#to the point of the last chapter in grouping was nearly finished

[sesshy380]

Fuck, I want to write something so bad, but brain can no werd things in werd order to make non rambles.

[heeseungiez]

RESOLUTION 1) actually enjoy a party...

pairings! lee heeseung x fem!reader, choi yeonjun x fem!reader briefly

synopsis! lee heeseung has known you your whole life. he has always kept you at an arm’s length due to his childhood pettiness after being forced to spend time with you as kids. but now that you were back in town, going to school again, he finds his resolve to dislike you at all costs crumbling between his fingers. as if it hadn’t always been chipping away throughout the years.

content warnings! smut (mdni! 18+), swearing, mentions of bullying, joking about past trauma to cope, angst, jealousy, kissing, fingering etc.

word count! ~5.4k

taglist! OPEN! @strxwbloody @starsenha

a/n! first two chapters are written so i think it's fair to post this... feel free to let me know what you think! i actually don't usually write smut so um... yeah

masterlist | next

Good morning, Decelis! Guess who’s back?

And no, I’m not talking about myself at the moment, but rather, a princess of a successful empire, and our beloved black sheep of the school. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? In a place where money is power, she has none despite the billions she’s meant to inherit. Poor girl, wouldn’t you say?

But rumours have it that our princess is back from her prolonged summer break abroad, and she’s different than we remember.

It seems that the good girl image has been thrown to the wolves, and the princess is back with a bite of her own.

I’m most definitely looking forward to what this year brings us.

XO, Miss Decelis

You put down your phone with a grin, having read the Twitter post from your school’s infamous gossip blog. Very clearly inspired by Gossip Girl, it was the talk of Decelis Academy when the first post appeared out of nowhere, featuring a very, very popular boy from the upper year, calling out his blatant cheating on his incredibly attractive, and notoriously vengeful girlfriend.

This was the first time Miss Decelis had something nice to say about you, and you were currently hoping to milk the pity points for what happened last year. You were tired from the constant jabs at your lack of social skills and neverending embarrassment, making it known to all of your peers that you couldn’t do anything right.

Everything was different now. At least for you, things have changed since your trip to the USA, if you could even call it that. Since most of what you saw was the best rated rehabilitation centre in the world, trying to get your legs to work properly again after the incident that happened last year. (Good news: they succeeded.)

Who would’ve thought that pushing you into a pool at a party could cause such damage to your body? Your muscles tore with the abruptness of everything, your ankle catching on the edge of the pool and you found yourself paralysed from the waist down at the bottom of the pool afterwards, nearly drowning because people, for some reason, thought you were being dramatic for the sake of it. 

Your best friend, Lee Jeonghyeon, pulled you out once he found out what happened. And when you told him you couldn’t feel your legs, one of which was horribly bent and bruising, he screamed his lungs out to get someone to call you an ambulance. It was safe to say the party ended quickly afterwards.

You had to get surgery in the country, and then your parents decided it would be best for you to have your rehabilitation elsewhere. Far away from Decelis Academy. Since it happened a month before the term would’ve ended, you still had to do homework and assignments to finish your sophomore year, but at least it wasn’t around the people that ostracised you for whatever reason.

Originally, you were supposed to change schools. But the Decelis principal expelled the group that caused your injury because it was found out that (although you tried to keep it a secret for as long as possible) they had been bullying you for years. So yeah, you were back home and still attending Decelis Academy. 

You completely blocked out anything that was said between your father and the principal as they spoke in the office with you sitting on a chair behind them. It was business that you weren’t interested in, and they were mostly trying to figure out how to protect you from stuff like last year happening again. Yawning, you stretched your arms, wishing you could be in class instead.

“She will be monitored, in case something else were to happen, although I trust your daughter’s rehabilitation went without much as a single snatch.” The principal glanced at you while speaking to your father, his respect showing in his eyes, his straight posture and the voice in which he addressed the man standing before him.

Your father nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. If there are any issues, please let me know. And let everyone at the board as well as the parents know that anyone who will dare lay a finger on my daughter again will be sued for their entire fortune. The acts of her bullies were not harmless, and even if what happened was an accident, it was done with malicious intent.”

Well, that was exactly why you tried to keep the bullying a secret. But what’s done is done. You just wanted to get out of the principal’s office. 

“Good. There are more things we must discuss, but—”

You knew what that phrasing meant, already standing up with a smile. “I’ll go find my next class,” you said, cutting off your father. “Thanks for all the care and stuff, I’ll try to keep myself out of trouble and from, you know, looking weak and bully-able, whatever.”

Pretending not to care has become so easy for you lately that you internally cringed, seeing the pitying looks on the faces of both your father and the principal. You mostly ignored it. 

“Goodbye, Mr Jung. See you later, dad.”

But you didn’t leave the principal’s office until after receiving a kiss on your temple from your father, a sweet gesture to remind you that you were loved — at least by your parents. 

Lee Heeseung had known you his whole life. The two of you had known each other even before you were conceived, he’d say, and that annoyed him about you. That you were in every part of his life. Every memory, good and bad, every single one of his thoughts. Gods, you even lived in the same building as he did. So, you were always there, like a ghost haunting him for a mistake in his past life. So he avoided you whenever he could, unless it was necessary for him to be in your presence. Which was usually during any family functions because if the Lee family organised an event, then yours was the first on the list of invited guests. And if your family did, then his family was expected to show up no matter what.

Before Heeseung met Jay and Jake, it had always only been the two of you. So when you were children, he made sure to especially tease you, like pulling at your hair or eating the last cookie. It was his way of making sure you would stay away from him whenever he was with his other friends (none were people he really cared about, and although he still spoke to some of them, those friendships were distant memories). But he thought you were too much of a girl for him. While you played with dolls, he wanted to play with cars, and he was not going to let you rope him into role playing Barbie and Ken with you just because your face was cute with how round and rosy it was.

Then the two of you entered middle school at Decelis Academy, and Heeseung met Park Jay and Sim Jake. Both boys were from prominent families, and the friendship between the three helped all their companies bloom even more. But, of course, yours was always included as well.

