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mizutori-heiko · 3 years

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Mizutori’s bakudeku fanfiction master list [complete works]

Really really good writing by these incredible authors. In no particular order! These are all Top!Bakugou and Bottom!Deku. If A/B/O dynamics then it’s Alpha!Bakugou and Omega!Deku. Yes, I have preferences.

Canon World – until 15k

What The Fuck Did You Just Call Me? by reading_raindrop | 8,303 | Izuku starts calling him Bakugou and it pisses the explosive teen off a lot more than he thought it would.

Oh right, you were a little sh*t by SaysiWrites | 5,653 | When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. (Bonus+ the entire Little Sh*t (Kidfic) series)

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean | 10,010 | Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

And Atlas fell by supercrunch | 15,185 | They move in together, after a while. Katsuki joins Best Jeanist and Izuku trains under Gran Torino. They still take comfort in each other every day, curl up in bed and kiss and talk about how life is going. Their live are tumultuous, after all, what with villains and training and rescuing people every week. It’s nice to have something certain. At the end of a day filled with violence and adrenaline, Izuku knows he can come home to someone concrete. It’s perfect. Being a hero is scary and grueling and uncertain, but this part is just right. And then, one day, a child dies in Izuku’s arms.

be loved by bonnia | 5,403 | The kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands.

Big Protein by Mysecretfanmoments | 13,683 | Bakugou Katsuki has a thriving hero career, an agent to manage his famous attitude, and absolutely zero romantic interest in anyone. With the exception of his favourite health food joint refusing to expand to his city, his life is pretty damn perfect—so why does a viral video revealing Deku's stash of dirty mags involving him and Deku together turn everything upside-down?

Chocolate cake and resin preserved flowers by Anoksun | 11,396 | Izuku loses his memories. Katsuki struggles not to lose Izuku too.

Twin Stars by theperksofbeinglarissa | 8,435 | When Deku saves a woman's life, her quirk is accidentally activated. Her quirk? She reveals a person's soulmate. A star-shaped mark appears on Midoriya's left arm... and on Bakugou's as well. Kirishima is the only one who knows that Bakugou is Midoriya's soulmate, and Bakugou isn't taking the news very well. Can the twin stars of class 1-A work out their differences and find their happy ending?

Unhealthy Fixations by Thesis | 12,522 | Izuku is an adult who knows better than to crush on his childhood bully. AND YET.

Like the Moon by osakakitty | 14,781 | Katsuki Bakugo is having constant, erotic dreams about Izuku Midoriya. He isn’t sure why, but they won’t go away. In order to make them stop, he needs to figure out what Izuku Midoriya means to him.

Worth a Second Shot by cinnabee | 13,080 | Katsuki and Izuku celebrate registering as a Hero Duo together with a big party. What could go wrong?

Like Something Out of A Shoujo Manga by Merrywetherweather | 2,971 | Deku ends up in a rather interesting quirk accident, one that triggers flag events as if he were the protagonist of an otome game.

Canon World – 15k++

Blood Moon by lalazee | 94,860 | The Thank-Fuck-We-Aren’t-Dead Sex had started then, and had never really stopped. Then came the feelings and the fights. The ego, the pride, the jealousy. And then there was Us.

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh | 669,463 | During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in this state is no one other than Kacchan.

Just Like Breathing by MD_Daydreamer | 35,423 | Izuku got engaged. He didn't mind. If that made Uraraka happy, he could do it. He thought his life wouldn't change much.But then, Kacchan went to live in the USA.

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral | 15,951 | In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

"what's your type?" by sapphicflower | 20,192 | In order to increase their popularity rankings as up and coming pro heroes, Izuku and Katsuki participate in the most popular late night talk show for hero duos - ‘Heroes Rising!’. They’re killing it, obviously, because they know each other from inside and out. Until one question stumps the two of them: “What is your hero partner’s type?”

and it was Just Right by cinnabee | 23,759 | Katsuki spends two years post-graduation in a furious one-sided competition with his childhood friend and rival's promotional photos - until they finally run into each other, and, well. You shouldn't believe everything you see in magazines. A love story about size differences.

Notice Me, Nerd by useless_donut | 40,000 | Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out. A love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A.

in your dreams, nerd! by sapphicflower | 37,639 | In a strange and unexpected set of circumstances, Izuku and Katsuki find themselves sharing their dreams together whenever they happen to fall asleep at the same time. Being hopelessly in love with each other, they don’t mind it all that much. What better way to spend time with your crush than in a stupidly vivid dream?

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi | 22,419 | It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

Bridges by supercrunch | 18,018 | Bakugou is signed up for a Calvin Klein modeling gig. The thing is, they really do need the money. And Katsuki's technically the leader of this bunch of morons, so he finds himself taking the job even though his pride will never recover. And even though nobody thought to tell him that he'd be working with his ex-boyfriend. You know, the cute freckled guy from high school who went and broke his heart. So, yeah. This whole situation kind of sucks.

objective truth by mamalade | 15,390 | Izuku gets hit with a truth quirk, as one does. He seems to be handling it well—until Katsuki shows up.

catharsis by dollcewrites | 15,071 | It's been six years since Izuku graduated.It's been six years since he confessed to his childhood friend; his classmate and his inspiration. It's been six years since he deleted Bakugou's number, asked his friends not to mention the name, spent every last effort of his heart turning off the TV and averting his eyes from the newspapers. It's been six, long, long years since he gave up on Katsuki Bakugou ever loving him back.

Here here, my friends and me (You are my familia) by Jeka | 128,832 | Bakugou Katsuki has made a great job of ignoring the fact that he is tragically in love with Deku, someone who could never love him like that and let's face it, he doesn't deserve. Now that he can't ignore it anymore, he has to find a way to keep his childhood friend and move on for his own sake. Or so he had thought, maybe he can have Deku, after all. Izuku has everything he always wanted in life. But suddenly he has to navigate the most important relationship in his life through different eyes.

Canon World – Jealous!

Hands Off by SaysiWrites | 7,140 | When a new girl at school starts flirting with Bakugou, his friends quickly become invested in the idea of their friend experiencing love - even if he doesn't seem at all interested in her. What they don't see is Midoriya fuming in the background. But how can he get rid of her when they've spent so long keeping their relationship a secret?

Surfaces by surveycorpsjean | 25,225 | Katsuki has a new girlfriend, but something isn't right. As impossible as it is, Izuku can't help but wonder what it'd be like to be called Katsuki's girl.

Green-Eyed Beast by SecretKiwi | 4,721 | Everyone wants a piece of Katsuki Bakugou, but they should beware of the Green-eyed beast always lurking close behind him.

Green with Envy by Sol_Morales707 | 2,611 | Izuku Midoriya is not as innocent and pure as everyone thinks he is. The truth was he was very jealous and willing to do anything for a certain blonde.

Happy Camper by Arysa | 7,074 | Wanting a break from the stress of dealing with the rookie Pro Hero grind, a handful of students from Class A decide to go on a camping trip. Izuku's excited to relax and catch up with everyone, especially Kacchan. But, well, Kacchan's... Kacchan. And dating Kirishima.

How to stop time: kiss by Teddingtons | 31,693 | Deku finally asks Uraraka out. Everyone's supportive except Bakugou who can't even look him in the eye. Deku seeks him out after and is hit with truth.

What I Deserve by s_the_queen | 16,671 | When Izuku starts dating a student in General Studies, everyone is happy for him. She's super sweet and really caring. But something doesn't sit right with Katsuki.

Deku's Already Fucking Taken by asdfjkl129 | 20,704 | 5 times people don't realize that Deku is already in a very happy relationship and try their hand at asking him out, and then in Bakugou's unique and special style, get very firmly corrected, +1 time where no correction is needed.

His by sister_elric | 6,206 | Izuku would like to consider himself a pretty level headed individual. Sure, he had the occasional tunnel vision, especially when it came to training. And hero work. And Kacchan. But, overall, Midoriya felt as though he typically kept his cool. Well, maybe that was a stretch. But, at the very least he could understand his own emotions. So, it surprised even him when an unfamiliar emotion coursed through him as a first year approached his boyfriend, Katsuki.

Down the Red Line by MinervaHope | 7,804 | Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

Canon World – Fake Relationship Goes Wrong

how he should’ve known (and how it turned out) by vannral | 43,918 | In which Katsuki and Izuku pretend to be a couple to avoid journalists, the plan backfires magnificently because of course it does, and the act goes on. Includes feelings, pining, domestic fluff and jealousy.

Vicious by feelslikefire | 105,173 | Midoriya and Bakugou wind up in the very last position either of them thought they'd be in: Hero Partners. It's not fun, but they learn to cope. Their first big assignment together takes them undercover to infiltrate a cult, but the situation turns out far more sinister than they first thought.

What I can never tell you by Mikacrispy | 27,067 | After living in the US for 5 years, Izuku returns to take care of a concussed Bakugou who believes they're engaged. Now, Izuku has to pretend he's in a relationship with the man he's loved for most of his life, knowing that it's just a matter of time until Katsuki gets better and realizes it's all a lie.

Not-Dating by MiraChaDoodles | 14,290 | Katsuki takes Deku on a not-date to save his career, only to find himself wishing it were real.

we'll do the things that lovers do by ethereals | 29,544 | Izuku gets an invitation to Shouto's wedding and Katsuki is PISSED that he asks Kirishima to be his date (also he wasn't even fucking invited

Canon World – Friends With Benefits (?)

Four Times Bakugou Katsuki Doesn't Intend to Sleep With Midoriya Izuku (And the One Time that He Does) by fallingraine85 | 17,601 | He hadn’t planned for any of this. He isn’t about to go delving into the ball of yarn that is Midoriya Izuku’s heart; he isn’t equipped to try and untangle and make sense of it all. He isn’t about to try to analyze how he’s feeling about all of this, either.... How many times can you repeat the same mistake?

We Wear Chains on the Weekend by surveycorpsjean | 35,086 | Well, in a day of revelations, it turns out that Izuku isn't as vanilla as Katsuki previously thought. Unfortunately, that fascinating discovery is overshadowed by Izuku's dumbassery, because he has zero concept of aftercare."Don't go to anyone else," Katsuki says, because screw it. He can do a better job anyways. Or; Katsuki finds Izuku on a bad drop.

Just for Now by Shiro_Kabocha | 48,135 | Katsuki's parents are out of town over a school break and to keep him from getting up to any shenanigans, they ask Izuku to house sit with him. What are two teenaged boys to do when left alone to their own devices? (Bonus+ the entire Just for Love series)

safe in the darkness by yoonskisses | 20,855 | Izuku and Katsuki had been meeting up secretly for months, with absolutely no feelings involved. Or so Katsuki thought at least. The dorm gossip about Ochaco and Izuku's new relationship seemed to set a spanner in the works for their arrangement.

Alternative Universe – No Quirks

Bluebird by EtherealBeing | 53,108 | Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact. However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Someone Borrowed by mynameis152 | 138,996 | It felt like hours that he stared at Izuku, coming to terms with the fact that a man, his childhood best friend, whom he hadn’t seen since their senior year of high school, was there in front of his very eyes. Then his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched before he uttered through gritted teeth the very name Izuku had longed to hear for years. “Deku.”

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie | 51,598 | Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Manage Me by Justaperson1718 | 10,756 | Izuku becomes Katsuki’s model agent.

Don't Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush | 88,424 | With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Livewire by pretty_rekless | 18,160 | Per Ochako's request, Izuku downloads a gay dating app in hopes to finally find a partner. Except every single one of his leads keep ghosting him or standing him up... That is until one hot, fiery blond enters the chat. Grindr/Tinder AU fic.

Drinking Watermelon by warschach | 8,906 | Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Precious Pet by Mikacrispy | 6,379 | When broke college student Midoriya Izuku found a job that offered lodging, food, and good pay for four hours of work each day, he thought it was too good to be true. But he called anyway. Turns out all he has to do is to be the spoiled little puppy of a rich businessman.

Our Eleven Summers by Dark_Mage_Ayumu | 34,472 | The first time Katsuki met Izuku was when he was eight. For the next eleven years, Izuku changed his life, and no one even knew. Their relationship was something they shared in secret.

sticky note crushes by ladyofsnails | 3,239 | Katsuki hates his roommate. The green-haired, freckled, artsy son of a bitch with his dumb pun t-shirts and paint-stained hands he can’t fucking keep to himself. Katsuki can’t leave a single assignment or paper out in his room because that idiot will just grab anything to draw on it. He’s like a shark that can’t stop swimming else it’ll die – he can’t stop drawing. Ever.

Don't Play Pretend by SweetSide | 10,103 | Actor AU: Deku and Bakugou get the leading roles for an upcoming TV Drama. They weren’t aware that they would be working with each other for who knows how long. It would’ve been completely fine if they weren’t exes.

97.6 FM by jamjars | 32,249 | Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Read {between} Your Lines by greatcloudninja | 52,252 | Midoriya Izuku, up-and-coming actor, has finally hit his big break (...), Bakugou Katsuki, who has been acting for over twenty years.However, Bakugou seems to have it out for Izuku, leading to tension both on and off set. When some incriminating photos surface, the studio suggests (...): having Bakugou and Midoriya fake a relationship to get ahead of the rumors.

I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts by PassingShadow | 5,522 | Izuku is a professional cuddler and Katsuki is his new client that’s just a little rough around the edges, and needs a natural healing touch.

Alternative Universe – Quirkless Deku

A Good Old-Fashioned Tattoo AU by lalazee | 14,437 | After their paths had split, Bakugou & Deku meet again as adults. While Bakugou begins to repent for the kid he used to be, he also starts to prove himself as he the man he is now.

Call Me a Safe Bet (I'm Betting I'm Not) by WTTTD | 10,803 | He wished he had some sort of heads up before seeing Deku again for the first time after nearly two years, looking like the essence of a lazy Sunday, smiling and surrounded with brand new, adoring friends. It was a little fitting that Katsuki burned for him so badly. (Support Department Deku)

In Which Kacchan Has a Ruff Time by OneshotPrincess | 14,511 | Bakugou Katsuki gets quirked into a dog, gets adopted by an unknowing Izuku and generally has a very rough few days full of realizations

While You Were Sleeping by Belkacaramelka (annabelleg) | 71,197 | The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Let Me Assist You Personally by Seeress | 32,806 | Izuku is long-suffering Personal Assistant to #1 Pro Hero Dynamight.Dynamight can't keep a PA to save his career. They all quit crying after a few days weeks. Enter, Izuku—with enough money problems to brave the jaws of the cranky beast. Childhood friend turned glorified paid slave. Somehow it all works out. ‘Kill them with kindness’, his mom had told him once. If that were true, Bakugou Katsuki would be stone-cold dead by now.

Smile For The Camera by kurokonekokilled | 19,179 | Midnight has a cam site, home to millions of users, but one catches Katsuki's eye when he goes scrolled through it in search for something to help him release a little stress. A live stream and the best orgasm of his life later, his wallet is lighter, and he might be almost as obsessed with this Deku guy as the cam boy is with him.

Just Like The Comics by brichibi | 24,935 | Where Izuku works at a comic book shop because that’s as close to a hero as he’s gonna get, and Katsuki plays the part of heroic ex-boyfriend who is good at everything except winning Izuku back... maybe

Alternative Universe – Quirks

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy | 92,273 | Bakugou Katsuki is a Pro Hero whose boss demands him to take an intern. Midoriya Izuku is a UA student who needs an internship. When the two of them are put together, they learn about what it truly means to be a Hero and what it means to be in love.

A/B/O – Secret! Baby

Home by Emerald2402 | 87,214 | Midoriya Izuku left Japan in a rush, moving to America without a word to anyone else. But then almost 11 years later he arrives back Home and Bakugou Katsuki's Alpha is furious. Fuck that, Bakugou is furious, because Midoriya Izuku, an omega he tasted one time, has been keeping a very big, very blonde haired, green eyed secret.

Those Under the Same Stars by PerpetuallyPerturbed | 325,553 | When Katsuki Bakugo left Izuku Midoriya five years ago, he thought it was for forever. He put aside dreams and wishes of the omega to focus on his career. He was going to be the best hero, after all. He couldn't have an omega getting in his way. So when he's stopped on the streets one day by a pup begging for help for his mom, he isn't prepared to face what he gave up, and what the consequences of his actions were. (Quirkless Deku)

A/B/O – Quirks

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature | 10,062 | Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he's been hiding it well but there's one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

Claim Me by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 114,449 | Being an Alpha has nothing to do with Katsuki's success as a Pro-Hero, the same way Deku's Omega status hasn't kept him from becoming Number Two. Secondary gender doesn't mean anything nowadays and “mating” is an antiquated practice. So when Izuku, his rival, asks Katsuki to Claim him in the middle of the night, there is only one logical thing to say. “What the fuck?”

Change of Plans by Mikacrispy | 185,965 | Alpha Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki never planned to get married to some random omega but what he wants isn't an option anymore. One for All wielder Midoriya Izuku has suffered injustice too many times and doesn't plan in allowing his secondary gender to dictate how he must live his life. Falling in love was never in the plans.

Going Feral For You by ANGIE_fic | 17,977 | Bakugou has an aggression problem that might have to do with his Alpha. His job is on the line because of it. So what do you do with a pent up Alpha? Yes.Rut. (Quirkless Izuku)

i live for you, i long for you by jeonjeonggukkkkkie | 19,165 | The five times Izuku hinted he wants Katsuki to spend his next heat with him, and the one time Katsuki took the hint.

Baby's First Bloom by ContraryBee | 44,945 | Izuku blooms for Katsuki one warm day in their third year of middle school. What follows is both boys learning about themselves, their bond, and the society they live in.

As Fate Would Have It by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 88,737 | Katsuki Bakugo had plenty of reasons why he wasn't mated yet, not that he was going to explain why to just anyone. But now, Ground Zero was running out of time. If he didn't find someone soon, he'd lose his position as a Pro-Hero and he'd never get to be #1. So, when he finds out there's a male Omega recently arrested for prostitution that's headed to prison if he too doesn't get a mate…well it must be fate. (Quirkless Izuku)

A/B/O – No Quirks

Gravity by warschach | 71,477 | Izuku is back in his hometown and plenty hasn't changed much from the 8 years he was gone. Except, Katsuki Bakugou, the alpha king of their small town. He's hotter- because that's fair, right, God? -, stronger, a now-famous pro fighter, and noticeably nicer this round.Not that he cares, pfft. (Fine, he cares.)

Nine Months by greatcloudninja | 23,303 | Omega Midoriya Izuku connects with Alpha Bakugou Katsuki through an online singles ad. Izuku pays Katsuki to help him with his heat, ending up pregnant in the process. What follows is a pregnancy filled with ups and downs, but whatever hurdles come their way, they can make it through together.

The long dark by Ominous-Anonymous (Ominonymous) | 13,289 | He could have been really dangerous. He could be a fucking murderer for all he knew. But Izuku Midoriya, ever the reckless daredevil, was not thinking of that when he got into a car with a complete stranger. Completely ignoring the part where his mother always taught him to never gets into cars with alphas he didn't know...

#bakudeku #masterlist #fanfic masterlist #katsudeku #holy shit i can't believe i did this #mizutori’s personal post archive #bakudeku fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #alpha bakugou #omega izuku #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist post #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #archive of our own #ao3

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pwarkluv · 3 years

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❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes.

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went.

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside.

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least.

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit.

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life.

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways.

he just wanted to be loved.

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood.

jisung wanted that, craved that.

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt.

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs.

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home.

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in.

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind.

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself.

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option.

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty.

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard.

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do.

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him.

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there. what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up.

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on.

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind.

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing.

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window.

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room.

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention.

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along.

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Note

elmosolyodni for the wordstuck prompts 💕

elmosolyodni: to slowly break out into a genuine smile when being overcome with emotions, like love or utter happiness.

read on ao3

As much as he wanted it to be, as much as he wanted it for himself, Eddie’s never been great at romance.

His proposal to Shannon was more like a suggestion, a stuttering statement that tumbled out of him when she showed him the positive test six months after their first date. And he didn’t give it much thought again — didn’t have time to think about it — until a couple months into his tour, when his team was swapping stories about wives and husbands over dinner and someone asked, “So Diaz, how’d you pop the question?”

The fact that he didn’t have a story to tell stung more than he thought it would.

He tried to make it up to her — bought her flowers when he was home, took her out for their anniversary every year, but between parenthood and redeployment and the growing chasm between them when he came back the second time, any notion of romance felt harder and harder to hold onto. And when she left, amid the panic and shame and anger, there was also a sadness, a resignation that the romance he’d quietly craved just wasn’t meant for him. He had bills to pay, a kid to take care of, a life to rebuild. Sweeping gestures from him or for him no longer seemed important.

That all changed when he met Buck, as most things in his life did.

Even before they started dating, Eddie wanted to do things for Buck. He wanted to buy him the shirt in the window display that reminded him of his eyes, wanted to make sure that they always had his weird Icelandic yogurt in the fridge for when he stayed over, wanted to wrap him up when he got that broken look on his face and remind him that he is loved by everyone and especially by Eddie. It was a physical need, one he felt in his gut every time, but he’d shut that part of himself off so firmly that all he could do was hope it didn’t linger too long. Buck needed a friend, and he’d be damned if he did anything stupid enough to ruin what they already had, what they’d already built.

It took a bullet ripping through his abdomen to make him realize what a terrible idea that had been.

But a year later wounds are healed, PT is long done, and he wakes up next to Buck every morning feeling happier than he has in almost a decade. He gets to buy the shirt for him, stock up on yogurt, and press himself into Buck’s space until his eyes get their spark back. He can fantasize about the house they’ll buy or the dogs they’ll adopt once Chris moves out.

He can see a titanium ring in the display case of the jewelry store at the mall and perfectly imagine what it would look like on Buck’s finger.

And he can make it all the way to his truck after buying it before the panic starts to set it.

He doesn’t register driving to Maddie and Chim’s until he’s frantically knocking on the door, hoping he heard Buck right and that Maddie’s off today taking care of a sick Jee-yun. The door flies open, and he sees Maddie’s face go from pissed to surprised to confused as she zeros in on the velvet box held limply in his hand.

“Uh, Eddie, that’s really sweet, but there are a lot of reasons why this would never work.”

His laugh is borderline hysterical as he gently pushes into the apartment. “It’s for Buck, but I— we haven’t really— I don’t even know if—” He doesn’t realize he’s pacing until Maddie takes his elbow and steers him to the couch, hands him a glass of water, and pushes him to sit.

“Breathe. Drink,” she says, and he does as his mind keeps spinning. She sets the empty glass on the coffee table and sits in the armchair across from him. “Okay. You want to propose. That’s a good thing, right?”

“Of course.” It’s the best thing, at the very top of a list of things he thought were untoppable.

“Have you guys talked about getting married?”

It wasn’t so much a conversation as a shift in language — one day the phrase “if we get married” changed to “when we get married” and neither of them thought twice about it because it felt so right.

“Sort of,” he settles on.

“And you’re sure he’d say yes?”

“Yes.” There’s few things in life he’s ever been so sure of, no matter what his earlier panic was making him think.

“So what’s the problem?”

He slumps back on the couch, hands running through his hair. “I don’t know how to do it.”

Maddie squints at him. “Eddie, it’s a pretty hard thing to mess up. And you’ve already been married, so don’t you have some practice?”

“That was different,” he says. “Shannon was already pregnant, it was more like a to-do list item than anything else. I didn’t even get her a ring until a couple months later.”

“Well you’re already a step ahead there, so that’s good.”

He sighs, pulling the ring box out of his pocket again and opening it. The thin line of silver running through the black glints in the sunlight, and he can still picture Buck wearing it so clearly, he’s just not sure how it gets there. All he knows is this aching need he can feel in his chest to make sure that however he does it, it’s enough — more than enough — that Buck knows exactly how deep his love runs, exactly how desperately Eddie needs him in his life and by his side.

Maddie moves to sit next to him and takes the box, and Eddie falls back into the cushions again. “I just want it to be perfect for him,” he says quietly. “Romantic. All the stuff people dream about when they think about getting engaged. But I have no idea how to do that.”

Maddie studies the ring for a minute before shutting the box, pressing it into his hand until he looks her in the eye. Her gaze is steady, piercing, and very (scarily) reminiscent of her brother’s. “You are asking him to marry you. It’s already perfect.” The reassurance helps, and it’s easy to smile back at her when she squeezes his hand.

“But,” she says, reaching for a pen and notebook on the coffee table, “a little romance never killed anyone, so let’s make some lists and figure out what you do and don’t want to do.”

Lists sound good. Eddie can work with lists.

“Rule number one,” she says, already scribbling, “no sporting events. Nothing kills the mood faster than seeing your face on a Jumbotron…”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, none of the lists really matter.

Because two weeks later, they’re sitting on the back patio after dinner, night air cool and lit up around them by the lights Chris insisted on hanging for his last backyard sleepover. Buck’s going on about a patient who tried to insist he could do CPR on himself, and Eddie’s hypnotized by his enthusiasm, the expressiveness of his hands and the joyful blush on his cheeks. He says something that makes both of them laugh, bubbling through the quiet of the neighborhood, and Eddie knows, immediately and with every part of him.

He has to ask Buck now. It’s not the candlelit dinner and walk on the beach he’d decided on with Maddie, nor is it even close to as big and bold as anything else they’d come up with. But none of that matters now because his skin is buzzing and his heart is pounding and he doesn’t want the ring burning in his pocket a minute longer — he wants to swear himself to Buck right here, in this moment that is extraordinarily ordinary and perfectly them. This is a story he wants to tell people over and over, to their family and friends and anyone else who will listen.

The universe must still be trying to make up for the hell it put him through last year, because the playlist coming through their portable speaker changes to something softer, romantic, and Eddie takes his chance before he talks himself out of it.

“Dance with me,” he says, standing and offering his hand to Buck.

