. If anything, I feel that I should be apologising to you for leaving you in the dark for just as long as you left me - you had a much better excuse too. Although I didn't want to overwhelm you with letters after such awful news, I realise now that leaving it so long was not the right course of action.

I think getting a dog is a fantastic idea. Company is something you'll never lack with a dog around, and I can agree that dogs are much better companions than men.

As for me, I am doing well too. It's mostly just been a cycle of work and sleep, so I haven't got much to report, but I'm hoping for a more eventful summer. Visiting the city would be a wonderful way to achieve this, so perhaps closer to the time I'll write again to arrange coming to stay with you. I would love to see you again soon. My only other news that I know you'd be interested in is that Jeonghan has seemingly met someone. He's keeping all of the details close to the chest, so I'll have to update you in the next letter when I know more, but it's an exciting revelation. He seems very happy, which is all I can hope for.

When I told you that I wouldn't stop writing to you until I could no longer hold a pen in my hand, I meant it. I hope that you will never again think that I wouldn't want to speak to you -it's the highlight of my day.

Yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. I'm sure you don't want to talk about the wedding, but just so you know - he was a fucking fool to let you go.

You remember the relief you'd felt at getting that letter. The uncertainty of whether or not Seungcheol still wanted to talk to you was enough to keep you on edge for the entire 13 days that it took for you to get his response. But, as always, your friend was reliably there for you.

The time you'd taken over those last new months, and the few months afterwards had been tumultuous, but cleansing. In your post-marriage clarity, you'd realised all of the opportunities you'd missed because of Daejung. Deciding that you wouldn't let him take anything else from you, you'd arranged to go on a long excursion you'd waved off for wedding planning when you'd first heard about it. Learning about the project from one of your old professors who'd transferred to Cairo University, you were offered a position on the ongoing expedition in Saqqara. Although Egyptology was not your speciality, your master's dissertation on the mummified scarab beetles found at Saqqara in 2018 and your tutor's reference got you onto a low-level position on the expedition.

Six months in Egypt had been exactly what you needed to move on from Daejung. At that time, your relationship with your closest friends was also on the rocks, and it was really only Seungcheol and your family that you missed during your time abroad.

December 23rd 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I've finally got some time off over the holiday break, and I'm ready to give you the download of everything that's happening here in Saqqara! But, first, I'm going to have to beg you for the details of your double date with Jeonghan and Jooyeon. How was it!? Was Jooyeon's friend nice? Were there sparks? How many times did Jeonghan bring up embarrassing stories about you as a kid?

I hope it went well - you deserve all of the happiness in the world.

Now, onto the important stuff!

I'm not sure if you saw on the news, but we've made some pretty huge finds since I got here, Obviously, I can't give myself all the credit, but just being part of the team that made it happen is pretty incredible. We've found multiple tombs of dignitaries from the reign of Ramses II. I'm doing a bit of research on one of the tombs, belonging to a military leader called Hor Mohib, but I have to keep taking breaks every 20 minutes to pinch my arm and remind myself that this is reality.

My Arabic has gotten significantly better now - I was rather rusty when I first got here. I'm able to have reasonably complex conversations with the Egyptian members of the team and the locals helping out, and it's pretty cool for my nerd brain to be surrounded by a group of people equally as excited to be digging up ornamental graves as I am.

I'm really glad I came. It's hard to admit, even to you, but my life really fell apart after the wedding. Honestly, I didn't even know if I wanted to keep working in archaeology or if I wanted to jet off to Iceland and buy a farm. And the worst bit is that it's been so lonely since. Losing Daejung was one thing, but I haven't spoken to Jiwoo or Mirae since. I can't bear to look at them knowing that they hid that secret from me for so long. Maybe one day I'll be able to forgive them, but it certainly won't be now. Your letters have been my only sanctuary of human connection in these past few months, and that's something I'll have to add to my list of neverending gratitude I hold for you.

I realize now that I haven’t been very good at expressing how much your friendship means to me, how it's been my lifeline in this mess. Your letters are the only constant, the only thing that feels like home even when I am surrounded by ancient wonders and new colleagues.

And so, I have a confession. I want to see you again. I want to tell you all of this in person. I can't say what will come of it, but I know that after all of these years, after all the letters and confessions and secrets shared, we owe it to ourselves to meet in a way that isn't rushed or overshadowed by anything else.

Maybe we could meet halfway between Seoul and Daegu, or I could take the train down to visit you? I need to see you again, not as a guest at my ruined wedding, but as Seungcheol, the one person who’s known me at my best and worst, and still chooses to write back.

Let me know what you think.

Yours truly, 

(Y/n)

P.S. I've included a small rock I found on the dig - nothing special but it reminded me of our old conversations. I hope it makes you smile.

P.P.S. Please don't feel pressured to say yes, but know that I would really like to see you again.

You can't quite recall what possessed you to write such a bold letter. Perhaps it had been the desert sun, the thrill of discovering something new in something old at Saqqara, or simply your immense loneliness.

Days had turned into weeks as you anxiously waited for a response, checking your makeshift mailbox daily. Then one morning, there it was—a simple white envelope with Seungcheol’s familiar sloping handwriting.

January 17th 2022

My Dear (Y/n),

I've thought about meeting you countless times since our first encounter. After reading your words, I realise that I've been waiting for this just as much as you have. How's this - I'll take the first train up to Seoul when you're back and we can spend the day together. No distractions, no interruptions - just you and me, finally getting to know each other beyond the pages of our letters.

I'm looking forward to me, more than I can express. Until I see you again, take care, and know that I'm counting down the days.

All yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. the best bit about the date was spending time with Jeonghan. No more needs to be said.

You stare down at the letter, your heart pacing as fast as it had the first time you'd received it. Beautiful words from a beautiful man with a beautiful soul.

You'd gotten back to Seoul by the end of March 2022, and, as promised, Seungcheol came to visit you that first weekend in April. When he'd stepped off the train in the bustling station at the heart of the city, you were there to greet him. You'd spotted him standing there, taller even than you'd remembered, with that same easy smile that had always leapt off of the page.

The world around you had seemed to blur as you walked toward each other, nerves fluttering in your stomach but quickly dissolving as he pulled you into a gentle, lingering hug. The connection between you, once confined to words on paper, felt more real than ever.

You spent the day wandering through the city, visiting old bookstores, sipping coffee in quiet cafes, and talking as if no time had passed since that fateful wedding reception. Every shared laugh, every story swapped, deepened the bond you'd forged in ink.

June 14th 2022

Seungcheol,

It feels like only yesterday that we were wandering through Seoul together, but at the same time, it feels like a lifetime ago. I keep finding myself replaying that day in my mind - how easy it was to talk to you in person, as if we'd done it a hundred times before. It's strange, isn't it? How someone can feel so familiar, even when they're a whole new experience at the same time.

I've been thinking about our conversation in the bookstore. You said something about how some stories are better left unfinished, that sometimes the best part of a tale is imagining what could be. I can't stop thinking about that - about how some stories do need an ending, and how others are meant to keep going, even if we don’t know where they’ll lead.

There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I haven't found the right words yet. I guess I'm still figuring it out myself. It's just that being around you feels different to how I expected. There's a comfort, yes, but also something more, something I can't quite define. It's like we're on the edge of something new, and it's exciting and a little terrifying at the same time. I'm not sure if you feel it too, but I hop you do.

Anyway, I don't want to get too ahead of myself as usual. I'm just really glad we've reconnected, and that we've managed to keep in touch after all these years. 

It means more to me than I can say. Let’s make sure our next meeting isn’t too far off—I’m already looking forward to it.

Until then, take care of yourself, and don’t work too hard. I’ll be watching the clock until I see you again.

Yours, 

(Y/n)

That day in April 2022 hadn't been the last time you saw Seungcheol. You'd made that mistake once in the past, and neither of you was willing to do so again. He continued to come to Seoul to see you, and you travelled down to Daegu to meet him and his friends. Your letters ceased for a while over this time due to the frequency you were seeing each other, but for the first time that didn't bother you.

You remember, with teary eyes, the day that you finally confessed your feelings.

It was 25th September 2022, after a whole summer spent together, and the air was tinged with the first hint of autumn's chill. THe leaves were just beginning to turn, painting the streets in warm hues of amber and crimson as you walked side by side in a quiet part in Seoul. The easy laughter and conversation that had marked your friendship over the years felt heavier that day, as it something unspoken was lingering in the crisp air between you.

You had spent countless days together that summer - visiting museums, trying new restaurants, even embarking on a spontaneous week trip to the coast. Each moment with Seunngchaeol had felt like a dream, a slow realisation that your heart was no longer just content with friendship. But with that realization came a fear you hadn't expected. What if this was enough for him? What if risking everything by confessing how you truly felt would unravel the beautiful bond you had spent so many years cultivating?

That evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the park, you found yourselves sitting on a bench overlooking a small pond. The water was still, reflecting the fiery colours of the sky, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Seungcheol had been quieter than usual that day, his expression pensive as if he, too, was wrestling with unspoken thoughts.

You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat louder than the last as you tried to summon the courage to speak. The words were caught in your throat, but the fear of losing him if you didn’t say them was stronger. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, you turned to him, your voice trembling as you broke the silence.

"Seungcheol," you began, your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. He turned to look at you, his eyes soft and attentive, encouraging you to continue. "There’s something I need to tell you… something I’ve been feeling for a while now."

His gaze didn’t waver, but you noticed the slight hitch in his breath, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the bench. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, everything else fading away as you gathered your thoughts.

"I—" You paused, trying to find the right words, but there were none that seemed adequate to express the depth of your feelings. "I think I’ve fallen in love with you."

The admission hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that you could no longer take back. For a moment, time seemed to stop, the world holding its breath as you waited for his response. You searched his face for any sign of what he might be thinking, every second feeling like an eternity.

Then, without a word, Seungcheol reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your cheek. There was a tenderness in his touch, a warmth that radiated through you, calming your racing heart.

"I’ve been waiting to hear those words," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Because I’ve been feeling the same way for a long time too."

His words washed over you, a wave of relief and joy so overwhelming that you felt your breath hitch. You had been so afraid, so uncertain, and now, with his quiet confession, all those fears melted away. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you needed to, but you didn’t. You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender kiss that felt like a promise—one of many yet to come.

Hearing the doorbell ring down below you, and the sound of your husband's voice calling out to say he'll get it, you rush forward to reach your favourite letter - just one more before you return to reality.

November 3rd 2023

My dearest (Y/n),

I'm so glad you're having such a good time in Rome - I'm rather jealous of all of your sightseeing and pasta-eating. Kkuma and I are holding the fort down at home, although I had to be scolded yesterday for breaking the toaster when I tried to make Kkuma some breakfast. I sent some more suncream over in the mail because I know you've already run out and forgotten to get some more - I'm not sure if this letter will reach you first, but if it does look out for the parcel.

Now, I'll admit, the main purpose of my letter is something a little different than simply catching up, as much as I love those letters too. I thought about doing this once you returned home, but you've already had one man declare his everlasting intentions to you after you returned from an excursion, so I thought it better to avoid rehashing those memories (we'll do this again when you're home, but I thought it might be fun to do it this way).

If you have the suncream box already, then you may have a sneaking suspicion of what I'm about to say.

I've loved you for as long as I've known you. As a twelve-year-old kid, I didn't know that was what it was, but the level of obsession I had with writing to you and receiving your replies was beyond any normal friendship. You were always so fascinatingly cool, out of reach, and genuinely yourself. Being in love with your pen pal isn't always an easy thing - the cold sweats I would wake up to after dreaming about meeting for the first time, the constant updates about a life that I wasn't a part of, the announcement of your engagement to another person. I tried to pretend it wasn't real for a long time, see other people, because of how silly I felt about being in love with someone I'd never met.