It was only his luck that his cousin, Lee Jeonghyeon, moved in with him and his parents to attend Decelis Academy too. Which meant that you found a new friend, someone who actually wanted to hang out with you, while Heeseung was free to do whatever he wanted with his friends. And still, you never stopped trying to keep the conditions between you all amiable, even when they, especially Heeseung and Jay, were rude and dismissive of you.

Today, you strutted into Sociology class without as much as an apology to the teacher (a complete 180° from what you would’ve done last year) and went to sit down in the first available spot at the back of the class, which happened to be next to Heeseung. He rolled his eyes, debating whether he should push you off the chair because he’d fought really hard to keep the spot free. But when his eyes fell on your figure, he had a hard time peeling them off.

Miss Decelis was right. There was something different about you.

Normally, you would’ve sat at the front of the class. Not just because you were a teacher’s pet, but also because you used to wear glasses and it was better for your vision to be at the front. Your glasses were gone, though.

You didn’t as much as glance at Heeseung as you sat down, not even gracing him with your acknowledgement despite sitting next to him. You used to do everything in your power to get his attention (which he thought was cute but that made him dislike you more) because you thought you two should get along as your families worked so closely together, not to mention you lived in a penthouse at his family’s hotel, the same one he lived in.

He shuffled in his seat to sit straighter, leaning on the desk in an attempt to get you to look at him. But you didn’t. So he stared at you intently, noticing every detail about this new you that was back from America.

Your hair was cut shorter, messier, and framed your face perfectly as opposed to the girlish bangs you used to have. Even your makeup was bolder, wings lining your eyes, accentuating their shape. No longer were you following the country’s beauty trends, and it suited you more.

So he continued staring at you even when you opened your textbook and started taking notes with the teacher speaking in the background. He didn’t care for the class much, especially because he could buy notes off of someone from the upper year and then spend a fortnight cramming before an exam and still pass with top-performing grades.

You ignored Heeseung for as long as you could until it became unbearably uncomfortable to have his eyes permanently stuck to you. The way you interpreted the look, it made you feel like you were a fly he was watching to later swat once the perfect moment appeared. An indignant huff left your lips as you spoke: “Do you want to lose your eyes?” Your brow rose, but you did not look at him. Even as you gripped your pen tighter, truly considering putting it to a use much different than what it’s intended for.

The corner of Heeseung’s mouth rose in a silent victory because you finally decided to acknowledge him. “You could try, but I doubt you’d get away with it,” he replied. 

“I would,” you mumbled. “I’d get out of it unscathed because of my current frail mental state and my pity points with the principal.” Despite the lie, you spoke matter-of-factly. “So don’t test me.”

“So you’re saying you’ve gone crazy?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is it enough to go to a party this weekend?” Heeseung asked sweetly, leaning closer to you, but it was him who ended up disconcerted when you turned your head. Your noses touched, and you pushed him away by poking his chest. 

“You’re really asking me to go to a party after what happened last time?”

“Nobody’s gonna try to hurt you if you’re with me,” Heeseung said with certainty, but you squinted your eyes at the statement. For two reasons in total. One, he was among the most popular guys at Decelis Academy, so going with him meant antagonising at least half of the school; and two, why was he asking you to go to the party with him?

“Of all the people at this school, your pity is the one I need the least,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “We’ve never been friends before, Heeseung, so let’s not pretend we are friends now.”

Heeseung furrowed his brows at you. “This isn’t about pity—”

“What else would it be about? You don’t like me, and I’m tired, okay? I get it, and I’m not gonna bother your stupid I’m-better-than-thou self anymore. You were right, Heeseung. Just because our families are close, we don’t need to be.” You shut him up, turning away from him to bring your attention back to the lecture.

Heeseung gaped at you, blinking a few times to comprehend your rejection properly. But this was never about pity. It was about your attention, and how much he wanted to have it now that you were back.

But he couldn’t exactly tell you that he missed your stupid little face whenever there was a family function during the summer, could he? You were the girl he knew since the day you were born, and the last thing he wanted to face was the simple fact that he didn’t, in fact, dislike you. 

Despite rejecting Heeseung’s offer to go with him, you did turn up to the party. It was easy to find out that Yang Jeongin was throwing one alongside Seo Changbin, since it seemed that Changbin’s family was away on a business trip. So you dressed up and went to the Seo family mansion with Jeonghyeon, your best friend and neighbour, and Park Hanbin at your side. 

The dress you wore today was thin and far more revealing than what you would’ve worn last year, but this was all a part of your plan for this following year. You had a bunch of resolutions for your junior year and onward that you wanted to fulfil as fast as possible, all of which would help you live a life worthy of being spoken about on Miss Decelis, rather than being constantly humiliated by your lack of… living.

Today, Miss Decelis reported on seeing Park Jay and his new fling — an older woman possibly twice his age — leaving a motel together. That was the kind of life you wanted to lead, instead of the perfect princess with a spotless past who didn’t even fight back against her bullies.

So the first resolution you had was to attend a party and actually enjoy being there. In the past, you always attended because your friends would. Since you didn’t drink, you were the person who looked after everyone.

“Look, Ning and Winter are there,” Hanbin pointed toward the two girls, and you grinned, making your way toward them.

“Hi!” you greeted them.

“Hey, girl! You look scrumptious,” Ning remarked, eyeing your outfit with a smirk. “I’m really liking this new you. Are you trying to get on Miss Decelis tonight or what?”

You shrugged, a hint of a smile on your lips. “It certainly wouldn’t hurt. As long as it’s not something commemorating what happened to me at my last party, or… anything before, really.”

“It’s been shit these past few years,” said Winter, earning hums of agreement. “I’d rather never appear on Miss Decelis unless she has something good to say. I mean, we’re not even men, so we can’t just walk around like everything is fine after hooking up with someone the age of our mother…” Winter rolled her eyes, referencing the last post about Jay.