“I’m sorry, are my stories boring?” Buck laughs as he takes his hand, folding into Eddie’s space like he’s always meant to be there, arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Never,” Eddie says, and he pauses, because the one thing he and Maddie didn’t talk about was what he actually wanted to say to Buck when he asked. And now that he’s here with very little preparation, the huge, all-encompassing feelings he has for Buck refuse to be wrangled into a few measly sentences. None of the words he can think of feel big enough to capture how deeply his love runs, and he can feel his skin start buzzing for a much more unpleasant reason.

Hands squeeze his waist, zoning him back in and focusing him on Buck, on the crease between his eyebrows and the worry around his mouth. “Everything okay?” he asks, because he always knows when Eddie gets lost in himself, sometimes even before Eddie figures it out.

Buck knows him better than he knows himself. He doesn’t need big, poetic monologues for Buck to understand what’s going on inside his head.

The buzzing changes again, fueling his determination as he slips his hand into his pocket. “I love you. So much it’s almost scary. But I’m more scared of spending the rest of my life without you,” he holds the ring up between them, “so will you marry me?”

Buck freezes, stopping them both from swaying with the music. Eddie watches his eyes flit between the ring and Eddie and back again, holding his breath as he waits for an answer. Finally, Buck’s eyes lock on Eddie and stay there, a soft smile growing and growing until it’s so incandescently bright that Eddie’s afraid he might have to look away or risk losing his vision.

And then, just as quickly, Buck drops his hands from Eddie’s waist and runs back into the house.

Eddie honestly isn’t sure what to make of this, the only thought running through his head being what the fuck just happened here. But then Buck’s running back outside, still smiling and not-so-secretly holding something behind his back, and now it’s Eddie’s turn to glow.

“You’re joking,” he says quietly, cheeks already hurting from a smile that feels permanent and eyes feeling a little wet.

Buck shakes his head, his eyes shining too as he holds up the velvet box. “Bought it like a month ago when Chris and I went to buy him a new backpack, I had to bribe him with a new video game to keep him quiet. I haven’t even gotten a chance to tell Maddie yet.”

Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if the sheer amount of joy coursing through his veins was making him float a couple inches off the ground. “Is that a yes then?” he asks.

Buck’s laugh is loud and sharp, and Eddie can’t think of a more perfect sound. He takes the ring out and tosses the box aside, holding it up next to the one in Eddie’s hand. “Only if you’ll marry me too.”

It’s a flurry, then, of rings on fingers and breathless kisses and whispers of I love you, I love you so much. The whirlwind settles and they start swaying to the music again, holding each other even closer, and Eddie revels in the new weight on his hand that ties them together. He feels light and loved, completely enveloped in this romance that he’s finally able to give fully and receive just as well.

Buck takes his hand and places a kiss just below his ring, and Eddie knows this is just the beginning. They have a lifetime of love and happiness ahead of them, and Eddie finally feels like he deserves it.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #can i offer you all some proposal fluff in these trying times???#alicia i'm sorry this took forever!!!#ficcery

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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

Text

evanescence (m.)

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader

genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds

word count: 7.8k

summary:

evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams

song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5 seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer

notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!

The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.

Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.

It’s sleep itself.

You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.

Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.

The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.

Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.

You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.

His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.

“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”

It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”

You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”

“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.

“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling.

“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.

“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”

Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.

Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts.

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.”

“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”

“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.

“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence.

You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”

The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.

“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.

You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.

“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own.

He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.

“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”

“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”

Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.

It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”

A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”

Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.

If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.

You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.

A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…

That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.

“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.”

There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”

“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”

You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.

“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.

You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it.

Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again.

The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”

You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.

“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.

“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders.

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.”

Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”

“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”

The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?”

It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him…

At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.

Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.

You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.

A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.

It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.

“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.

“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?”

“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”

You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”

“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.

The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you.

“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”

Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen.

Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.

Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”

“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.

“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip.

“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.

Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo.

You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten.

Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.

Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-”

Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow.

He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”

You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.

His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.

“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”

Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat.

A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely.

You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up.

“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”

There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.

When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“How did you even get into my basement?”

“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids.

“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.

There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”

Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence.

When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you.

He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.

You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.

Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.

Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower.

“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”

“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.

She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You don’t look back.

#jungwoo fic #nct fic #jungwoo smut #nct smut #nct angst #kim jungwoo angst #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #jungwoo angst #nct 127 fic #kpop smut #kpop fic #kpop angst #nct: almost

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redwinterroses · 3 years

Text

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

#The only reason I'm even posting this is for my own remembering later #and i guess if fluffy or solar want to see my mindless ramblings -- go nuts #long post #redwinterreacts #redwintertalks #dog at the door

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sasster · 2 years

Note

So i just finished going through hell between you and roe and that godforsaken pain piece, and I. I need to know more about Thanat. I went through your blog but you don’t have a select for him unless im blind and i just want to know. everything. namely, a bit of his backstory and also what was it like when he met ben and also what’s your favorite picture of him so i can simp respectfully-

Here's a little mock intro I wrote for him once

I don't really have any pages for my ancestors because silly me thought I'd never like actually rp these guys -- I'm a liar and I lied to myself. Uhm.

Thanat is the ancestor of Persep and Aelium (the only Lycaon on my select page). He was a member of the church for a while, but dropped out of it shortly after he lost his faith in the mirthful ones. Which may or may not have something to do with a certain other well known clown literally killing three of it's priests, probably in front of him. That was never explored in canon, but I like to think that it's true.

He always had a sentimentality for the dead. In fact! He got into the business of it when he was seven sweeps old. Though he didn't worship anymore, he did continue caring for the dead of the Church so that they wouldn't bother him for not being devout.

Lets see.

Blah blah blah, you guys know all about Orfuse and his fucked up moirail, won't get into it a lot.

Because of his rapport with the dead, many Gods of Death were like "Hey, hello, hi Mr. Lycaon" twirls hair. "How would you like to serve me?" bats eyes. He was like uhm, no thanks that's kind of scary. (I don't want to)

Until. . .Orfuses passing, stricken with regret and grief, he was offered a deal he quite literally could not refuse

Which is what turned him into the Reaper we know today! He tends to the dead in more than just a physical sense (He helps usher them over to the other side!) He takes great care to honor last requests and unfinished business within reason. The last requests isn't his obligation to the universe, he's just like.. A really nice guy and does it on his own.

Because they are tethered to the universe Reapers are not allowed to hurt mortals. If they try it! They'll accrue the same damage that they inflict! Even if it's warranted. The damage isn't really permanent, but it will take for them the same amount of time that it would take the mortal that they hurt to heal. (Now if like say a moral hurt them for whatever reason, it would heal rather quickly. Because the former is a punishment for breaking the rules)

NOW if they try to kill the mortal, the mortal wakes up the next day like nothing happened and the reaper will get a nice permanent scar as a souvenir.

Anyway.

Only very few people know about the being an immortal agent of the universe bit, though.

Thanat is pretty well-known because of his willingness to provide service for any troll, be it burial, cremation, some other third fourth fifth thing.

It's also worth noting, only because it really didn't get brought up at all ever, but all of the trolls that he knew in his youth are also very sentimental toward the dead. Yes, including that one.

I reblogged his fullbody ref wip earlier... And here is the drabble from the first time that Thanat met Benjin, it didn't go well.

uhhh that's all i have off the top of my head

#so if that doesn't answer all your questions... feel free to ask any others!#sodonelite #astker #thanat things #thank you !! i've been thinking about this ask all day lmao

16 notes · View notes

harrysgloves · 3 years

Text

Three’s Company (part 2)

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

>>>PART ONE<<<

Story Summary: You deal with your breakup.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language // Angst // Pretty sure I made the reader an alcoholic // oh and you know smut!! YEAH bet you didn’t think you were getting makeup sex but oh you are. (threesome so proceed with caution, thanks)

Authors Note: I got carried away... but don’t we all when it comes to them? Anyways, feedback is always wanted and deeply loved. Hope you you guys like it!! xx

>>>

"Is this color too moody?" You asked your neighbors cat that was lounging in your living room.

The midnight black ball of fur lazily blinked open his eyes long enough to croak out a "meow" before going back to sleep. Your head nodded in agreement as your 5th beer bottle of the day pressed against your lips.

"No, you're right. It's allowed to be moody." You agreed with the very large, very old, cat who always wandered over to your apartment. His owner, Ms. Thompson, gladly let you babysit him for a few days after she came to your door to find him the first night. Your blood shot, tear filled eyes when you answered the door, fully gave away the fact you'd been crying for the last few hours.

A bowl of Tupperware with hot chicken noodle soup laid on your doorstep the next morning along with the first gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

It had been four days since your break up with Harry and Florence. Four days of sleepless nights, alcohol filled days, and meaningless activities to keep your mind off how you were feeling.

Four vases of flowers that you couldn't bring yourself to throw away sat on your cluttered counter. The delicate petals were starting to turn brown around the edges from your lack of care. The notes on each one seemed to glare at you everytime you walked to your fridge to grab another drink.

Each one a variation of, "I'm so sorry. -H"

"When we broke up it was for totally different reasons. I wanted to raise the kids Jewish; you wanted to sleep with men." Debra Messings' voice and the horrible laugh track of 'Will and Grace' filled your lonely apartment. Your comfort show played on repeat. The same jokes, the same voices, the same fucking void in your heart.

It'd be four days and you felt like you were a second away from losing mind.

And sure, maybe, you could have called them. You could have said you overreacted and that you messed up so badly. Instant regret hit you as soon as you had walked out his door.

You'd get over it, get over them but it didn't seem to be as easy as you originally thought.

Everything reminded you of them.

"Love this one." Harry said the last time he'd spend the night with you. Your favorite record played softly in the background when he placed the needle down on it.

"Oh, this is one of my favorite episodes!" Flor cheered as she ran out of your kitchen to the living room at the sound of a 'Friends' episode starting.

"Got yeh this when I was out today." Harry handed you a dumb pen holder. A small Julius Caesar that had pens jetting out of his back.

"Take this before you freeze." Florence mumbled as she moved your blanket slightly off Harry and towards you while you all cuddled in your bed.

Everything that reminded you of them had been boxed off, separated, put away somewhere else until you could look at it again. You were left in an almost barren house that no longer felt like a home, with a cat, that wasn't even yours, sleeping on your coffee table that was littered with empty beer bottles. All while you drunkenly painted your walls at 2 in the afternoon.

How did shit get this bad?

The sound of a knock at your door called you out of your mind. An instant sinking feeling started in your chest as you walked across the floor. The wave of alcohol that ran through your system calmed some of the nerves but not all of them.

They wouldn't show up here, right?

You could feel the sweat starting on your hand as it rested on the doorknob. Another knock came from the other side of the door made you jump in your skin.

"You haven't answered your phone in four days! Open up!" One of your brothers yelled from the hallway as his fist pounded on your door. You rolled your eyes as you stood there debating if you could avoid him. Your plan to stay as quiet as possible quickly went to shit.

"Y/N, do not make me call dad." Your other brother, the one who's slightly fucking scary, voice boomed through your door like it wasn't even there.

You threw your door open to the absolute shit show that was your family. All four dumbass brothers stood outside of your apartment door. All four let out a simultaneous sigh of relief before walking into your very messy apartment.

"Jesus." Jason, the youngest, breathed out when the smell of alcohol hit him right in the face. His nose scrunched as his worried eyes flashed over the room.

"Did you drink an entire liquor store?" Tommy, the one you were closest to, asked as he scanned the damage done to your living room and what the hell you'd been doing to your liver the last four days.

"Shut up." You mumbled as you sat down on the floor, the couch was deemed unusable by you until further notice. Way, way, too many memories on that dumb thing.

Raphael's lips pursed as he studied the new living room color. He didn't even bother to hide the fact he was judging your meltdown as he turned to you.

You two were the closest in age. You were only 6 months older, and were both adopted at the same time. It definitely didn't make getting along as children necessarily easy. The both of you butted heads so much the other 3 acted more like referees than siblings. Which is why the room seemed to shift dramatically as he turned to you.

"So, you stonewall your way out of a relationship and then ignore everyone who checks on you?"

"Here we fucking go." Jack, the middle child and probably the most sensible brother groaned as he sat down cross-legged on the floor. His head rested in his hand as he stroked Marshmallow's black fur.

"Hey! We said we weren't going to bring you if you started a fight." Tommy snapped right before Jason interrupted.

"He has a point, Tomás."

"Like you haven't had your heartbroken."

"She's the one in the wrong!"

"No she isn't!"

"You can't defend her forever. She has to own up to her shit."

You groaned, your head laid back as you listened to them argue about you, right in front of you.

There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to deal with this.

"Get out." You said as you stood from your place on the floor, all eyes darted to you as you demanded for your own space.

"Wait, what?" Tommy asked as the rest of them looked at you like you had magically grown three heads.

"I said, get out. I'm not listening to this. You guys want to fight, go to dad's." You opened your front door, held it wide open for all of them to filter out. Each one gave a sad or sympathetic smile as they left.

"Y/N, I think you should really give them anoth-" Jack tried to reason with you before you shut the front door, hard. The slam echoed through your now quiet apartment as you stood there yet again, alone.

>>>

Your hooded eyes stared at the same spot on your ceiling. Your back rested on the cold hardwood floor of your wrecked living room. Your head swam with a fuzziness that only happens when you spend too many days on a bender.

You were fucked and your heart, your soul, hurt in a way you didn't think was possible.

You could feel the prick of tears starting again in your eyes as your mind ran over everything. The good times, the bad, the moment you wished you could take back.

Why did you leave that damn house? You could have at least let him explain.

You sighed as you sat up. The uncomfortable feeling of the room spinning only got worse as you shifted forward to grab the drink you'd poured earlier. The glass pressed against your dried out lips as the same laugh reel ran in the background.

Was this your life now? You wondered as you sat on that cold floor of your apartment. You used to be okay with nights like these. You used to be fine being alone.

Now, the silence felt like a stab to the gut.

Your phone that laid on the table vibrated non-stop. The worried texts of people who loved you flooded your phone, you were worried about you too but you couldn't admit it.

Why did this hurt so bad?

Was it because you'd never experienced a loss like this before?

Or was it because deep down, shut away in the corner of your mind you dared to never go to, you knew exactly how you felt about them? And it scared the shit out of you.

You gulped down the rest of your drink. Not wanting to begin the vicious cycle of why you were so quick to give up on them. Why you were so determined to leave before any explanation could be given.

Fucking hell, you needed therapy.

Your shaky legs walked over to the TV, turning off the reruns. Your glass placed on the edge of your coffee table as you made your way to your bathroom. A hot shower would always fix everything.

The stream of warm water pounded against your back as you sat in your bathtub. Your mind fluttered around the idea of taking a job that required you to permanently leave the country for a while. Maybe you could fall in love with a nice coast side in Italy or a small Cafe in France.

You didn't notice the sound of your front door opening or the footsteps in your apartment. Your eyes were already so heavy. The steam of the shower only made the low lullaby of sleeper louder in your mind.

Sleep and everything will be better.

>>>

You woke up the next morning in your bed. The bright sun burned your eyes as you blinked away the foggy feeling of sleep that still lingered around you. Your brain felt like a pile of mush as you reached for the bottle of water you kept on your side table.

How did you even get to bed?

The last few days had blurred together into a muddy picture. Everything jumbled together; drinks, painting, TV, organizing your kitchen, looking at apartments in foreign countries online.

"Morning!" Your brother chirped happily as he walked into your room.

You could have literally jumped out of your skin. You screamed, loudly, almost falling out of the bed.

"What the fuck!"

"I came back last night and you were asleep in the shower!" He said like you were the dumb one. "A thank you would be nice."

"Why are you in my apartment?" You asked, but only received the blankest of stares back. You knew why he was here. "I don't want to hear it."

"Too bad. Obviously, you need to hear it 'cause your apartment smells like a bar and you haven't talked to anyone in almost a week." He shrugged as he sat on the edge of your bed. The black ball of fur you'd eventually have to give back to your neighbor wasn't far behind him. Small black paws circled around you before he found a place to sleep comfortably.

"This sucks." You mumbled after a bit of silence. You could tell Jack didn't want to push you. Usually, this was a thing Tommy would handle but for some reason, the tribe had sacrificed Jack to be the emotional voice of reason this time.

"You know," he said as his hand ran through Marshmallow's fur. His teeth bit the inside of his lip as he debated what to say for a second before continuing. "you could just admit you were in the wrong and go apologize. I mean, you clearly fucking regret it."

"I don't." You answered so quickly even Marshmallow didn't believe you. His green eyes stared in lazy disbelief. "I mean I do but… I don't know, Jack. It's weird 'cause I'm so sad but… what if this never gets better? What if it's always like this? Like, we're always struggling to be a normal couple?"

"You're not a normal couple so why would you try to act like one?"

Your eyes shot to his at the words that poured out of his mouth so carefully. You'd never thought of it that way before. Your brows furrowed as you stared back at the bed.

Was there a chance for you to make this work with them?

"Look, Y/N, relationships are fucking hard no matter what but you can't just… walk out on people before they get a chance to hurt you."

"I didn't."

"You did. It's kind of your thing, you know?" He smiled softly to you. Not condescending or in a know it all way, in the way only a sibling could without getting smacked. "Not that it doesn't make sense but if they made you happy, maybe you should try to hear their side of it."

"When did you become the smart brother?" You teased with that wide smile across your face.

"Right after I came out of the closet."

"Shut up." You said through a laugh. The first one you'd had in days. That weight that laid on your chest seemed to have lifted a small amount.

Maybe, just maybe, you could talk this through with them.

>>>

You stood on the same doorstep you angrily stormed across not even a week ago. The pink door that you used to love, suddenly felt like a door to the electric chair.

Maybe you couldn't do this.

You sighed, your eyes darting back to the old Camero you loved just a little too much. Arms crossed over your chest to keep you warm as you stood in your place. You knew you couldn't go back to your apartment this quickly without getting asked questions.

Raphael, Jack, Tomás, and Jason were all waiting for your post-breakup meltdown if this didn't go well. Each one said they'd stay with you on rotation shifts until you felt better if you needed it.

Which was sweet, but you kind of wanted to rot in silence and alcohol if this went as badly as you thought it was going to.

Your tongue grew thick as your stomach churned. Your eyes closed as you sighed heavily, your ass plopped down on his front steps, head rested in your hands.

You didn't know where to even start when it came to talking to them. Your feelings were hurt but you shouldn't have walked out without giving them a chance to explain. You didn't want to feel like the odd man out but didn't want to broadcast your relationship.

The whole thing was messy and complicated. You wished so hard that it'd be easy. That talking about what you felt would be easy.

But you knew it wasn't, it never was, at least not for you. You shoved all your emotions down and kept chugging along your whole life. You pretended everything was fine, even when it wasn't. Which was exactly what ended you up here in the first place.

If you would have told them sooner they would have ended the PR shit.

"Hi." The thick accent from behind you startled your thoughts for a second but you didn't turn around. Your fingers messed with the edge of the rip in your jeans as your eyes focused on the crack in his sidewalk.

"Hi." You said quietly after what felt like a full minute of silence. You heard him let out a small sigh, his feet shuffled forward until he sat down quietly beside you.

You tried to not look at him, knowing if you did you'd burst out into tears. So you stayed focused on the ground, the dead leaves that floated along the road, the grass that was getting crunchy from the cold weather.

"Y/N, 'M-" he started but you waved your hand to get him to stop. Your head rested against his shoulder that tensed up from your touch.

You didn't want to talk for a second, just a second. You breathed in the familiar smell of him, the cologne he always wore was faint on his skin. The sleep shirt he wore was your favorite, you realized. The blue sweatshirt always made his eyes look so beautiful.

"I missed you." You said into his shoulder. Your lips brushed against the soft fabric as you spoke.

"'M missed yeh too." His voice cracked as he rested his cheek against the top of your head. His fingers laced through yours as you moved closer into the warmth of him. "Flor's inside if y'wanna talk."

You sighed, you knew you needed to talk, knew you had to talk about it. You just didn't want to. The feel of him being close to you again, the intoxicating smell of him near.

Your head lifted from his sweatshirt, only to see how rough he'd been doing himself the last few days. His bloodshot green eyes had large bags under them. His scruff on his face, messy brown curls. He'd done just as bad as you.

You only caught sight of his lips for a second before saying fuck it. Talking could happen later, you'd missed him so much.

Your lips pressed against his with a force that knocked him backwards for a second but you didn't care. No, this was the most "at home" you'd felt in days.

He felt like home.

His lips molded to yours so perfectly, once he got a hold of himself. His hand slipped to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him.

Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest as your lips parted, welcoming him back.

He pulled you up with him. His hands around your waist, lips still connected with yours as he walked the pair of you inside.

You wished you could slow down the moment. The way he was holding you tightly to him, like he never wanted to let you go again. The fleeting feelings ran through your mind but they all ended the same way.

You fucking loved him, so much.

All your energy was going into not crying from your surge of emotions. The rush of adrenaline was intoxicating, your shaky hands danced in the messy tangle of his unkempt brown curls as you tried to hold onto that shred of sanity you had left.

"I missed you." You breathed out when you came up for air. His forehead pressed against yours, his body crowded yours to the wall. "God, I fucking missed you."

He chuckled, a slight smile on his now swollen lips but you couldn't help it. It was the only thing your brain could come up with besides how sorry you were for not giving him a chance to explain.

"Miss me any?" Her voice made you look around Harry. Her arms crossed over her chest but that hint of a smile smoothed across her lips as she leaned on the doorway that led to the entry.

"Wanna see how much I missed you both?"

>>>

Maybe this wasn't necessarily the healthiest way to deal with your problems as a couple. But at this moment you could have cared less what a therapist would say about your tendency to avoid things that were important.

You laid on your back, your legs wide open, toes digging into the mattress as Florence's tongue pressed a wide thick lick through your folds. Circling around your bundle of nerves before slipping into you.

You would have moaned out loud, if it wasn't for the dick rammed down your throat. Your head laid off the side of the bed, your vision upside down as Harry's pulsating member slid down your open and waiting mouth. His hand around your neck, squeezing himself.

"Missed fuckin' yeh throat, pup." He groaned out as his hips snapped against your spit soaked face. He backed out long enough for you to catch your breath before shoving his way back in. Your abused throat would hate you for this in the morning but right now you didn't care.

"Feel good, baby?" Flor asked as her finger curved inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that always made your eyes roll back. She didn't have to ask if it felt good, she knew it did, she just wanted the bragging rights of who gave you the better orgasm of the night.

Harry's member pulled out of your throat. You tried your best to catch your breath as he crouched down to your level. His hands doing the best they could to wipe away all the saliva that ran down your cheeks. Playful green eyes met yours.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart?" He asked even though he really didn't need to. The sound of your moans alone was enough to tell you were close.

"Mhm." Was all you managed to get out, your hands threaded through Florence hair as her mouth joined her fingers. Your eyes closed as you got closer to your high, your skin raised in goosebumps as she did that fucking flicking, swirl, of her tongue that always did you in.

"Good, 'm gonna make you cum harder than that." Harry's words faded in your mind as that crashing sensation washed you away.

Florence scoffed as her head lifted from between your legs. The back of her hand wiped your juices away as she rolled her eyes at Harry.

"Good fucking luck trying to top that one."

"Guys," you groaned, your hand over your eyes. "Supposed to be makeup sex, not a competition."

"Can be both." Harry mumbled under his breath, quietly, but you still caught it. Your eyes glared at him as you turned around on the bed.

"Shut up." You mumbled as you reached forward, your hands around his neck as you brought him up to your level. Your mouth enveloped his quickly to stop the argument.

You pulled him onto the bed with you two. His knees hitting the edge before climbing up the rest of the way as your tongue took control of this kiss. It didn't happen often but when it did you ran with the opportunity. His mouth following your lead until you pulled away slightly, your teeth catching his bottom lip softly causing him to moan.

"Fuck," he cursed as you pulled away that sweet smile on your face like you didn't know that he loved that.

Florence came behind the pair of you, her lips pressed against your shoulder, up your neck, small love bites left here and there before she took the chance to kiss you when Harry pulled away. Her hands pulled on your waist, tugging you down to the bed to lay on your back.

"Ready?" She asked as Harry stroked himself, the nod of your head was all he needed to hoist your legs up. His pulsing tip ran through your folds as you reached for Florence, your arms wrapped around her thighs as you pulled her down on your mouth.

Harry continued to tease your opening. His tip slipping in and out of you easily as your tongue ran rapid through Florence's pussy. Her wetness was almost to the point of dripping down your face. You groaned as you pulled her by her thighs down harder onto you as your tongue circled into her hole. Fuck, you missed her taste.

You heard the sounds of their kissing, her moans, before he finally pushed his way into you. Your walls clinging around him immediately, pulling him closer into you, making him hiss lowly.

"Jesus, she always so fuckin' tight." His hands embedded themselves into your thighs as he held you open for him. His fingers pulled back the lips of your pussy briefly before you felt Florence shift forward, her core off your mouth as her tongue circled your clit.

Your loud, unabashed moans filled the room. Your mind clouded with nothing but desire and lust, barely functioning at all. Thoughts weren't making sense, you were going based on instinct when your fingers slipped into her cunt that was inches in front of your face.

Harry's grunt and groans as he fucked into your tight cave halted for a moment, his erection pulled out of you briefly. The unmistakable sounds of your girlfriend choking on your boyfriends cock filled the room.

You moaned at the sound, your core clenched as your fingers finally twisted into the right angle. Her velvet walls pulled you in as she tried her best to keep breathing around Harry's thick member.

"Fuck, keep doing that." He panted, accent thick, voice deep with pleasure as you hit that spot in her again. A flood of her arousal coated your fingers as she let out another loud moan, her body slacked on top of you as Harry pulled out of her throat.

You weren't prepared for when he thrusted himself back into you. Your moan cracked as you gripped tightly onto Florence's thighs.

"Told yeh I was gonna make you cum harder." He mumbled as Florence let out a laugh. She rolled over to lay beside you, her lips lazily kissing yours the best they could through Harry's rough thrusts into you.