And then I saw you standing there, in that beautiful white gown with your hair up and that gorgeous smile on your face. Did you know that my hands were sweating when I gave you that gift? I don't think I've ever told you that before. I became certain then that I was completely screwed. Entirely head over heels.

I'll never be happy that that marriage didn't work out for you - all I've ever wanted is your happiness, be that with me or someone else. But I won't lie and say that nothing has made me happier than the consequences of it.

This past year has been the happiest time I've ever known. Every moment with you is filled with such joy, and every moment without I'm left with a record of memories to remind me of the time we've had together. When I look at you, I don't just see my past, but also my future. I see a lifetime of shared experiences, of laughter, or quiet moments that mean more than words ever could. I see us growing old together, supporting each other, and playing trash hockey on the wooden floor of our kitchen.

You are my best friend, my partner, the love of my life. And I want to spent every day making sure you know just how much you mean to me.

So, that being said, will you (Y/n) (Y/l/n), do me the honour of marrying me?

All yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. Please don't feel pressured to say yes, but know that I would really like it if you did.

You fiddle with the precious ring on your left hand, your fingers lingering over the smooth chunk of dark stone in the centre.

A gentle brush of a hand on your shoulders brings you back to the real world, tears now flaking on your cheeks as you sniffle at the words on the page.

"Are you okay, darling?" Seungcheol asks gently.

"Yes, sorry, I know the guests are here now - I just wanted to look at these," You reply, holding up the letters for your husband to see.

You watch his expression soften, a suggestion of moisture in the corner of his eyes as he looks over the written words.

Swooping down, he places a long, loving kiss on your forehead, letting your bodies rest together in harmony for a moment.

"I can't believe they still make me cry," You huff, letting out a soft laugh. "And I don't even think I can brush it off as hormones."

"Seeing that just looking at them has me tearing up, I don't think I can either." Seungcheol smiles, stroking the back of your hair affectionately.

"They're probably getting antsy downstairs, right?" You say, beginning to pile the letters back up into the box.

Standing up, you lean forward to press all of your passion and adoration onto your husband's lips. You can feel his intensity matching yours, his hands finding the side of your hips to keep you stable.

"They can wait," Seungcheol replies, his forehead leaning softly against your own. "They're not the ones who are pregnant after all."

You laugh, a sound filled with both joy and contentment, feeling the warmth of his love surrounding you. "I suppose you're right," you say, a smile spreading across your face. You take one last glance at the box of letters, a testament to the incredible journey you've both shared—one that began with innocent childhood exchanges and blossomed into a love story more profound than you could have ever imagined.

Hand in hand, you and Seungcheol make your way downstairs to greet your guests, the letters safely tucked away in their satin box. As you step into the room, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll always have those words, those memories, and most importantly, each other.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom. 

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place. 

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.  

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place. 

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns. 

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash. 

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.” 

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger. 

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints. 

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.” 

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her. 

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world. 

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog. 

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.” 

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you. 

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.” 

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on. 

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.” 

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile. 

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.” 

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces. 

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.” 

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos. 

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing. 

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades. 

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks. 

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same. 

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?” 

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.” 

“Right.” 

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep! 

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue. 

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.” 

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none. 

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him. 

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.” 

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder. 

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.” 

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.” 

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks. 

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.” 

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?” 

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face. 

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly. 

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?” 

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.” 

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid. 

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.” 

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.” 

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly. 

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted. 

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.” 

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches. 

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well. 

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...” 

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves. 

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.” 

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly. 

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.” 

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.” 

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom. 

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding. 

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?” 

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.” 

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.  

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall. 

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat. 

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.  

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands. 

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.” 

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall. 

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?” 

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant. 

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm. 

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--” 

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.” 

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff. 

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.” 

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--” 

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.” 

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch. 

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility. 

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 15)

A/N: I feel like i keep saying this but, all my chapters are long... SOO anyway. I don't know how i feel about this chapter, i'm torn between hating it and hating myself. Reviews are greatly appreciated and please be honest, don't try to make me happy, i truly want constructive critisim, so go on my babies, break my heart.

Also all lot of you seem to want to be my good girls or good boys. So yeah, sure, i'll be ya'lls mommy.

Yes. Hate me.

Warnings: Mentions of death, injury, 18+ content etc, just minors don't. F-Reader.

You sighed. Turning around in the black sheets. You could still smell his cologne in them. It's been two weeks. And you missed him like hell. You missed his voice, his touch, his eyes. You touched your neck. He had taken his dog tags with him. It felt like you lacked something now.

You groaned, throwing one of the pillows over your head. A knock rang in the room. 

"Sparrow. Come on. Get up." Bishop called through the door. 

You groaned again as a response. 

"Come on!" 

"Fine!" 

You decided to get up. You'd spend the day in bed otherwise and you had to go to base. The squad had joined Los Vaqueros to hunt down the two cartel's bosses. You had stayed behind with bishop and Coyote to remotely track any Intel on the dark web. Aquila, Carkeys and Grim went on site to collect Intel and use drones and other equipment to help the squad. 

You spent time in between the base and your house where Melissa and the team joined you as often as they could. 

It took an hour at best to get to base with everyone. You had walked into the IT quarters with a coffee in hand. 

"Rough morning?" Laswell asked. 

"Where are they?" You asked. 

She shook her head with a smile on her lips. 

"They got into the city last night. They managed to get a few high ups of the cartel." Coyote explained. 

"We managed to capture some conversations on a blank website. Two of their hackers were trying to throw false Intel to throw us off. But we managed to find their ID's which was much more interesting." Bishop added. 

You nodded sitting down at your computer. 

"Grim and Carkeys are following closely the squad with the drones and satellite images. We have made sure to protect those and are gate keeping them so they can't use those to track our soldiers." 

You sighed of relief.

"I wouldn't have made it without you guys… thank you…" you said. 

Bishop winked at you while coyote smiled. 

"Aquila is making sure they're safe, keeping track of their equipments." 

You took a deep breath. 

"Alright back to work." 

You got back to work, trying to focus as best as you could on it. The day passed by in a flash again. You felt like the anxiety would kill you at every new piece of information coming your way. At the end of the day you looked around the room full of screens. 

"Hey sparrow, come here" Bishop called with a smile. 

You walked up to her, blinking as you looked down at her screen. 

"HEY THERE!" Soap's voice rang. 

You felt a rush of adrenaline. 

"We managed to create a remote link so we could video call with their base." Coyote explained, the freckled on her nose dancing as she smiled. 

"Thank you… hey soap. How are you guys?" You asked. 

"We are good here, we are getting closer to the target." Gaz answered. 

You smiled at them. Price and Alejandro now appeared behind them. You noticed the blush on Coyote's face. 

"Oh, look, it's our ladies!" Price called. 

You chuckled as the girls giggled. 

"Princesa!" Alejandro called. 

As by magic, it immediately summoned him. HIM. Your breath caught in your front. Simon.

"My princess." 

His voice was rough. Ghost was on edge. Alejandro raised his hands up, showing there was no sign of threat from him. 

"Hey…" you greeted with a smile. 

He nodded. 

The conversation kept going, now Carkeys, Aquila and Grim showing up as well. It felt nice to be able to talk with everyone, but all you wanted was to tell him you missed him. You needed him. You wanted two minutes alone with him just to tell him you loved him again. It must have shown. Because the team did exactly that. 

You were now sitting in front of the screen with only him. Only him. 

"Hey…" you said again. 

"Say it bunny." 

You smirked. 

"I miss you… want my Simon back." 

He chuckled. 

"Miss you too bunny." He said. 

"Is everything ok on your side? You aren't hurt?" You worried. 

"I'm fine. Don't worry darling. I'll be home soon. Alright?" 

You nodded. You heard Price calling in the back, marking the end of the call. He got closer to the screen, you did too. 

"Simon… I love you…" 

You saw through the pixels how his pupils dilated at the sound of the words. 

"Don't do this to me bunny… I'm too far away to fuck you into my mattress…" 

You smiled, biting your lip. He wouldn't say it. Not yet. But you'd be patient. 

"Guess you're going to have to come back for that." You teased. 

He chuckled. You bid your goodbyes, heart heavy. 

You stared at the now black screen. You were doomed. Completely doomed. He was king of your thoughts at all times. He had managed to capture the little sparrow and make it his. You closed your eyes, biting your lip. 

"You alright?" 

You opened your eyes looking at the girls next to you. You smiled faintly nodding at them. 

"They'll be fine. They've had to fight worse." Bishop started. 

"And they have us. We'll keep them safe." Coyote added. 

You sighed. You nodded faintly. 

"Come on. Let's go home." 

You turned around to notice Laswell standing not too far as well. You stood up, the girls heading to the door. You took a last glance at the black screen before following them. 

The next few days, things started to get complicated. Tension kept rising for everyone. You'd spend more time at base. Sometimes staying there overnight. Laswell was keeping an eye on you like a hawk. But you couldn't get yourself to go home. You had ended up bringing Reaper with you everywhere. No one had commented on it. 

You were looking at the fluffy plush on your big desk. The sound of panic made your blood run cold. You stood immediately, watching everyone's voice rise and run. 

"What's going on?!" You asked. 

Bishop froze looking up at you. 

"An attack. We've lost communication." 

You cursed, sitting back down and getting to work on your computer. 

You were focused on trying to find a link, a connection, anything to create a form of communication. Every ticking second felt heavier on you. You felt trapped in an hourglass, sand filling up and pouring around you. Suffocating. 

Soon the seconds turned to minutes. Minutes to hours. You were on the verge of a breakdown. 

"We got them!" 

You ran to the screens. 

"Bravo six ?" Laswell called. 

You held your breath. 

"Bravo six do you copy?!" She called again. 

Silence. Heavy silence. 

"Bravo six copy." The rough voice rang. 

You closed your eyes, releasing the air in your lungs. Price's voice filled you with relief. 

"What's your status bravo six?" 

"Took a hit, lost a few guys, but squad 141 is operational."

Laswell turned to you. You wanted to cry. You wouldn't. Not in front of everyone. They're fine. Fuck… he's ok. 

You sat in a nearby chair. You let them talk over the radio as your mind tried to grasp what happened. You had almost lost him. It hit you how fragile this was. You could lose him at any second. You felt dizzy for a second. You looked up to see Bishop and Coyote with worried looks on their faces. 

"Bishop. Coyote." You called. 

They turned to you. You called them to you. 

"Let's not pretend I don't see your worried looks. I can see you guys have got a little something for a certain captain and a sergeant." You smiled. 

Coyote blushed and Bishop smirked. You grabbed their hands.

"We're ok. We're gonna make it. We're together." You tried to comfort. 

"Of course we are. That mohawk cutie better come back. Got to take him out." Bishop teased. 

You smiled. 

"Well… i…i don't know if the captain would be interested…" Coyote said with a little frown. 

"Ah don't worry. We'll help you with that." Bishop teased again. 

You nodded, winking at her. 

"Come on, let's get back to work." You concluded. 

You stayed all night. You had used the locker rooms to shower and change. Laswell kept nagging you to go home but you refused. Melissa had passed by with Amy, bringing some food and snacks. You had enjoyed the time with them. But it got late and they had to leave. The room was awfully quiet at night. Bishop and Coyote had gone back home as well, they needed rest. 