“Lucky you, then. Miss Decelis has never said anything bad about you. At least not something that wasn’t true,” you said matter-of-factly, well versed in the posts of the gossip monger. Although, in your opinion, Winter led an exciting life, it was never out of line enough to be reported on.

Winter giggled. “True.”

“And Jeonghyeon is a beloved hero now,” you added with a nod toward your best friend. It was a bit of a stretch, but he was viewed as someone swoon-worthy after pulling you out of the pool and saving your life. Miss Decelis surely made it sound like it before last school year ended.

He frowned, not liking the reminder of what had happened. It affected him more than you, clearly, the idea of losing you over someone thinking that pushing you into a pool would be a harmless enough prank. You shouldn’t be joking about it, yet it was your coping mechanism. The more jokes you made, the less real it became, and the less it hurt. 

“I’m never leaving your side,” he grumbled, interlocking your arm with his.

“Please do,” you said, trying to shake him off, but he didn’t let go. “Hyeon, I’ll be fine. I’m serious.” You glared at him, yanking your arm from his grip the more he tried to keep you in place.

“Dude, let her go.” It was Hanbin who spoke, sensing your discomfort. “We’re all worried for her, but this isn’t doing her any favours.”

Ning and Winter nodded as well. “We’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry,” they said, but it was hard to keep a promise when all of you planned to drink the night away.

Two hours in, you were already spent and dizzy. But you were giggling, and couldn’t say that you weren’t enjoying yourself. Especially the attention you got from people who couldn’t stop staring at you and the piece of fabric that mostly covered only your important parts.

A year ago, you were weighed down by the chains of responsibility, drowning you the same way the water had at the bottom of the pool. You couldn’t even allow yourself to enjoy the smallest things back then in fear of being judged. This time, if someone bullies you, you will be sure to hit back. And you’re going to hit back hard.

The sofa dipped with a new weight upon it, and you turned to face a familiar face. Someone you had come across in America a few times and had pleasant interactions with (if you could call it that).

Choi Yeonjun looked magnificent even with his cheeks flushed red, his hair dishevelled and eyes dazed. His pouty lips were captured in between his teeth, and you grinned at him when he cuddled up to you. “Hello,” he mumbled against the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Hey.” You shifted in your seat, simply to make both of you rest comfortably on the sofa. “Haven’t seen your face in a while,” you said, and he hummed, looking into your eyes.

“You took my advice,” he remarked, and you knew what he meant by it. 

The change of your hairstyle, your general clothing preferences and view of life wasn’t just something you came up with on your own. Because when you had seen Yeonjun the last time, before he had to leave, he told you that you should live your life a little. Stop pretending to be perfect, and start being your authentic self — the version of you he had met in the States. The version of you that you wanted to be rather than a version that society wanted you to be. 

“Very wise advice,” you agreed with a grin.

“I always know what’s up,” he grinned back at you, his arms snaking around your waist, seeking the warmth of your body in the most innocent way possible, though it could be easily misinterpreted. But you and Yeonjun were friends (question mark?). 

Friends who may have kissed, but friends regardless. 

“Where’s your friends?” you asked Yeonjun, running your hand through his hair to tame it. It was surprisingly soft, but that was perhaps a perk of expensive hair care. 

“Playing beer-pong,” he answered, purring like a cat as you continued playing with his hair. “Taehyun is playing against Soobin, Beomgyu and Kai, trying to get the three of them drunk, since they actually suck ass at beer pong.” You yelped when Yeonjun moved suddenly to lift your legs and put them over his lap. “I was supposed to be on Taehyun’s team but it was more fair without me.”

“That bad?” You could barely breathe with how close Yeonjun was to you. In your mind, you two were friends, but you didn’t actually know how he viewed you. You were never adept at interacting with guys beyond the realm of platonic relationships.

Yeonjun hummed. “I don’t like feeling left out but… I guess I wouldn’t have known you’re here otherwise.”

“Well, there is a lot of people. And this is a huge house,” you said breathlessly when Yeonjun’s hands slipped underneath your dress through the back, caressing your skin with tenderness you had only read about before.

Had you mentioned your second resolution of the year earlier? The fact that you wanted to lose your virginity?

Choi Yeonjun seemed like the perfect candidate for making it happen. But you also couldn’t deny the fact that you were drunk, and he was probably even worse off.

Still, you couldn’t resist the urge to slip your hands beneath his loose T-shirt, exploring his toned stomach. You were sure he had once boasted to you about having his own gym at home. 

Yeonjun looked up at you with his eyes open wide, and his pupils dilated. 

It was you who asked, “Can I kiss you?” But it was him who closed the distance between the two of you, Yeonjun’s mouth expertly dancing alongside yours. 

This kiss was different to the ones you shared in America. Those were small, fleeting kisses stolen in moments of peace, where the both of you wanted to sear the memories into your brains. But this kiss was hungry, full of heat you’ve never let yourself feel before. Yeonjun grabbed at every part of you in an attempt to bring you closer, while you let him, well aware that everyone could see you, but you didn’t care. Not anymore, anyway.

It was his advice you were following, after all.

“Yeonjun,” you spoke, trying to catch your breath. 

“Yeah?” The boy was merciful enough to let you breathe, choosing to attack your neck instead, leaving sloppy kisses along the sensitive skin. You moaned when he bit an especially tender spot, and he smirked against your skin. 

“I need—” 

Yeonjun silenced you with his lips on yours, not letting you finish the sentence. Instead, his hand moved up your thigh, massaging a spot not close enough to where you really wanted his hand to be. “Not here, darling,” he whispered in your ear before helping you stand up.

Taking your hand, Yeonjun knew exactly where the two of you would need to go to get some well-earned privacy. If it wasn’t for the storm of a person right in front of you with his arms folded across his chest, nearly fuming. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” The question wasn’t aimed at you. As if you didn’t have a mind of your own and you weren’t capable of making your own decisions.

Yeonjun glanced between you and the tall boy who stepped in your way. “That’s the guy who’s been ignoring you your whole life, right?” he said, knowing that the comment hurt Heeseung more than it did you. Because while you came to terms with it, Heeseung was just starting to feel guilty about it. He bristled, not liking that Yeonjun even knew this much about you.