"Make her cum harder than I did and you can cuddle her tonight." Florence smirked, her hands ran over your hair as you pouted.

"Deal."

"Hey! I wanted to cuddle both of you." Your head shot off the bed as you glared at the both of them, who were both very very clearly taking their competition too far.

Leave them alone for four days and you come back to them acting like children.

"Tomorrow night, sweetheart. I got somethin' prove." Harry smiled as he leaned down to you, his lips capturing yours before you could protest, a roll of his hips had you moaning.

Maybe this bet wasn't that bad.

"Yeah, proving I'm better." Florence scoffed again, adding fuel to the fire as her hand leisurely traveled between her legs. A soft moan passed through her lips as Harry basically growled at her through his teeth.

You rolled your eyes at her as she gave you a shrug and a smile. His length pulled out of you again as he lifted you up, switching you over to be on top of him.

He was pushed back into you in less than a second, his hands grasping the round flesh of your ass tightly as he leaned you forward into his chest. His legs pushed himself upwards, hitting your sweet spot every single time.

You were thankful he pulled you into his chest. Your moans rolled easily as his hands dug deeper into your skin, you were teetering on the edge with in minutes. His gruff groans as his sensitive pulsating member pushed into you only added fuel to the fire.

"Come 'ere, baby." He said as he slowed down his punishing pace his hand left your bum, fingers slipped into Florence's mouth for only a few seconds before finding their way back to you.

The pressure from his finger prodding into your back hole had your eyes rolling in the back of your head. The deep, low, sound that resonated in the bottom of your chest had a smug grin on Harry's face.

He knew he'd won.

His finger and along with his cock fucked into you until you could hardly register your own name. You could feel your heart beating in your core, your nipples so sensitive you could barely stand to have them brush against his own chest.

Harry hummed as you seemed to lose yourself in the feeling of your mounting high. Florence's hand between her legs, stroking herself faster as her lips pressed to Harry's.

You felt a pressure in your stomach you'd never felt before, building and building, ready to bust any second. You didn't even have time to warn him when you felt the dam release. Your head floated in the clouds as your juices ran down him, soaking the bed.

"Well, fuck, I've never made her do that." Florence mumbled after Harry's final thrust into you. His gloating laugh filled the room as you laid limp.

"Told yeh so." He cooed as his hand ran down your back in soothing circles. Florence kissed softly on your shoulder, your arm, wherever until your eyes finally focused on her.

"You okay?" She asked as she brushed away the hair that was stuck to your face.

"Mhm, wanna sleep." You whined, your head pressed into Harry's shoulder tightly as you felt him soften inside of you. Your hips shifted to move off him but his hand quickly pressed your ass down again.

"Go to sleep, darlin'." He kissed the top of your head before he nuzzled into your. Florence arm wrapped around the both of you as Harry opened one arm for her to cuddle into his side.

>>>

"Mornin', sweetheart." Harry hummed as he rounded the corner to his kitchen. A quick kiss placed on Florence's lips before he picked up the cup of tea she already had made for him.

"Morning." She mumbled into her cup. Her legs pulled up beside her as she sat on the counter.

"Wot's wrong?" He paused before taking a sip, his eyes studying her as she sighed.

"It's just…" she stared at the coffee pot that hadn't been used in a week. The steaming brown liquid dripped into the vessel below it. She sighed, shaking her head. "I woke up this morning and the first thing I did was make sure she didn't leave again."

Harry's eyes softened, his hand ran through her hair, lips pressed to her forehead. Trying his best to comfort her which is what he tried, and usually failed, at doing all week long.

"We'll talk to her, okay?"

Flor nodded her head, her lips pressed to his one last time as they heard the door to the bedroom creak open. A shirt you'd taken out of Harry's closet hit your knees as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"Morning." You said as you gave both of them a kiss, your eyes more trained to the pot of delicious coffee than either one of their faces.

"Y/N?" Florence asked as you poured your first cup, the smell wafting into your senses had your knees almost buckling.

"Yeah, baby?" You asked without turning around. The glass pressed to your swollen lips from all of last nights kissing, the warm mug felt like a relief to them.

"Can, uhm," she started, you finally turned around to see her looking uncomfortable. Her tongue wet her lips, eyes glanced to Harry before she continued. "can we talk, you know… about everything now?"

"Right, yeah of course, we should… just-" You could feel the nerves pit in your stomach growing as you nodded towards the table. The three of you sat in your usual chairs, your usual mugs in your hands, but it wasn't an usual morning.

No, now you actually had to talk about what was bothering you.

"Right." Harry said, hoping to get the conversation started with already but the room was dead silent.

"Right." You repeated mostly to fill the awkward silence that was growing thicker in the room by the second. You could feel your ears rushing, the room was so quiet. No TV to drown out the weird atmosphere, no music to cover up the fact you had to talk about what happened.

"So, I guess 'm gonna start." Harry said after he glanced at the both of you two, seeing he was going to have to get the ball rolling on this whole thing.

"Yeh know 'm really, really, sorry 'bout the Gemma stuff. I was gonna tell her the next week after the last interview but she decided to come in early and surprise me." Your lips rolled in your mouth as you listened to him. You knew the whole time you sat in your apartment, drunk, that a version of this was what happened. "And I didn't want yeh to get hurt and 'm so sorry it seemed like I was hiding yeh away from people."

You could feel the start of tears in your eyes. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down from a blubbering meltdown that was about to happen. Which you might have been able to avoid if his hand didn't wrap itself around yours from across the table.

"Just," you sighed, your hand squeezed his as you tried to wipe away the tears that rolled down your cheek. "Just, I should have said it was bothering me before it got to that point and I'm sorry I didn't and I blew up then walked out."

"It's okay." Florence said softly, her other hand laced through your free one. "But… maybe, we should agree to talk about stuff a bit more."

"Yeah, think that would probably be good." Harry agreed as he scooted forward in his chair, his hand wiped away the rest of your tears. "So, yeh gonna stay, right?"

You smiled up to him, your hand laced tighter through Florence's fingers as you nodded your head.

Yeah, you think you'd stay with them.

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sylvies-chen · 3 years

Note

Can you do 64 or 67 for brettsey please?

Prompt 64 can be found here!!

67. “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Matt should have seen this coming.

His mom's not exactly young. He doesn't know where she's been or how she's been doing these past few years, frankly. He's had no record of whether she's been staying healthy-- through no fault of his own, seeing as how his mom's always been less than reliable since getting out of prison. Hell, even before getting arrested she'd been letting him and Christie down in smaller ways.

So when he gets the call that Nancy Casey has passed away from a heart attack at the ripe age of 68, he thinks it's just one more way in which his mother has let him down; one more member of the Casey family carrying their overwhelming amount of secrets to the grave.

He should feel sad, he knows that, but all he feels is numbness and a slight annoyance at having to deal with the funeral and all her belongings.

Her belongings aren't actually all that numerous, he realizes soon enough, which he assumes is a perk of being so flakey. All he gets is a box of things. He doesn't know what things, exactly. He'd gone to her place, shoved everything he could find into a cardboard box without paying attention to any of it, and left before he had the change to boil over with rage at all the things she'd kept from him and Christie-- the apartment included.

He should book time off or something. Or maybe visit her grave. He hasn't been there since the funeral a week ago (at which he, Sylvie, and Christie had pretty much been the sole attendants), maybe it'd do him some good in theory. But right now, every normal way of grieving flies out the door for him. He feels himself reverting back to the Casey family tradition: internalizing your feelings and keeping them secret until the day you die. Literally. It's not fun, not pleasant, and certainly not healthy. But in some weird way, it feels like his own way of honouring his mother, so he doesn't fight it. He should, but he doesn't.

Until Sylvie notices, and manages to tear down his walls in one fowl, beautifully agonizing swoop.

She picks up on it pretty quickly. He drifts off a lot during shift, he looks even more serious than usual, and he refuses to talk about it all that much whenever she asks how he's feeling-- which isn't for lack of trying, but how the hell can he put every complex little emotion he's feeling into words? Doing that will take time.

She's over to the loft one night, petting gently at his hair with her legs sprawled across his lap as they mindlessly watch TV, when she notices the box of his mom's things collecting dust by the by the basketball machine. Stella and Severide are out and Sylvie knows he's not paying attention to what's on anyway, so she turns the TV off. It manages to get his attention and he looks to her, confused.

Her attention isn't on him though, only on the box. Its flaps are taped shut at the top, his mom's name in black sharpie fading slowly. "You still haven't opened the box of your mom’s stuff?"

"No," he admits.

“Matt…” she sighs, taking her legs off his lap to sit upright on the couch. “You’ve been retreating into yourself ever since your mom passed away. Please don’t shut me out. I’m here, you know that, right?”

“I do. But Sylvie, I’m fine,” he insists. “My mom knew exactly what she wanted in life once she got out of prison and I wasn’t exaclty a part of that. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her, I probably don’t know half of what’s in that box anyway. She hid her new life from me and Christie. She’s just next in a long line of people in my family who’ve taken their secrets to the grave, that’s all.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Her tone is sympathetic but has a slight edge to it. She wants him to open up, he knows that. That’s, along with the surprising frustration in her eye, is enough to make Matt want to. So he tries.

“I want to,” he assures her. “But there’s nothing to say. She was gone before, and she’s gone now. It’s just more permanent now.”

“But don’t you think opening that box will give you some— I don’t know… closure?”

“I know it probably will, but I've been busy with contracting work and the firehouse has been busy and... I don't know, it just slipped my mind."

She gives him a look as if to say she doesn't buy it for a second, only it turns quickly into a look of sympathy. Because it always does. Sylvie, through thick and thin, good and bad, just always understands him. That goes both ways, which makes it even better, but it also means he knows exactly what she's thinking right now.

"What's keeping you from doing it now then?"

"Now?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his arm stretching out against the back edge of the couch and rubbing at her far shoulder. "Well for one, I'm having a relaxing night with you, and I'd rather not ruin that with memories of my less than reliable mother. And second, I just... I'm...."

Matt finds himself choking on his words, unable to admit to himself the one word he's looking for. He doesn’t know where this sudden seriousness comes from, this abrupt inability to keep things in. It’s like an old habit, and normally those die hard. Except Sylvie’s lifting a gentle hand to caress his face, is giving him that warm and comforting look, and he knows exactly why it’s hard.

It’s hard because it’s her. It’s Sylvie, and trying to internalize things around her at this point is pointless— even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t want to. He’s stripped of all his walls when he’s around her and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Scared?” She finishes his sentence for him, giving him an expectant look.

He nods, because yes. Matt Casey, a firefighter who’s faced blazing fires and near-death experiences, is scared of opening a tiny little box. It takes a lot for him to admit that but he’s with her, which makes it ten times easier. “Yeah,” he confirms. “I know it sounds silly, but I can’t bring myself to look at all the things from her life that she left me and Christie out of. I’m scared I’ll look in there and realize just how much of a stranger she was to me— and of how much I miss her anyway.”

Sylvie exhales quietly, eyeing him achingly for a moment while she gnaws at her lip the way she only does when she’s thinking hard. Then, she gives his knee a comforting squeeze before standing up. He shifts on the couch, elbows moving to his knees as he scrunches his brow in a pensive and painful train of thought of his own. He thinks Sylvie is just getting a glass of water or a tissue or something else, honestly. But when he looks up from his brooding, he sees her over by the basketball machine, picking up the box and bringing it over.

“Here,” she says, placing it on the table in front of them and sitting back down in her spot next to him. Their legs press together, leaving no space between them on the couch.

“No,” he shakes his head as he responds. “No, I can’t do it.”

“You can,” Sylvie assures him. “We can do it. Together. You don’t have to go through any of this alone, Matt. So if you have to sit here for a minute before opening it, or ten minutes, or an hour even, then you can do that. I’ll be here the entire time.”

Her eyes twinkle kindly at him and Matt swears, in that moment, that he’s the luckiest man alive. Something about everything she just told him strikes him harder than usual, acting as a sharp and wonderful reminder that they’re meant for each other.

“I am so in love with you,” he utters softly.

Sylvie lets out a quiet giggle, moving to hold his hand and lace their fingers together. “I love you too.”

She presses a tender kiss to his cheek as he sucks in a sharp breath, his attention now turning to the box in front of them. The box looks back at him, almost as if challenging him. Only now, miraculously, it seems more manageable to him. It’s still scary, still carries a lot of emotional weight for Matt. But he feels Sylvie’s hand in his and it gives him the strength to do this.

He lets go of Sylvie’s hand for a moment to tear the flaps of the box open. His hand finds hers again as soon as its done, relying on her for more strength as he moves to peer inside the box.

His heart stops.

With his spare hand, he pulls out the first thing in the box, at the very top— the very thing that made his heart stop. Nothing else in the box matters now, he thinks. Because sitting there, in the palm of his hand, is a picture of him, Christie, and his mom. Nancy Casey sits in the center of the picture, with Matt and Christie at her sides. He remembers the day well; it was his fourteenth birthday, after all. There’s a cake in front of them in the picture to prove it. Matt doesn’t ever remember looking and feeling so young. Admittedly, he doesn’t remember being that happy around his family either. Normally, birthdays were sort of a mess for him, a constant struggle of battling with his father over how they should celebrate it that alwaus left Matt grumpy and hurt. But in the picture, his mom’s hand is tickling his side, as well as Christie’s, and the moment captures the exact moment that he and Christie reflexively lean into her chest from the laughter. His mom’s smile is bright and wide— something he rarely saw around his household.

They were happy once. They were a family, no matter how messed up everything got between them. Maybe Nancy Casey wasn’t such a stranger to him after all. That fact alone sends those million complicated little emotions swirling around in his chest.

Only this time, he doesn’t bury them. This time, they all come pouring out at once and the dam breaks. He doesn’t know when the tears started, but they flow now with a painful ease.

Sylvie lets go of his hand and pulls him in, holding onto him tight and close as his head rests on her chest. He feels tears of her own drip on the back of his head as she strokes his hair gently. He so rarely cries like this and yet now that he’s started— now that he has someone like Sylvie who lets him be vulnerable— he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

Only she tightens his grip on him, whispers soothing hushes and gentle reassurances that everything will be okay, and he knows that he’ll stop soon enough.

#y’all enough with the angsty hurt/comfort prompts PLEASEE my emotions can’t take it lol 😭#fanfic prompts #abby writes #prompt requests #abby.answers #brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey

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wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Fake It... Till You Make It | Epilogue/Prologue

Fake It | The Masterlist

Warnings | 3.1k // 18+ SMUT , mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // This is the epilogue of Fake It and the Prologue to Till You make it. This should hopefully set up the story of Till You Make It perfectly; tying the two series together. If you haven’t yet read Fake It, the masterlist for the series is linked above for ease <333 Thank you to everyone who has supported this little adventure of mine <3

It had been two weeks since you'd left the house. Now living permanently with George in the house you were yet to fill with all the things that made it you. Lying in bed as your thoughts raced, taking you back to that pain over and over every time you shut your eyes. George had been perfect, he was there for you every night as you curled into his side, trying to push back all of the negative feelings as you sobbed into his chest.

Every time George looked at you, guilt washed over him. It wasn't just once but twice now that he was not there to protect you when you needed him the most, his childhood promise to you falling just short of the mark because he let you down. Part of him felt like a failure until he remembered that he was the one who helped you heal the first time and he would be the one to make you feel like yourself again this time.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I promised to and I let you down again."

"What do you think you're doing now, Silly? You protect me every day."

It killed George to see you as the shell of who you once were, seeing that vulnerable, glazed over gaze into nothingness once again. He knew that your healing would take time and that all you needed from him was his presence, his hold and his kisses. He didn't dare push you or bring anything up that was too much to handle - he simply cared for you as best he could. George however, did a fantastic job at juggling his time, between looking after you and taking full control of the shop while Fred healed too, he began to grow stressed. It was something you noticed in the way his back muscles tensed and in the way he walked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You pulled yourself from bed, knowing that he was due home soon, taking your initiative for the first time since the incident, to do something nice for him. You walked into your bathroom, putting the plug in the bathtub before beginning to fill it. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, seeing sunken eyes, dishevelled hair and a broken smile staring back at you - How could George continue to love you when you looked like this? Tears threatened to fall as your eyes welled up, you tried your best to hold them back but now you were choking back sobs as you stared at your reflection.

When George arrived home all he heard were cracking sobs and the sound of running water, he noticed you weren't in the bed and ran into the bathroom to see you hunched over the counter as you cried. He turned the tap off for you before standing behind you.

"Hey, hey… No tears, Princess, I'm here now." George had pulled you into his arms, your head buried in his chest as you continued to sob, your arms weakly hanging around his hips as you felt your heart squeeze again.

"I don't know how you could still love me when I look like this." You were looking up at him now, his eyes were warm and comforting as his hand ran up and down your back to soothe you. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead to comfort you as he spoke.

"Jesus, Y/N, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, you are my slice of heaven on earth and I'll love you every single day of my life." His hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear before leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. His kiss leaving you breathless. This was the first time that your kiss had been more than just a peck goodbye in what feels like forever. Being Intimate with George was a feeling that you both craved and missed but it wasn't something he wanted to push you into doing, not until you were ready to let him back in.

You had convinced George that you were ready to head back out into the world. It was a foreign feeling for the both of you as you walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley. You were proud to be holding on to him, finally able to tell everyone that you were his girl. The press had caught sight of you as you arrived together at the Joke shop, snapping away as you noticed that a new shop was opening on the street as people helped cart in huge boxes and beautiful ornate decorative items into the empty space. George caught your gaze and filled you in on the latest gossip among shop owners.

"It's a new dress Boutique, she's moved back down to London - Lee's friend… I can't remember her name but she was the Hufflepuff Prefect in our year, you know who I mean?" You nodded, looking over your shoulder to see the girl in question her hair pulled back by a piece of ribbon and you immediately remembered her.

"That shop has been vacant for ages, It'll be nice seeing a new business here." You responded, with a smile spreading across your lips, stopping the boy before he went to open the door, pulling him in for a kiss. The report on Cherry's death and the inquest into her fixation on ruining your life had hit the Daily Prophet the week prior - leaving you free to explore the more public aspects of your relationship with George. With there now being no worry about being caught or recognised, all you wanted to do was kiss your boyfriend out in the open, so you did.

You slowly got back into Quidditch, attending more practices and eventually friendly games. The papers, the fans and your team were all grateful to have you back, and frankly you were glad to be back. You used quidditch as a way of channelling your aggression and anger; you were at your peak performance and had absolutely smashed the record for the fastest snitch capture in history.

You had just sort of felt like maybe life was getting back to normal and you started visiting George's family home more often. You were sat in the burrow's kitchen with Molly, talking about the stupid things your boyfriend does, and as you found out, in fact has been doing since his childhood, as if his ears were hot, he came running in, smirk plastered on his face.

"Fancy joining us for a quidditch game?" You smiled at your boyfriend who was leaning with both hands on the table next to you. You reached up to place your hand on his jaw, thumb running over the apple of his cheek.

"Come on then, I want to be your team though Georgie." Your boyfriend blushed at your words and actions combined, even though you had been together for so long, the public aspect of being so openly affectionate with each other felt like new, bringing a whole new honeymoon period into your relationship once more.

The teams were simple. You, George and Fred on one team and Harry, Ginny and Ron on the other while Hermione and Lee watched on from the side-lines.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present; the golden snitch." George beams, holding it up for all to see.

"We only have teams of three, George, having a Seeker won't work." Ron chimed, only to receive a glare and elbow to the ribs from Ginny who nodded towards the snitch.

"Y/N and Gin are the seekers for today, no beaters just chasers and keepers." You smiled up at your boyfriend, who sent you a wink. Being able to catch the snitch should be a walk in the park for you, even after your months away from the game. The six person game was intense, Ginny did put up a fight for the snitch and you weren't even keeping track of the score. The moment your fingertips wrapped around the flitting snitch, you were flying back to the ground, Cheering as George joined you, picking you up and spinning around.

You hadn't even noticed the mechanical openings of the snitch until you looked back down at it in your hands. You noticed that inside lay a beautiful princess cut diamond ring, when you pulled it from the hold turning around to question George, he was already on one knee. You felt all of the butterflies in your stomach threaten to spill out, the feeling of being surrounded by your closest friends in that moment filled you with joy.

"Y/N, without you I wouldn't be half the man I am today. You have taught me to be strong, to push through when times are tough and more importantly you taught me how love feels - how it's scary and messy but pure. I've never known that I've wanted to do something so quickly as knowing that I wanted to marry you. This is my promise of forever to you, no matter what. So my love, will you marry me?"

You were nodding before the words ‘yes�� could leave your lips, his hands found the ring to slip it on your left ring finger, before smiling up at you. This was the most romantic way George could have proposed, doing something you love and in front of your closest friends and family. The way he kissed you after that was so full of passion and pure unmovable love that you weren't sure how you got so lucky.

When you arrived home that evening you truly felt the ache between your thighs for the man you would soon be calling your Husband. You practically jumped into his arms the minute you were in your shared home, legs wrapped around his hips and lips pressed firmly against his as your hands tangled into his hair. The fire of nearly seven years of love was roaring wild inside of you, the high of the engagement making you more confident than ever before.

"I'm ready, George." The simple words made any of his inhibitions melt away. He swore blind to you that he wouldn't even push intimacy until you were truly ready again. He was a gentleman about it, not even faltering when you pushed him away some months ago; too soon for you. He always made sure that when he kissed you that he didn't get carried away and kept it within himself to check and make sure you were comfortable.

It wasn't long until you were pressed between your comfortable sheets and your Fiancé's strong body. His hair hanging in his eyes, prompting you to run your fingers through his soft locks and push it out of his face before pulling him in for another kiss, mumbling small soft breaths of 'i love you' every time your lips parted. George took his time in undressing you, making sure that he kissed every inch of exposed skin as he explored the body he knew all too well. This was far from the sex with George that you had grown accustomed to; desperate and fast in fear of getting caught, but now with nobody to catch you or disturb you, you already felt in heaven.

George's lips travelled down your body, fingers tugging down your underwear in the process until his lips met where you craved them most. The second his tongue was lapping at your clit, pleasure rushed all through you, hand immediately finding his hair once again, only this time you gave it a tug. The way he hummed against your cunt as his tongue darted in and out of you had you on the edge of your release in minutes. His words of encouragement pushed you over, coming undone with just his tongue.

"That's it, good girl, I've got you." His fingers found your clit, circling over the sensitive bud as you came for him, your eyes were locked together as you reached to pull his shirt over his head, showing you his toned chest with a smirk. You were going to sit up and pull him free, but his hand on your shoulder held you to the bed.

"I won't break, George, I can touch you without breaking." He nodded, pulling himself down to kiss you again, your hands found his cock quickly, pulling him from the confines of his joggers without enough time for him to protest, your hand wrapping around his length as you used your hands to get him off. You pushed him up and off the bed so that he was standing before sinking to your knees before him. You took as much of him as you could, even down your throat as you gagged for him, knowing it's a sound that sets off something inside him. He was restraining himself from fucking your mouth like he loved to do and despite your eyes begging him to, he pulled himself away, pulling you up by the chin to press your lips together.

Being completely naked together with George didn’t happen often, but now as your two naked bodies were pressed skin to skin with each other, you had never felt more intimate. He had sheathed himself fully inside you, the tip of his cock pressed right to the back of you, each slow thrust had you moaning out long chants of his name. Your hands were interlaced and foreheads pressed together as he showed you just how much you meant to him; love pouring from every deep thrust as he fucked you slowly into the sheets. You didn't think he could get any deeper until you felt him in your stomach, reaching every intimate area.

"Can you feel how deep I am, Princess? Does it feel good?" you were nodding quickly, a moaning mess beneath him. The only words you managed to stutter out were his name and please, begging for more of him. You loved hearing him moan, hell, it was such a godly sound you were sure that you were the luckiest girl in the world to be able to hear them.

His hips hit a different angle, stretching you out perfectly as he filled you to the hilt once again, completely bottomed out as your thrust met each others. You weren't sure how many times he'd made you cum but you were ready to release for him all over again. Your lips found his ear, pressing delicate kisses to the lobe as you begged him, moaning breathlessly into his ear.

"Please George, I need it." Your hands were guiding his to press against your throat, he gulped, unsure if you were ready but when he met your pleading eyes, he gave in, his deep sloppy thrusts turned to a quick, needy fuck like you were both used to. Leaving you a moaning mess for him as he fucked you senseless into your sheets, until you were squeezing around him and your nails were raking down his back. George would give you everything you wanted if you gave him the opportunity. You felt another orgasm build from the way his hand alone would control your breathing, let alone how deep he was hitting with every quick thrust.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you, Princess?" his gentle words sent you over the edge as you felt him twitching inside of you. He didn't care that you were on birth control, it was the notion of releasing his load deep inside you alone that made his heart swell. His persuasive words had you begging for it, you needed him to cum.

You were both breathing heavily as you lay side by side, your head on his chest as you studied the rise and fall, tracing circles on the exposed skin when you noticed the shiny diamond gleaming on your finger; a smile immediately finding your lips. Solace found you in that moment, there was no more hiding the love that you had with George, no more faking a love you didn’t feel with Fred, no Cherry - finally happy in a moment shared between you and the man you loved. Your Forever.

Fred through all this time had been watching George plan the proposal from the background, painting a fake smile across his face for every social appearance. The older twin did a brilliant job at convincing everyone around him that he was fine, simply shaken up by the trial, but nevertheless fine. Every day he would wake up with salty tears dried to his cheeks, his throat dry and hoarse, trying his best to smile and get on with his day. Fred has been consumed to a shell of who he used to be, with nobody to help him deal with his emotions.

Every now and again he’d show up at the burrow, his mother taking him into her arms as he choked down tears. He felt like a child that couldn’t be consoled, not even a hug or the greatest food could fill the hole in his heart he felt watching the woman he loved be proposed to by his twin brother; to see you so infatuated with one another that every touch and look he would observe tugged at his heart strings, the pain only becoming less and less severe as he dove into a pit of his own despair.