You needed it too. But your mind was a mess.

You couldn't get it out of your head that you had lost contact with the team and almost lost them. It felt sour. You held Reaper in your arms. Your eyes burnt a bit. You were tired. Laswell was still here. She kept throwing glances at you. 

"Hey… you should sleep." She repeated again. 

You looked at the bottom of the screen. 4 am. 

"I know… but I can't…" you whispered. 

She walked off with a sigh. 

You refused. You refused to leave. You needed to stay here. This was the closest to him you could be. And for the moment, this is what you needed.  

The next morning the team had walked in. You had nodded off around 5am but woken up an hour after. Bishop had brought coffees and snacks. You were grateful for it. 

You felt heavy worried stares. You ignored them, drowning yourself back into work. 

"Sparrow." Bishop called softly. 

You blinked. Standing up. You felt dizzy again for a second but brushed it off. You walked to her. You closed your eyes for a second when you saw it. The screen showed an empty website. Pictures of bloodied dog tags lined up. 

"Tell me It's not what I think it is…" you said. 

"I'm afraid… it's exactly what it is…" coyote explained in a sad voice. 

"They're keeping them as trophies. For each soldier they've killed." Bishop added with a hint of disgust in her voice. 

You looked at the names on the little metal collars. 

"I'll go report to Laswell… keep an eye on these…" you said. 

You felt a knot in your throat as you walked out of the room.

 

Having that kind of talk was rough. And it had been, for you and for Laswell. Families had to know the truth, and condolences had to be sent with proper decoration for lost soldiers. You knew it would never heal the emptiness the news will leave in these people's hearts. You had walked back to the IT's wing. Bishop had dragged you to a screen immediately. 

You felt your heart drop at first, your mind instantly thinking about the worst things. 

"Oh look at our little mama bird…" 

Your eyes filled with tears. The image was blurry. The sound wasn't top quality, but the faces on screen made you want to cry. 

"Johnny…" you tried with a little smile. 

Bishop hugged you as soon as she saw your glossy eyes. Coyote held your hand in here. 

"Come on, we're all ok! Gonna need more than that!" Alejandro joked. 

"We were worried about you guys!" Bishop scolded. 

"Yes… please be careful…" coyote added. 

"Look at that, our ladies got all worried about us…" Price said, winking at the screen. 

You felt Coyote tense. You smiled to yourself squeezing her hand softly. 

"I haven't seen Konig in a while, how's he?" You asked. 

"Well he's been spending a lot of time with Grim. They keep talking in German so… we have no idea what they're saying." Gaz explained. 

"They get along very well though!" Soap said with a wink. 

"Where's..?" You asked. 

"Hum… not too far. He's a bit…" gaz started. 

"Pissed. He's pissed." Soap finished. 

You sighed. 

"I'll go get him." Alejandro said. 

You nodded. The rest of the team talked a bit. 

"It's getting complicated. They're feeling surrounded. Becoming more aggressive.." coyote warned. 

"Yeah… we're going to change tactics here." Price added. 

The call suddenly fell silent. The boys rose, nodding as they walked away. Bishop and Coyote dropped a kiss on each side of your face before stepping away.  

"Simon…" 

The word fell from your lips. It was like a call to an unknown god. 

"Y/N." You heard. "You haven't been sleeping well." His voice was stern. 

Your face dropped. 

"You almost died." You countered. 

"Bunny." He warned..

"Simon." You said in the same tone. 

He sighed. 

"I'm ok. I'm worried about you right now" 

Somehow it did not comfort you. You were worried about him!

"You have to sleep. You hear me?" He scolded. 

You sighed too. You nodded slowly. 

"Good girl." He praised. 

It made you smile. 

"Have you been sleeping in my bed?" He asked. 

You bit your lip. 

"Maybe…" 

He leaned closer to the camera. 

"Good. I love it when my pillow smells like you." 

You smiled. 

"You'll have me next to you. You won't need that." You teased. 

"Hmm. Careful bunny. I'm not going to forget those words." 

"You better not. I hope it motivates you to come back." 

He chuckled. The sound of his laugh warmed you. 

"On my way baby…" 

A month. A full month and half. You were going insane. People probably thought you were insane, walking around base with Reaper hanging out of your bag. You had been forced by Laswell and Simon, over a video call, to go out with Melissa for a few hours after work. You had finally given in. There you were, in front of a restaurant on base. 

Melissa welcomed you with a hug as you walked to your table in the restaurant. 

"How are you feeling?" She asked. 

You shrugged. 

"Could be much better… could be much worse." 

She smiled at you. 

"How about you? Any news on Eric?" You asked with a worried voice. 

"No, not any. Since you talked to Hopkins I feel babysitted at all times." She said, rolling her eyes. 

"Good. Very good." You answered with a smile. 

She laughed, making you relax. The dinner spent with her lifted some stress and pressure off your shoulders. You had to be honest, it helped you feel better. You had insisted to pay for dinner, it had helped you so much. As you walked out of the restaurant, the cold air made you shiver. You were talking to Melissa when she happily waved at someone. 

You turned to watch the K.9 team discussing, not too far. You walked to them. 

"Sergeant Gallegos !" A woman greeted. 

"Hey Jenny." She greeted back. 

The woman turned to you, palling a bit. The German shepherd next to her sitting calmly, its pink tongue out, did not let her master leave its sight. 

"Sparrow.." she tried with a bit less friendlyness. 

You smiled, trying to relax her. 

"Don't worry, I'm out here completely harmless." You assured. 

Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit as she smiled. 

"What are you guys doing tonight?" Melissa asked. 

"Oh hum… we're out to throw a goodbye party…." She answered with a little sadness in her voice.

"Oh… someone leaving?" You asked. 

She nodded turning her body so you could look behind her. The team was talking, their k9s on leash next to them. You frowned, confused. Jenny walked over to them, making Melissa and you follow her. 

"Guys, Sergeant Gallegos and … Sparrow came to say hi." 

You waved with a warm smile. You were glad they didn't seem too nervous around you. 

"So, who's leaving?" Melissa asked. 

"Oh… it's um… it's him." A man said. 

You followed his gaze. A black shepherd laid on the ground. His beautiful brown eyes shining under the restaurants lights. 

"Oh he's retiring?" You asked. 

"Hum not really…" another said. 

"Can… I?" You asked. 

Jenny nodded. 

You stepped towards the dog kneeling next to it slowly. You let him sniff your hand as his head rose. He let you pet him, making you smile. 

"His soldier was KIA. He hasn't been eating since." The soldier holding the leash explained. 

"KIA?" You asked. 

"Killed in action." Melissa explained. 

"Oh…" you frowned. 

"Sometimes it happens. The dogs see their soldiers die and refuse to eat for a little while. With time and lots of patience and love it usually gets better. But… he just seems to have given up." Jenny explained. 

"He's been through foster homes and vets but… he just gave up." Another soldier explained. 

You felt your heart shatter as you looked into it's eyes. 

"What's going to happen to him.." Melissa asked. 

"Well… I'm afraid he'll have to be… you know…" he explained. 

You bit your lip. You felt the colar underneath your fingers, through the semi long furr of his neck. You grabbed the little tag on it reading the name. 

"Riley …" you let out. 

"Oh… Sparrow…" Melissa tried. 

You felt something like a flash coursing through your blood. Something that urged you to do something. 

"Is there no other way?" You asked, turning to Jenny. 

"Well… we've tried everything… we can't chose for him… and in the end it's the commander's choice… even if it breaks the team's hearts" she said. 

You bit your lip. Looking back at the big pup, you felt yourself melt and at the same time cry inside. He looked down… like he had truly given up. He missed his soldier. His family. Just like you. 

"Sparrow… i don't think that's a good idea." You heard Melissa, as she seemed to read your mind. 

But it was too late, you had already made your decision.

"I'll take him." You said in a decisive tone.

The team looked at each other, taken a back. 

"Ma'am… I don't think you can…" a woman said. 

"The commander's orders…" Jenny tried too. 

"Get your commander on call. Tell him Sparrow wants to keep K9 Riley." You said with a smile. 

She hesitated. Melissa had given up on trying to tell you no. She was just smiling, her arms crossed. Jenny turned to Melissa who simply nodded. As Jenny took out her cellphone, the team seemed to perk up. 

"Ma'am… are you really going to keep him?" The soldier holding the leash asked. 

You nodded with a big smile. 

"It'll take time… but I have patience. And all the time in the world." You said. 

Jenny started speaking on the phone. The team fell silent. 

"Hum… the commander would like to speak to you…" she said. 

"Sure! Put him on speaker." You agreed. 

She did. She walked up to you and put the phone on speaker. The team surrounded you.  You almost wanted to laugh at the team around you. How silent they were. 

"Hello?" The phone rang. 

"Hello commander." You greeted. 

Silence. Melissa held herself from laughing out loud. 

"Sparrow?" 

"Yes, commander?" 

"Hum… are you really asking to take one of the K9's?" 

"Absolutely. Is there a problem with my request…?" 

"Well… more than one but… I'm not sure I'm allowed to refuse either." 

You laughed a bit. 

"You can. But I usually get what I want." 

"What should I even say to General Hopkins?" 

"The exact truth. I met Riley. I decided to keep it. I told you. You couldn't refuse. That's all." 

You leaned down again, petting the black dog. 

"Hum.." he hesitated.

"If he has something to say. Please tell him to directly come to me." You warned. 

The team looked shocked. Melissa rolled her eyes. 

"Well… alright, I'll take care of the paperwork and have it delivered to you to sign by the sergeant." 

The soldiers around jumped happily, silently though. You smiled to yourself. Was this a very thoughtful decision? No. It definitely wasn't responsible but you'd make sure to own up to your brand new responsibilities. 

"Thank you commander, have a good night." 

Jenny took back her phone, ending the call after a few last words with her commander. The team cheered. Melissa smiled at you. 

"We have to celebrate!" One said. 

"I can't believe this just turned into a celebration" Jenny cheered. 

"Yeah… Sparrow has a thing for Riley's." Melissa teased. 

The team awkwardly looked at each other. 

"So… it's true? For… you and Lieutenant…" jenny asked. 

You nodded trying to not make a fuss out of it. 

"He said he wanted a dog. I think he'll be thrilled… or probably scold me but he'll get around eventually." You joked. 

The team laughed a bit. 

"Let's grab a drink!" A man said. 

"Oh… well… just one. We got lots of work tomorrow…" Melissa said. 

"Yeah. And I got to find lots of stuff for my new furr baby." You said. 

"We'll help you with that! We can give you a few stuff for the night." Jenny assured. 

You smiled. 

"Alright. One drink." 

You walked to the car with your new friend. You were surprised how Riley followed you without a problem. You opened the passenger door of the black jeep. Simon had left his car obviously, and insisted that you'd use it. You looked down at the dog, sitting, looking up at you. 

"Come on Riley. Let's go home." 

He seemed to understand as he jumped into front seat. You closed the door, dropping all the things the team had given you in the backseat. Walking around the car you got into the driver's seat. The black dog was sitting next to you, looking at you. 

"It's ok. We'll be ok." You assured. 

You turned the key, heading home. 

You walked into the doorway. The house was quiet..empty. You turned on the lights as you closed the door behind you. You bent down to take off the leash. Riley didn't move. You started walking to the kitchen, watching him follow you slowly. He really looked sad. You dropped the things on the counter. You looked down at the dog who looked at you. 