“Get out of the way, Heeseung,” you said evenly, though anger easily washed over you. How dare he, the well-known fuck boy of Decelis Academy, cockblock you?

“No.” Heeseung shook his head, grabbing your hand.

You didn’t even realise it when he pulled you to himself and started dragging you away from Yeonjun. By the time you tried to fight him on it, you were losing Yeonjun in the crowd, and Heeseung’s grip on you was strong enough to bruise, so attempting to get out of his grasp would do more harm than good.

“Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing? Heeseung!” you shouted over the music as he dragged you through the mansion like a doll until the both of you were out of the house, at the empty front yard. “Heeseung!”

He didn’t respond to you until he opened the door to a car that was not his, but he had access to it. He practically pushed you inside the vehicle without as much as a word, trapping you inside with him.

“What’s your fucking problem?” you spat venomously, facing him in the back of the car. It was dark and you could barely see anything besides the outline of Heeseung’s figure. A very tall and attractive figure with broad shoulders that, because of your moment with Yeonjun, made you think things you should not be having about Lee Heeseung.

“Are you insane? Hooking up with Choi Yeonjun?” He finally spoke up. His voice was deeper, a near growl, and you scoffed at his hypocrisy.

“So what? I like him,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m not the same person I used to be and I’m not going back. So whatever your deal is, leave me the fuck out.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched as he stared at you, completely oblivious to the unreasonable amounts of jealousy rushing through his system. He, of all people, should care about who you hook up with the least, and yet here he was, having trapped you inside Sunghoon’s car to keep you away from Yeonjun, who clearly wanted to take everything you had to offer. He had watched you from a distance, longer than he should’ve, and he hated the way he wished to be in Yeonjun’s place.

“I was the one who told you about this party.” He glared at you, and your stupidly attractive face, incapable of deciding whether doing this was a good idea or not. Because he didn’t just trap you with him. He trapped himself with you.

“So what? I just wanted to enjoy myself for once, for fuck’s sake. Is that such a crime?” You reciprocated Heeseung’s glare, your cheeks flushed and body hot despite the chilly temperature inside the car. You wanted to jump him. Whether to kill him or to finally have your brains fucked out of you, you weren’t sure.

“Yes, yes it is,” Heeseung replied, licking his lips. “Because it’s not with me.”

The latter.

It was most certainly the latter.

The hate coursing through you charged your oncoming actions, and you cupped Heeseung’s cheeks in your hands, bringing his plush lips to yours, making him the second guy you’ve kissed, ever, and the second guy today. It occurred to you that you really did not even care who you lost your virginity to.

Heeseung was as good as anyone else.

A part of you didn’t expect him to kiss you back, but you were pleasantly surprised when he did, his hands moving to your waist. Bringing you closer to him, he let his hands wander further than Yeonjun’s did, swallowing the gasp that left your lips as he swiped his fingers across your clothed and very wet cunt. It drove him crazy, not knowing whether it was him who had that effect on you, or if it had been Yeonjun, but he’d do better not to dwell on it. 

Heeseung was going to be the one ultimately helping you enjoy yourself. He would make sure of it, claiming the moment for himself. Claiming you for himself because he couldn’t bear the thought of you vying for anyone’s attention but his.

It had always been you and him. You were his as much as he was yours, no matter how much he had fought the fact in the past. 

Pushing the clothing piece aside, he let his thumb slide across your clit, driving a moan out of you. Heat enveloped you with the sudden rush of pleasure, your back arching to give him better access. Your hands raked through Heeseung’s hair as his mouth travelled to your throat, kissing all the same spots Yeonjun had earlier, except unlike Yeonjun, Heeseung sucked on the spots with enough fervour to mark, knowing you would have to spend weeks covering those up.

Heeseung’s thumb circled your clit, enjoying every single sound that left your mouth, including the hazed “Heeseung, yes,” and “Heeseung, please.” Until he pushed his fingers between your folds, trying to find the spot that would drive you over the edge. He had no idea how addictive it would be to hear you whispering his name like a prayer to a God, but here he was, listening to it all.

He curled his fingers when he found it, and you cried out his name, which died on your lips as he kissed you again, fingers still pumping in and out of you. 

“Heeseung, oh my god,” you murmured against his lips as he assuredly drove you to your climax. Heat pooled through your tummy in the most delicious way possible, and you moved your hips in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers while he kept attacking your clit with the circular movements of his thumb.

“Yeah, princess, just let it out,” Heeseung said huskily, using the pet name that was usually reserved for his taunts rather than this. “You make the sweetest sounds,” he whispered in your ear, latching his lips onto your collarbone. A strap of your dress fell, partially revealing your breasts. Something that Heeseung took advantage of, his lips wandering lower.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so—” close, you wanted to say, but an entirely different sound — one that Heeseung wanted to bottle up and listen to forever — left your mouth when you felt Heeseung’s warm mouth around one of your nipples. 

“Fuck, Hee!” you screamed, your body trembling as you finally reached your climax, cumming all over Heeseung’s fingers. He continued his movements even as you rode out your high, and when he wanted to kiss you again, he took a moment to appreciate the relaxed look on your face. Something very rare from a person who used to forbid themselves from having fun.

See, Heeseung didn’t dislike you.

He just liked you more than he wanted to admit.

The sound of the car's unlocking beep pulled the two of you apart, much to both your discontent. But it wasn’t hard to school your expression back into one of hatred as you looked back at Heeseung while his friends filed inside the car. You crossed your arms and legs, turning away from him.

“We’re taking you home, apparently,” said Park Sunghoon with a smile on his face because he’d always been the one guy in the group who genuinely seemed to get along with you. He was the designated driver, but you guessed that had something to do with him being an athlete on a scholarship. 

Park Jay took the passenger seat next to Sunghoon, and when Sim Jake got inside, he made you sit in the middle between him and Heeseung. You were glad you could blame the flush on your cheeks on alcohol. 