Nobody had seen the older twin in weeks; therapy sessions missed, calls and messages went nowhere, George would come up to check on him every day after the store closed, he noticed things would go untouched for days on end as he locked himself in his room. Behind the door Fred would be curled up under the covers, realising what he’d done couldn’t ever leave him. He had killed Cherry and she was no longer here, so why did she still continue to plague his every thought?

“Freddie nobody has seen you since we went to mum’s, I- we’re worried.” George was pleading with his brother from behind the door, he heard the hurt in his twin’s voice and immediately felt as if he had let his family down, that sinking feeling in his heart growing stronger.

“It’s Mine and Y/N’s engagement party this weekend, you don’t have to come but… It’ll be good to see you Fred. I miss you, Lee misses you, Y/N misses you. We all do. Just think about it.” Fred heard his brother’s footsteps grow quieter and the front door slam shut. The word engagement singed his heart, like whatever cord was wrapped around the organ had been pulled tighter. He knew that If he didn’t go he would be missing a massive part of George’s life and that feeling hurt him way more than any broken heart could. He was going, even if it broke his heart.

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @pansydaisy @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana @starkidpotty @mollydarling-hphm @amwithers2001 @mrmoonyy @asthmax

#Fake It Fic #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley #gred and forge #fred and george #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter writing #harry potter smut #ginger hair

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themfchase · 4 years

Text

endings & beginnings | jjk (m)

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ ending and beginnings. (m) one-shot. ✎ [14k words]

genre: supernatural!au, childhood friends!au.

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), slight dirty talk, slight choking, (jk has a massive dong), an absurd amount of scoffing and eye rolling, lowkey pining, angst, hhh angst again, mentions of blood, mentions of car accident, mentions of death and grief. physics or spiritual physics mean nothing here, don’t judge me. After the sad passing of your grandmother, you take on the task to pack up her things so you can sell the house, but you’re interrupted by someone you haven’t seen in years, and oh, he’s hurt. N/A: This is based on a movie plot, but I don’t wanna say the movie because I don’t want to give it away, but, I decided to write a little supernatural type au for the spooky season, and of course, I’m a lover of angst, so, I’m giving you all this. I really hope you like it, and if you do, please remember to press that heart and reblog button! It helps a lot. And please, never hesitate to send me messages! I really love receiving them!