You grabbed the bag of dog food, walking to get a bowl. You filled it with food and grabbed another bowl to fill it with water. Walking back to the dog and softly putting down the bowls in front of him. He looked at them. He went for the water, lapping a bit. He smelled the food but refused to eat. You sighed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. You sat down on the floor next to him. He laid down next to you, looking at you. 

You grabbed his collar softly, petting the sides of his head. 

"I know… I know… you miss your soldier." 

He whined. 

"I miss mine too…" 

The next day you had warned Laswell you'd be a bit late. She didn't mind. You had drove with Riley to the base's Vet. 

You walked in with him heading for the receptionist.

"Hi, good morning, I'd like to buy some dog food and vitamins." You asked the man. 

"Oh… hum.. Sparrow…i mean… ma'am…" he stuttered. 

"It's alright. Breath." You smiled. 

He did so. He looked relieved. 

"Hum… so you have a dog?" He asked. 

"It's very recent but yes." You said looking to your side. 

The big black dog was sitting next to you, looking up at you. The man rose above the counter to look down. 

"Oh.. that's…that's Riley…" he said. 

"You know him?" You frowned. 

"Hum… yeah. We took care of him when he came back from the field… and when he refused to eat. I thought he was going to be put down." He said with a frown. 

"I decided to take him in." You said. 

The man smiled. 

"I'll be right back gonna see for the vitamins, I'll help you choose some food for him." He said. 

You nodded with a smile. Other soldiers stood with their dogs in the waiting room. They looked at you, recognizing you and the black dog. They seemed anxious. Suddenly you heard the voices from behind the counter, in the back of the clinic. 

"Tell this woman she's waisting her time. The dog was scheduled to be put down this afternoon and I can still do it. But she's waisting money and time." 

You frowned, feeling the anger rise. 

"Hum… ma'am… I think we shouldn't…" the receptionist tried. 

"Fine I'll tell her myself. It's stupid to waist vitamins and food on a hopeless dog." 

Now you were furious. You felt a nudge in your palm. You looked next to you at the dog looking at you intensely. You bent down to pet him and drop a kiss on top of his head. You heard the voice get closer to the front desk. You were hidden behind it as you were cuddling Riley. 

"Where is she?! Ma'am I suggest you hand the dog over, he should be put-" 

You rose to your feet, eyeing the angry woman. She had frozen in spot. You glanced down looking at her badge, taking in her name. The room had fallen silent. 

"I didn't come to ask for your opinion. Did I?" You spat. 

Her gaze faltered. 

"You'd be kind enough to give me what I asked please." 

The woman cleared her throat. 

"I have to remind you-" she tried, in a softer tone. 

"Again. Didn't ask." You answered angrily. 

She swallowed. 

"You're not gonna give it to me?" You asked, raising a brow. "Very well. Hum… dr… Jenkins." You squinted your eyes exaggeratedly. 

"Come on Riley, let's go somewhere else." You turned around before stopping. 

"Wait! Hum.. we'll give you the vitamins and food. But you're waisting your time." She said. 

"You're the one waisting my time. And I'm getting pissed." You warned, looking back at her. 

Riley whined. You looked down at him, petting his head. 

"Hum… how about we look into the different foods?" The receptionist asked, trying to ease the situation.. 

You nodded, throwing a dark glance at the vet. You'd be sure to have a talk with Laswell and Hopkins later. 

An hour later your arrived at the IT's IQ. Riley followed you inside, you had a bag with dog food, a water bottle and a cappuccino in hand. The room fell quiet when they saw you walk in with the black shepherd.

"Hum… Sparrow." Laswell called confused. "What's that?" 

"A cappuccino." You answered. 

She rolled her eyes. 

"Sparrow. Why do you have a dog?" She asked. 

"Oh. That's Riley. He's my dog now." You said matter of factly. 

Bishop laughed while coyote looked confused, gasping. Laswell looked just as confused. You decided to go to your desk to sit at your chair. Riley had followed you, laying down at your feet. 

"No. No. Sparrow. We're not going to ignore this." 

You put Reaper down. It seemed to get Riley's attention. He stood, siting now. You looked at the dog, then at the plush. 

"We can share. But you need to be gentle with it. Ok?" You said. 

The dog tilted his head to the side, curious. You picked up the plush, slightly worried of your next action. You gave it to him. He very gently grabbed it with his mouth, falling back down to the floor. He put it down in between his paws, sniffing and pushing his nose into it. He was gentle with it, and did not sink his teeth. You smiled, turning back to your computer. 

"No! Sparrow! We're going to talk about this!" Laswell warned.

You did not, in fact, talk about it.

The day turned out to be much more important than you thought. It turns out the day prior the boys were very close to tracking down the brothers. And they had finally reached their targets. You had been feeling an absolute mess. You had noticed it seemed to affect Riley. He stood closer to you. Nudged your hand or leg, grasping your attention. 

You'd always pet him or cuddle him. When the news had finally fallen that they had gotten their hands on the target, the room filled with joy. It was over. The mission was a success. But not to you. Not until you had him next to you. Bishop and Coyote were stoked. Laswell was smiling at you. Yes. It relaxed you. But you only had him in mind. Only his arms around you. 

"Hey. It's over. They're coming back." Coyote said. 

You took a deep breath. Yes. They were coming back. 

You remained in the room for hours. Even after. You remained until you knew they were back on their base. Bishop and Coyote we're much more relaxed. Laswell kept in touch with the general once in a while and the authorities there. You just wanted to talk to him. You were glad they had finally caught the cartel brothers. But your mind kept running to him. He was finally coming home. 

You smiled at the pup next to you. He seemed to be curious and to watch you very often. Through the day you tried to feed him little pieces of treats or food. He had first fully refused, then slowly bitten a treat. You had been delighted, causing him to perk his ears up at your reaction. You showered him with 'good boy' and pets. Laswell kept trying to question you about your new companion and you ignored it. 

He had attracted all the attention from the women in the room and some men too. 

When the sun had started to set outside, you were called to video chat with the team. 

"Hey!!" Bishop called to the screen. 

"Well hello there, pretty eyes." Soap flirted. 

"Get out, you'll flirt later!" Gaz groaned. 

You smiled. 

Price and Simon weren't present. You chatted with the group, Konig, grim, Carkeys, Áquila… it felt great to know they were ok. 

"We're getting an extraction in a few hours! We'll be home soon!" Car-Keys said, relief in his voice. 

You had rolled your eyes, the girl nagging him about when he had lost his Car Keys on a field mission.

When Simon finally showed up, he greeted the girls before the rest of the team gave you a little privacy. 

"I got a surprise for you!" You smiled at the screen. 

"Hmm a surprise?" He looked curious. 

You picked up the big dog into your arms, Riley licking your face. 

"His name is Riley !" You happily announced. 

You heard him chuckle. 

"Where did you get a dog?" He asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. 

"He was being taken to be put down… his soldier was KIA. He wasn't eating, he let himself die. We're slowly getting used to each other, he eats very tiny pieces…I'm trying to get him to feel safe." You explained. 

There was a little silence before he spoke again. 

"Here you go again… saving a Riley." 

You blushed, looking at the screen. The pixels weren't enough. Not anymore. You wanted your soldier back. 

"Come back to me…" you said. 

"I'm coming home, baby. We have plans."

You bit your lip through a smile. Yes. He was coming home.

 

Night had settled in. You had driven home right after ending the call. For the past 2 hours you had been happily roaming around the house. Riley was curious watching you pace around. For dinner, you sat down on the floor next to him, trying to motivate him to eat. He had not eaten his food. He had accepted two little bites of the steak you were eating. It was enough to cause a happy squeal from you each time. 

It was almost midnight when the girls showed up. Melissa included. Amy was with a babysitter for the occasion. Bishop had brought a bottle of  vodka to celebrate the end of the mission. 

Riley always remained close to you. The girls loved to pet him. A conversation had settled in, time passing by without any of you noticing. Eventually, it was 2 am, and you were giggling together. You had decided to only drink a shot or two, not really wanting to get drunk. 

Riley was laying on the couch with you, bishop and Coyote we're cuddling on another couch with Melissa at the other end.  

"God! You need to be more confident darling! We see how he looks at you. He's curious" Bishop teased. 

"He's… I don't know…" Coyote blushed. 

"I say. Go for it." Melissa added. 

You giggled again.

A knock interrupted your conversation. You heard the door unlock. You frowned before hearing Laswell's voice. 

"We're here Kate!" You chuckled. 

The girls laughed too, a new friend entering the circle promised more jokes and gossip.

When Kate stepped into the room, the air shifted. Hopkins walked behind her. The air had grown suffocating. You had lost your smile. The girls had gone silent. They were dressed officially. 

"Kate?" You questioned.

She seemed to swallow hard, eyes not leaving yours. You stood up, the girls doing the same. You walked over to them, the tiny footsteps of Riley on the floor following you. You crossed your arms in a comforting movement. 

"Squad 141 initiated extraction 45 minutes ago." Hopkins started.

You frowned. 

"During extraction, they were confronted with an ambush." He continued. 

You felt your heart drop. Was he injured? What happened?

"Can you skip to the news please?" Bishop interrupted. 

He looked at her, thinking. 

"Listen… Y/N…" Kate stepped forwards to you. 

You felt the walls closing in. Something terrible hovering over your head. 

You felt a nudge on your arm. Riley tried to keep you grounded to reality. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just… something else. You were overreacting. 

Kate looked torn. She wanted to talk, obviously. But something seemed to hold her back. 

Hopkins sighed, clearing his throat. 

"We are sad and sorry to inform you that Lieutenant Simon Riley and Captain John Price were KIA." 

What.. what was that? That sound… your ears were buzzing. You felt nauseous. You felt like your whole body had gotten heavier. Like it no longer belonged to you.

"No." You let out. 

"Y/N. Listen to me, please.." Kate tried. 

She reached for your hand but you took a step back. 

"No. That's… no." You looked at her. "Kate…" you begged. 

Her eyes were filled with tears. She didn't speak. She looked away. It was true. It was… 

Hopkins took a step forward. Riley suddenly growled, inching closer to your leg. 

"Sparrow, I would advise you to-" 

"Get out." 

Silence fell. 

"What..?" Kate questioned. 

"Get out. All of you." You said again. 

You felt surrounded. Your brain felt on fire yet you felt like you were drowning. 

We have plans.

"Y/N…" bishop tried. 

"Please. Get. Out." You warned. 

Melissa grabbed Coyote by the shoulders, hugging her. They walked towards the door, Bishop and Kate following, dragging Hopkins with them. You heard the front door close. 

Silence. Deafening silence. 

You let yourself kneel to the floor, Riley alert next to you. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be true. No. 

You felt something fall on your hand. You looked down, the little droplets shining under the light. You were crying. You felt like someone was ripping your heart out. 

Your mind had decided to torture you, reenacting every kiss, every hug every promise in a tangling loop. It felt like you could hear his voice. Him. Calling for you. But it wasn't true. It wasn't real. Never again…

For the second time in your life, you screamed. You screamed until something deep in your throat broke. And just like last time. Under attack in the training grounds. You screamed for him. You poured your mind, soul, heart into a scream you knew. You knew despite the mind wrecking hope. He would not answer this time.

-----

Everything must come to an end...

or not...

SIKE

see you on chapter 16

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA because my puppy was destructive and did a lot of damage?

I have a five month old puppy. Since she was five months old I have used a Pet Sitter as she is a puppy and cannot be left unattended. She’s completed puppy training and I’m working through an intermediate obedience class. I’ve lent the Pet Sitter the training manual in the past, so she knows the puppy’s commands and what we are working on.