“Hey, Y/N, I had no clue you were at the party!” Jake’s bright voice forced you to look at him. His blond hair was styled out of his face, and you couldn’t help but think that it suited him. You still wondered if he had dyed it over the summer because of a dare, or simply because he wanted to.

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you mumbled, trying to make yourself smaller as you felt Heeseung’s heat against your skin. “Means nobody tried to drown me in the pool or anything.”

“Don’t fucking joke about that, Y/N.” Jay’s sharp voice cut through the air like a knife, making you straighten in your seat, your eyes wide in surprise.

“Why can’t I? You don’t even care.” You rolled your eyes, and Jay turned in his seat to look at you, his eyes scrutinising every part of you. Clearly, he didn’t expect to see what he did, and his gaze went back to the front of the car in an instant. 

“Whatever,” he said.

“Your strap is falling off,” Heeseung whispered in your ear.

“Who did that?” Jake added as well, pointing at the marks on your neck that were starting to colour. 

And you bashfully corrected your dress, looking away from Heeseung. “It was Yeonjun,” you lied easily, feeling Heeseung tense next to you.

“Ah, so that’s why we’re taking you home…” Sunghoon spoke knowingly, when in reality, he didn’t know anything. 

“Yeah. That’s why,” you echoed.

Good morning, Decelis! 

It seems a lot has happened this weekend. I heard that our little princess has truly begun evolving! Like a caterpillar finally turning into a butterfly.

Rumours have it, she got freaky on Seo Changbin’s sofa with none other than Choi Yeonjun. 

Or are those considered rumours if there’s video proof?

XO, Miss Decelis

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday, kim taerae— select choir

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: just one gn!reader version for this (no pronouns are used at all to describe reader; reader is describe as having a "pretty" mouth but no gendered or femme language)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ friday summary: it's the end of the most bizarre week of your life. last year, you would've been overjoyed to spend time in select choir with your friend kim taerae. but that all went down the drain after hanbin recruited him into his group of incessant jerks... and he's desperate to officially be one of the guys.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. bullying. the lore for taerae is so SAD. i'll make sure his ending is happy, i promise. also we've got a ft. hanbin chapter but just in digital form.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★★ (5.0)

(idk the bully scale is subjective but like imagine your best friend saying this shit about you WHY IS HE DOING THAT OMG jk i know why and soon you will too)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: oral, (taerae receiving), throat fucking (reader receiving), brief handjob and heavy petting (taerae receiving), cumming without warning in mouth, filming of sexual act, voyeur!hanbin, slight dubcon but like for both of them kind of idk you'll see but it's slight, bullying, the usual.

friday.

you should be elated that this week is nearly over. and you are. mostly, anyway. 

but there was an indescribable thrill to all this that you couldn’t seem to shake. all that talk of ravens yesterday had got you thinking...

 why did you dislike ravens in the first place?

thinking. crying. haphazardly finishing all of your assignments due friday that you’d procrastinated the whole week. urgent texts to and from mina after her ✨jiwoong oppa✨ stood her up for their date.

one thing was for certain: you desperately need sleep.

that’s why you’re currently falling asleep sitting up, hard-back music folder open in your hands as professor yoo works with the bass section. the lowest notes of “requiem” are soft and soothing and, for you at this sleep-deprived moment, very dangerous. 

luckily a sharp elbow to the shoulder jolts the drowsiness right out of you.

you look to your left to find kim taerae giving you one of the most judgmental glares you’ve ever earned in your life.

you would expect nothing less from him.

at one time a judgmental glare from taerae was the equivalent of a hug. you returned the gesture happily. and also threw in some hugs whenever he’d let you. he squirmed a bit, but the big smile that would grow on his face made it all worth it.

but there’s no warmth behind his eyes now. just a sharp elbow pointed at you, threatening to strike again if you didn’t shape up quick enough.

“you’re gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns with a frown.

you roll your eyes. “why do you care?”

“because, unfortunately, some people still think we’re friends,” he says, making thin lines with his pencil on a page of his sheet music. “and i don’t want to suffer the social consequences of your embarrassing actions.”

“mm,” you agree wordlessly. “guess i should’ve thought of that myself.”

he doesn’t respond for a few moments, eyes focused on his sheet music until an audible sigh comes from his direction. “why are you so tired anyway? s’not like you.”

“for all you know, it could be,” you retort with a huff. “maybe i’m a real night owl now. maybe i’m out partying or smoking or... something.”

taerae snorts. “jiwoong hyung was not lying about those tragic acting skills.”

“oh, fuck off,” you reply.

his eyes widen. and then promptly squint with suspicion. “since when did you swear like that?”

you frown, trying to discern what he could mean. hadn’t you always been this uninhibited with your tongue? 

the answer was no. you hadn’t. and this new speech pattern of yours had a very specific origin: monday afternoon. you exhale a chuckle. maybe you had yet to realize the full extent of how this week has changed you.

and how your desire to change back continues to dwindle.

you just shrug, returning your focus to your music. you feel taerae’s eyes on you as you track your vocal section’s part in “requiem”.

you and taerae had purposefully chosen seats next to each other in choir last year so that you could goof off together during every possible free moment. it was also convenient for your parents, who always wanted to get pictures of you two together during concerts ever since high school.

now you wish you went to different universities altogether.

ironically, you might’ve had a better chance of remaining friends if you’d had distance. but you and taerae disagreed quite adamantly at the time.

halfway through your two-hour rehearsal, you’re allowed a fifteen minute break to grab water and stretch your legs. you always wander off down the empty storage hallway, where your favorite vending machine is hidden in plain sight— the one with the oreos and cheez-its and bugles in it. 

pulling out your debit card, you insert the chip into the machine and punch in the number for the snack of your choosing. you watch happily as it falls down from it’s spiral prison into the dispenser below. you start to bend down when a hand reaches in before you and grabs your snack.

“hey, what the—…” you trail off as you come face to face with a cavernous dimple. “give it back. now.”

“you’re so touchy today,” taerae condemns with a click of his tongue. he holds your snack high above his head, dangling it in a challenge. “seriously, what’s gotten into you this week?”