Death. It was truly a mysterious thing. The concept of death. Humans gave it a meaning, as if life was only but a preparation for what was to come in the afterlife. Heaven, Hell, Oblivion. It didn’t really matter to you. And no matter how many years you spent in Sunday school, learning about sin and how it was a currency that either allowed you to enter the peaceful realms of the afterlife or the eternal suffering of the underworld, it still meant nothing to you. But still, you prayed for forgiveness as a child, your grandmother right there beside you clutching her rosemary tightly in her fists with screwed shut eyes and mumbling apologies in hopes for redemption. You wonder if she found what she was looking for, and it was almost a bittersweet thought as you looked down at her lifeless body, neatly resting in the casket. She looked peaceful, at least. Maybe that meant something. And even if death for some reason meant nothing to you, you still couldn’t hold back the quiet tears that rolled down your cheeks. This woman raised you. She raised you into the strong woman you were today. With your own business, no longer struggling to put food on the table, but now able to send her money every week, to give her the life she deserved. Because she was one hell of a woman, that you can say, from the years she raised you. Resilient, strong, and all by herself when your parents suffered a terrible fate in a car accident when you were only a toddler. Come to think of it, you were quite familiar with death. It had visited you one too many times. Maybe that was why you didn’t care for it. For what was to come, because, in the end, death would be everyone’s end. And some may say it’s a sad life, to not really think there is anything at all once you die. That your brain simply shuts and then there is a lot of nothing. No, you weren’t skeptical; you believed in... Something. Science, nature perhaps. You believed that it didn’t matter if our subconscious continued to echo through the air giving us a fake sense of the afterlife or if in fact; we were reborn in another life. Because death was death. And for you, and everyone else, it was inevitable. Just as inevitable as having to come back to this town, back down to the old farmhouse where you were raised, three hours from the city you lived in, to clean out your grandmother’s things. Ever since she was sent to the hospital, a buyer was interested in the large land, offering a good price on it once she passed. And people called you cold, that you’d even negotiate with a man while your grandmother was in her deathbed, but the reality was that you hadn’t been to this town in almost ten years, and you and the doctors knew she wasn’t going to make it. You loved her, you truly did. You were grateful for everything she had done for you. But what were you supposed to do? Keep the house there, gathering dust while you went back to your penthouse in a busy city and forgot about it altogether? No, that wouldn’t be fair to your grandmother. If you weren’t going to take care of the house, you could at least put it to good use. And you thought about maybe renovating it, putting it on Airbnb for some backpackers that would eventually stop by the town. You were still pondering on that idea even while you drove into the driveway, coming from the small meek motel just three blocks from the funeral home where everyone mourned the town’s loss. And even looking at it as you parked, one single bagel from Cindy’s Diner hanging in your mouth and a cup of Iced coffee you had to explain to Cindy’s daughter how to make, it looked... Exactly as it did ten years ago when you left. Three floors, with hard oak walls and, resin painted wood on the outside, vines that crept upwards midway past the second floor, but never too close to the windows, a vast wooden front porch with two swings on each side of the door and the large tainted glass windows from the living room and kitchen, reminding you of the same ones you saw in Sunday school. It was almost a smaller wooden castle, too many bedrooms for just the two of you as you grew up, but enough that you became really good at hide and seek. It was still the same, and you sighed. You had some amazing memories here, that was true. Bonfires with your grandmother as she told you scary stories, your neighbors coming down to play with the hose when it was really hot. You even remembered trying to build a treehouse with your grandma, but you never finished because rain season started. And the sky looked just like it looked right now, dark rumbling clouds closing in, nothing but the vast field behind the house and the faraway mountains on the horizon. Before the thick raindrops began its descent you rushed out of the car, chewing on the piece of bagel as you rushed to the back seat to grab your bags, deciding to leave the unfolded cardboard boxes there and maybe get them later once the rain calmed down. Rushing up the driveway with your large bag of clothes in your hand, the rain began to pour just a few feet away from the porch, and you let out a little shriek at the cold drops hitting your skin, making you run a little faster. Finally, under the protection of the front porch, you dug into your pockets for the keys, rummaging through both front pockets and the single pack pocket. You were sure they were there, and you huffed in annoyance, a little wet already as you put two and two together and remembered the iced coffee in your cupholder and the keys right beside it. You grunted, throwing your head back and gazing towards your black car. The rain was pouring down hard and from what you remembered, chances were it wouldn’t stop soon, so placing your bag right beside the door you took in a deep breath and ran for your car as raindrops soaked right through your clothes. Opening the car door and quickly reaching for the keys, you made your way back to the porch now dripping wet from the unforgiving rain that had started. Finally opening the thick wooden door, it screeched open, showing that it hadn't been used in the six months that your grandmother made the hospital her permanent home. You shoved your bag in with your feet before finally closing the door behind you. It was quiet. Well, other than the harsh rain that hit against the windows and wood, the house was dark and quiet, a little gruesome too. You rested your back against the door, head falling back as you took in a deep breath. You opened your eyes and let them roam through the house, the open kitchen, and the large living room. No television. Quickly taking out your phone, you huffed once again, no service either. You were thankful that you left your catering business in good hands with Jimin, your partner, back in town, so even without service, you knew there was really no good reason for him to reach out other than to chat. Finally, pulling away from the door, you flick on the lights, the old yellow lamps flickering before it illuminated the space, and it suddenly felt normal again, just like it did when you were a kid. It almost felt like home. Sighing, you picked up your bag and placed it right beside the couch, walking towards the laundry room to retrieve a dry and clean towel you knew your grandmother always had in case she had any visitors and you began to dry your hair already walking back to the living room to open your bag for a fresh pair of clothes to change into. Maybe you’d take a shower before you made something to eat. The sun would be setting soon anyway, so there was really no point in starting to pack anything today and the rain really didn’t seem like it would stop anytime soon. If you remembered correctly, sometimes it rained like this for days on end, the roads rather dangerous, some even closing down. You remembered how on days like these, school was canceled, and you could stay home and play all day, have tea parties, bake and cook with your grandma. You smiled fondly at the memory as you found a white shirt and some sweat pants from your bag, and just as you were standing up to strip from your wet clothes, three loud knocks to the door startled you. With your heart now beating in your throat and a hand lifted to your chest, you looked at the door. Who could it be? Eyes moving to the clock just above the kitchen sink, it read seven pm. When did time pass so fast? You had just― Three more loud knocks. Blinking at the door, you finally decided to walk towards it, not even thinking before you unlocked and opened. In reality, the town had always been safe, and maybe it was your big city fears creeping up on you but the sight of a wet man with his head down and hands resting on each side of the door had you startled, eyes bulging slightly as you couldn’t make out his face in the dark, your hand blindly reached out to the light switch beside the door, the one that turned on the porch lights and you flicked it on, the man lifting his face to you. Oh. He seemed familiar, and he was young, about your age. Black, wet shirt hugging his strong and muscular frame tightly, making your eyes move to the bulge of his biceps and veins that dripped with water, then your eyes moved to his strong shoulders and up to his thick neck before landing on his defined jaw that also dripped with water and blood― Wait, blood! “Oh my god, are you ok?!” You asked, one hand coming to cover your mouth in your loud surprised reaction as you noticed he had a small cut right above his thick eyebrow. He smiled, well, smirked almost as he let out an airy chuckle. And oof, if that wasn’t the most charming smile you have ever seen, despite the blood dripping down the side of his face. “I, well― I need some help, is your grandmother home?” He asked looking into the house, now standing fully, towering over you. The mention of your grandmother had your mouth closing. Who was this guy and how did he know who lived here? And well, if he did, it was unfortunate that he didn’t know that she had passed the day before. “I’m sorry, who are you?” You asked, and even if you tried not to sound condescending, you did, and he lifted the brow that wasn’t hurt. “You seriously don’t recognize me, Y/N?” He asked and crossed his strong arms over his chest. He knew your name, and yeah, he did look familiar, but he seemed to remember you a lot better than you remembered him. At your silence, he chuckled again. “Jungkook.” He said, and the name had memories rushing back like a tidal wave. “We used to make mud pies together, I’m offended that you don’t remember, you ate them with vigor.” He joked, and you laughed, pursing your lips right after. “Shit, I’m sorry, you look so...” Hot. “Different.” He smiled wide, now letting his hands down, moving into his front pockets. “So do you, it’s been what... Fifteen? Sixteen years?” He asked, and you nodded, crossed your arms, and resting your shoulder on the door frame. In a perfect world, you would be able to gawk at his wet body without being caught, but in this world. He tilts his head to the side and flicks his tongue out once he notices your eyes roaming, giving you a quick once over himself. “So uh... Is your grandmother home, I lost control of my car down on the secluded road somewhere...” He trailed off as if unable to remember exactly where. “...and it won’t start back up. I cut my eyebrow, I was wondering if she could take a look at it for me.” He took you out of your thoughts and you blinked a few times, leaning away from the door frame. “Oh... My grandma... passed away yesterday.” Your voice was a lot lower than you expected and Jungkook’s eyes bulged slightly, lips parting as if he wanted to say something but he didn’t know what to say. “I uh, I’m here to pack her things.” You nibbled on your lower lip, nodding before you cleared your throat. “Would you like to come in, though? I can take a look at it for you.” You made way, and he just nodded, coming inside. Closing the door behind you, you watched Jungkook take a few steps inside, his back to you as his eyes roamed the house. Memories of his own coming to play. “You can take a seat at the kitchen table, I’ll get the first aid kit.” You said making your way to the cabinet under the kitchen sink. You could barely hear him move, but once you grabbed the small white box, he was there seated quietly, looking at you. How could you forget Jungkook, anyway? You spent most of your childhood with him, playing in the backyard, sometimes going to his house for sleepovers, even if it was far from the farmhouse. You both were inseparable before his parents divorced and his mother moved to the city, taking him along with her, and you never saw him again. Not until now. As you took out the gauze, antiseptic, and some surgical tape you watched him look almost uncomfortable, looking around the empty house before looking at you. You knew what he wanted to say, he had that look in his eyes, the “shit, you lost someone and I’m really uncomfortable because I have no idea what that’s like, but I still want to show you some sympathy” look, and you took in a deep breath. “You don’t have to say it, you know, I heard it at least fifty times yesterday.” You spoke softly as you took one cotton ball and swiped gently at the cut. “Say what?” He asked, looking up at you, not even flinching as you cleaned his wound. “You know... I’m sorry for your loss and stuff.” You shrugged, taking another cotton ball and soaking it in antiseptic. “Oh...” He said, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “I am though... I loved your grandmother.” He sighed, and you smiled softly, looking at a now clean wound. It didn’t look deep, but you were no expert. It did seem as if he had bled a lot, so you decided to wrap it before it started to bleed again. “Well, thanks, everyone loved my grandma, she was amazing.” You said softly as you began to tape the gauze to his cut, never once did he complain of pain. With the close proximity and the uncomfortable silence, you cleared your throat. “So... Did you move back here?” You asked, and he shook his head. “No... My father is getting too old to come down to the city now and then, so I decided to come here for a change, I’m only in town for a little while.” He answered, looking out the kitchen window to the rain still pouring out. “How is life here, anyway? I haven’t been here since forever.” He shook his head as you slowly ― tried to ― tape the gauze in place. “I wouldn’t know, haven’t been here for the last ten years. Left for college at 17, didn’t come back.” You shrugged, reaching for another piece of tape before leaning back into him. “Where did you go?” He asked, and you leaned back, blinking at his question. “Oh, you mean for school? McKenzie Brown.” You said and his eyes bulged. “No fucking way. So did I! How did we not cross each other on campus?” He seemed excited, and it just showed his boyish ways, a contrast to the very manly muscles on his body and that smirk he had given you earlier. Chuckling, you were also surprised that you had both gone to the same college, but yet, never crossed paths. It wasn’t really that hard to believe, given the university you were accepted to was very, very big, with a lot of students and up to 100 per class. “Guess life didn’t want us to.” You shrugged, and he shook his head. “Fucking coincidence. I was kinda famous back in school.” He said, looking down at his lap and you lifted a brow, making him look up at you and chuckle. “All I’m saying is that I had some fun, had a reputation.” Your smile widened, and you squinted your eyes, even if you both haven’t seen each other in sixteen years, somehow it didn’t really feel like you were strangers. “Are you telling me, that Jeon Jungkook, the cute, bunny teeth kid that made me mud pies and held my hand when we crossed the street, was a fuckboy?” You laughed as you finally finished wrapping him up. His mouth opened almost to protest, but instead of that, he shrugged, and a smirk spread on his lips. “Who said anything about was?” A loud scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him. Truly, it was hot. He was hot, that was undeniable. But to imagine this man that was here in your kitchen as a fuckboy was truly something you weren’t ready to let your mind wander off. Wonder off to how many people he’s slept with, how much experience he must have. You cleared your throat. “All done.” Was all you said as you got up. With his clothes still wet and yours too, you threw the soiled cotton balls away and directed him to the bathroom where he could wash the blood that had dripped down his face. Once he made his way back, you stood by the door with the pair of fresh clothes in your hands, ready to bid him goodbye, but instead, he walked mid way and sat on the handrest of the couch. “You said you were packing her things, why?” He crossed his arms again, your eyes shot to his very wet clothes against the couch and you blinked at his question. “I’m selling the house.” You said and started making your way towards the door, still hearing the rain rumble aggressively outside. “Wait, what? You can’t sell the house!” He stood up, a look of outrage in his eyes. You turned around and looked back at him with an incredulous look on your face. “Excuse me?” You questioned, blinking in disbelief. “You can’t sell the house! This house has... Has a shit ton of memories and it’s a place where you can raise your kids! You’re just going to sell it to some stranger who’s probably going to turn it into another cellphone tower?” He sounded annoyed, irritated even. “This is my house, and if I want to sell it to someone who wants to turn it into a fucking strip club or whatever, I will.” You crossed your arms, and he furrowed his brows. Truly, you wouldn’t, not that you had anything against strip clubs, but you wouldn’t want your grandmother’s holy name to go to dust in a conservative town like this. “And if anything, this town could use a freaking cellphone tower, since there is no service here!” You shrugged as if it was obvious. “Wow, didn’t take you for a heartless bitch.” Now that was the last straw. It was almost as if the funny, charming Jungkook from before had vanished in a blink of an eye and all you could see right now was a condescending, nosy ― but hot ― stranger making demands and offending you. “Get out.” You said calmly, crossing your arms. Jungkook gave you a pointed look, a scoff leaving him. “You’re going to kick me out in this rain?” He raised a brow. “Well, you somehow made your way here in this rain, I’m sure you can make your way back.” Maybe you were a heartless bitch. And your ex-boyfriends might agree, but the truth was, you didn’t like anyone making decisions for you, if anything, you didn’t like men making decisions for you. “Oh, don’t worry your spoiled little ass, I’ll leave in a second, just gotta remember where...” He began walking towards the door and stopped midway, his voice slurring. He stumbled a little, one hand moving up to the wrapped cut. “Remember where my... my car...” He shook his head, as if unable to see straight, and even if you were irritated, your mind and body quickly went into action, walking towards him to keep him steady. “Jungkook?” You called softly, and he leaned against your hand, unfocused eyes looking for you. He didn’t look good, the once white gauze now with a bright red spot where the blood seeped through. “Hey, why don’t you sit down a little, you might have hit your head a little harder than you thought.” You continue to speak softly, slowly maneuvering him towards the couch. You sat him down with a thud, a huff leaving him as his head lolled in his hand. From the few medical documentaries you’ve watched in the past, you knew that if he had a concussion, sleeping right now wasn’t the best idea. “I’m going to get you some dry clothes and make us some coffee, I think you better stay here tonight.” You look out the window, he surely wouldn’t have made it back to his car. A minute ago you were ready to kick him out into the rain because of your irritation, now you would have regretted it if anything had happened to him, had you done so. Sighing, you quickly made your way to your grandmother’s closet where she still kept a few of your father’s clothes and you took a large shirt and some sweats, just like your own. Making your way back down, Jungkook still sat there with his head between his hands. He looked up at you once you made your way to him and reached out for the clothes. “Feeling a little better?” You asked, pursing your lips. “Yeah, just... Dizzy.” He admitted, not looking at you. “I’m... Sorry. I’m sorry. That was way out of line.” He blurted out, looking up at you as he took in a deep breath. You pondered on it for a few seconds, you both were friends once, even if you were children, he wasn’t a complete stranger and that meant that you still nurtured some type of fondness over him ― and no, it wasn’t only because he glowed up. “We’re cool. Just don’t call me a bitch again, or a brat, otherwise, I’ll probably give you another concussion” That made him chuckle, and you laughed back. “Anyway, get dressed, we’re going to end up sick if we stay in these clothes.” Jungkook nodded, immediately reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head, and you didn’t have time to turn around before his bare torso ― and abs― came into view. Oh, he was truly a sight to see, wet locks falling down his face, damp, glowing skin in the dim yellow lights of the house, ripples of his abs and thin waist so well defined, if your mouth wasn’t agape before, it was now and you caught yourself, turning around to give him some privacy. “Please, as if I didn’t catch you checking me out at the door.” He scoffed, you couldn’t see him, only hear the sound of ruffling clothes. “I wasn’t checking you out!” You defended yourself, not looking at him and not sounding convincing at all. “You were totally checking me out, I was checking you out too.” Yeah, you were checking him out, but him checking you out? That was new information. Not that you weren’t worthy of being checked out, in fact, you were very confident in yourself, not because of your looks, but because you knew that success was written all over your face and that was enough reason for men to find you attractive. “Figures.” You smirked, arms crossing over your chest. Jungkook rolled his eyes, even though you couldn’t see it and you could hear him standing up, probably changing out of his wet pants. You waited patiently, very tempted to peek, see what he was hiding behind those pants. You had noticed how firm and thick his thighs looked in those dark, wet pants. “You can turn around now.” He informed, and you quickly turned, seeing him in the cozy clothes you had picked out. It wasn’t that you remembered because you didn’t, but seeing Jungkook in your father’s clothes made it all very... Domestic. You quickly swallowed as you looked him down and grinned. “Ok, I’m... I’m going to go change and make us some coffee, don’t fall asleep.” You informed, and he sat back down, folding his wet clothes. You were glad that there was at least coffee in the pantry, because food? Other than some crackers and powdered eggs, none of that. You made a mental note to go get some tomorrow if you were meant to spend the week here. You picked up the two mugs and made your way to the living room where Jungkook sat quietly, looking around. Handing him his mug, he took it with a quiet “thank you” before you sat on the armchair right in front of him. It was awkward now. Both of you quiet as you sipped on the hot coffee in your now dry clothes and looked around, it was uncomfortably quiet until― “I can’t believe you’re selling this house.” He shook his head and you rolled your eyes. “Well, what do you expect me to do? It’s not like I live here, I haven’t lived here in ten years!” Jungkook sat closer to the edge of the couch. “Maybe not now, but what about in, like, a couple of years when you get married and have kids, wouldn’t you want to settle down in a peaceful place like this?” He stated as if it was obvious. “What makes you think I want kids? What makes you think I even want to get married?” You gave him a pointed look. And he was quiet, thinking for a while. “Well, I assumed you were the type...” His voice was more hesitant. “You assume a lot of things about me, apparently. Besides, if you’re so into the whole traditional family thing, why don’t you move back to town and all that jazz?” With that, Jungkook rested back against the couch, laughing bitterly and shaking his head. “Me? No, no. I don’t believe in marriage.” It was your turn to scoff. “And yet you were expecting me to believe in it?” You took a sip of your coffee. “No, I have no plans of getting married, my business is thriving and I’m making a shit load of money, I have no need for a man.” You looked down at your mug and Jungkook went quiet. You flicked your gaze to him, confused at his silence, and you were met with an intense look right back at you. “What?” You asked. “Are you straight?” He asked, and you almost choked on your own spit. “Why does it matter?!” You were appalled by his question. “Well, are you attracted to men?” He continued. “Yes!” You answered right back. “So you don’t need men for anything?” He lifted a brow. “I can’t seem to find your point here, Jungkook.” You argued. “I’m saying if you’re attracted to men only, and I don’t want to assume, sexually speaking, you maybe can get by with a toy, maybe a very realistic dildo or a vibrator, but I take that it’s not like the real thing, so you’re not fully satisfied, therefore... You kinda do need men. Even if it’s just to get off.” He finished with the calmest expression ever and you were left with your eyes bulged and a slightly parted mouth. You were speechless, not only because of how nonchalantly he said those things but because he had a point. Sure, you got yourself off pretty well here and there with toys, but a real, live human was irreplaceable to you. With your mouth opening and closing a few times, you blinked. “If we’re talking about sex and sex only, then maybe, yes, I do need a man, but 90% of the time they don’t do it right anyway, so I rather resort to my toys. They’re also pretty quiet.” You rested your mug on the center table, lifting your legs and folding them besides you. “You met the wrong kind of men.” He cockily says, and you notice then that he’s flirting. This was something you enjoyed. Flirting. You were pretty good at it too. “And I assume you’re the right kind?” You teased back, and the lazy smirk that spread on him was devastatingly attractive. “Would you like to find out?” He rests his mug right beside yours, sitting back again, and your eyes fell to the swell of his thighs. Surely they would feel delicious under your palms, or perhaps your heat, fuck, all of him would probably feel delicious, his large strong hands, his bulging muscles and you were pretty sure he wouldn’t disappoint in the downstairs department. “I would like to know how you’re feeling.” You change the subject, watching him purse his lips and nod in understanding before he answers. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about sleeping with him, in fact, you had since the moment you laid eyes on him. But he was hurt, maybe still a little confused, and you surely didn’t want to take advantage of that. “Feeling better, yeah. I don’t think I can walk back to my car, though.” He admits, eyes falling to the window to see the rain still resilient outside. “We have spare rooms, you can stay the night, and tomorrow we can find a way to call for a repair or something like that to get your car from wherever you left it.” He nodded, getting up and picking up the mugs before making his way to the kitchen where he left them both in the sink. You showed him the way to the guest bedrooms, making sure you left him in one that was close enough to your old bedroom in case he felt sick during the night, and you being a night owl, would make sure to check on him during the night. You gave him a fresh change of sheets and a towel in case he wanted to shower and said goodnight before moving to your room. It had been a while since you stepped foot in there, and it was all still exactly the same. Your dark purple walls with posters, the pictures of your friends from high school hanging on the vanity mirror, you smiled fondly at one of you and Jungkook, maybe you were ten, nine, you couldn’t remember, but his large bunny-like teeth peeked out, one single hole showcasing his loss of one tooth. You sat down on the bed with a huff, a picture from the vanity flying off with the wind it caused, and you reached down to the floor to pick it up. It was one of you and your grandmother. Her large smile, so bright and powerful as it always was, leaning down with white gloves as she planted a flower right in the front garden of the house. You were right there beside her, wide smile as well, just as happy, as thrilled as you both planted new flowers to adorn the house. The same was in the background, full of life and so many memories that you felt a light tug at your heart. Maybe Jungkook was right... Maybe selling a hose as memorable as this one was a heartless act. But you brushed that thought away, placing the picture on the vanity counter and getting ready for bed. You were hyper-aware of the man in the other room, one that had insinuated that he wanted to sleep with you only but a few minutes ago, but not because of that. You were hyper-aware of him in the other room as you finally felt a hard sob rip through your throat. Crying everything you hadn’t cried in the last three days. You tried muffling your cry, but it was too painful to do so. You would miss her and you regretted not visiting. You regretted how annoyed you seemed when she showed up to your apartment unannounced with her bags saying she “missed you and was spending the weekend” detouring whatever stupid plan you had. You regretted so much, but now it was too late to regret anything at all. She was gone. You were completely alone in this world. No parents, no family at all, not even a cousin, a boyfriend. Not even a real friend. You fell asleep with silent sobs that night, and unknown to you, a very wide awake and hazy Jungkook hearing every moment of it with a weird feeling in his chest and body. It wasn’t only because you were crying. But because he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember anything about his accident or anything before he knocked on your door. Pancakes. Or maybe waffles, perhaps eggs. Yes, eggs and bacon. That’s what you smelled. And coffee, fresh-brewed coffee. Your eyes gently fluttered open, the soft light seeping through the curtains in the room quickly reminding you where you were, and yet the smell of breakfast was all you could think of. You rubbed your eyes, slipping on your flip-flops before slowly making your way out of your room, you quickly passed the room Jungkook had slept in, looking in to see it was as if no one had slept there at all and as you made your way downstairs slowly, the smell intensified. You went around the kitchen wall only to be met by a shirtless Jungkook, the shirt you had given him hanging on his shoulders as he whistled to a song on your grandmother’s old radio and stirred some eggs on the frying pan. The low slide of your flip-flops against the hardwood floor had him turning his head towards you. “Good morning!” He beamed with a bright smile. Your eyes moved to the kitchen table, eggs, bacon, coffee, and... Pancakes? You were confused, very confused. “Someone’s not a morning person.” Jungkook chuckled as he turned off the oven and pushed more eggs onto a plate in the center of the kitchen table. “Come on, sit down, have some coffee so you can function like a normal human being.” You didn’t know what was more startling, the sight of pancakes when you clearly saw there was no food or the sight of a shirtless Jungkook cooking you breakfast as if you two had just slept together the night before. You didn’t say anything, still confused and drowsy with sleep as you sat down, eyes flicking to Jungkook as he put his shirt back on to sit right beside you and start pouring you a cup of coffee. “I’m...” You began, watching him pour himself some before reaching for the really well-done pancakes. “How did you...” “The pancakes?” He asked, and you nodded. “They’re vegan. I found some flour that wasn’t expired in the cabinet and some vanilla extract, made them with water and some oatmeal powder, oh and sugar!” He shrugged. “I actually work with vegan and vegetarian food. Not that I am either of those myself, but there is a huge place in the market for it. I make easily affordable meals for people who don’t have time to cook for themselves.” You rubbed your eyes slowly, reaching for the coffee mug and bringing it to your lips, taking a large sip before you sighed. “That’s pretty useful, I’ve lost some clients in the past because my menus don’t offer them Vegetarian or Vegan options.” Your raspy voice spoke out. “Menus?” He asked, brows furrowing. “Yeah... I have a catering business. Weddings, parties, companies, even movie productions.” You began to explain. “I started with culinary school, wanted to become a chef, I kind of did, but I didn’t want to work at a restaurant where you have these really straight forward menus, I wanted to do something different, even fun.” You reached for a single piece of bacon. “So, my menu also caters to children, we have gourmet corn dogs, sweet popcorn, some over the top hamburgers.” You smiled, bringing the food to your mouth and taking a bite of it. “Just like your grandma, huh?” He said and your eyes moved to him. You had never made that connection before. But now that he pointed it out, he was right. You remember you and your grandmother cooking several fun meals all day. Baking cakes, pies, making savory snacks for when your friends came over. And your birthday parties always had a little something different, and it was all your grandmother’s doing. “Yeah, I guess...” You chewed, reaching for the vegan pancake, not really trusting it would taste good with the ingredients he had mentioned. But to your surprise, as soon as you cut a piece and put it in your mouth, the loud moan you let out would have been lewd if not for Jungkook’s loud chuckle as he watched you eat his cooking. “What the fuck, this is delicious!” You almost screamed, digging in more. “And it’s healthy too.” He lifted his cup. “Fuck, fuck... So fucking good.” You continued the moans of gastronomical pleasure. “Not going to lie, it’s kind of hot watching you lose your shit over my cooking.” He chuckled, and you gave him a pointed look, rolling your eyes before going back to the pancake. “Jesus fuck, Jungkook, this is amazing, we should totally work together sometime, I have so many clients that would pay big fucking bucks for healthy, vegan meals like this.” You offered, already finishing the pancake. “Yeah? I could use the cash, business is good but it could be better.” You smiled at him, still chewing, and just as you were about to speak the radio beamed with what you recognized as a hurricane alert. “Seems like we have a hurricane heading towards the town in about one day or two, all main roads are closed for the time being, we advise everyone to stay in their homes, stock on food and water. Do not go outside under any circumstances, I repeat, do not go outside under any circumstances.“ You and Jungkook shared a concerned look, and he pursed his lips. “I should probably find a way to get to town...” And just as he said that a bright flash of lighting had you bulging your eyes and a loud rumble of thunder shook the house, heavy, aggressive rain pouring outside in a matter of seconds. Jungkook looked at you and you pursed your lips. “Or maybe not.” You said right before the lights flickered and you heard the refrigerator turn off. “Great.” You chuckled and Jungkook shook his head. “I’m really out of luck, I bet my car is already fucked by now.” He sighed, resting his head in his hands. “If you have insurance your car will be fine.” You said standing up to test the lights before confirming the power was off and heading for the kitchen drawers, looking for candles. “We don’t have any more food or water,” Jungkook interjected, watching you bring two packs of candles and leave them on the table. It was still pretty illuminated in the house, despite the dark clouds making it seem like the sun was already setting. “I, well, we do, actually, my grandmother has a bunker I guess, she has a lot of canned foods and stuff like that, also a shit load of water, we should be good.” You informed, walking back to the table, noticing that Jungkook’s hair was wet. “Did you take a shower?” You asked, and Jungkook furrowed his brows in confusion. “Your hair is wet.” You said as you sat down. His hand moves up to his hair, running his fingers through the damp locks. “Oh... I guess they just take a long time to dry.” He shrugged, and you gave him a look of confusion before finishing your breakfast. “You don’t mind me staying?” He asked after you both finished eating, you were at the sink, washing the dishes as he sat on the kitchen counter right beside you, watching. “Honestly, what’s a couple more days gonna do. Besides, I would probably shit my pants if I had to go through a hurricane in the dark by myself.” Jungkook lifted his brow at that. “So... Another thing you need a man for other than getting off?” He gave you a smug look. You rolled your eyes at him, spraying some water onto him. “No! Company doesn’t necessarily require a man, Jungkook.” You answered, finally finishing the dishes, placing them to dry. “And you seem to be obsessed with the idea of me getting off.” You dried your hands and looked at him, leaning on your hands on the counter. There it was. That lazy, charming smirk of his. One that honestly had your panties twisting. “You want me to lie?” He cocked his head. “You’re outrageous.” You chuckled, turning your back to him and taking a few steps before you were stopped by a cold hand on your upper arm. It wasn’t a tight grip, if anything, it was a gentle one. He was already on his feet, tugging you back to him, and the little huff you let out once your body fell flush against his had him smiling wider, your hands resting on his chest. “You know what’s outrageous?” His hands slipped down your arms gently to rest on your hips, it was almost as if he was hesitant to touch you, waiting for consent, as his silky voice spoke, his back rested against the counter, legs slightly parted for you to slot yourself in the middle. “The fact that I know I can make you cum so hard and good that your legs stop working and you’re here pretending you don’t know.” That had a blush spreading on your cheeks, a loud swallow almost inaudible because of the hard rain hitting the window just behind him. “How would I really know, though? You seem like a teller, not a shower.” You teased back, already feeling heat cripple down your body. You could feel his firm body against yours, even if you weren’t exactly pressed to him and his hands rested gently on your hips. You moved your gaze up. Even a little slouched down he towered over you, eyes glossy and full of intention, and that smirk. That freaking smirk. His pink tongue came out to flicker over his bottom lip, your gaze following it before moving back to his dark eyes. “May I?” His gaze moved to the hands on your hips and you blinked slowly up at him, nodding once. What was once a hesitant touch to your hips became a hard, deliciously painful grip. Thumbs digging into the dip of your hip bone and pulling your hips into him, your middle gently rubbing against his. Your lips parted as you gently let your head fall back, giving him an opening even you weren’t aware of in your clouded judgement. And soon, lips were on the expanse of your neck. Soft, damp lips, grazing your skin and sending ripples of goosebumps down your body, eliciting soft whimpers from your parted lips. “The things I’ll do to you...” He whispered against your skin, parting his lips to gently nip at the curve of your neck and jawline. It was as if you were entranced, truly. His body, words, touch was like a magnet to you, unable to even think properly as he littered his way up with gentle kisses, sucking softly at your skin once you whimpered at a rather sensitive spot. “Jungkook...” You whimpered out and he rolled his hips into you at the sound of his name, clearly pleased with how it sounded coming from you. Your arms quickly moved to wrap around his neck as he made his way up, more and more, lips tracing your jawline all the way to your chin before he hovered right against your lips, eyes almost shut as he looked at the ultimate surrendering look on your face. Your eyes opened into slits, looking back at the intense gaze he was giving you, lips almost aching with the want to be kissed, you wanted to kiss him so bad, no... You needed to kiss him. It was almost as if you were desperate. “Do you want me to kiss you, sweetheart?” His breath fanned against your lips, warm and smelling of coffee. Just as you were about to answer, another bright flash of lightning blinded you for a second before the violent rumble of thunder shook the house. You squealed, it was so close and Jungkook, despite his manly frame also had bulging eyes as he looked around, watching the lamps shake slightly. “Shit, that was a close one.” He let out under his breath. You could feel something poking against the edge of your stomach and suddenly you didn’t feel in the mood to make out with him, but rather protect yourself. “You think we should go to the bunker?” You asked, looking back at him with wide eyes and a slight pout on your lips. He was so endeared. You looked just like you did when you were a child, scared of whatever it was, and he sighed, despite the arousal still very clear in his eyes. “Yeah, we can go to the bunker. Can you grab some blankets and pillows? I’ll grab your bag and the candles.” He informed and you nodded, quickly making your way up the stairs. The “bunker” was actually the basement, with concrete walls and with shelves filled with canned foods and gallons of water along with medicine. There were two sleeping bags, one that was meant for you and another that was meant for your grandmother, and as you laid them down, placing the pillows and blankets on them, Jungkook was strategically placing the candles around the room, using a lighter he found in a drawer to light them. When he was done, he went up the little stairs to close the door, the strong lock making a loud nose. He made his way back to the candlelit room, you were already seated, with crossed legs on one of the sleeping bags, eyes a little wide as you heard rumble after rumble of thunder. “It’s really pouring out there.” He said as he sat down beside you, trying to ease you a little. “I don’t remember going into this bunker since... I don’t even remember.” You admitted, taking in a deep breath. “It’s... Scary.” “What is, the bunker?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You pursed your lips. “No... I guess... It’s scary not knowing what’s going to happen. We can be here and think we’re safe, but the whole house can fall on us and then poof... We’re gone. That’s scary.” You swallowed at the thought. Jungkook nodded, understanding what you meant. “I think... Death isn’t meant to be scary. It’s the not knowing that is scary.” He said, and you looked at him, watching him look ahead as if rearranging his thoughts. “Some believe in heaven and hell, others believe in reincarnation, I think it’s all in an effort to give them some peace, fear death a little less.” He nodded, and you brought your knees to your chest. “What do you believe in?” You asked, resting your cheek on your knees, looking at him. He thought for a few seconds, nibbling on his lower lip. “I don’t know. I want to believe that when we die... We go to a place where all our loved ones are waiting for us, where we find peace and we can choose to either live in peace or go back and do it all over again.” He looked at you. “But I can’t really believe in that when I’m just as terrified of dying as I am of being alive.” His brows furrowed and so did yours. “Like... What if I die alone? What if I die forgotten somewhere, in the cold, all by myself? What if I die knowing that I accomplished so many financial things in life but not... Emotional? No one to love, no one to be loved by. That terrifies me.” “Not being loved?” You asked, and he shook his head. “Dying as alone as I lived.” And that hit you like a ton of bricks. You and Jungkook were so alike it was really frightening. You were also alone, having conquered so many things in life. With your own business, money, success. But at the end of a busy day, you went home and you were alone. Alone with yourself and your silence. And you didn’t notice until now how lonely you were. “At least here... If anything happens, I know I won’t die alone. I’ll die with my childhood best friend and honestly, someone I really want to get to know better.” He looked at you again with a smile and you never felt so comforted. Your grandmother didn’t die alone. Even if you had spent most of your years away from her, even if you had only come back to this town to hold her hand one last time before she took her final breath. You were there, and so were her friends. She wasn’t alone. And even if you didn’t know what happened after, you’d like to believe that she was with your father and mother, hugging each other again, your grandmother filling them in on how well you had grown up. Smiling fondly back at him you both were quiet for a while, still hearing the thunder outside, but now it was less scary to you. “I think we have some cards here somewhere.” You said standing up and rummaging through a drawer, Jungkook threw his head back with a grunt. “Ugh, thank god, I was already starting to think we were going to die of boredom down here.” He chuckled, and you scoffed. “Good to know my company bores you, Jungkook.” You found the pack of cards making your way back to the pile of blankets you had made. “Please, you’re far from boring. If anything you’re really fucking interesting. Really proud of who you grew up to be, even if you can be a heartless bitch that wants to sell her childhood home so it can become a strip club.” He quirked a brow with a teasing grin and you slapped his arm. “Oh, shut up. I’m not sure I’m going to sell the house anymore, I might have other plans.” You said without looking at him, taking the cards out. “Do you know how to play poker?” You asked flashing him a grin. He raised a brow. “Can we make it interesting?” And you squinted at him with his lazy smirk that made you tingle. “Is it something kinky?” You asked with a tilt of your head. “Definitely.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes before giving in. “Fine, whatever, you pervert.” If you had known Jungkook was this good at poker, you probably wouldn’t have agreed on making it strip poker, because now you were in your bra and panties, no socks on and he was only but socks and shirt down. You want to blame your loss on his exposed chest, your eyes unable to focus on anything other than his ripped abs, but in reality, Jungkook was just really good at poker and his annoying cocky smirk and those strong arms draped over his legs only made you more annoyed ― and turned on. “Royal flush. Lose the bra.” He set his cards down giving you a very pointed look. Your mouth fell agape because you really weren’t expecting this at all. For a second, you thought about ending the game, but the way his eyes roamed down your half-naked body really made heatwaves rush down your spine. Placing your cards down, you let your tongue flick over your lower lip, his eyes didn’t miss that as he watched your hands move to your back to unclasp your bra. There was a look of anticipation in his eyes, glossy lids focused on your chest as you let the straps fall down your shoulders, your eyes focused on him before you slowly peel the undergarment off, exposing your perked nipples. His jaw clenched at the sight of your exposed breasts, eyes moving all over to take them in, and there was a slow almost shaky exhale coming from him, making you pant slightly. The sexual tension in the air was as thick as the rumbling clouds in the sky. You were almost bare for him, and he loved that. Loved that he was getting the chance to see you, all for himself. You leaned back on your hands, your breasts arching forward, bouncing slightly and there was almost an animalistic growl bubbling in him. “Take off your panties.” He breathed out, commanded, asked, you really didn’t care. There was no game anymore, that you knew for sure, and one single hand moved down to tug at the side of your underwear gently, pushing it down before you pushed the other side, sliding it down your legs. You let the fabric rest along with your bra, your heat still covered by your thighs before you bent your knees up to your chest, looking at him with lust-filled eyes. You loved the way he was looking at you, with so much want and so much desire it almost clogged your lungs. And he waited patiently, his own chest slightly heaving up and down before you slowly parted your legs for him to see all of you. Fully bare and spread for him. “Fuck.” He cursed out, and you knew that if he didn’t swallow thickly, his mouth would have pooled with drool. You could feel his heavy gaze fixed on your heat and you knew he could see it glisten as the candles flickered. “Fuck, please, please can I touch you?” He breathed out, one hand already placed on the blankets in front of him, ready to crawl to you. The desperation in his voice almost made your hands falter. “Yes, yes, do anything you want with me.” You spoke out just as breathless. And before you even had a chance to breathe back in, he was on you. Slotted right between your legs and hungry, desperate mouth on yours, you whimpered into his mouth, tongue flicking out to find his. He tasted so divine, so heavenly and you let yourself lay back on the blankets as he kissed you like it was the last time. Passionate, tender even, but messy and wet. He grunted against your lips as his hips rolled into your slit, you could feel the outline of his hardened length against your bare heat and your eyes rolled back at the delicious rub. Your hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in between his locks. They were still wet. But you were less focused on that, and rather focused on his hot breath against your lips, sweet taste on your tongue, and the way his body rolled into you so expertly. He pulled away only to latch them onto your neck, kissing and sucking harshly at your skin, probably leaving bruises in his path down your body. He didn’t relent when he met your breasts, sucking one perked nipple into his mouth with a deep vibrating groan that rippled down your body, sending shivers down your spine. You arched into his mouth, whimpering softly as little shocks of pleasure shot straight to your core. “Jungkook.” You whimpered out and his brows furrowed, hips rolling into you harder as he let your nipple go with a lewd pop. “Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that, sounds so perfect.” He whispered against your skin, moving his lips down your middle, kissing just below your navel and you know where he’s headed, already parting your legs further for him. “Good girl.” You barely catch the whispered praise, but as you do, you feel your cheeks blushing furiously, heart picking up in rate. A loud moan rips right out of you, fingers gripping at the blankets once you feel his mouth wrap around your nub. He sucks it into his mouth softly, tongue swirling around and under it, making you choke out whimpers and moans at the intense pleasure. If anything, he seemed like a fucking pro, letting your nub free only to flatten his tongue, dipping the tip into your aching entrance before lapping up your slit to suck your clit right back into his mouth with a deep groan in his chest. Your arousal was all over him, lips, chin, tongue. And you loved how messy it looked, how completely hungry he seemed to be buried in your cunt. The soft sucks to your clit became more frequent, tongue swirling it around inside his mouth and you let out a high pitched whimper, signaling he was at the perfect spot. Jungkook was a good listener, and he was adamant in making you cum, more than once. He sucked harder and harder, both hands moving to spread your legs wider, thumbs so close to the edges of your entrance as he spread it open, the ache becoming more unbearable as it stretched slightly. With just a few more sucks you let your head fall back and back arch off the blankets, legs shaking violently before a hard wave of pleasure washed down your body. Vision flashing white and extremities tingling, you couldn’t feel your legs. Your empty core clenched around nothing and he could feel it with the edge of his thumbs so close to your entrance. He sucked softly again, riding your orgasm before he pulled away completely, only peppering small kisses over your swollen clit, watching you flinch slightly in overstimulation. You finally relaxed, back meeting the blankets once again and droopy eyes searching for him as you felt him crawl up over your body. The lazy smirk accompanied by cum coated lips and chin was way more than you were prepared for and you whined at the sight, tilting your head up to capture his lips. He only chuckled, pulling away to tease you. “You taste like fucking heaven.” He whispered, still pulling away every time you tried to catch his lips. “Would you like to taste yourself, sweetheart?” You nodded with a pout and he leaned in, tongue breaching your lips as he kissed you slowly, sensually, letting your cum coat your tongue as well, and you whimpered at your taste, making him pull away with a groan. “Fuck, I want to taste you more, please?” He asked, brows furrowed and your hand moved down in between your bodies to cup his hard bulge. Palm rubbing at it back and forth. His eyes fluttered as he let his head fall at the delicious rub of your palm. “I want your cock.” You whispered, and he took in a deep breathe, exhaling shakily. “Please? Please, Jungkook, please?” You begged, breathy voice, a little hoarse from your loud moans, and who the fuck was he to deny you of anything at this point. He was completely under whatever spell you had on him. He pushed his sweats down along with the black brief boxers he had under and his cock sprung up to hit against his stomach. You were right. He surely didn’t disappoint in the downstairs department. If anything, he was impressive. Thick and long, large veins adorning his hard length, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He was massive. You even questioned if you could take him at all, and the slight doubt on your face had him chuckling. “We’ll go slow, I promise.” He said in reassurance before he positioned himself at your entrance. He pushed slowly, and you felt your entrance stretch around him just as slow, the first inches were the hardest part, and once you felt that “pop” from his tip it was smooth sailing from there, your core stretching around his thick girth with a slight burn, he grunted as he slowly bottomed out, stilling as he panted, resting his forehead on yours, being careful not to press his wound onto you. “Can I move, sweetheart?” He asked softly, clearly strained, his hands moving to find yours, interlocking his fingers with yours right beside your head. You nodded at him, feeling so full your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Good girl.” He said a little louder this time, pulling out only to roll his hips into you with a breathless groan. The praise along with the thrust had your core clenching around him, making him hiss at the tight fit. “Fuck, so good.” He breathed out, starting a slow, steady grind of his hips in and out of you, cock twitching so deep inside, you could feel him in your cervix. “H-harder.” You whispered and Jungkook snapped his hips into you without warning, eliciting a loud, high-pitched moan from you. “Like that, baby?” He questioned, moving his lips to the shell of your ear. You whined and he let out an airy chuckle, biting down on his lower lip as he pulled back only to snap them forward harder this time. Your body bucked with each hard snap of his hips, his hands moving from yours to rest beside your head, hold himself up as the other moved to wrap gently around your neck, your entrance clenched harder at it. “Oh, what a surprise.” He breathlessly teased. “The heartless bitch likes to be fucked like a whore.” And you wish you were mad at it, but truly, you did. You liked it rough and dirty just as much as you liked it slow and passionate. “Good thing I’m a pro at it.” He gave you that cocky smirk before he started a relentless pace into you, hips snapping so hard your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, feeling him hit deep into your core over and over. “Such a sweet girl...” He spoke as he fucked you, grip tightening around your throat. “Making mud pies, playing hide and seek and getting fucked by her childhood friend in the basement of her childhood home, full fucking circle.” He snapped them hard with a grunt, making you reach out to latch your nails to his shoulders. “That’s it, baby, feel my cock deep inside of you, feel it drag in and out of that sweet, tight cunt. Feel every ridge, every vein, make yourself cum all over it like you do with those pathetic toys.” He growled out. You already expected Jungkook to be a dirty talker, you just didn’t expect him to be this fucking good at it. “Just like that, yeah? Fuck, if it were for me you’d never use a fucking toy again, only my cock, I’d fill you up every fucking second of the day, creaming this tight pussy over and over as if it was made for me.” You clenched tight as his grip tightened, feeling your second high already creeping in on you. God, he was so good. “Fuck, scratch that, this little pussy was made for me, you’re all mine, all fucking mine.” He closed his eyes, getting lost in the sensations of your tight, hot walls hugging his length, deliciously rubbing against his cock as he fucked into you again and again. “Say it.” His strained out breathy voice blurted out, and you didn’t need him to explain to know. “I-I’m y-yours, Jungkook, all y-yours.” You were sure you had broken skin by now, your nail digging and scratching as you felt your high approach you at an unforgiving speed. “That’s a good fucking girl.” And there it was, the praise again. And that alone seemed to send your high ripping through your body aggressively. Choked out sobs and shaking body making you unable to think and even Jungkook was surprised when you came, holding you in place as you let it wash over you, blinding your vision and making the slide of his cock even more smooth. The choked out broken whimpers and moans were music to his ears as he felt you clench over and over around his length, his brows furrowing as he concentrated on the feeling while helping you ride your second high. He slowed his unforgiving pace back down to a slow grind of his cock, the hand around your throat moving to interlock your fingers again as the other one gently soothed you, clearing the wild locks away from your face, he shushed your quiet sobs as he leaned down to kiss the tears― even you didn’t know you let fall down ― away. It was so tender, so gentle, you weren’t used to that from someone that was only but a one time lover. But was Jungkook only but a lover? He was your childhood friend. And sure, it had been a long time since you had seen him, and to some people that would make you strangers, but you weren’t strangers, in fact, you knew each other very well. He knew that you chewed on your lower lip when you were nervous. You knew that his eyes went wide and dear-like when he was surprised. He knew that you hated storms and the rain. And you knew that he had always protected you since you were kids. His brows were furrowed as he rested his forehead against yours again, you could tell he was close, could tell he was only savoring the pleasure as his lips parted to let out a low, deep whimper of his own. His eyes opened to look straight at you, it was so personal. So intimate. And right when he was there at the edge, he leaned down to capture your lips in a messy, uncoordinated kiss as you felt his cock twitching inside of you, spilling his hot cum deep within. His breath was so harsh an aggressive coming from of his nose and he couldn’t kiss you for long as groan after groan left him and he came. Fuck, he was even hotter when he came. You were doomed. It took him a few minutes before he finally stopped. Breathing harshly before he rolled off of you, laying beside you. You both went quiet for a few minutes, only catching your breaths before he turned his head to you, a lazy smile spread on it. “Told you so.” He let out a cocky smirk. “You’re outrageous.” You scoffed at him and he reached out, pulling you flush against his side. You rested your head on his damp chest, both of you flushed and fucked out. There was a quiet moment where you both just looked at it each other, it was as if time stops, as if everything made sense right there, right at that moment. It felt like home. He felt like home. Just like this house. Peaceful. And if death was anything like this, you’d gladly die. “I know this is really weird... But I really feel like telling you I love you right now.” He admitted with a loud swallow, Adam’s apple bopping. Your heart did something you weren’t aware it could do. “Maybe it’s the after-sex haze, but I really feel like saying it back.” You said too, cheeks blushing slightly at your admittance. “I love you.” He whispered out. And you were surprised by how it didn't feel weird, by how it didn’t sound foreign. It was as if you heard it a thousand times before, but also as if it were the first time and truly, it was. But it felt... Real. “I love you.” You said it back and his lips spread into a wide smile. Maybe he felt it too, felt how familiar it sounded, how... Fitting it was. And maybe it wasn’t love at all, maybe it was just the afterglow of sex and that was ok, you’d both deal with it later. Right now you just wanted to bask in this feeling, nothing outside really mattered. Not even the rumbling of the thunder still roaring in the sky. “God, I suddenly feel really fucking tired.” He huffed out, and you chuckled. “You can sleep if you want.” You said but Jungkook’s brows furrowed, his once damp skin suddenly turned ice cold against you and you gasped. “Jungkook?” You called, but he still had his brows furrowed, his lips suddenly changing shades. You sat up, looking down at his naked body, he was shaking, trembling so violently it felt like he was possessed. His skin had turned pale even under the yellow glow of the candles. And you watched the gauze on his head turn crimson red, taking over the whole thing. “Jungkook!” You called louder, but the boy only moaned as if in pain. Reaching out for the gauze, your fingers brush his hair. They were soaked, dripping onto the blankets as if he was right under pouring water. Your eyes bulged, so confused at what was happening. “Y-Y/N?” He called out your name and your trembling hands cupped his ice-cold face. “Jungkook? I’m here, I’m right here, tell me what’s happening!” You desperately asked. His eyes opened slightly, and you felt like you were breaking into a million pieces at the pure sadness in them. “Please... Find me. I don’t want to die alone.” He whispered out, and you were even more confused at his statement. Desperately trying to understand but not wanting to stay still, turning your back to him, you hurridly got dressed, looking through the drawers desperatly for something to clean his wound, and just as you turned back to him there was no one there. Your eyes bulged, your heart racing. What was happening? What was going on? You looked at the door, it was still sealed shut, there was no way he could have gotten up and opened it in the state he was. There was no way you wouldn’t have heard him! “Jungkook?!” You called for him as you made your way up the stairs and out of the basement. You roamed the house, desperation laced in your voice, on your face in the tears that― unknown to you ― streamed down your face. You looked for his clothes that you put to dry in the laundry, there was nothing there. But the food was there, you ran to the mirror and his marks were there. Please... Find me. I don’t want to die alone. That was what he had said. And even if nothing made sense right now, even if reason and logic weren’t on your side, your brain worked at full capacity, head aching, throbbing, knees falling to the floor as your hands came in between your hair. You wanted to scream. What was happening, what was happening, what did he mean? I lost control of my car down on the secluded road somewhere... Your eyes bulged at the memory, maybe... Just maybe that’s where Jungkook was. Maybe he had gone back for his car, maybe... Just maybe you weren’t going insane. The storm roared outside, the hurricane now at its peak, but something inside you roared louder, no matter how crazy you felt. You didn’t even bother to put on your shoes, grabbing your car keys and going out in the absolute havoc of a storm, soaking wet and shivering cold you got in your car with a struggle as the wind was strong against you. Turning the engine on, it took a few turns and a few punches to your wheel for it to finally come to life. You were a good driver, but in these conditions, even the most skilled driver could die. You didn’t care, something deep inside of you screamed that you were running out of time. You drove in the pouring rain and wild aggressive wind unable to properly see as you sobbed uncontrollably trying to remember where the secluded road was. It was a shortcut people always took when they wanted to get from the farms back to town quicker instead of taking the highway. It was also up a mountain with a lot of trees. Bumpy roads and slippery, muddy tracks. You drove regardless, making your way up the mountain road, mud making your tires turn falsely here and there, but you relented, and you drove, cursing out loudly. “Where the fuck are you?!” You screamed before you saw on the horizon a black car, clumped down the hill a little, the front smashed straight into a tree, you drove until you were close enough, sprinting out of your car as you ran to his. “Jungkook!” You screamed as you reached the driver’s door. The windows were shattered, rain falling into the car and there he was, unconscious, the cut still very much there, unattended in the same clothes you had met him in. You tried opening the door, but it seemed jammed. And you screamed in frustration as you hit the car a few times before trying again, pulling as hard as you could, kicking the sides to try to make it budge. Your free hand moved to grip at the edge of the shattered window, broken glass digging into your flesh, but you were filled with adrenaline and dread, pure dread. Jungkook was dying. You gave all you had until you finally felt the door budge, swinging open and almost throwing you back. You stumbled in the hard rain, the wind blowing so hard against you, you felt like you could fly away as you reached into the car, undoing his seat belt before wrapping your arms around his middle. You were small compared to Jungkook. And even if now you were questioning if anything that had happened in the last day was real or just some sort of feverish dream, you knew he was heavy, you pulled him out of the car with a lot of effort, grunting as he flopped down on the muddy floor. You leaned over him, seeing his lips blue, his cut still very much bleeding. Your shaking hands reached for his pressure point, searching for a pulse and you concentrated, feeling it so faint against your fingers. He didn’t have much time. You dragged him to your car, slipping as you used all your force to get him there, but somehow you did, somehow you were able to open your back seat and push him inside. You didn’t even know you had it in you. And fuck did you drive. You drove fast, knowing it took at least ten to twenty minutes from the secluded road to the town hospital, and in this weather, it was harder to drive up the mountain, but you did, you drove fast and relentless and once you made it to the hospital it all happened too fast. The nurses and doctors rushing to pull Jungkook out of the car, lay him on the stretcher. Your bloody hand wiping your hair out of your face as you followed them in. But you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t hear the questions, you couldn’t hear the shouts. All you could see was Jungkooks’ almost lifeless body, so pale and fragile. Fuck... You... You kissed him. You touched him, didn’t you? You... You said you loved him. Was it your imagination? How... How would you imagine this, how would you imagine where he was, that he was hurt? It didn’t make sense to you. “Miss! How long has he been unconscious?!” The nurse yelled, taking you out of your racing thoughts. “Since... Around seven pm yesterday.” You mumbled out, still walking with them, watching them put wires, tubes, oxygen on him. That’s all you could really think, that Jungkook was never really there, that he had been unconscious in his car since the moment he knocked on your door. “Are you his wife, family?” She asked, and you shook your head. “I’m... I’m his childhood friend.” You almost couldn’t speak. “I’m going to have someone take a look at your hand, you’re going to have to stay here.” And just like that, he was gone. Past the double doors. You waited. Even after someone had come and sutured your hand, you waited, soaked, cold. You waited, even after you saw Jungkook’s father storm in between the hospital doors. Even after he had spoken to you, thanked you for saving his son after all these years. You waited until the storm was gone, nothing but a light breeze and scattered leaves outside on the wet asphalt. You waited until he woke up and the nurse had told you he didn’t remember you. You waited until his father said that he didn’t feel comfortable having someone he hadn’t seen in sixteen years wait for him at the hospital. He didn’t remember. Of course, he didn’t remember. Jungkook was stuck unconscious in a car for 24 hours and you? You were visited by someone, something urging you to save his life. And you didn’t really spend any more time wondering if it was really him, perhaps his spirit, perhaps his consciousness. You didn’t even waste your time wondering why you. Wondering why put you through something so painful, no matter what it was. In the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jungkook was safe, alive. And whatever supernatural thing had happened that allowed you to save him... You were thankful. Two weeks had gone by since everything. The house extremely quiet as you packed your grandmother’s things slowly, not one drop of rain to keep you from doing anything at all. In the end, you had moved all of her things to the attic, deciding to maybe spend some time here, take a break from work. You didn’t allow yourself to think about Jungkook or try to explain what had happened. You had spent the first few nights crying yourself to sleep as nothing made sense, but the excruciating pain still haunted you. It hurt that he didn’t remember. Sighing as you looked at the rough drawing of the renovations you wanted to make to the house in front of you, you reached for your mug of coffee. The afternoon sun coming through the windows and making the whole place seem cozy. You were also baking some cookies, deciding to keep the house as you remembered it. Something always in the oven. And you had tried a new recipe, vegan. Testing out to see if they worked, if they would taste as good as... You brushed the thought away, focusing on the paper in front of you. It was three loud knocks that brought you out of your thought. You wondered if it were perhaps a neighbor, or maybe even the delivery boy coming to bring you the groceries you had called earlier for. But you gasped once you opened the door. “Jungkook.” You whispered out, surprise and dread written all over your face. He looked just a good as he did that day. The cut on his head now almost healed completely. “Uh, hey. Y/N, right?” He sounded shy, hesitant. One hand coming to rub the back of his neck. But the way he had said it only made your heart break, he really didn’t remember. “I was heading back to town, but... My dad told me that you were the one that saved my life so... I wanted to stop by to thank you, I guess. This is really awkward for me.” He nervously said. “Y-you’re Y/N, right?” “You seriously don’t recognize me, Jungkook?” You swallowed the lump in your throat, repeating the same words he had said to you that day. “I’m sorry, it’s... It’s been a really long time. You look really different.” He pursed his lips. “Y-yeah, that’s me... And... There r-really is no need to thank me. I’m glad you’re s-safe and ok.” You swallowed harder, nodding at him. Jungkook swallowed before he took in a deep breath, brows furrowing right after as his nostrils flared. “Are you baking cookies?” He smiled, hands coming into his pockets. He was more relaxed now it seemed. You pursed your lips, a soft smile spreading on them. “Would you like to come in and try them? They’re vegan.” The end. N/a: Now that you read it, yes, it’s based of Charlie St. Cloud. I freaking LOVE that movie. I hope you enjoyed this fic! <3