My partner and I a week off from work so we decided to travel Tuesday - Thursday and Saturday - Sunday. I picked the puppy up Thursday night and brought her back to the Pet Sitter on Saturday afternoon.

On Thursday when I picked up the puppy the Pet Sitter remarked that she didn’t know how I kept a puppy in my apartment without a yard. That the puppy had been running around since 4 am and never got tired. I explained that I walk her and mostly tire her out with mental exercises like training.

The puppy slept most of the day Friday and wasn’t interested in getting up for anything, even food. She seemed completely exhausted and I was worried that the Pet Sitter had overdone it with her. When I dropped her off Saturday I told the Pet Sitter about how tired she’d been but the Pet Sitter didn’t seem concerned.

On Sunday morning the Pet Sitter texted me about how much the puppy loved running around outside in the rain and that she thought the puppy would love to live on a farm.

Sunday afternoon, she texted me saying that my puppy had destroyed her garden. “Hi can you have your roommate come and get the dog? I cannot keep the puppy out of the garden or stop her from destroying the yard.”

By roommate she meant my partner who was with me on vacation out of town. At the time she sent this text my cell phone did not have service and I received this text as well as the others about fifteen ministers later. She sent me pictures of the destroyed garden and a text.

“She literally has chewed up part of the little fence I had around the garden.”

She then sent me several pictures of pictures of my puppy actively chewing on the little fence thing. I felt frustrated that she took pictures rather than telling her to leave it.

She said the damage happened “within 5 minutes it took me to go to the bathroom. She needs a giant farm with cattle or sheep to heard.”

And asked how soon I could pick up the dog. I said we were leaving right away but it was a three hour drive (which ended up being longer due to storms and traffic).

When I got there to pick up the dog she wanted to show me all the damage the dog did and said she left it there like it was so she could show me. I declined because I was scheduled to meet with my puppy’s trainer.

She said she knows it’s not technically my fault but I need to understand she will never watch my puppy again and does not think the puppy is suitable to live in a city and should be on a farm.

I met with my trainer and showed her the texts and pictures and she said that digging and chewing was likely a boredom response. She’s never caused much destruction at my place aside from occasionally chewing things she shouldn’t chew when I wasn’t looking which resulted in me telling her to leave it when I noticed.

I never leave her unattended around the house. She’s kennel trained and if I have to leave her alone even to go to sleep she is in her kennel.

I had no idea she’d destroy the garden, but I also didn’t know the pet sitter had a garden or that she it wasn’t secured in a way to keep dogs out or that she’d leave my puppy unattended.

I’m not sure what how I could have managed the puppy’s behavior since I was not there and hadn’t been there since the day before. I assumed the Pet Sitter knew how to look after puppies since she looks after puppies, and agreed to look after mine and had done so repeatedly.

But I feel guilty about all the damage. The Pet Sitter said she’d done hundreds of dollars of damage to the garden and gotten her into trouble with her landlady for damage done to the yard and vines on the wall.

The Pet Sitter was always really nice. She has everyone call her aunty and called the puppy our baby. She sent puppy home with new toys and gave us a giant gift bag after watching her on Christmas with a new leash and snuffle mats and toys. I’m really sorry the damage happened but I’m not sure what I could have done differently.

https://imgur.com/gallery/ZFkp8ao

The imgur link, clickable

What are these acronyms?

[maezysworld]

Test subject x The ghoul pt. 2

pt. 1

Pairing: cooper howard x fem! cat mutant & sniper reader

hi friends once again I am dyslexic so this is probably not the best but I hope you all enjoy it anyways (I’m always open to feed back as long as your nice about it)

Warnings: slow burn, writer is dyslexic, might be slightly out of character, a whole lot of guns, use of y/n, blood mention, sad dog (not a dead dog a sad dog)

context: you are part cat due to being experimented on you have the cat ears and eyes along with all there senses (i do plan on making a full backstory)

You guys have been walking for awhile few words exchanged. your walking a head of him with the dog by your side, you’ve been following the sent of the vault dweller as the dog follows the doctors. “what her name” you ask the ghoul. “she ain’t mine.” he says in response dry and uninterested in your attempt to start a conversation. “why the hell do you have a random dog?” you ask confused but not really surprised. “The doctors, and just how do you know where we’re going.” he says not knowing if you’re following the dog or leading her. “I have my ways” you say before you stop walking and lift your mask just to show your nose, as you take a deep breath you notice that the doctors sent smells different smells bloodier. the dog runs ahead to a fallen huge piece of metal, it looked like it was apart of a building but your not to sure. you start to jog ahead following the dog, the ghoul not far behind. Once you catch up you see a headless body that belongs to the doctor, the dog lays her head on his lap and makes a short whimper noise.

you crouch down next to her petting her head “I guess we found our man.” you say looking up at the ghoul. “part of him.” he says looking around foot prints catching his eyes. “so what’s this information you have for me.” he sounds frustrated that you haven’t told him yet (and your surprised he hasn’t shot you for not telling him yet) “the value dweller has his head and is going to a woman named moldavor.” you say now standing looking at the ghoul, he doesn’t respond. You lift your mask just above your nose again taking another whiff of the air. “what in hell are you doin?” he says turning to look at you “do you ever take off that mask?” he says a moment later. “not around strangers I don’t” you say putting your mask back on now knowing what direction she’s heading.

“you must be fuckin hideous hiding your face in this world” he says lightly laughing. “something like that, here” you throw him a chem, you have met quite a few ghouls (well the non feral ones) are normally fairly nice, so you started carrying chems on you when ever you have space just in case. “I’m not to sure how many you have but I know you’ll need one soon.” you say as he catches it, he looks at you confused maybe a little Great-full too.

“well we know where she’s heading we can stop here for now” the ghoul says. about 20 minutes later you guys have a fire going and sitting down, no words spoken. “I’m y/n” you try to start a conversation to no response. “do you wanna tell me yours?”. “do you wanna take off that damn mask?” the ghoul snaps back. you sigh, “okay mr ghoul, no need to be so rude” you whisper as you wipe down your gun. the ghoul heard you but choses to ignore it “do you ever take off the mask” he says sounding a lot less defensive. “depends” you reply “on what?” he asks curiously. “if im alone yeah sure, with others it really depends on who im with” you say never looking up at him “so your hiding something.” his words sound like a question but his tone tells you it’s not, “I can keep watch if you want to rest” you say, the ghoul doesn’t move. you put your pistol in your holster while the ghoul watches your every move, you stand up and stretch a bit and walk around where your little camp is “are you not tired?” you ask the ghoul, once again he doesn’t respond he just puts his hat over his face ‘thanks for the response’ you think to yourself.

after a few minutes you sit back down with your back turned to the ghoul and you take off your mask. it’s hard to hear and see in that thing and if your going to be in the dark you’d prefer to have any advantage you can in a fight, and well having built in night vision it’s pretty handy. you pull your jacket hood up to cover your ears to the best of your ability. you put out the fire, after about 26 minutes you see figures running in your direction it’s a pack of ghouls you nudge the ghoul to wake him up “you should get up there’s a handful of ghouls coming our way” you say before putting back on your mask and standing up with your pistol out, the ghoul stands up trying to see what your looking at but it’s practically pitch black but he hears the footsteps and that’s all he really needs. the dog runs up and attacks one of the ghouls and with our fully thinking you follow, but the ghoul stays his distance. you shoot a few only killing 3 as your reloading you hear one coming from behind you, you turn and pistol whip them as they fall to the ground you feel another one grab your ankle. You take out your switch blade and stab it in the side of his neck before kicking him with your other foot grabbing the back out after your ankle was released and stabbing him in the head again, blood gets everywhere your eyes on your mask are practically covered in blood. you focused alittle to hard on whipping it off when you get tackled to the ground by another, you can’t even see what’s attacking you as you struggle to take off your gas mask while kicking this thing off if you. After you get it off is when you feel the ghouls dead weight on your body with a bullet threw his head you shove him off and you start to stand up “you were really about to let the last one take you?” the ghoul laughs, you wipe the blood off of your face and brush yourself off “yeah well I expected to get a-bit more help from you.” you say irritated “I wanted to see if you could hold your own. clearly you can’t” he says stepping closer “I didn’t think I had to dickhead, I assumed you had my back.” you say sounding more and more pissed off. “they got your mask off?” he asks knowing the answer considering he saw your face. you turn away making sure your ears are still covered from the man, “you ain’t ugly, so why wear it?” “I’ll answer that question the day you tell me your name.” you scoff. “fair enough little miss” he sounds more chear full, that makes your blood boil. ‘took almost losing my life to have him pleased, fuck off’ you think to yourself grabbing your mask and getting as much blood off of it as you can.

VERY SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG I’m sorry it’s not the best my wifi has been supper weird and I had to do this all on my phone and I’ve been sick the past few days☹️ but hopefully it’s good enough!!

[venus-haze]

Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium. 

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles. 

He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers. 

“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”

“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”

“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates. 

“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”

“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.

“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.

“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”

“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.

Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone. 

CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.

You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.

It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.

When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off. 

Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.

“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.

“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”

“That’s good.”

“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”

“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”

“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”

“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”

“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”

“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.

You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.

Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them. 

You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.

By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood. 

When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.

“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.

He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”

“Yeah. Mickey.”

Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”

“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”

“Which one?”

“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”

“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”

“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”

“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”

“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”

“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”

It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.

In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack. 

You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life. 

Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.

To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.

“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”

“Spare me your concern.”

“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”

“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”

“Already?”

“I wanted to make it up to you.”

He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.

The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.

While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi. 

You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was. 

By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.

He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.

“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.” 

“We don’t have to–”

You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”

“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”

“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”

“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”

You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.

“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”

Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”

You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.

He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb. 

He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.

Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand. 

Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.

“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”

“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”

In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.

Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.

You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants. 

The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit. 

With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.

He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”

“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.

“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”

“It’s self-defense!”

“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”

You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.

He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.

“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.

“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.

You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.

“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”

“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.

He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.

A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”

He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment. 

The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“

“You gonna do what I say?”

“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”

“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.

You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.

“Time for the real show.”

Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness. 

“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”

“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”

He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.

“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses. 

“You’re not getting anyone else.”

Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.

“Look at me, baby,” he ordered. 

Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt. 

Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse. 

“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”

He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”

His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.

You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.

You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.

“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.

He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.

Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”

[readychilledwine]

Pressure

A/n: this was heavily inspired by this post

Amelia is one of my favorite ocs I have trapped in the writing world I keep under lock and key. She is one of my Archeron sister characters that I decided was the perfect firey match to Eris. In this little snippet of their lives together, she's just finally had it. Maybe someday, I'll be brave enough to bring their full story into light.

Warnings - mentions of smut, a lot of vulgar language, implied mental breakdown, alcohol use as a coping mechanism, Beron Vanserra is mentioned, and a lack of editing.

Amelia was just done.

Between the constant pressure of being the dutiful wife of the future High Lord of Autumn, the sister of the High Lady of Night, and Beron's new favorite toy to fuck with, she had finally had it.

Her hair was a tangled mess on top of her head. She had attempted to hide it in a messy bun, but it was no use. The blonde mess of curls had officially taken on a mind of its own.

She knew her makeup was smudged, but she could not find the energy to care. Exhaustion had won today. Hence, the two steaming cups of coffee she was double fisting like Cassian at Rita's. Black mascara and eyeliner caused her already tired eyes to look even worse.

She had not even bothered to change since her 4pm breakdown in the dog kennels. She was covered in fur and the lingering scent of hounds. She knew she should bathe, make herself presentable before Eris got to their chambers, but she just genuinely did not care anymore.