“oh, you know exactly what,” you huff, reaching for the snack in vain.

taerae laughs. “i guess a better question would be: what hasn’t gotten into you this week?”

“you’re so fucking funny,” you snap, fingers finally closing around the wrapper as you yank it down. 

taerae’s brow is raised in surprise, not really caring about the repossession of the snack. “seriously, i’m not used to you swearing like that. i’m not sure if i like it.”

“i assumed there was nothing you liked about me anymore,” you retort, tearing open your snack and shoveling the processed glory down your throat.

“that’s not true,” he replies, hand suddenly reaching to your face. he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, a crumb transferring from you to him. he brings his thumb to his own lips and tastes it. “i still like your pretty mouth.”

when you finally manage to pick your jaw up off the ground, you shake your head. “i know you don’t think of me like that.”

“uh...” taerae mumbles awkwardly, glancing at the row of shelves behind you. “sure, i do.”

“oh yeah? how about mina’s pool party two years ago? when we—.”

“OH, actually you—,” he interjects urgently, glaring at you to shut up. normally you would. but after this week, you no longer feel bound to quiet compliance. “you don’t need to—.”

“—were playing spin the bottle and it landed on me and you threw up in the pool because you were so disgusted by the mere thought of kissing me—”

his lips crash onto yours, hand cupping your cheek. it’s a demanding, yet tentative kiss and you’re even more confused when it ends.

you take a step backward, folding your arms across your chest. 

“can you just—...” taerae grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, glancing again at the row of shelves behind you. “yes, that’s perfect.”

“what’s perfect?” you ask with a frown, starting to grow immune to strange behavior after the week you’ve had.

“oh, um.... you,” taerae answers after a moment with a smirk. “you were always so perfect, (y/n). perfect grades. perfect manners. perfect body. i used to jump at the chance to sleep over when your mom would let me. you used to beg her until she finally said yes, because she knew you'd never misbehave. remember, honey?"

eyes wide at the dark shift in his tone, you nod slowly.

“you were so innocent... you slept shirtless, for fuck's sake. peacefully dreaming, while i pretended to be asleep on the floor,” he continues, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “hoping i wouldn't wake you up if i just lifted the covers to get a peek."

when you thought the worst of your pain this week was over…

“tae,” you breathe, eyes watering— pleading for this not to be true. it couldn’t be. at least... not in the vulgar way he was describing it. "you don't mean that."

at the sound of your despair, there's a momentary flash in his eyes. regret. you still know him like the back of your hand.

“why are you doing this?” you ask, hands flying to cup either side of his face. he flinches, trying his best not to look you in the eye again. trying not to let you see. “you don’t have to be my friend anymore if you really don’t want to. but i don’t know why you want to be like them when you’re miles better than they’ll ever—.”

“alright, that’s enough.”

the muffled, tinny voice comes out of nowhere. you look around your immediate surroundings, trying to discern where it came from.

“c’mon, you were doing so well,” the voice rings again. “you said you had this under control, bud. was i wrong to put my trust in you?”

“no, hyung,” taerae answers, shaking his head. “i—… i can do it.”

“hanbinnie?” you ask and then cough awkwardly to cover up the fact you just called your arch nemesis so affectionately. yesterday must’ve gotten to you more than you know. “i mean, hanbin-ah! what the actual hell is going on?”

“no need to worry about it, sweetheart,” hanbin’s voice dismisses again. taerae’s eyes dart towards the shelves behind you once more. you follow his gaze— jaw dropping when you see two camera lenses staring back at you. 

“what—...” you fumble, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at the back of taerae’s phone— propped up with a black music folder. “you’re recording this!?”

“afraid so,” hanbin answers for taerae. “i didn’t really think he could follow through without some supervision. don’t mind me though. unless you just can’t help yourself...”

while at the beginning of this week a situation as perverted and bizarre as this would’ve had your whole nervous system shutting down, you’re still standing tall. present in this strange moment. you smirk.

“aw, tae,” you coo mockingly, turning to your former friend. “how sentimental of you...”

a brow arches in confusion back at you. “what are you––?”

“of course you’d wanna capture such a special moment on camera,” you continue with a patronizing nod. “it’s not every day that you lose your virginity.”

“HEY THAT’S—…” taerae starts to yell at you for sharing this embarrassing personal detail that you’re sure he never disclosed to hanbin. “that’s… that’s not true.”

“oh come on, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you twist the metaphorical knife as hanbin stifles a laugh. “i’d be happy to help you out with that, since i was the one who had to listen to you whine for four years about how you were still. a. fucking—”

two fingers are down your throat in an instant. you gag, trying to step backwards, but taerae’s hand finds the back of your head— holding you in place. he removes his fingers slowly, pupils dilating when you whimper in fear.

“i’ve decided i don’t like the swearing,” he says, a sickening hint of sweetness in his tone. any upperhand you had is now gone as he traces your lips with his thumb. “such a pretty mouth. those filthy words shouldn’t be coming out of it.”

“y-you don’t get to decide that,” you stammer unconvincingly.

“so that’s what you really want, then?” he asks, sticking his thumb further into your mouth. you suck obediently. “you wanna have a filthy mouth?”

you nod, his thumb still pressed against your tongue— cheeks hollowed out as taerae bites his lip hungrily.

“then you can have it,” he says before removing his thumb from your mouth and pressing down on your neck and shoulder— forcing you to your knees in front of him. you guess joining the soccer team had really improved his strength. “just remember it’s what you said you wanted.”

taerae unbuttons his jeans, pulling the zipper down. he freezes, clearly unsure of what to do next. maybe this is your opportunity to wiggle your way out of this. if only your curiosity wasn’t equally as strong.

“we––... i have to audition after this,” you protest weakly. “when break’s over, i have to audition for the solo i’ve been prepping for so i want to keep my voice warm right now and—.”