#jungkook #jk #jeon jungkook #fic #imagine #reader #oc #y/n #themfchase #bts #bangtan #mature #smut #ghostau #supernaturalau #kssmutclub #btssmutcentral #btsmutcentral #btsnetwork #smutcentralnet

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spn-headcanons-daily · 3 years

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I present you the list of fake people: the ones who I think were not born but created by Chuck as they are with fake memories about their past life added to them and everyone else, to serve as plot devices.

Jane, the nephilim who Cas kills for Metatron's plan in s8, is definitely fake. There's no way she could survive for that long with the heaven's rules against nephilims. And somehow the only existing nephilim turns out to be right here in america? And she doesn't fly away like angels can or uses her powers against them, and, more importantly, her existence is the only thing that allows to move the plot of the season further. She's literally just a plot point.

Daphne Allen is possibly fake - her actions are too strange and too convenient for the plot development; she appears only as Cas' backstory, and she's never heard of after.

Lee Webb could be fake. Because if he actually was Dean's good friend and a hunter in the past, why didn't one of them contacted the other even once over the years? He is invented by Chuck with added memories to mess more with Dean's head, to show him - that's what you get for trying to escape your story, that's how your only peace and retirement could look like - becoming a monster yourself.

Campbell cousins are fake. Because if there were alive hunters from Mary's family before, why the hell no one contacted John after her death? And even if they lost contact with Mary and didn't know about her children, why other multiple hunters who John met over the years never mentioned the Campbell hunter family? I think Ghuck invented them to give resurrected Samuel some company, and then realized that they don't bring anything interesting to the story and quickly killed them off.

Adam (the first man) and Serafina are fake. There's no way Serafina - an angel with apparently free will and human feelings, living among humans for thousands of years - wouldn't be involved in the plot before or at least mentioned, especially with the fact that heaven doesn't have enough angels; and Adam just conveniently lives with her in the driving distance from the Winchesters?.. No one heard of him for years but now, when his rib is a key part of the current plan, he can be found within days and with an angel that can immediately heal him? The whole situation doesn't look real to me, I think Chuck planned it all (I actually believe that turning Jack into a bomb was his plan but that's for another post). Adam might be the real first human, maybe, but in this case he is resurrected with fake memories for that point of the story.

Adam Milligan might be fake. Created to make the story more interesting, with memories added. He might be even named Adam because he is Chuck's creation. Also the original thought of Adam being fake belongs to @eviltoxicgayshit (sorry for tagging you do you still not hate me)

Ben Braeden might be fake or at least heavily redacted by the author in the beginning, because there can't possibly be that much coincidence between his and Dean's personality (but I suppose that he wasn't created at that moment with memories added retroactively, but just sort of initially designed for the story).

Bobby and Charlie from the apocalypse world could be. Because they are very conveniently alive, look exactly the same despite living in a different environment, and the Winchesters meet them almost immediately after going into that world, which is an impossible coincidence. Or maybe they are just strongly manipulated into their story, literally a big part of their life written to reach that moment, which isn't the same as being fake but not really better. Probability of it for Charlie is higher, because that's not her real name, the original Charlie used a lot of different fake names and this is just the one she gave the Winchesters. So what are the chances that in apocalypse world she chose that name as a permanent one?

Ghostfacers, maybe. Were either created or redacted by Chuck for fun and to make fun of the main characters. Have actual free will for the most of it though, because at first Chuck really liked them (possibly wanted to keep them alive through the execution of his plans, remember that sketch with them meeting Castiel - them being chosen to witness the apocalypse), and found them entertaining enough to not interfere with their actions, and then he got tired of them but not killed but simply left them be because they aren't a threat to him or the story.

Anyways I like to think about that very much. People created as plot devices - a scary, but very fascinating concept. I hope people will interact with this post and add more characters who they think also could be fake because I'd like to discuss that

also later, if anyone is interested, I might write a post about a reverse situation - people who I think Chuck deleted from the story

#spn #supernatural #spn headcanon #spn theory #random thoughts

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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

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Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (part four)

-part four because I couldn’t fit everything in part three-i went overboard, I’m sorry

-please enjoy I worked a month on getting this out, haha. it is a labour of tears and love.

---->PREVIOUS PART <-----

Summary: You need your memories back. But how will you get them?

Gracefield House

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?” You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die. Die. Die. Die. He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try. Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together?

“Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. He forced himself to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Don’t struggle.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off the ground. Your leg hit Mama’s arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma stood frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She wrapped you in a tight embrace and you rubbed her back comfortingly. It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

(University name), DAY TWO

Class went by rather quickly today, and maybe that was because you were sure you’d seen similar material before. Each answer came easily along with each mark on your paper like a memory from long ago. You’ve answered harder questions, much more difficult tests that held more weight than a simple grade.

“I was impressed by your extensive knowledge on world history,” said Mr. Baker. He was the world history teacher. Unlike the others, he was young, perhaps in his mid twenties. In the hour you’ve gotten to know him and the class, you’ve come to realise he’s a class favourite. For good reason, too. His jokes were phenomenal, the material entertaining, and the atmosphere, friendly.

It was like having a conversation between friends rather than teacher to student.

“Do you know what school you went to before you came here?” he inquired. You shook your head. “No. I don’t think I went to any school before this actually...but I’m not sure. I wish I knew, sorry Mr. Baker.” He offered a warm smile. “Maybe my jokes will remind you of something. In the mean time, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll remember eventually.”

Eventually. You didn’t want to remember ‘eventually’. Living a life of ignorance was difficult as it was, why should you continue it? You adjusted your grip on a notebook and said, “See you tomorrow Mr. Baker.”

“Same to you, Letha.”

The cafeteria wasn’t hard to find. Students crowded in the hallways, pushing and shoving as they stuck close to hurry towards for their meals. You didn’t care much for the food. There wasn’t any way it could measure up to your, or Gramps’s, cooking anyway.

“Letha!”

You spun around as much as you could in the congested hall. Flanna raised a hand above her head and waved. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking for you. “Letha, you comin’?” There was no way out of avoiding the red-head. She had too much energy, and an eerily observant eye hidden under her smile.

“Hello to you too, Flanna.” you said, matching her step. Flanna grinned brightly. “Are you excited for lunch? My first day here, I thought it’d taste terrible. You’d be surprised how good it is, but maybe that’s because the school’s expensive.” She let out a snort that was lost to the chatter of the crowd.

The cafe wasn’t all too big. Despite the long tables stretching out across the floor, and the high ceilings and tall windows, it felt small. Crowded. The sheer amount of teens gathered in one area was daunting, scary even. It made your head spin, and your stomach lurch in disgust.

Was this what everyone dealt with every single day? How could they do it? This was madness.

Flanna patted your shoulder and led you towards the lunch line. “You get used to it after a while. Can’t say I have, but it’s not so bad.” She handed you a cup of fruit from a large cooler. You watched as she did the same and instructed the lunch lady on exactly what she wanted.

You copied her. It was all you could do to prevent embarrassing yourself.

Once you found a table, a long sigh left your lips. “That was actually...a bit stressful.” Flanna chuckled good-naturedly. “Oh, I get it, you’re shy, aren’t you? I had a friend like that back in ninth grade when I still lived in the countryside. Couldn’t even go in line without help from me.”

“What happened to that friend?”

“Moved away. Lots of people do. They like the city because it’s “full of opportunity”.” Flanna rolled her eyes. “I think it depends on what you want. I’d prefer a quiet life where all I have to do is take care of a farm. You know, sheep, chicken, cows. It’s easy because the only person who’s your boss is you.”

Flanna clearly didn’t favour modern life as much as her peers. She went on about the difficulties of technology and how they were “nothin’ but trouble” for simple folk. You couldn’t say much about that, but you wish you understood.

The rest of the day went by in a flash. It turned out, your last three classes were with Flanna. She didn’t talk as much in class, but she asked you a lot of questions about why you knew so much. Of course, you couldn't remember, but she didn’t know that. She didn’t know who you truly were.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

The setting sun illuminated the sides of your face as you glared at the frosty grass below your winter boots. You stood outside, wrapped tightly in your thick, fur coat. It was Gramps’s daughter’s before yours, so it smelled like him. The forest. A cosy fireplace. Hot chocolate. It did little to comfort your aching heart, and maybe that was because a part of it was still missing.

Standing in the last rays of sun reminded you of that boy with light hair and kind eyes. It reminded you of his touch that refused to leave your mind. He was scorched there like an emblem on wood.

“So why can’t I remember you?” Your words were lost to the harsh, frosty breezes. “Who are you to me?” He wasn’t family, that much you knew, nor a friend either. He was much more. Much closer to your heart than either of those.

-----

This wasn't a massacre. It was the shambles of a bloody war.

The remnants of limbs and broken bones lay strewn across the throne room, where pools of crimson stained the tile flooring with its iron stench. Part of you wished you hadn’t opened the door, and another said it was your fault for letting everything get this far.

Would you have been able to stop Norman if you ran faster? If you had stopped him earlier?

Your stomach flopped and turned. The smirk painted on Norman’s lips wasn’t right. It wasn’t him. He was satisfied, not with the massacre, but with how perfectly his plan had been executed. It played out like a game of chess. Each pawn he sent out had been eliminated, leaving only the most powerful pieces on the checkered board.

“I’m sorry,” Norman said. “It’s too late (Y/n).”

He wasn’t sorry and he sure didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for lying to you. Or at least, that was what you wanted to believe. Every fibre in your body screamed at you to run at him, slap him to the moon and back, or beat him to a pulp for lying and cheating you all. Yet you couldn’t do it. Not with the way he kept his eyes to the floor.

“I’m so glad you made it back safely,” he added. “It’s a shame you were a little too late.” Your gaze lingered on his for a moment longer before you cast it to Ray and Emma. They stood strong with you, yet you had a feeling they wanted to waver just as much as you.

Emma stared at the sticky crimson under her boot, eyes wide in disbelief. “They’ve...they’ve all been...?”

“Killed.” Norman plainly finished. “They killed each other and they’re all dead now. The Queen, the nobles, the Giran clan. All of them.” Despite the pleasant way he spoke, you had a feeling he didn’t mean it. The Norman you grew up with--no--the Norman you knew wasn’t like this. He was kind. Gentle. Sweet. He cared for everyone and everything, which was why he chose to be shipped out in the first place.

And why he always chose to be the sacrifice.

You heaved in a deep breath. If this were the reality of your situation, you had to accept it. Ignoring Norman for who he was and what he did wouldn’t do a thing.

“I reforged the Promise.” You made your way across the room, eyes straight and head held high. The smug glint in Norman’s eyes vanished.

“Everybody can escape to the human world and no one needs to fight. You don’t have to kill anymore, it’s over.” That was what you wanted to believe with every fibre of your being. But was it really all over? Could you escape to the human world and leave this place after what’s happened?

Norman shook his head, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It’s too late for that.” he plainly said. “No, it’s impossible. A monarchy that has lasted thousands of years has collapsed. Governance for the demons is impossible now. So is peace.” He glanced at the lifeless body behind him. “Iverk was the last one, and I killed him myself.”

You stiffened.

“We’ve put a lethal fissure in the demon society. A fissure that can’t be mended. All that’s left to do is,” he threw out a careless hand, “shatter it. All of the demons will die out. There’s just one more factor left. We can’t go back now. We have no choice but to wipe them out.” He straightened and it was like you were staring at a different person. There was no kindness in his eyes, or that light that you’ve relied on to keep you waking up every morning. “Don’t get in the way.”

You clenched a fist. “No.” Your voice came out strong, reassuring. “What is the point in wiping out a whole race just because we can’t see eye-to-eye? There’s hope and I’ve finally grasped it! For thousands of years, there’s been a cycle of slaughter and war that we have to break. I don’t plan on standing back, and I don’t plan on letting you become more of a murderer!”

Norman’s eyes were dark from under his cloak. “(Y/n)...”

You stood your ground. Defying him was the only way you could stay strong, the only way you could convince him. “We’ll find a way together! It’s not going to be easy, but I know we can do it!”

“(Y/n)...!”

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself again and I’m not letting you do this alone!”

Norman’s tight expression relaxed into an uncomfortably serene smile. “What are you talking about?” he lightly inquired. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m not going anywhere.”

You heaved in a sharp breath because he stopped telling you the whole truth ages ago. He stopped relying on you because he thought he had to do everything alone. “I can’t trust you. You’re a liar! You think you can fool me? I know something’s wrong with you, you’re just trying to hide it! Don’t underestimate the family you grew up with, stupid Norman. We can see through all your lies and tricks!”

You thought back to the day you walked into his office alone.

I know you Norman, don’t forget that.

It had been too long since you’d seen him and thought him dead. Too long since you were able to hold his hands in yours.

And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself.

It was nice to see him again, yet there was something off about him. He hadn’t changed much besides growing as tall as a tree.

I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again...

The only difference was the hesitance in his stance. As if he were trying to hide something very painful in his chest.

...but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.

Then he left your words open-ended, as if he knew he couldn’t possibly lie to your face like that. He knew you saw through him from the start. It was only a matter of time before he acknowledged it.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” you slowly inquired. “Because you’re so smart, you chose the reliable path. Because you’re so kind, you shoulder all the burden. I know you Norman, didn’t I tell you? You don’t want to slaughter the demons! And you don’t want to wipe them out either!”

That was the truth that shone in your heart. You wanted to believe in Norman because he always believed in you. If he didn’t then he wouldn’t have allowed you to go the Seven Walls. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t have allowed you to walk without him.

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself,” you added. “What are you hiding? What are you so afraid of?” He raised a brow challengingly. “Afraid?” Norman wanted to laugh. “I’m not...”

“The Norman in front of me looks like a scared child.” You said it like it was fact, and judging by the way Norman’s gaze unfocused, you were right. He wasn’t just scared, he was terrified. Of the consequences, of how you would look at him again, of how the blood would never, ever wash off.

But it was okay, right? He was strong. Just a little longer and it would all be over.

You took a step forward. Norman firmly held out a hand. “Don’t come any closer.” His voice was void of any emotion, cold even. “I’ve come this far. I have no intention of turning back now.”

“Well that’s too bad!” you exclaimed. “Because neither do I! I’m not letting you go this time!” You grasped his hands in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Yes, you’re strong, yes you’re smart and you’re amazing and all those great things, but you’re stupid too! And arrogant! Can’t you see that you aren’t alone? Don’t be afraid to believe in us! We’re here to share everything. The tough, the burden, the painful things and the scary!”

Emma nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve done that since day one. It’s what we’re here for!” Ray locked gazes with Norman. He wasn’t about to be left out of this, not after Norman’s little stunt back in Grace Field. “Don’t be so reserved either,” he added. “Just spill it!”

You squeezed his hands tighter and stood a little closer. “You don’t need to protect us anymore! We want to walk with you, not behind you!” Answers were simple, but the journey was everlasting and dangerous. You understood what it took to get here even if you weren’t walking in Norman’s shoes. It was difficult. Terrifying. But with all the accomplishments under your belt?

It was time to reunite with him.

“Your family and siblings are your friends.” added Ray. “We don’t want a future where you end up suffering no matter what the result is. And you? What do you want? What do you want to do, Norman?”

He pulled away and the warmth left your hands. “No, it’s no good.” he stated. “You’re already too late. I’m...I’m in a place where I just can’t go back. You can’t walk alongside me--”

“We know.” you interjected. Emma nodded. “About the poison, Mujika and Sonju...”

“And the experiment in the basement.” added Ray. A hopeful smile inched itself onto your lips. “See? We’re not too late. It’s okay to be vulnerable. If you’re the real Norman, then let’s lose our way together. Let’s struggle too, and laugh.” You held out a hand and Emma and Ray joined you.

“Let’s live together.”

Norman didn’t struggle to keep his cool. You re-called the look in his eyes, the same one you saw that night he was told his shipment date. He cried, not just because he chose to get shipped out, but because he was scared. For you. For himself. For his family.

That stifling look of serenity washed off his face. His lips trembled, his shoulders shook, and his eyes watered. You all wrapped each other in a tight embrace. No one deserved to face all the ages of time on their own, no matter what it was, and more than anything, you’d do that for him.

“But...” Norman’s voice trembled. “It’s too late. It's pointless because of the drugs we were forced to take. We don’t have much longer left to live--we can’t live on.” He collapsed to his knees in a heap. “Help me... (Y/n), Emma, Ray... Please...”

That was when all the puzzles finally fit. After laying in wonder for so long with thoughts that kept you awake until the sun rose, you understood. The hesitance in his walk. The way he tried to hide his sluggish step. The way he acted like he was running out of time.

“You’re dying.” The words left your lips before you could even stop them. “It’s...the drugs from Lambda, right?” Norman tried to suppress a sob, but it came out in a way that sounded like he was chocking on his own lies and tears. You took a knee, gently placing a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Norman.”

He couldn’t stand the soft look in your eyes, or the tone in your voice that was like a warm summer breeze. You should have yelled at him. Should have stamped your foot against the ground and growled and slapped him. Yet you knelt in front of him, caressing his dampened cheeks with a touch that said it would all be okay.

Norman wouldn’t look at you--no--he refused to because he was just as you said: a liar. Why were you so kind to him when all he did was lie? He said he’d let you go to the Seven Walls. He said he’d wait for you. He said he wasn’t going anywhere and that he’d live, laugh and do everything to be there with you, for you.