She had lost herself in this game of High Lord manipulation and mental chess. It was a game she had never asked to play, and one she was sure would be the death of her if Eris did not off his father soon.

She had loved to read before this all. But lately, she never had time, and when she did, the book quickly found its way into her "rainy day reattempt later" pile. She was trying to distract herself with another attempt at a book tonight, though.

She thought maybe a different genre would help. She had taken Azriel's recommendation in a psychological horror novel, and just found herself laughing at the poor build up, the half effort descriptions, and the ever growing plot holes.

"I fucking quit," she tossed her book to the side, sipping on the warm bitter liquid as she stared into the fire.

"My spark," the deep honeyed voice of her mate reached her ears. "Amelia, baby, what's wrong?"

"Fuck you and fuck this place." Eris chuckled at her response before sitting on the couch near her spot on the floor. "Fuck the games. The court systems. The High Lords. Fuck the fae. Fuck being fae. Fuck all of you."

She took another deep sip of her coffee nose scrunched at the bitter taste. Eris could feel her through the bond. He could feel her love for him, but it was weighed down heavily by her anger, frustration, and exhaustion.

"Tell me more," Eris leaned his elbows onto his knees. He was allowing his wife, his mate, this one moment of anger. He knew this dance all too well, and he could tell she needed to have this moment.

"I really fucking hate that prick your dad has in charge of the libraries. He's a condescending piece of pond scum, and I will dance near his pyre one of these days," Eris felt his eyes go wide, covering his mouth to hide the laughter threatening to escape.

Amelia continued after sipping her coffee. "I hate your father, too, actually." She paused, switching to sip the coffee she had secretly added Eris's whiskey into. "Do you know what that fucker said to me today?"

Eris smirked. "Tell me what he said, my love."

"That fucker said to me I was failing at my duties as a wife since we do not have a child yet. He told me to fuck you more and learn my place."

Eris was frozen as he watched her drink the coffee he could smell liquor radiating from again. "And what did you say?"

"I told him you've never once complained about how I perform my wifely duties when your cock is in my mouth. That shut him up real fuckin fast. Fucking asshole."

Eris took in Amelia's appearance for the first time. Her heavy eyelids. Her chapped lips. Her messy hair and disheveled clothing. She had not bathed today, and he knew she had not slept last night. He took in the look of despair etching deeper into her face as she drank. The stack of books tossed onto the ground without care.

"I think we need a vacation, my love." Eris's voice was soft as he moved to sit on the ground with his mate. "Maybe I should send a message to Kal. We could go to Winter for a little-"

"Fuck. The. High. Lords. Fuck the games. Fuck the song and dance. If we're going to be putting on a show, it may as well be in this fucking hellhole."

Eris paused. Any trip to another court would involve Amelia and him playing the same roles they were in daily. The ones she clearly had enough of. There were few places he would be able to take her to get away from all of this, and he knew of a perfect one.

"How about the cabin?"

He watched as her breath hitched. Her eyes peeked over to him before refocusing on the hearth. They had not been to the cabin since their mating ceremony. It had been two months of them alone. Two months of love, sex, and silence.

"No duties. No High Lords. No masks. Just you, me, and the hounds." He kissed below her ear. "Just us. All alone. Up in the Autumn mountains. Where you can scream as loud as you like. Curse as loudly as you like." Another kiss on her jaw line and then her neck.

"Just us?"

He nodded as he caged her between him and the couch. Straddling her thighs with his knees so she could not escape.

"Just us, our hounds, and that wicked mouth of yours."

"Take me," she whispered to Eris, her blue eyes sparkling for the first time tonight. "Take me please."

"I intend to," Eris nipped her nose, grabbing her small hand in his as she went to smack his chest. "If you go take a bath."

Amelia shut her eyes before chuckling. "Fuck you."

Eris smiled gently down at her. "And you'll get to. After your bath. Come my spark, we will bathe together and plan our trip."

[starboundpix]

i. (love is) a gift

you just want a regular scarecrow. not whatever this shiny metal scarecrow-esque thing is. too bad your aunt didn't get the memo.

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 1.3k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, lots of pets and animals, reader does some heavy lifting

note: this is the first writing piece I'm posting for the fnaf fandom! my roommates have been dragging me down this hole the entire semester, so here I am >.< I hope you enjoy!

When you mentioned to your aunt in passing that you desperately need a scarecrow because the birds keep ruining your newly planted garden, you didn’t think she paid that much attention to you. She must have been listening and decided to use her rich aunt privileges because here you are in your barn, ankle deep in packaging paper and hay, staring at a large wooden crate turned on its side, jaw dropping at the sight of gold and light yellow metal spilling out of the opening.

This most definitely is not the kind of scarecrow you were planning to purchase.

A brief search through the packaging paper in the crate reveals a thin booklet titled Farm Helper Manual. The cover depicts two cartoon characters: one in the same coloration as your metal scarecrow and the other in varying shades of blue and black with highlights of a soft silvery-grey. They are like the sun and moon personified and their fun poses within the stalks of corn evoke a bit of amusement that breaks up the shock that had settled in.

You start flipping through the pages, skimming the titles and headers. You just want to find out how to set the scarecrow up because you don’t think mounting it on a wooden pole in the traditional fashion would work out.

“‘Battery and operation,’” you read out loud. One of your chickens clucks at you in response, then pecks the scarecrow, beak glancing off metal with a plink. “Henrietta! Don’t dent my scarecrow.” You wave your hand at the red-feathered hen and she ruffles her wings, disgruntled, settling a few steps away. Sighing, you keep reading the page. “‘Your farm helper-’ cute term for a scarecrow, ‘-is both solar powered and battery powered. Once fully charged, it will operate for 48 hours before reaching low-power mode and has three more hours before shutting off completely.’ What, is that it?” 

A quick flip through the rest of the pages doesn’t reveal anything about how to set the scarecrow up, which is extremely unhelpful.

Tossing the booklet to the side, you move to stand before the crate, hands on your hips as you eye the mass of metal enrobed in rather sad, brown, sack-like cloth. Well if the book won’t tell you much, you can figure this out yourself. You’ve been able to fix the machines and tools you need for farmwork, so you certainly can set this metal scarecrow up in your garden. You hope.

This scarecrow is so. Immensely. Heavy. 

Your shoulders and arms ache terribly from the odd combination of carrying, pushing, and pulling that is necessary to get the scarecrow into your wheelbarrow. It doesn’t get any easier when you have to lift the wheelbarrow scant inches off the ground to push it to your garden, careful to avoid the fresh green and yellow sprouts of vegetables and herbs.

Now, you have the miserable task of somehow getting this hunk of metal out of the wheelbarrow and set up to charge under the sunlight.

After staring at it for a moment, you make the short trip to your house and grab a chair from the wrap-around porch, awkwardly shuffle-walking with it in your arms until you return to the wheelbarrow. You set the chair down, wiggling it until the legs sink a bit into the dirt to make sure it won’t topple over.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you tell yourself, shaking out your arms to prepare for the difficult task ahead. 

First, you move the scarecrow’s legs over the edge of the wheelbarrow, each limb weighing just as much as your large Australian Shepherd who has wandered over to witness your struggles. 

You pause to rub your dog’s side when he stops by your feet, his tongue out and tail wagging. “Come to laugh at me, Pluto?” He barks once, sharp and short, before leaving you to lay down on the dirt a bit away from the chair.

Smiling at him, you continue on with your task. You pull the scarecrow’s arms to rest over your shoulders, and after a moment to catch your breath, you heave your weight forward, pulling with all your might. For a moment, you think that the scarecrow will not budge. But the weight starts to get heavier and heavier on your shoulders, the wheelbarrow falls onto its side, and the entire weight of this scarecrow is pressing down on you.

You stumble forward, then find enough balance to walk the three steps needed to get to the chair. Quickly, you shrug the scarecrow’s arms off your shoulders and lean back until you hear the scraping of metal and fabric on wood and suddenly feel infinitely lighter.

Air whooshes past your lips in an exhale. Rolling your shoulders helps to ease some of the pain and tension that has gathered in your arms, but you surely will feel the ache for the next few days. You’re used to the hard labor of farm work, sure, but you rarely have to lift this much weight at once. Why on earth did they make a scarecrow this heavy? 

Turning around, your eyes grow wide when you take in the present from your aunt. “Oh, wow.” 

Under the bright golden sunlight of a warm spring afternoon, the scarecrow is glorious despite the rough burlap sack covering the torso. There are so many fine details, more than you’d ever expect the manufacturers to include. Individual knuckle joints are coated in a shimmery light yellow paint, the same color as what you can see of the metal torso. The arms have beautifully intricate designs of vines and flowers, twining from wrist to shoulder joint, that are the slightest bit darker than the yellow so the markings are only visible when the sunlight hits them at a certain angle. The scarecrow’s face is split in two colors—that light yellow on the left and a deeper golden hue on the right—which curves to form a crescent. You wonder what colors the eyes and mouth would be, but they’re all closed, giving the scarecrow a serene expression. To finish off the wonderful craftsmanship, a set of triangular spikes crown the scarecrow’s face, starting in that deep gold and fading away to the light shimmery yellow at the tip.

“You’re like the sun,” you murmur. “Sun the scarecrow.” 

Proud of your naming skills, you take the time to properly position Sun in the chair, hoping that the battery will charge properly under the bright afternoon light. As you stand, you pat the scarecrow on the chest. “Please protect my garden for me, Sun. Don’t let the birds eat the seeds and sprouts.”

Turning away and feeling very pleased at your new addition to the garden, you call, “Pluto!” and snap your fingers twice. Your dog shakes dirt off his dappled coppery-brown fur before bounding toward you. The two of you return home, have a peaceful afternoon as you complete the necessary chores and enjoy dinner as the chill of a typical spring night starts to set in.

Late into the night, long after you have gone to bed, the scarecrow opens his eyes. They shine with a soft white light, cutting through the dark. He is deep blue and obsidian, with the night sky embedded into his arms in a soft silver that emanates the faintest light. His head, now devoid of spikes, swivels as he takes in his surroundings. 

This place is unfamiliar to him—to them. It is a relief.

Knowing that there are no immediate dangers to them, he settles back into the chair. He does not know why he has been placed here in the garden, but is sure that his counterpart will find out tomorrow. For now, he will stay on guard but enter low power mode to conserve energy as they have not fully charged, and will leave his exploration of this new territory to tomorrow night. 

He will keep watch until morning.

note: the plan is for this to be a little drabble or mini series whenever I feel inspired to add a new part! it's also a little side project for fun as I work on a larger piece hehe. I'd love to hear what you think about this first part! (especially because there's a second part in the works already ^u^)

series masterlist ✧ part two

[karizard-ao3]

Eren and Mikasa in the kiss cam?

Hello, anon! Thank you for your patience! I wanted to write a drabble for this and it took me some time to decide on the scenario. Without further ado, I present...

Eren and Mikasa in the Kiss Cam

“So what’s going on between you and that hottie sitting next to you?” Hitch asked as she came out of the stall and joined Mikasa at the sink to wash her hands. She’d gotten free hockey tickets at work, so that’s what they were doing for girl’s night this week.

Mikasa blushed. “He just shared his nachos with me and we talked a little bit,” she said. “He bought me a beer.”

“Oh?” said Hitch, waggling her eyebrows.

Mikasa’s blush deepened. “He is pretty cute, isn’t he?”

“I’ll say!” said Hitch.

“I kind of want to give him my number,” said Mikasa, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t know! I’m too shy!”

“Do it!” said Hitch. “You should make a move. Kiss him.”