“ah, that’s right. i did forget about that,” he affirms, looking up at the ceiling in thought before smirking back down at you. “but i think i can help keep it pretty warm, actually.”

your attempt to level with taerae only seems to encourage him as he pulls down his jeans and boxer-briefs. you inhale sharply as his hard cock comes to eye-level, so close you can really examine it. though it’s slightly smaller than hanbin’s, it’s thicker and you need to know immediately how it feels in your hand.

“whoah, you—,” taerae stumbles, eyes wide as you take him eagerly in your hand. he stares at you, lips parted as you start to pump him. “holy shit.”

“you’re sure you wanna do this?” you ask, pausing your motion to make eye contact with him. you can tell he doesn’t want you to stop, but there’s conflict lingering there that he just can’t seem to hide.

taerae clears his throat, shaking his head as he resumes his tough guy act. eyes cold once more, he shrugs. “a hole’s a hole.”

after a year of judgmental berating from your former best friend, it was almost comforting to know that he was capable of being even meaner than he already was. it meant that, for whatever reason, he usually didn’t want to be any meaner to you.

he takes both of your hands in one of his, keeping you from using them as his other hand finds the back of your neck again— guiding your face towards his cock. taerae doesn’t need to give much guidance though. you’re aching to get a taste and the way your lips sink down around him nearly knocks the wind out of him.

back pressed against the side of the vending machine, his thumb presses into your cheek— feeling himself inside of your pretty mouth. you swirl your tongue around his tip, causing him to moan softly.

there’s a little bit of rustling coming from where taerae’s phone is propped up on the shelf. you wonder if hanbin’s enjoying this. if he’s touching himself— wishing he was throat deep in you instead.

“c’mon, bud. is (y/n) running this show or are you?” hanbin asks, tone laden with frustration.

“i—... i am,” taerae asserts, grip tightening across the back of your neck. 

he starts to thrust gently into your mouth, an action that you’re not so familiar with. it rattles you a bit— loss of control after feeling like you were gaining it back.

“this is what you asked for, baby,” he reminds you, shallow thrusts starting to venture a bit deeper. “remember? you said you wanted a filthy mouth. so i’m gonna make a mess of it.”

you find the right rhythm to breathe through the thrusts. the tip of his cock is dangerously close to entering your throat, sending another wave of anxiety through you. but it’s not for long. 

your eyes meet taerae’s and, though he’s the one putting you in that danger, you suddenly feel very safe. you let out a sigh, the vibration causing him to mewl. he scratches at your neck affectionately, putting pressure against it to feel himself inside you as he fucks your throat.

“see, keeping that throat nice and warm,” taerae coos as his breathing gets heavier— and his moaning gets louder. “take me so well, i—.”

“shut the fuck up, dude,” hanbin scolds, his own breath growing labored. “do you wanna get caught before you can win the—?”

before hanbin can finish his thought, you feel a warm, sticky liquid begin to pour down your throat. you pull off of taerae, sputtering and coughing as you try to swallow it down. wiping your mouth, you look up at taerae who is looking at you like he wants to dive straight into the han river and never return.

“for fucks sake, are you actually a virgin or something?” hanbin asks angrily. “is that really all you can last for? and, jesus, you’ve gotta warn someone before you do that.”

your throat is starting to burn and you’d love to be able to say something, anything, but the rasp that comes out isn’t pleasant-feeling. you rub at your throat with your now-free hands as taerae’s expression just turns more horrified.

“did i... did i hurt you? fuck, i didn’t mean to—,” taerae starts to babble uselessly until hanbin claps loudly.

“good work, team!” he says as he finishes his round of applause. “mvp definitely goes to me, for coming up with this idea in the first place. i’ll see the campus activities secretary at the big game tomorrow, right?”

“mm,” is all you can croak out. you wish it sounded angrier.

“and i’ll see you at practice tonight, man. i—,” hanbin cuts himself off with a confused look. “wait, where did he go?”

you face forward, expecting to see taerae standing next to the vending machine but... hanbin’s right. he’s vanished.

“that kid’s a piece of work,” hanbin says, shaking his head. “you think he’d be more grateful after i took him under my wing and made him popular. i even got him a spot on the soccer team after a lot of private coaching. i mean, he’s benched for life, but still!”

you’re a saint among men, is what you wish you could say. instead, you just roll your eyes.

“just take his phone and give it back to him in class, will you?” hanbin asks as you stand up and make your way toward the shelves. “and drink some hot tea for that throat, okay? throw some honey in it and you’ll be good as new for tomorrow, i promise.”

you sigh. and you nod. and you pick up taerae’s phone and end the video call. 

and you go back to choir and sit in your black music chair and wait for taerae to come back, but he doesn’t. and when it’s time to audition for the solo you’ve been preparing for, you stay seated and quiet. 

seated and quiet.

like you’ve been for so long.

and when practice ends and the choir room is empty and you remain seated and quiet in your black music chair and tears begin to well up in your eyes, you don’t cry.

you smile.

you stand up.

you shout (briefly, so as not to disturb anyone in neighboring classrooms).

at some point or another, you forgot how to do these things. or you were made to feel like you couldn’t or shouldn’t. 

but that’s who you really are.

who you were always meant to be.

not a juliet. not a violin. not a goalie. not a bird. not a pretty mouth.

you.

you pick up your bag off the floor (and taerae’s) and throw them both over your shoulder, making a beeline toward the door.

absolutely, hanbinnie, you think. you’ll see me at the big game.

[codenamesazanka]

What Deku doesn't understand is that the “League of Villains” encapsulates exactly who Tenko - the Crying Child Deku was so adamant about saving - is. He thinks reaching out a hand, smashing that hatred, and saving Tenko means getting Tenko to abandon the League. He is completely wrong - and he would've realized this if he just talked to Shigaraki in all the time he fought against Shigaraki. And listened to what Tenko said in Chapter 418.