Norman wondered what a murderer like him ever did to deserve you.

-----

The grass crunched under your feet. Towards the brick walls you walked, following the sun as it lowered deeper and deeper towards the ground. You had to keep reaching for it. You had to see it.

In times of trouble, it was your beacon of hope, the last bit of your old life you were sure you could recall. No matter where you were, it was always the first thing you followed. Towards the light. Towards that ray of hope.

You came to a stop at the edge of the school grounds, right where the gates separated you from the outside world bustling with life. The occasional car zoomed through the streets, interrupting the quiet air with its incessant honking and screeching.

The sun disappeared over the horizon, bathing the skies in navy blue and purple.

“Excuse me.”

The voice was light, warm, polite.

“You should really hurry home. It’s not safe out here at this time, especially since we’re students.”

You stuffed your cold hands in your pockets. “I really appreciate your concern,” --you turned to face him-- “but I’m fine. Thank you.”

A boy with light hair and kind eyes met your gaze. Something about him reminded you of something--no--someone. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the boy did. He’d never forget you, no matter how many lifetimes he lived.

“(Y/n)?” He was breathless, frozen in time as you awkwardly knitted your brows together. (Y/n) wasn’t your name. It was Letha, the name Gramps gave to you because you couldn’t remember your own.

Your confused frown made the boy’s eyes well with tears. You stared, watching as he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a pained sob. He was a student here just like you, sporting the traditional sweater vest, white button-up with a tie, and black slacks to match. You’ve never seen him before, yet he looked so...familiar.

Gosh, why couldn’t you remember?

“It’s been over a year and,” he chocked, “I’ve looked everywhere. How could you--how could you do all that for us? You promised we’d live together, but you reforged the Promise and--and...”

The boy's knees wobbled, and out of instinct, you threw out your arms. He fell into you, right at the crook of your neck. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his tears must have been frozen by now. It was cold out here.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was small, fearful almost. It made the boy cry harder. “I don’t know you, but why don’t we go inside? There should be a cafe down there, and they’re open late, so...”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused.

“I’m so sorry.” he echoed. “I wish I was there. I wish--I wish it were me--but instead...”

You patted his back as if you’d known him for a lifetime. Maybe you felt bad and that was why you hadn’t shoved him off, or maybe, it was because having him in your arms felt so right. Familiar in a way you couldn’t put into words.

Your gentle touch made the boy’s sobs relapse. He curled into you, wrapping his arms around your middle like you’d run away. Like you’d disappear. There was something so nostalgic about this hug and the way you both had your arms around each other.

It had happened before.

“The Promise,” the boy muttered, “you made it in exchange for--”

------

Bright, blue sky stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful, and oddly calm. Perhaps a little too calm. After running through a maze of illusions and riddles you struggled to solve, you arrived in this place. Alone. The ground was like water, and with each step you took, it rippled and fanned out.

Someone sat in the middle of this endless sky and water, hovering over it serenely.

“What is it you seek?” the demon inquired. You stepped forward. “I want to reforge the Promise.” The demon’s single eye gazed straight through you, as if you were nothing more than a sheet of paper held to the light. “Sure, (Y/n).”

You pursed your lips together. He was unnervingly calm, child-like even, and you had a feeling it had to do with his ‘reward’ after the promise.

“So what is it you seek?” questioned the demon. “You must give me a reward as well.”

Yes, that was the catch. But what could it be? This demon was a being higher than anyone in the land, a god that once split the world in two. He transcended time, yet remained relatively simple-minded and difficult to read.

“The reward,” the demon fiddled with an orb in his hands, “hmmm... It would have to be something important. Ambition. Desire. What someone longs for. What I would want is something important to the other party. Will you make a wish despite that?”

This was for more than your family and Norman. You had people relying on this one choice, this one Promise.

“Yes, I will make a wish despite that.”

It all meant more than the world to you. You had to liberate your family, the children who were raised like livestock and mass-produced like wild animals. And the mamas who fought to survive--you had to think about them too.

“I wish for all the cattle children to cross over...”

They didn’t choose that life of suffering. None of you did.

“And after that, for it to be completely impossible to pass between the two worlds.”

The demon continued to stare. You stood strong and proud with the weight of all humans in this Neverland on your shoulders. If he granted your wish, then the tide would turn and you’d be able to save everyone and everything.

“I will grant that wish,” he said. “And the reward I want are your---”

----

“Memories?” The words fell from your lips in a hasty breath. More than anything, you valued finding them. It was the only missing piece in your heart. The last portion of the unsolved mystery.

This boy--whoever he was--talked about you like he knew you. Held you like you meant something. Said that name, (Y/n), like it were his life line. He pulled away with a sniffle, settling his hands on your shoulders with a loving touch.

“You don’t remember me.” He lifted a hand and raised it to place on your cheek. But he couldn’t touch you like he used to. Not when you looked at him like he was far away and out of your reach.

“You don’t remember me.” the boy quietly repeated. He began to pull away, but you grasped his hand in yours. It was warm, soft. “No, I...I’ve seen you before.” There was a pained look on the boy’s face, as if he thought you were lying to him.

“Haven’t we been through this before (Y/n)?”

No, said your mind. Yes, said your heart.

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself.”

Your grip tightened around his hand, but not enough to hurt him. “I...I do know you. You’re...” You shouldn’t lie to yourself. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. You shouldn’t lie to yourself. But you did know this boy, and all this time, you yearned to see him.

Remember.

Who was he to you?

Who were you to him?

Remember.

Remember!

“I can’t remember your name,” your eyes welled up with cold tears, “but I know I’ve missed you all this time.” You pulled his hand to your cheek as he brought you close. The scent of parchment, aged books, and the woods. Yes, that was nostalgic, so much that it felt right. The final piece, fragmented and broken, began connecting again. It brought the dots and the gaps you tried so hard to fill together.

But something else was still missing.

The boy pulled your head to the crook of his neck and rocked you from side to side in the moonlight. Even the hazy streetlights were drowned out by the stars. You liked to think it was because this part of the city was quiet, isolated, from the rest of the world. And the rest of your worries.

“Norman.” he said.

You looked up at him.

“My name is Norman.”

“And mine is...(Y/n)?”

“Yes,” he said with a bittersweet smile. “I think the day I fell in love with you was when you got excited about something Ray told you. Ray is our family if you’re wondering, and so is Emma, and Gilda, Don...” He told you about people you once knew, and the life you once lived. Some parts he left out, and others he kept.

But you wouldn’t have known. Not when your memory laid in fragments.

“...And so we looked for you. I didn’t think you’d be here, but I’m glad you were.” He laid his chin on the top of your head. “You used to joke that I’d never be taller than you, but now I am.” A sad chuckle left his lips. “I wish things could be different and that you--”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a flash of red hair. Your head began to pound and you nuzzled closer into Norman.

“What’s wrong?”

“My head hurts.”

He ran a hand through your locks, arms folded close around you as he hummed a sweet tune. It was sad, melancholy, and the only one you’d ever known your whole life. “I know that song.” you mumbled. Norman smiled softly. “Mama used to sing it to us all the time. When Ray had nightmares, she put him to sleep with this song.”

The pounding in your head increased and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I did too. I sang...to you.” Norman’s lips parted, but he settled on a nod and smiled instead. “You remember?”

“I think so.” The memory was hazy, as if someone were trying to make you forget for good. But you fought that urge, held on to the image of a room with white sheets and bed lined up side by side. “You were...talking to me...about a...I don’t know...”

“Go on.”

“You were crying late at night...so I...I sang to you.”

Norman kissed the top of your head. When he was in Lambda, locking in that room all alone running through test after test, he held fast to that memory. It kept him from giving up on what he fought for, and kicking the bucket for good.

“I missed you so much.” he wistfully whispered. “You can’t leave me again, or else you’ll break my heart for good.” You looked up to meet his watery eyes. “Why would I leave?” Norman shook his head. “It was in the Promise, wasn’t it? You can’t break it.”

The pounding began to fade. You tiredly smiled, but it was warm and thankful and happy. “That won’t stop me, Norman. I don’t think I could live without you.” He warmly chuckled, intertwining his hands with yours. “Me too.”

And it was then that you began to feel a little more complete, a little more you from then. You were sure you wouldn’t have to dream another little dream of your wodeerful Norman any longer, for he would be right by your side, where you both belonged.

You released his hands and cupped his cheek. It was a natural act you didn’t even have to think twice about. When you were you, you had done this more than a thousand times. Your lips connected in a sweet kiss. He tasted like coffee and tea rolled into one, and you had a feeling it was because he couldn’t choose which was better.

“I love you.” you said. He warmly smiled, but underneath, it was almost sly. “I love you too. Why don’t we do some catching up?”

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inventors-fair · 3 years

Text

From Text to Title Commentary

This contest went a little haywire, and I’m not super certain why.

The basics of this contest were simple: make a card based on a mechanic. I said mechanic instead of ability or keyword because some stuff isn’t quite either. Devotion and Party are just sort of counting tools, and ability words aren’t even rules text. But some people took it a very strange direction. I thought it was pretty clear what counted, and there were plenty of things that very obviously counted, but people just kept asking about other things. While I understand that that is part of the brainstorming process, and you might come up with a cool idea and then not know if it works or not, I really wish you would have just assumed the answer was no and work on something you know would have counted. Why make a card called “Hybrid Mana” when you could just make a card out of any of the dozens of existing mechanics? It felt like you were trying to be unique at best, and purposely trying to mess with me at worst. But how uniquely you answer the prompt isn't important. What’s more important is that the card itself is good, or even clever. The prompt are just that: prompts. I am not challenging you to answer the prompt most creatively, I’m asking you to make a creative card that fits within the prompt. That was the important part.

Which gets me to the next thing. I specifically didn’t want players using the ability on the card. Part of that was just because it would be too easy, but part of that was because I wanted to see you guys get creative. What are some other ways to represent trampling? What else can life be linked to? I didn’t want to say that they could have nothing to do with it, because that’s hard. Would a metalcraft card that mentions artifacts at all count? But I think the point was still clear: I wanted to see cards that had nothing to do with their originator. Sadly, I got a lot of those. Some spelled out the ability. A lot were enablers: a bloodthirst card that dealt damage once a turn for creatures, a card named constellation that makes enchantment tokens, etc. I really wanted to see stuff completely different, and I don’t think I got that across. For that, I apologize. I should have been clearer about that, or put it in the mandatory section instead of the encouraged section.

Sorry for the downer. This was a rough week. Hopefully my commentary form here on out doesn’t sound too bitter. But here it is:

@azathoth-the-bored - Decayed

So while I specifically said that you’re not allowed to use the mechanic on the card, I also said I didn’t want you to just spell it out, as you did here. This gives the enchanted creature decayed, just not literally. If you had removed that and just had the last ability, I think this maybe would have been a fine uncommon as a slow removal spell.

@bread-into-toast - Daybound

Alright, you got me. Technically, this does not have the ability daybound. It just interacts with the day and night cycle, just like daybound does. While that’s allowed, it’s not really what I was asking for. I wanted to see a new interpretation of the ability, completely unconstrained from the originator. So, faire-wise, I’m disappointed with it. As for the card itself, I think it coils use work. The fact that it can’t transform no matter what feels like a strange restriction. A lot of the creatures are better on their night side, including abilities, so you might end up sealing a creature on their more powerful side, and when it turns to day, they will end up buffing their team better, even though they can’t attack. If you seal them on their day side, then they just attack worse at night, which I guess is fine. The fact that it can hit planeswalkers is just so weird. There’s only about 10 planeswalkers that can attack, only 2 that can transform, and only 1 that does both. Why even put it on there? It’s just going to confuse players who might expect it to stop them from activating. If it just said “permanent” I’d be fine, because then it could hit Westvale Abbey, or Poppet Factory, stuff where the transforming is a bigger deal than the attacking. What you ended up with is a card that is just trying too hard to fit a very specific role, and I think you’re worse off for it.

@decayingbooks - Fortify

I don’t think this card is as good as you think this is. I do like that it can be used defensively and “offensively,” but both of those options aren’t particularly good. If you target yourself, that’s a very small amount of benefit for four mana. To Arms does the same thing for two mana and draws you a card. If you target your opponent, it’s a fog that leaves your opponents creatures untapped. The utility of a card that does both is not worth the mana cost. This card could be one mana, and I still don’t know how often it would be played. I love the flavor though, and it’s a good way to make a card using the name fortify. NOTE: I wrote that all before you updated your submission to change it to a sorcery. Yes, it makes more sense, but it loses half of its utility, and becomes a far worse card. I think you needed to look at cards that already exist to get an idea for how to cost your cards or what players would want to play. Flavor is good, but it’s more important to make a well-designed card.

@deg99 - Dethrone

This card has a lot going on, and I think you could have toned it down a touch. The center ability is the main thing here: kill something and its controller loses life. A time-old tradition, and probably fitting at 5 mana. The fact that it gets super cheap targeting something the monarch owns is also cool! It fits the theme, and now you get their best blocker out of the way, amking it even easier to get the monarchy from them! Except then you become the monarch anyway. I think the top and bottom ability are detracting from each other. The top part punishes a player for sitting on the monarchy by making it easier for you to target them, which is good! The bottom part is just sort of insult to injury. It removes the coolest part about the monarch: the interaction among players. Most cards that grant monarchy in some way protect you, giving your opponents something they have to team up to fight through. This one sort of protects you, but is clearly made to be more aggressive, which doesn’t work well with the monarchy mechanic. Lastly, the flavor text I think kind of goes against the rest of the card. Regicide kills a creature, despite in theory killing a king. Queen Marchesa makes you the monarch, even though she is technically one. When I read this card without flavor text,I completely understood that I was killing a monarch, then becoming one. The flavor text muddies that by claming the thing you killed isn’t the monarch, and while that is technically true, it doesn’t match the flavor as well.

@demimonde-semigoddess - Escalate

What a weird little card! The name fits the first ability, that’s for sure. At first I wasn’t sure if that was just worse than a copy spell, but the second ability changes that for sure. It goes from a weird combo card to something you can just sort of play for free that maybe has a bonus bit of text. While I get the desire there, since it feels bad to have such a narrow card, I think the player playing this card WANTS it to be bad. If you see this card as a johnny or a timmy, you think of how cool that first ability is and just kind of ignore the last part. Other players will play it as just a normal tormenting voice with maybe some utility if you happen to have an X somewhere. The fact that there’s two completely different abilities means I can’t figure out which is the reason to play this and which is the extra part. That first ability does have some issues in and of itself, though. I don’t like that it’s a flat bonus. I wish it either doubled or reduced the cost or added mana. Currently, you can just cast a spell with X=0 and get three free bonus out of it. While that is sort of the point of this card, it’s freeness is a little scary. Mostly when you get to things with multiple Xs. This lets you deal 15 damage for two mana with Crackle with Power, or make a bunch of hydras with Hydra Broodmaster for 1 mana. If this card was more clearly focused on the X part, maybe just being a cantrip at one mana, I think I’d be more okay with it. If it doubled X, then at least you’d have to sink something into it. Also, I’m not sure if it’s just a typo, but so far as I know, this works with X costs that are not mana. I believe that it would affect cards like Chatterfang and Storage Lands, which could cause some problems. I also don’t know if it would affect things like Devastating Summons or Firecat Blitz’s flashback, where there’s an X in the cost, sort of. Last thing I’ll point out is you don’t need to phrase it like you did. Unbound Flourishing does almost exactly what you want, just with doubling instead of adding, but it still makes it clear you can change X with the spell or ability on the stack, not “as it resolves.” Sorry if I sound harsh, I just wish you would have committed to this being a combo card so it would feel like a fair trade-off for the amount of power it offered, or that you reduced its impact so that the X part can feel more like a bonus than the focus.

@dimestoretajic - Living Weapon

This is a strange one. First, it’s got a triple colorless mana cost. We’ve never seen a card with one of those, even 2 is reserved only for a 10 mana spell, therefore being only a fifth of its cost. But I can see why, mostly. Artifact creatures can be dumped onto the board extremely quickly, so you want a fairly restrictive cost. Even so, it being such a small creature kind of makes the restrictive cost feel even less worth it. You really need a board of creatures in play for this to be good, and it’s hard to know if this is ever better than just a chief of the foundry, who pumps toughness as well and is always castable. In eternal formats, though, this card could be a beast. The legendary clause is kind of what holds it back there, though. Again, you normally want to dump your hand, so the fact that you can’t play two of these if you have them in hand is a bit aggravating. Lastly, there’s that tap ability. Why is it there? Thematically it doesn’t seem to fit at all with the concept of a living weapon. Mechanically, it doesn’t seem to fit with the type of deck you’d want to pay this in. If you want to give your entire board of creatures double strike, you’re usually doing it because you have a lot of small creatures that want to attack. Having to tap them and him for mana goes against that strategy, and what are you even casting with that mana in a deck like that? The other thing it does is give a spell or two pseudo-affinity, which just seems unnecessary. Would a deck play this for just that ability and ignore the double-strike stuff? It all just seems so odd.Still, this is one of the better entries this week. It’s got some issues, but I like how it knows exactly what it’s here for and is very good at it, as well as working with the name. It’s just tacking a bit too much on top of that.

@fractured-infinity - Constellation

I think you’re overestimating this card. This is a 5 mana card that requires an extra three mana to do anything. Yes, it doubles itself every turn, but those copies don’t do anything other than trigger constellation. That’s good in a constellation deck, but this is a card that’s ONLY good in a constellation deck. If I play this and survive three turns and have 8 of these in play, there’s no way I’ll be able to activate them reasonably effectively. The flavor of this card is also tied too closely to the mechanic. None of this quite feels space like, or like I’m connecting things like constellations connect stars. I would suggest trying to find some other way to make it useful without the ability, or limit the number of tokens it makes but make the whole card cheaper. Right now it’s just too narrow and hard to use, and even the deck that wants it may be dead by the time it really starts being useful.

@ghoulcalculator64 - Banding

Ah, I see. It’s a rubber band joke. Fair enough. I think this card is not good. Four mana is a lot for this small of an effect. Yes, icy manipulator is a famously strong card, but Pacification array was not (though it had a lot of utility because of improvise being in the set). Two mana to tap each turn is a lot, and the fact that this doesn’t have a body like Fan Bearer or Gavony Trapper is a heavy cost already. I think you needed to do a little more research into what other cards of this type existed when making this.

@gollumni - Grandeur

Well this is a bit of a dud. It’s very hard to find a good way to use this card. It’s a fog, but what isn’t? It lets you get in one hit with one creature for sure, but at the cost of not getting to hit with anything else, and not being able to block anything for a while. The exact templating of this card has some minor issue, but I do want to point out you were clever not to make it target, so they can’t kill the targetted creature in response. Instead, you choose upon resolution. It’s a bit of a shame you HAVE to choose something, meaning you can’t just use this as a fog when you’ve got nothing in play, but maybe that’s for the best. Better to avoid turbo-fog making a resurgence. The last sentence also sounds a little off. Looking at Duneblast, I might just say “tap the rest.” I also really wish there were some way to not make this rare, but this would probably be an annoyance even at uncommon, so maybe it’s necessary.

@helloijustreadyourpost - Fateseal

Cool idea, execution is a bit off. One mana removal spells, even slow ones like this, are probably too good, especially at common. I could maybe see a card like this being pushed in a set where they really want playable enchantments, like a set with delirium or constellation. I know the big downside is that they still get a chance to swing with the creature before it dies, but I don’t think that offsets the massive upside of being an unconditional one mana kill spell. Conceptually, I like it. It’s definitely the complexity level of an uncommon, and the flavor is spot on. I think the fact that it triggers on your upkeep is mechanically a good idea, but a little awkward because a lot of people will assume it cares about the creature’s controller’s upkeep, like most similar cards. That’s not really on you, though, and if the rest of the set doesn’t do that, it’s fine. I could almost see changing it to grant the creature “sac this in your end step” instead. However, if the set has death synergies, that might matter, too. I guess this card is hard to judge because I could see it doing a lot of work in a theoretical set, but outside of any set, it’s just way too good. I like it, though, and it’s a great fit for this week, it’s just too strong.

@hiygamer - Hidden Agenda

I like the concept here, but I think you maybe underestimated it. The most obvious comparison here is Profane Tutor and Wishclaw Talisman. Both get you your cards a little later, but with some downsides compared to this Hidden Agenda. Being better than the two most recently printed tutors is a pretty big sign you’re maybe too strong. The exact phrasing also lets you pay the one during your opponents turn, so you can have the card in hand by the time you untap. Flavor-wise, I think it works. It does feel like you’re up to something, and you’ve got it hidden away, but I kind of wish it could be MORE hidden some way. Right now it feels a lot less like its hidden and more like it’s just in your hand but costs 1 more. But that’s getting nitpicky. It still feels like a good fit of card and name, which is the focus of this contest. I just think you could have pumped the brakes a little more, either making a more expensive tutor or a more hidden card.

@hypexion - Will of the Council

I was certain someone would do this. William of the Council. Bravo. But why does he have to do with voting? Surely there are other councils than Paliano’s. For this week specifically, I would have really wished you kept further away form voting. Yes, this doesn’t have Will of the Council, but it cares about it. Anyway, the card itself? I like it. I think the last ability is really cool, and adds some wrinkles to time when everybody is already agreeing on how they’re going to vote. You can also do some silly things where you purposely vote a certain way to get a bunch of treasures or get the result you actually wanted. I also like how playing him encourages you to be t he good guy: you want to make sure other people want what you want. That’s a cool way to build a deck. The first ability messes with all of that, though. First, there’s a lot of math. There 5 permanent types you’d have to count every time you vote, with the number of artifacts changing after each one. Lands would be the tough one, but creatures would be annoying, too. In a conspiracy draft, there’s also probably be some confusion to if conspiracies count, or Tribal, or Snow. Then there’s how it messes with the second ability. As soon as you get one extra vote, all of the fun of the second ability goes away. Most votes only have two options, so you just get to pick both. You were clever with the name and clever with the ability, but maybe a little too ambitious with the card itself.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes - Haunt

This card is a little weird. Flavor wise, I mostly like it. I like that the spirit is the same size but behaves differently than its originator. The name feels a bit mismatched, since this is less haunting something and more letting something else do the haunting. I would expect some sort of spirit to haunt the creature, not for it to die and come back to haunt others. As for the card itself, it’s not as good as it looks. For reference, Undying Evil, Supernatural Stamina, and malakir rebirth are all one mana. This is three mana to make a token that is almost strictly worse. It loses abilities, has to attack and block, but at least it has vigilance? I don’t understand the flavor of those abilities, either. Is it just an aggressive spirit? I would have expected it to have gained flying, but without it I don’t understand what exactly this spirit is. I keep thinking I’m missing something, but as I see it, this card is just not quite there on mechanics or flavor.

@kellylogs - Vigilance

It’s been a while since we’ve seen a card like this, but I remember the time when Mardu Ascendency, launch the fleet, and similar effects were all the rage. I like how this one specifically doesn’t create the token tapped and attacking. It sort of sells the flavor that they are leaving someone back in order to stay vigilant. I think this card is fine, but I have one giant issue: why did you specify “taps to attack?” All that does is make this card say “whenever a creature without vigilance attacks, make a token.” I know I said you’re not allowed to use the ability on the card, but specifically not using it feels even weirder. If it didn’t say that, I would feel perfectly fine with this card, maybe even make it a runner-up, but the “taps” part in there makes it clear that you didn’t feel confident enough in the design, and though you needed some way to tie the card back into the ability, something I specifically said I wasn’t looking for.

@loreholdlesbian - Encore

What a show this is. I like this card, but it’s very hard to judge. In some formats, this would be a powerhouse. Four mana for an extra turn with some extra cards is a great rate, and the lose clause is not nothing, but might be ignorable. Otherwise, though, this card could be a bulk mythic. We’ve seen two similar cards in the last few years, it’s hard to know what the rate on this card would be in this day and age. I’ll say what I can: this is a really cool concept and a really great way to answer the prompt. I just am so scared of extra turns in this day and age, what with the prevalence of them in recent years. Yes, this loses you the game, but is that enough? I just don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I could help more. I like this card, I just am failing a bit as a judge right now.

@maispace - Bloodthirst

I think you came at this challenge from the wrong direction. It seems like you started by thinking of the ability of bloodthirst, then made a card around it. This is an enchantment that basically makes it so you always get your bloodthirst triggers. I don’t really understand how the card itself is bloodthirst. Is the idea that the creature spells are bloodthirsty? And so when you cast them, they’re “going for blood,” dealing damage? I don’t quite get the flavor. What the card does, though seems cool. It’s effectively damage that ramps up every turn. I like how it messes with strategies. Normally in aggressive red decks where you want to be playing burn like this, you also want to be playing a lot of low-cost creatures. But this card wants you to just play one creature a turn in order to get max value from it. I like that this sort of encourages a different type of aggro deck: one where you’re trying to tap out for big creatures every turn. Or maybe playing flash creatures? Or maybe you have a lot of activated abilities, so you can still use your mana? There’s a lot of cool, unique ways to take advantage of this card, and it might be worth it. If you trigger it at least three times, you get 6 points of burn for 3 mana, which is good! Feels a little odd at uncommon, but I could see this being a lame rare. I would just hope there’s enough enchantment removal in the set that this wouldn’t just be that oppressive. Even one damage a turn can add up in limited.