Mikasa gasped. She was the color of a ripe cherry now. “What if he isn’t into me, though? What if he’s just being nice?”

Hitch scoffed. “There is no way he’s just being nice when he’s checking you out every two seconds. I’ve been keeping my eye on you both. He wants it.”

Mikasa squeaked and shook her head. “I don’t know if I can make the first move.”

Hitch rolled her eyes, shaking the excess water off her hands and grabbing a paper towel. “You need to grow a pair, Mikasa. What’s your seat number?”

Mikasa pulled her ticket stub out of her pocket and showed her. 

“Okay, I’ll meet you back there. I have to go do something first,” said Hitch.

“What are you going to do?” Mikasa asked.

“Just stuff!” Hitch said, sounding annoyed as she pushed open the bathroom door. “I’ll meet you back at the seats.”

“Okay…” said Mikasa, following her out into the hallway, then parting ways to head back toward their section alone.

“Where’s Hitch?” Sasha whispered when Mikasa sidled her way past her towards her seat.

“She wouldn’t tell me,” said Mikasa.

“Probably getting up to something evil,” said Annie, popping  a french fry in her mouth.

“I’m going to text her and ask her to bring me a slice of pizza,” said Sasha, getting out her phone. 

“You just ate two hot dogs and a custard,” said Annie.

“I’m still hungry,” said Sasha.

Mikasa chuckled at them and continued past them to her seat, right between the absent Hitch and the brown-haired, green-eyed stranger who had introduced himself as Eren.

“Hey, you’re back,” he grinned, twisting towards her as she sat down. 

“Did I miss anything good?” she asked, returning his grin with a shy smile.

“There was almost a fight,” said Eren, leaning on the armrest dividing their chairs. “But only almost. So, no. You didn’t miss out on anything… unless you missed me?”

Mikasa’s face, which had just finally gone back to its normal color, turned pink again. Her mind raced for a flirty response. What would Hitch say in her shoes? Ah! “I was counting down the seconds until we could be together again, Eren,” she teased.

Now it was his turn to blush. “Uh… Cool,” he said, with a breathless laugh. “I was… uh… I’m glad you’re back, too.”

The guy with the buzzcut who was sitting next to him elbowed him in the arm. “Smooth,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Eren glared at him. “Fuck off, Connie!”

Connie rolled his eyes again and returned his attention to the game.

Eren turned back to Mikasa. “Um, so… Uh…” He tapped on his knees. “After the game, um…”

“Yes?” said Mikasa, biting her lip.

Eren stared at her for a moment, taking a series of progressively deeper breaths before he finally said, “The crowds can be pretty bad, so be careful on your way out to the parking lot.”

Mikasa’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she said.

Eren gritted his teeth, glancing at Connie, who was snickering under his breath. He scowled and slouched back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I mean, I’ll walk you out,” he said to Mikasa. “Make sure no one bumps into you.”

She brightened. “Okay,” she said.

“So… just stay close to me,” he said, straightening up a little bit. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Okay,” said Mikasa, scoring a conversational hat trick. “Thank you.”

Eren chanced a glance at her. “It’s my pleasure,” he said, swallowing hard. “And then, maybe, if you want…”

“Oh my god, it’s a kiss cam!” Sasha squealed.

“Huh?” said Eren, his head swinging towards the jumbotron. Mikasa turned, too.

The screen was now framed in pink, with a heart cutout revealing the camera’s view. An older couple gave each other a peck on the lips and waved at everyone before the image cut to another couple, who laughed and shook their heads, making X’ing motions with their hands. When the camera didn’t pan away, the woman kissed her fingertips and patted it onto the man’s temple. The image cut to a little boy and his mom. He shouted, pointing up at himself with delight, then turned and hugged his mom, who squeezed him tight and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Mikasa giggled. “Oh my gosh, can you imagine being put on the spot like… Oh…” she trailed off, her stomach lurching. That was her face on the screen now. And, framed inside the heart with her, Eren. He was frozen beside her, his hands gripping his armrests. When she saw him unfreeze and turn to her on the screen, she turned to him in real life.

“Uh…” he said with an awkward laugh. “So… If you’re cool with it…” He turned his face and tapped on his cheek.

Mikasa glanced back up at the screen, biting her lip, then looked back at Eren. You need to grow a pair, Hitch’s disembodied voice commanded. Mikasa sucked in a breath as she took Eren’s chin and turned his face back towards hers. She tapped her lips. “If you’re cool with it…” she started to say, but his mouth was already on hers, his hand slipping around the back of her head and tangling in her hair. She grabbed his shoulders, kissing him back amid a stadium full of whoops and catcalls. They parted to take a breath, then dove back in.

“Uh, you can stop now. The kiss cam is over,” said Annie. “It’s been over for a while.”

“You horny freaks,” said Sasha, as Mikasa and Eren separated, panting and disoriented. 

Mikasa smoothed out her hair, glancing around, shame-faced. “Sorry,” she said, but everyone was watching the game again. She bit her lip and looked at Eren. He was staring at her, starry-eyed. 

“We usually go get food after the game if you want to come,” he said. “But, like, we can ditch everyone else and just go by ourselves.” He blushed. “If you want.”

“I do,” said Mikasa, as Hitch finally returned to her seat.

“Cool!” said Eren, grinning from ear-to-ear, then turning to his friends. “Hey, I’m going to go hang out with Mikasa after the game so you can all go fuck yourselves and eat without me.”

Hitch leaned towards Mikasa. “What’s that?” she said. “You made out with a guy in front of everyone and now you’re going on a date with him? Hmmm… It’s lucky you ended up on that kiss cam, I guess, or you never would have made a move.” She smirked.

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “Hitch!” she hissed.

“What?” Hitch asked, tossing her hair.

Mikasa studied her for a moment. “Nothing,” she said, turning back to the game and Eren. She was right.

The end.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 15

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Please scream at me!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

After an early morning phone call, your mother insists on coming to town for lunch. You couldn't bear to tell her everything over the phone and frankly, you don't know how much you should tell her. You remember in high school when you were sent home after Kelly Harris dumped mud in your lap, your mother was more irritated to have you home than empathetic. 

You watch through the peephole before you sneak out. You haven't slept but you can't be sure Colin hasn't returned. There's enough noise in the building that it's hard to discern who's coming or going. 

When you do emerge, you flit quickly to the first floor and dip out, looking over your shoulder for either Colin or his vengeful girlfriend. You get through the lobby without trouble but you're not in the clear. Surely the day holds nothing but trouble, regardless of where it comes from.

You check the time as you wait for the cab. You refer to the text your mother sent before she set out and give the driver the name of the restaurant. You've never been there before and you're certain it's well out of your price range. Another debt for the tally.

This is the last thing you ever wanted. It makes all this drama seem all the more ridiculous. You’re a grown woman and this is what you’ve come to. Back to square one.

You approach the restaurant doors and enter with a sheepish grin. You don’t know that you own anything that wouldn’t be underdressed for this bougie brunch locale. Once more, you look at your phone. Crap, she’s there first. That means you're late even if you agreed on nine.

The hostess shows you to the table where your mother waits. She has her compact out as she touches up her mauve lipstick. She doesn’t acknowledge you or the hostess as you sit. She snaps shut the mirror and sips from her stemmed glass of orange juice.

“About time,” she drawls, “oh, and nice to hear from you after all these months.”

Her eyes finally deign to land on you. You gulp. You should’ve taken the chance of talking to your father but ultimately you know it’s not up to him.

“You’ve been so busy with Geri’s wedding–”

“Don’t try to guilt me for your neglect,” she warns, “you should be happy for your sister. Her fiance is a charming man. You’ve met Colton, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice,” you grumble. Family get togethers weren’t exactly your favourite memories. “I’ve been waiting on my invite–”

“Invite? You’re a bridesmaid. Geri sent out that email months ago. Is this why you weren’t at the fitting?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t get an email.”

“You’re wrong. Certainly, you must be. You and the rest of the girls are bridesmaids. You have to be. And it might be good for you to be involved in a wedding at least once,” she tuts. You don’t miss the jibe. Yeah, not like you have much hope of walking down the aisle.

“I’ll… I’ll call Geri and clear things up,” you say, “how are the others?”

“Well, Maeve is graduating this year. Always exciting. She’s thinking of joining Audrey at her alma mater. And Livia is somewhere in Spain again.”

“Ah, yeah, she sent me some pictures,” you say.

“And you? What are you up to?” She challenges. She’s not genuinely curious.

“Well,” you take a breath, pausing as a server comes to ask what you’d like to drink. You get the same as your mother and peruse the menu.

“Well…” your mother prompts.

“Yeah, um, I…” you shake your head, you can’t even look at her, “I am on leave from work so… not much.”

“Leave? What does that mean?” She hisses.

You feel your eyes tinge. You look at her. Why is she so different to you? Your other sisters can spill all their worries and whims but you, it’s always judgment. You can never do anything right.

“Uh, I thought maybe it might be a good time to–”

“Ah, pardon,” you’re interrupted before you can sputter out the revelation of another failure. You cringe as you recognise Jonathan’s silky lilt. Why? How? Do you even dare questioning fate anymore? “I just, I had to say hello.”

You force a smile and look at him, trying not to falter in front of your mother’s all-seeing gaze. She sits up, and lets out a hum of surprise as she sees Johnathan. Her lashes give a telling flick.

��Hello?” She utters quizzically.

“This must be one of your sisters,” he says as he runs his hand up the sleek lapel of his blue jacket, “very pleased to finally meet you.”

“Sister? Oh, do not flatter me. I am her mother, Eugenia,” she introduces herself with a smug smirk, “and how do you know each other?”

“Uh, oh,” you stutter and send Jonathan a desperate look. Do you tell her you’re his disgraced former employee? Or maybe just business acquaintance. She’s going to know eventually, that’s why you’re here. “Jonathan is–”

“Jonathan Pine,” he introduces himself, “honoured to finally meet you.” He looks at you, arching a brow before turning his attention back to his mother, “you both must be so excited for your elder daughter’s upcoming nuptials?”

“British?” She intones with intrigue.

“You’ve caught me out,” he grins, “your daughter’s been rather helpful in getting me acquainted with this country. Very lovely…” he peeks at you again, “hardly as lovely as her. You’ve raised a rather endearing daughter.”

“You…” she blinks in confusion, sending you another flabbergasted peek, “you and my daughter…” she lets the suggestion hang. Jonathan does too as he gives you an option; come clean or take the bait.

“I was waiting to introduce you at the wedding,” you blurt out, “I… it’s new.” You say, each word jarring as the lies piece themselves together on your tongue, “and I thought,” you look at Jonathan pointedly, “he was out of town.”

“Business trip was canceled, rescheduled to a business breakfast,” he slithers, “I’m meeting Gerry soon,” he checks his watch, “but I will be sure to tell the hostess to put your bill with mine.”

“Oh–” you squeak.

“Oh my,” your mother trills, “you are too kind. That is…” she gapes at you openly, “you… you’re with my daughter. Her?”

He chuckles lightly, “why wouldn’t I be with such a beautiful woman?”

“I didn’t mean– I don’t– I’m very surprised,” she exclaims shrilly, “she never mentioned, but then again, she’s always been so private. So shy. And you seem like such a lovely man.”

“I like to think so, but please, she is not the lucky one,” he preens and steps towards you. He places his hand on your shoulder and bends, grazing his lips across your cheek, “go with it,” he whispers. 