@mardu-lesbian - Improvise

Oh my. First, the flavor mostly works. I get that you’re sort of doing what you can with what you have, regardless of its utility. It’s a little odd that it doesn’t do things with your hand and is stead almost sort of reanimatey, but I think that’s a fine stretch to make the mechanics work without being too wordy. As for the ability, oh boy! It is very easy for this card to kill someone. I could easily see a combo deck forming from this. The random part I both like and dislike. I like it because it gives you a need to build around: you can’t just put the one big card you need in there to combo off, you’d need some way to partially empty your own graveyard to ensure it works. I also don’t like it because if you don’t keep your graveyard clean, you still have a chance of it woking anyway, meaning whether you win or lose is basically decided randomly, which is not super fun. Another strange quirk of this card is that it can actually be used relatively fairly. In a modern blitz deck, you probably won’t get more than one or two power out of it (maybe three if you’re playing those spectacle cards), but just being a spell that grants trample and maybe a bit of power is really all they need. This card being at common feels really strange as well. It’s a little bit complex of a card, in that it requires paying very close attention to the board state and also your graveyard, and needing to randomize it. While that might be fine, the swinginess of it would get tiresome in limited. It’d be pretty easy to get to the point where you have every mana value from 1 to 5 in your graveyard and your opponent is at 4 and, again, whether you win or lose the game comes down to randomness. I really like the idea of this card, but I wish it was a little less randomized.

@martianjune - Evolve

Evolving is the idea of growing and adapting to circumstances, and this catches that flavor, but maybe has one too many effects. Adding a counter is a nice base line, and growing when dealt damage is great flavor, and fighting works with the damage part and kind of works to represent evolving to adapt. But as a whole the card gets a little messy. The biggest issue is it’s not clear whether you fight when it’s dealt damage or when you cast the spell. I think you’d want to grant the creature the ability. Perhaps: “Put a +1/+1 counter on target creature you control. Until end of turn, that creature gains ‘whenever this creature is dealt damage, put a +1/+1 counter on it.’ Then it fights target creature you don’t control.” That would be less confusing. Unless you do want it to keep fighting infinitely. There’s also some weirdness in that this does the same effect twice back to back, putting counter on it before and after, which is a little weird, but hardened scales decks prefer it that way. As an instant pump spell removal spell with extra utility, I think this is maybe too complex even for uncommon. It also doesn’t really have a great way to include the reminder text that the creature needs to still be alive to put the +1/+1 counter on it, which confuses some new players. For the most part I like the design of this card, but it’s just too complex.

@misterstingyjack - Threshold

You’re playing with fire, here. A tutor on a land is incredibly powerful, even one as weak and slow and narrow as this. We’ve seen the incredible power of Urza’s Saga, and while this is weaker, it may fall into the same trap of assuming that cheap is the same as weak. I also don’t get the flavor at all. A threshold is like a barrier, so I kind of get that it’s a land, but is this supposed to represent specifically the barrier between the rest of the world and presumably the legendary land you’re tutoring? Okay, now that I write it out I kind of get that. But why is it legendary? Normally that wouldn’t bug me that much but A) on lands its a big deal and B) the card itself cares about legends, so it’s kind of relevant. I think if this specifically stated lands this might be fine, but this card seems specifically made to try and be broken, which I think is not a great idea.

@nicolbolas96 - Eternalize

Well that’s quite the removal spell. It even removed the oxford comma from the reminder text! Seriously, though, this card is pretty scary. While it can be used fairly as a removal spell, it also has some random combo potential, like magus of the abyss or leonin abunas, or other stuff I’m probably not thinking of. It also seems absolutely devastating in commander, where it’s entirely possible you completely remove their commander from relevance, or protect yours somehow? This is a really hard card to evaluate, because we’ve only seen one other card similar to it, one with the stars, but this is also an instant with a permanent effect. I’m not a huge fan of the latter aspect, though I appreciate that the name at least clues people in to the fact that it lasts indefinitely. I’m very glad it’s at rare to make up for the many confusions that will come from this card. Lastly, this is pretty cheap for this effect. It’s basically two mana instant speed removal in white that can’t be protected by indestructible or even reanimation. This kills things that shouldn’t be able to die. Maybe that’s fine? Like I said, hard to evaluate, but I think I come out on the side of positive. Not great, I think it’s more trouble than it’s worth, but it’s at least something new and exciting.

@nine-effing-hells - Planeswalk

There’s some templating issues with this card that makes it unclear to me what it’s trying to do. Let’s say I have eight lands in play when I play this. I shuffle them into my deck, then each player reveals cards until they reveal 8 lands. Then I may put any number of those lands onto the battlefield. I’m going to assume under my control? It would need to says so, because right now they would just go under their owner’s control. Next, players shuffle “the rest” into their library. The rest of what? As written, it implies the lands, but I’m also shuffling the other cards revealed, right? Though they never left the library, so either way they’d get shuffled. I think you’d want to say “You may put any number of land cards revealed this way onto the battlefield under your control, then each player shuffles the rest of the revealed cards into their library.” Mas polymorph is the closest I could find to this. Anyway, the card’s mechanics: I think this is a little underwhelming. It’s a lot of counting and shuffling and stealing for very little gain. You’re doubling your mana for 8 mana, which is actually one above boundless realms or nyxbloom ancient and two above mana reflection. But with this you get to steal your opponents’ lands! That’s kind of just worse than your own lands, since they won’t tap for the right colors of mana all the time. You’re also thinning their deck by a pretty significant amount, meaning your opponent is actually getting some amount of benefit out of this (unless they’re mana screwed, in which case you were winning anyway). I think this only really has any use in commander, where the “each player” part means you’re more likely quadrupling your mana. I guess that’s pretty good for eight mana. This is also insanely good in landfall decks, obviously. I think I like this card, but there’s a lot of things pulling me from it. It’s a cool mix of scapeshift, oblivion sower, and boundless realms, but kind of feels bloated. It’s just trying to do so much, and because of that it’s got a massive mana cost and a lot of annoying to deal with shuffling and counting, nto to mention the amount of confusion that stealing lands usually leads to. Lastly, and I almost missed this, all the lands come into play untapped, which feels excessive. Eight mana to double your mana permanently that also doubles your mana the turn you play it is just begging for trouble. I think this would be a card everyone at the table would groan when they see, potentially even the player playing it. From a purely mechanical angle it seems like a good idea, but there’s just so many little issues that add up to make it a hassle of a card.

@Partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff - Dash

I think this card doesn’t do enough. I tink the “if” part is unnecessary. +2/+0 and haste is easily something worth 1 mana, even at common. The fact that it rewards targeting a creature that actually needs hast feels redundant, and I feel like it’s an attempt to get this card closer to it’s ability, which goes against the goals of this contest. I think you might have needed to step back and think about another interpretation of the word dash to try and come up with something more original.

@pocketvikings - Amass

I have one very important question about this card: why would you cast this for X anything more than 0? There’s reasons too, of course, but the card doesn’t really encourage it in any way. I can see this being played in a Rosheen Meanderer deck, but just a mana filterer, which seems weird. You can play it in a mizzix deck or other mana value matters decks, but that also feels really narrow. I think the most common use for X is cost reduction, like if you have a Baral and a Goblin Electromancer. Then that mana really is free, and it does feel like you’re amassing it. Sadly, those are the exact kinds of decks where you really don’t want to be limited to one more spell. So you have a card here that doesn’t really know where it wants to go. I think you either really needed to encourage big mana some way (like by doubling outright instead of adding), or by encouraging small mana (like just adding X mana alone, but allowing multiple casts, so you just get to double dip on mana reductions). As is, there’s just not a place for this card.

@reaperfromtheabyss - Threshold

I don’t quite get the reference with vampires. Is it a reference to them not being able to enter a house without being welcomed? Is that a threshold? Anyhoo, card seems fine. I don’t think it needed to be an artifact: plenty of walls in magic aren’t artifacts, and I don’t think they need to be. The last ability is just Baird. This is a wall that makes it hard to attack you. That’s all, folks! It hink it does a fine job of that, but it feels hard to feel that this card is necessary when Baird is already out there and has power and vigilance and only 1 more mana. I don’t think this card is bad, I just think it’s the most literal interpretation of the name.

@shakeszx - Bury

Spooky. Love the art, and kill spells are great places for one-name cards. The flavor really comes together. As with any creature-type based removal spells, you get some nitpicky things like “can you bury an elemental? Can you bury an ooze?” But that’s just what I expect pedantic players would say. I think non-spirit is fine trinket text. My biggest issue with this is that it’s very clearly a reference to the original ability. Bury got changed to “kill it and it can’t be regenerated,” and you swapped out the regeneration for indestructible, it’s current substitute. I wish I could have seen a card further from its source for this challenge, but I can’t argue against how solid of a card this is. I do wish it had found a way to stray further from terminate, which is almost exactly a reflection of this card. Also this is kind of going to be a boring rare (I say as someone who opened multiple dreadbores).

@snugz - Eternalize

Love me some gold counters! I remember putting aurification in my old defender decks. This really fits the theme. I like how you put the counter on it even though it wasn’t “technically” necessary: you could have just had it gain all those things. But the counter is a very useful tool for remembering, and the fact that it can be interacted with, unlikely as it is that you can remove the counter, it still technically gives you something you can do about it. The defender and can’t activate abilities is neat, but the other two parts seem odd. Turning it into a treasure doesn’t really do anything other than random stuff like counting towards Revel in Riches. I think you wanted to grant it the treasure ability. The fact that it can still activate mana abilities is what tipped me off to that, since that seems incredibly narrow otherwise. I also think this is closer to a white card than a black card. It’s extremely similar to both Guard Duty and Minimus Containment, both white cards. Black would be much closer to just outright killing the creature, especially for a 3 mana uncommon. Still, I like the flavor of it.

@starch255 - Extort

Well this is not something I was expecting. I can really respect the attempt to make something new with what you’ve got. You may be pushing the boundary a bit harder than I liked, but at least you had fun with it. The card is strange, but I think I like it. Haste is a weird ability because it doesn’t scale evenly, so 5 mana for 4 power haste is kind of in line. The “flying when attacking” is a nice way to power it up and down a bit, and the one toughness makes this really fragile. It also sort of helps with the flavor: high toughness is the one thing most commonly associated with turtles. Still, something about this card feels off. Even with haste, 5 mana for a 1 toughness creature is a hard sell. In the right format, this would be a beating and a half, and in the wrong format, this would be last pick every draft. Ravnica, where this card seems to be from, is famous for its many 1/1 flyers. Especially with conditional flying, you could probably have pumped up the toughness at least to two. But hey, funny card, okay in some formats probably, and a cool two color design.

@stellarlight - Encore

Visual: A magic show. Three identical magicians jump through the air with happy smiles on their faces, an outfit identical to theirs is on the floor. The audience is mesmerized.

Now this is a strange card. First off, I think this card is a little close to the original ability, which I tried to discourage, but not so close that I’m disqualifying it. I just think you maybe played it a little safe. As for the ability, how strange! At first it just seems like an incredibly overcosted Kaya’s Ghostform, but the fact that it hits opponents things means it’s a little closer to Minion’s Return. The fact that it makes a token instead of reanimating the creature has upsides and downsides: it means you can still do graveyard things with the creature card in the yard, but it means that bounce spells are kill spells. If you’re taking your opponents cards, it’s the opposite. The bonus ability on this is pretty cool, though. It makes this card really cool in blink decks, since you can enchant your guy at the end of their turn, untap, then blink it on your turn with a charming prince or something. The tokens stick around, too, so you’ll end up getting three ETB triggers in addition to the one you already were going to get from blinking it in the first place. Still, I think this card is a mana too much, maybe more. Minion’s return is the closest basis to this card, and it was an uncommon that almost never got played. This requires setup to ge the most benefit from, and still costs two more, including another color! Aura’s are already so easy to mess with, sinking 5 mana into one just to get blown out with a removal spell on the stack, or having someone mess with your blink effect before you untap is very likely. I think just four mana, or even 3 might be fine. I think it’s a really cool idea, though, and other than the cost (and the similarity to the ability), I like this card.

@wilsonosgoodmcman - Fateseal

They’ve been trying to design a card like this for years I feel, and you got a pretty good version of it. It’s a bit like spell queller and a bit like Oblivion Ring. I think the name fits pretty well, and I like how you reinterpreted the “seal” from meaning “decide” to meaning “trap.” The templating on the bottom is a bit off: you could probably steal it whole from Spell Queller. The cost also seems right on the money: just a touch more expensive than O-Ring, same price as Cast Out or Ashiok’s Erasure but with comparable downsides to both. I think this would se play in a lot of blue white control decks. Part of me wants to complain and say that this card is boring and too close to things that have been done before, but I think I’m wrong on both accounts. This is a role-player in the format, not a headliner. A good card, and a good answer to the prompt.

@wolkemesser - Grandeur

Making a Lorwyn style incarnation is a really clever way to get that name to work. Your reworking of the shuffle clause is pretty interesting, and is a clever way to set up that last ability. And that last ability sure is something. It gives this creature basically a permanent on-death effect. It still needs to be cast and die, but after it does, you’re good. Your opponent has to 20 you in one turn. But as a mythic that needs to be set up is that fine? If you play a temple garden into avacyn’s pilgrim or bird of paradise, you can get this out by turn three or so. If you play a sacrifice outlet before then, you can set up this combo nearly immediately. Even so, graveyard hate can hit it, just not all graveyard hate (many players use grafdiggers cage in historic, for example). If I were in charge of deciding if this card sees print, I would be terrified. It’s a really cool and maybe balanced ability, but I’m worried it would turn quite a few games into do-you-have-it games of combos vs. graveyard hate. It’s probably fine though. I like this card.

And that’s everybody. If you want to talk to me about anything in particular, feel free to contact me at our discord.

-Mod Mr. ShinyObject

#commentary #mtg #magic the gathering #text to title #custom magic card #inventor's fair

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incorrect-pokespe-quotes · 4 years

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Let’s Talk About Norman

I’m going to start off by telling you all something you probably already know: Norman is abusive. I try not to use super strong language on this blog because calling someone abusive / toxic is a pretty big deal, but Norman is an abuser, full stop. Aside from the obvious physical violence though, there’s a lot of emotional trauma he causes Ruby through his actions— this post is mostly going to be talking about Norman’s emotional abuse and how it affects Ruby’s psyche and actions throughout the arc instead of just “oh he punched his son down some stairs” because I think it goes way deeper than that. With that out of the way, the rest of the post is below the cut!

PHYSICAL VIOLENCE

I can’t talk about Ruby and Norman without mentioning this— it’s the most clear cut evidence of his abuse on-panel. He punches his son down the stairs, engages in a high stakes fight with him, and puts him in mortal danger (which Ruby has to save himself from). What I’m concerned with isn’t the actual incidence of violence itself, but rather the emotional baggage that comes with it.

The interesting thing about the Big Fight scene to me is that Norman instigates the conflict. Norman lures Ruby into a “dark and scary building” in the rain and away from others, appears behind him, threatens him, and throws him against a wall. The only thing Ruby had done in that moment is ask his dad how / why he had found him— Norman was the instigator of violence. It is Ruby’s reaction to this immediately violent start that segues into the next Big Thing about their relationship.

ENVIRONMENT OF FEAR

It is obvious from the minute Norman appears on panel that he is intimidating. Multiple characters throughout the arc mention that they are scared of / intimidated by him, but none are more obvious than Ruby. In fact until we reach the scene at the Weather Institute, Norman hasn’t been shown in a positive light at all from Ruby’s perspective. Ruby continuously mentions fear about his father: he imagines his father grabbing him, looking angrily at him, and generally seems to be afraid of him. Ruby expresses worry and concern about the consequences of his father’s anger— and that’s ALL he thinks about. Ruby mentions explicitly that he has seen “Norman’s Dark Side” and tries to hide as soon as he appears. He even shivers at the mere mention of Norman. Ruby’s entire motivation is his fear of his dad, which is bad, obviously.

Every thought about Norman that Ruby has up until the Weather Institute about Norman express fear and stress Norman’s emotional distance. Whether or not Ruby and Norman love each other is not of importance here, what is important is that Ruby has constant worry and anxiety about how Norman will react. His entire motivation at the beginning of the arc is centered around doing things behind Norman’s back and giving him definitive proof of Ruby’s accomplishments— Ruby is so nervous around Norman that he considers communicating to be a risk. This is typical abuse victim behavior and it continues through the arcs. Living under the constant threat of (often violent) punishment has taught Ruby that disagreements and communication in general are dangerous and can spiral into violence very, very quickly— he displays this same fear time and time again.

Quick Aside: As everyone here probably knows, the main conflict in the oras arc is centered around Ruby’s unwillingness to tell Sapphire what is going on for fear of how she will react. Ruby’s hiding of his memory of their confession in the Emerald arc is the same— Ruby refuses to communicate because he is afraid of how Sapphire will react. His main emotional flaw is the fact that he is driven by fear; Norman has shown him there are consequences to communication and Ruby carries this lesson throughout his entire life. He is a victim of abuse and this hampers his ability to communicate and be emotionally vulnerable. He is so caught up in the idea of consequences that he is more than willing to lie or omit the truth to avoid the consequences of talking to people about stressful topics. This is not to say that Ruby’s actions are excusable— he’s still a dick with communication issues, but whether or not Kusaka intended it, Norman’s abuse and its consequences define Ruby’s emotional arc.

ANGER ISSUES

I can’t really talk about the environment of fear that Norman created without talking about his anger issues. He crushes a phone, shoves people out of the way, knocks multiple Pokemon out at once, and otherwise acts aggressively in various situations throughout the arc without any real Reason. As if these hints weren’t enough, we actually get confirmation through Ruby’s mother that Norman “does this often”— and judging by Birch’s reaction, these displays of destructive anger aren’t normal in in-universe. Whether or not there is a violent / strict parenting style within the universe doesn’t matter, because Norman is shown to be uncharacteristically aggressive in comparison to other adults in the series. Judging by Ruby’s reaction at the Weather Institute, he implies that his type of violence towards him isn’t uncommon; he seems almost resigned to it.

To wrap up this section: Norman’s aggressiveness is atypical even in-universe, he is shown to be unable and unwilling to curb his violent anger, and this creates an environment of fear among his family that permanently impacts Ruby’s ability to communicate effectively with others.

PART 2

DISCLAIMER: This is where things get… dicey. Everything I’ve mentioned previously is rooted in the actual drawings and actions of the characters or overarching themes / problems. This next part however focuses on dialogue. It is almost impossible to truly understand the tone of each line without being a fluent Japanese speaker (which I am not) so instead I’m going to use Viz and CY to the best of my ability for this section. I’m not going to extrapolate this to Kusaka’s intentions, since without the original work that’s nearly impossible, but I can at least talk about the way these come off in English.

EMOTIONAL ABUSE

Admittedly, Viz is the worst about this. They constantly hype Norman up and excuse his behavior, outright censoring some of the physical and emotional abuse. Viz absolutely mangling the tone of RS, however, is a post for another time.

Because Norman actually speaks to Ruby at length a grand total of twice times in the RS arc, we can break down his actions into these two instances: the first is at the weather institute and the second is as he’s dying.

Rather than go based on overall theme, this scene is best done line by line (this is using the CY version due to limited censorship compared to Viz).

Scene 1: Volume 17, Chapters 208-210

(Norman is dangling Ruby off the roof of a building by his collar. There are sharp rocks at the bottom)

Ruby: Re… release me…! Norman: Insolent brat!! Is that how you talk to your father?!

To start, Norman uses tone policing and deflection. He focuses on the fact that Ruby is “talking back” to him and making demands of his father, which doesn’t acknowledge Ruby’s request or the fact that Ruby is being dangling over the roof of a building. Also note that this is the first time the words are bolded and that they stay this way throughout the fight— Norman verbally escalates the fight. Norman is abusing his position of power over Ruby in order to excuse his actions and pass the blame back to his son.

Ruby: I don’t care how furious you are with me… I’m ready for it!

(Norman decks Ruby down a flight of stairs)

Norman: Why did you run away from home?!

Note once again that Norman is implied to start raising his voice first even when Ruby isn’t. There’s another deflection here: Norman changes the subject rather than actively respond to anything Ruby says.

Norman: Well? Say something! You’d better voice your complaints right now!!

(Ruby has a conversation with the Swimmer, who advises him to apologize to avoid his father’s rage and “just go home” which… fuck you Swimmer Jack. I’m skipping that part of the dialogue bc it isn’t that important).

(While Ruby is debating what to do, Norman’s Slaking lifts the stairs that Ruby is on and tries to fling him into next Tuesday).

Ruby is physically prevented from escaping by being dangled above Norman. I shouldn’t have to tell why physically preventing someone from leaving an argument is a bad thing.

(Ruby decides to fight Norman)

Note that Norman is physically and emotionally forcing Ruby into two possible options: Fight or be obedient. He is preventing Ruby from running and deflecting Ruby’s attempts to explain himself. He then shifts the blame to Ruby *again*, attacking Ruby and his pokemon with full force and implying it was Ruby who instigated the conflict in the first place.

Norman: … so you wish to fight me? … Iron Tail and Hyper Beam… I was the one who taught you those attacks. There’s nothing about your attacks and strategies I don’t know about. You’re just wasting your time! Give up!

Here, Norman does two things: he stresses Ruby’s dependence on him and his power over Ruby. It’s a typical “your success is dependent on me” and a “there is no option except obedience” rhetoric, and is likewise typical of abusers. Norman is stressing the things Norman has gifted to Ruby (battling knowledge) and using whatever he can to force Ruby to do what he wants— he’s exerting his control.

(Ruby turns the tide of the battle, so Norman likewise switches tactics by attacking Ruby himself and attempting to hit him with a staircase. Ruby falls down the stairs and is dangling over a pit of spikes when Norman stands on the edge, blocking Ruby’s only escape route).

Norman: Now will you come quietly? Stop being so stubborn

Not only is Norman forcing his son to choose between obedience and Literal Death, he also shifts the blame again. He excuses his own actions by claiming it is Ruby’s stubbornness that forced him into this position. He deflects the whole “putting my 11 year old in harm’s way” by claiming Ruby’s own resistance to Norman’s violence is the trigger for the violence itself. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s victim-blaming nonetheless and sadly, it works

(Flashback time: Norman admits he was going to give Ruby permission to participate in contests and gets emo about it. They fall, but Norman catches Ruby. This doesn’t matter though, because they both end up falling and Ruby uses his running shoes to save them both).

Ruby: (thinking) Ru- running shoes… my birthday present from dad… saved both… our lives

Ruby displays pretty typical abuse victim behavior here, focusing not on Norman’s 3 threats to literally kill him but instead on the One Good Thing Norman did. He doesn’t mention that it was Ruby himself who saved them both or that Norman was the one who put them in danger in the first place— he’s in total denial about the severity of everything that happened.

(At this point, Norman looms above Ruby with an angry expression and a raised pokeball. Bystanders panic because it appears that Norman is going to attack Ruby who, by the way, is unconscious on the ground, but Norman gets a surprise call from Winona and turns away after realizing that Winona can see him).

“I only stopped attacking my son when I realized people were watching”… alright fuck off then Norman

Norman: HEY!! Idiot son! You disobeyed your parents, then you ran away from home. I’ve had enough! Just do what you want! In return, you’d better accomplish your goals!! A man should complete what he has set out to do… … before he can return home!!

Hoo boy. Norman never apologizes, deflects all the blame onto Ruby, insults him twice, and then tries to save face with Winona and the people around him by giving Ruby permission to do contests— which he was apparently planning to do all along. He emphasizes the things Ruby did in response to Norman’s actions (Ruby ran away from home because he knew his dad would be unsupportive and gets violent during disagreements, so in essence Norman is to blame for backing him into a corner). Norman twists the narrative in order to make Ruby the instigator in every case, justifying Norman’s responses as reactions to Ruby’s problematic behavior

Swimmer Jack: Isn’t that a wonderful father? Ruby: Thank you… father.

Ok first of all Jack is a dumbass, so jot that down. Second of all, while it’s unintentional, Ruby is being gaslit to hell and back. It is only after Norman’s omission of all the abusive behavior and bystanders’ affirmation of Norman’s love that Ruby starts to think positively towards his father. The threat Ruby used to think was so large has been downplayed and outright denied by the people around him, so Ruby’s prior fear of Norman diminishes. Ruby’s fear of Norman and the violence Norman took against him is denied, downplayed, and ignored, so Ruby begins to doubt his own animosity towards his father. Thanks Swimmer Jack you unintentionally gaslit an 11 year old.

SCENE 2: (this one is much shorter, thank god)

(Norman, while he is dying, explains the whole deal with how he was ordered to search for Rayquaza yada yada. Throughout the exchange, Ruby gets increasingly upset).

Ruby: (thinking) barred from the test and forced to search for Rayquaza… It must be some kind of punishment! What could Dad have done to warrant such… why was he made responsible… ?!

Ruby: … … but… come to think of it, dad is not someone who makes mistakes easily… something’s not right!

Slight aside, Ruby has been so convinced of his father’s power by others that he is unwilling to even CONSIDER that his dad fucked up, which… wow!

Ruby: That day… Dad must have taken the rap for someone else… and… (flashbacks to Salamence Incident) that person… was….

Ruby: (out loud) … me?! That person who set Rayquaza free… was it me…?!

Norman: Yes.

And then he dies!

(Technically he says “oh I did all that out of love” (paraphrased) and then dies but it’s just a continuation of the previous thing).

Norman, before dying, does not say “I’m proud of you” or “I’m sorry for everything” or anything remotely comforting, instead he says “hey Ruby, you’re responsible for my death and all your childhood trauma alongside your friend’s. Peace.” (this is paraphrased).

Even on his actual deathbed, Norman places the blame on Ruby for Norman’s own actions. He makes Ruby feel guilty for Norman leaving, Norman hiding information from him, and Ruby’s tumultuous childhood.

CONCLUSION

None of this is to say that Norman doesn’t love Ruby or that Ruby doesn’t love him back— I’m fairly positive the two of them love each other dearly and want the best for each other. However, Norman is a child abuser who reacts violently, instigates violence, and then turns around and denies said violence. He creates a culture of fear among his family, gives Ruby some serious communication issues, and the narrative takes his side. Norman is a child abuser in canon and has a very VERY profound effect on Ruby which has emotional ramifications throughout Ruby’s entire character arc all the way until oras.

TLDR: Normans sucks man

#trainer ruby #leader norman #pokespe #vex liveblogs #rs arc #admin vex

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