You turn your head just as his lips aim for yours. He kisses you and the air leaves the room. Your chest ties tight and your entire body tingles. Oh, wow. You’re too swept up in the sensation of his unexpected kiss that you can’t remember why you were so off-kilter a moment ago.

“Now let me not interrupt further. A mother-daughter reunion,” he puts his hand to his chest, “how sweet.”

He backs away and dips his chin. He turns on his heel and crosses the restaurant as you stare after him. The server approaches and sets your drink in front of you. You drink it in the silence of your mother’s disbelief.

“Well, you’ve done finely,” she says in a stunted cadence, “I… he’s so handsome. And tall. And blond!”

“Mom,” you plead as you nearly choke on the orange juice.

“Well. Even you must realise he’s very… dashing as they’d say in his home country,” she flutters her lashes dreamily, “oh, yes, you must bring him to the wedding. He’ll look wonderful in the photos.”

You wet your lips with your tongue and nod. You look down at the table, still buzzing as your lips warm up. You can’t stop thinking about that kiss. It nips away at the anger that kept you up all night, but hardly solves your anxiety.

You can’t tell your mother you expect to be evicted in the next month or that you lost your job. So what now? How do you untangle the knot that only grows bigger and bigger?

💗

For once, your time with your mom is less than torturous. She keeps her barbs dull enough to leave you only bruised. Her mood is a touch above neutral, which for you, is an accomplishment. You’re content but not entirely at ease. You have a lot to figure out.

You bid her goodbye just outside the patio seating and wave to her as she unlocks her luxury car. You watch until you see her get in and let out a sigh. Shit. Not only do you have Jonathan to worry about, but you don’t expect Colin to be AWOL much longer.

So what do you do? Go home and face the music or call Jonathan and try not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. It was a nice favour of him to pretend but you don’t want to assume anything. High hopes and stupid girlish fantasies got you into all this.

As you walk along the curb, a short toot draws you to a stop. You turn as the whir of a car window steals your attention and you face the familiar car. Jonathan leans over the passenger seat to see you.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?” He asks.

You twist your heel into the pavement and bend down. You furrow your brows as that big question needles between them. You can’t lie anymore, you can’t just wait for the truth to come out, you just have to ask.

“How did you know I was here?”

His brows lift and his eyes roll to the side. He gives a guilty grin, “I hope you don’t… misinterpret it but I… staked out your building.”

“What?” You puff out.

“Yes, I know, it sounds very bad. And I won’t claim it was entirely sane but I wanted to see the police take him away after I filed the report. To be sure you were safe and then… I sat stuck in my own head. Wanting to run up those stairs and knock on your door but also terrified you wouldn’t answer,” he shrugs, “and I followed you because I worried you might run into him, but that’s only half the reason…”

You swallow and step closer, “Jonathan, what are you doing?”

“Being crazy,” he lowers his eyes bashfully, “I know, you don’t need two madmen after you.”

You shake your head and reach for the handle. You open the door and get in. He sits back, watching you as you move your purse into your lap. You stare at the dashboard.

“What is going on?” You turn your head and look into his beautiful blue eyes, “what is this?”

“I don’t…” he begins.

“You’re my boss.”

“I was.”

“I never should’ve dragged you into this–”

“I’m so happy you did,” he murmurs.

“Jonathan, please,” you beg, “it’s not right–”

“You quit,” he insists, “so what isn’t right?”

You pout and sit back, turning straight and looking up at the upholstered ceiling of the car. You don’t know what to say. No, you don’t know how to say it. Except…

“I’m stupid.”

“What?” He scoffs.

“I’m stupid because… I’m scared and lost. And I can’t make you follow me through that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Feelings don’t just go, they just get complicated,” you explain, parsing through the stirring in your gut, “I hate Colin, I’m scared to hell of him, but I still… feel some of those things I felt.”

“Oh, but darling,” he reaches over and rests his hand above your shoulder, “I know feelings don’t just go. Mine certainly won’t.”

“Feelings? For me? Are you sure it’s not pity?”

“I only pity myself for how deeply I’ve fallen,” he breathes as you sense him leaning in, “the first day I saw you, I knew. I’ve never been much of a romantic but I have to confess something.”

“What?” You shy away, sensing how close he is.

“I knew how to use the coffee machine,” he admits, “I just needed an excuse.”

“You… did?” You look at him. He’s so much closer than you thought.

“Oh yes, if you hadn’t helped with the machine, I would’ve failed miserably in front of you at making copies. And if that didn’t work, well, I suppose I’d just have to make a mistake in my numbers,” he purrs, “you would’ve helped me, wouldn’t you?”

You quiver out a breath. You want to collapse into him, you want to let him make you forget everything but him, and yet, you’re so afraid. You’re afraid to believe that this could ever be real for you.

He doesn’t let your fear win. His lips are on yours again and that’s all you need. Nothing is left but that moment, the feeling of his mouth on yours, how his hand comes up to frame your jaw and cradle your cheek, his other creeping behind your head as he clings to you desperately. You can’t help by latching onto his collar, diving into his need.

You don’t stop until you're dizzy and breathless. He pulls back, hovering before you, thumb tracing your cheek bone as his other hand tickles your neck. His eyes search you, admire you, you’ve never been looked at like that.

“May I drive you home?” He asks softly, nuzzling your nose with his.

[sunwhispers]

mizuenatober 6 - love languages i love my hcs for mzen love languages and wanted to draw more but. realized i dont have any ideas of how to portray it fully using art so instead im giving you this and im gonna make a post rambling about this.

mizuki

giving

gift gifting! i think they love to get ena as well as their other friends smaller or bigger gifts, like some cute accessories they found in a store and it reminded it of her. also a big fan of doing handmade gifts. imagine mzk making ena a dress??

acts of service: they like to lift some weight off ena's back for all the teasing!! like domestic mizuena and ena says she'll do the dishes when she gets back but mizuki is like NO HEHE ILL DO IT FIRST because then ena will feel a nice relief once she gets there and :D theyre also like a little puppy. ena tells them to pass her the tv remote and theyre like YES YOUR HIGHNESS. also royalty au ahahahahahahah. this works really well here

quality time: you know how mizuki treasures time spent with niigo because everyone else left them after some time and didnt do something "next time"? yeah! its canon mizuena goes out together a lot, whether to check a cafe or shopping. ofc theyre into quality time.

receiving

words of affirmation. absolutely words of affirmation. they need to get a clear confirmation they're accepted and loved after all they've been through and if they don't, they tend to overthink things..

quality time mentioned above :3

ena

giving

words of affirmation, again! she may have some tsundere moments but makes sure mizuki knows they're loved when they need to and.. do i even have to say anything.

AND SHE KEEPS BRINGING IT UP TOO. making sure mizuki doesnt think of something stupid!!!!! daily reminders i wait for you motherfucker!!!

physical contact: SHES A HUGGER IN HER SLEEP I KNOW IT she always clings to a plushie or a person. when awake she may not really show it in public (tsundere behavior again.. tch..) but she likes little gestures like kicking each other under a table when eating out, or nudging mizuki with her elbow, just. whatever contact that wouldnt be so vulnerable. she used to wrestle with akito a lot as a kid and kinda still likes to playfully fight with people? kinda like cats/dogs bond thru playful fights!

quality time: she likes hanging out with people!! going outs with mizuki i mentioned before + picnic event where her idea of getting something out of mizuki is spending quality time with her, airi and shizuku

receiving

acts of service! the way she's an older sister makes me think she grew up feeling she has a lot of responsibility on her shoulders and. its nice to have that taken care of instead of worrying about it yourself

aand physical touch. likes giving and likes receiving. there's not much i want to add really because my previous phys touch explained everything LOL

if youve read this thanks. i think im insane

[corsairesix]

Fallout TV show thoughts

Spoilers ahead because I'm like, talking about the show and what happens in it.

The first two episodes are the strongest definitely. The vault dwellers being culty trad weirdos and the brotherhood being technofascists is a great return to form. But after that, the aspects of both of those tend to get subsumed into "Lucy and Max are naive"

Lucy and Max kinda stop having ideologies pretty quick. It's easier to accept with Max because he's shown from the beginning to be less interested into the technocult aspects of the Brotherhood but Lucy has fully drunk the vault kool-aid and that kinda becomes secondary to "she's from a vault so she's used to good people"

The central tension of "if it's life or death, you'll abandon your morals" vs "but we have to keep being better anyway" is a really popular one for post-apocalypse stories to tell, but it's kind of a boring Fallout story for me.

The early Brotherhood stuff really hits the sweet spot between the creepy ritualistic aspects and the fact that a lot of them are just shitty bullies. Titus going from the helmet voice to his normal voice was a really good scene.

Tangentially, I don't particularly care for Ghoulgins. I thought the pre-war plot with Walton Goggins was great, but with Ghoulgins it felt like every scene he was in he walks up to someone, snarls a bit, kills everyone present, and walks away with no variation.

The best part of episode 3 onwards was all of the stuff with young Steve Buscemi solving mysteries

I laughed at the fact that they did Kid in a Fridge 2, but after the fifth time or so that they played that clip it was increasingly obvious that it was the only backstory that Maximus had. We know exactly five-ish seconds of his life outside the story. And sure, part of that was that he's like, raised in a high-control cult, but so is Lucy and we learn a half-dozen hobbies that she has in the first minute.

Also is it just me or did they put one black guy in every scene where Max was getting his ass beat? So like, invoking a certain imagery for sure but not textually saying anything about racism, which seems like the worst of both worlds

There's a running textual and subtextual dichotomy between "innocence/naivete/ignorance" and "willingness to do violence" but it's undercut a little by how often characters screw up by doing violence because they were ignorant or naive

Lee Moldaver call me

(side note, I'm not a "wouldve been way better if at the end the Black Panther turned to the camera & said "i am communist now" & then specified hes the exact kind of communist i am" person, but honestly Fallout is allergic to ever depicting American communists. McCarthyism can only be bad if it's aimed at the wrong target.)

I just realized Sarita Choudhury was in Gawain and the Green Knight and she was really hot there too

I *really* liked the plot device of "Vault-Tec has a fiduciary responsibility to the end of the world" but I thought every company we know the name of sitting around a table and going "we're going to do the end of the world" was corny. I'm surprised Slocum Joe wasn't there to pitch an iced regulah and strawberry frahsted vault.

Slight tweak that could be more compelling--vault tec wants things to be bad/drive up paranoia to sell reservations, but they don't actually want the world to end. It's like an insurance company that wants you to be scared of disasters, but doesn't actually want to pay out. That's the exact type of corporate hubris I could see them trying to thread. And it still works with stuff like suppressing Moldaver's cold fusion.

Wait why was the cold fusion in that guy's head? They injected a similar thing into the dog, so I assumed at first he could like, psychically communicate with the dog and that's why the dog could track his head. But the dog was injected before the guy so like, did the dog just have general cold-fusion tracking software injected? Like I know it was an excuse to have Dogmeat IV, but I genuinely want to know if anyone knows the deal with that.

A good amount of stuff that turns me off of the show is that I genuinely find the post-post-apocalypse of some Fallout games more interesting than just post-apoc.

This show seemed less built up than even Fallout 4. All the locations seemed kinda disconnected from any sense of space. I cackled when the snake oil guy showed up to treat the guy's foot. He's not anywhere near the other two places we've seen him. Is this even his building?

"The Governmint" being two guys and their boss who looks like every wasteland mayor ever was really good. Good enough to wipe out Shady Sands? Jury's still out.

I'm not particularly mad about "they destroyed the NCR!" but I wish they did something interesting. I do like how Moldaver flies NCR flags. That was probably the most interesting element of it