The League of Villains is the group Shigaraki Tomura created in order to wreck shit and kill All Might and bring down Hero Society. Shigaraki picked the name and picked the purpose and picked its members and he leads them towards the apocalypse—

—and this is also the group of outcasts that are his comrades and friends; that he gathered and created a place for, where they can be themselves in a society that ruthlessly denied them that. He accepted Twice without care for his insanity and inability to use his quirk, never pushed Twice to do more than he was able to. He accepted Spinner despite being a Stain fanboy and having a weak, nearly useless quirk, and promised him the destruction of the world that hurt him; for all of League. When Toga was pushed by the other members to choose a Villain name despite wanting to live as herself, as Toga Himiko, Shigaraki spoke up in indirect defense of her choice, providing himself as an example of someone who didn't use a Villain name, and who can override the boss' words? Dabi was allowed to come and go as he pleased, and although he was the most aloof member, by the end, he was declaring the world burn for "our" sake - plural; the League's. Mr. Compress believed in Shigaraki enough to entrust an ancestor's dream and family legacy to him; when surrounded by Heroes at Jaku, he was willing to die to save Shigaraki, to let him escape.

The League is a collection of people that Shigaraki cares for - that he saved. That was always the surest sign that ‘Tenko’, sweet and kind and hero-aspiring boy, was alive inside.

Without the League, without having seen the time Shigaraki spent with the League, a reader can just write off Shigaraki and say there’s nothing left in there worth saving. The League is literally the evidence for Tenko have still existed and that Shigaraki was "worth" saving, long before we ever saw ‘Inner Tenko’.

But Deku doesn't understand that.

To go further: outside of the League, Shigaraki still had his distorted but undeniable kindness and fairness. I've spoke about it before, and sorry for repeating myself, but even towards his Villain enemies, he gives them consideration: Shigaraki left Overhaul crippled, but 100 chapters later, he's still continuing Overhaul's work - the quirk erasing bullets - and even laments that Overhaul would be disappointed when Shigaraki sees some of the bullets destroyed. All For One at Jaku tries to take over his body, at the time seemingly only a phantom voice in his head, but Shigaraki still acknowledges that he's grateful AFO took him in. It's only when AFO oversteps that again and again, taking possession of his body, that Shigaraki would tear the AFO vestige from inside out and mock him when the opportunity arises.

And there's ReDestro, and the importance of the ending of MVA. RD and his army picks a fight with Shigaraki - something that Shigaraki explicitly points out; the blame for what happened to Deika is on largely them. RD challenged Shigaraki and the League; blackmailed them, kidnapped their broker, and attacked their pitiful 6-member team with a town-sized militia; insulted Shigaraki, destroyed The Hands, tried to kill him. Shigaraki had every reason to just dust RD while the man was sitting there bleeding out with his legs cut off. Just finish him off without even giving the guy last words. It was more than fair.

But Shigaraki didn't. He went and talked to RD. To mock him for picking this fight, but it was still a talk. And when RD acknowledge his defeat and kowtowed, Shigaraki let him live. Took over his army and resources, but RD was still alive and even made lieutenant.

Without this - if Shigaraki had just dusted RD after defeating him - we would have only seen Shigaraki as a conquerer and not someone who can be reasoned with. He would just be AFO with different minions. And Shigaraki wasn't.

He can be brutal, and he seems like he's destroying for evil fun; but Shigaraki has his compassion and justice. A Villainous Hero for the Villains. It's why he destroys; it's why he doesn't regret his actions, why he wishes good luck to Deku to continue it, even after Deku smashed his core of anger and hatred. Shigaraki saved his League, and he refuses to disavow doing so. Because he shouldn't.

And Deku just doesn't understand that.

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 2: In the Dark

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: You want to be the star of your own love story instead of watching your friends fall in love around you. Just one night opens your eyes to a method to put yourself in a starring role, even if it's not quite in the way you'd always imagined.

length: 11,005

tags: slowburn, friends to lovers, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (public & in private), general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter

Haechan was your first love. 

You met him at a formative time in your life, when you were getting your first true taste of freedom after moving away to attend the university of your dreams. 

At first Haechan was just the funny guy in your orientation group, but then you started seeing him around campus from time to time, noticed that he sat in the middle of the large forum classroom your Psych class was held in, and then you discovered that his friends were friends with some of yours. Your circles overlapped, you were actually both studying for the same degree, and you took full advantage of both of those facts to ingratiate yourself into his life. 

His name was Lee Donghyuck, but his friends called him Haechan. 

The first time he smiled at you with his full, bright smile and told you to call him Haechan, you felt like your heart liquefied in your chest, filling you with this molten feeling of happiness. 

But despite how hard and fast you fell for him, Haechan didn’t look at you as anything more than just one of his friends. You knew why. There was another girl in the group he had his eye on, though he never made a move on her either. You watched for years as all of you danced around each other. She dated several guys and slept around; Haechan slept around a good amount; and you did your very best to fall out of love with a guy you were fairly certain wasn’t interested. 

Your mutual group of friends wasn’t one that necessarily drew lines when it came to relationships. Pretty much everyone had kissed or slept with everyone else, either directly or indirectly. You’d had your share of flings with some of the guys. A whirlwind romance over the summer between your second and third years at university with Mark, then a good portion of your third year you and Xiaojun had been fuckbuddies. 

But through it all, your foolish heart was set on one man. Haechan. 

It wasn’t until your last year at school that you finally saw an opportunity, a little chance for Haechan to move on from your other friend. She started sneaking around with Shotaro, and though no one called them out on it, you thought they were being pretty obvious. Disappearing together at parties, suddenly hanging out together a lot more. 

But they kept it secret, so you never said a word, figuring they would tell all of you when they were ready. 

Your fourth year of study was nearing the halfway point, and this semester felt the most brutal yet. The finish line was nearly in sight, and that was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Your whole future lay on the other side of that line, and sure, you still had the rest of this semester and the next before graduation, but really that was only a few short months away. 

On a long holiday weekend, your friend group planned a camping trip. Someone in the group knew someone who knew someone (a dad’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s kid type of situation) that had a lakefront property that they usually rented out to tourists, set up for glamping and boating and all sorts of things that could keep all of you well preoccupied for a weekend. A deal was made with that distant acquaintance, and your group of friends was given free rein of the property for the weekend. 

You arrived late Friday night with the last of your friends. Of course, the ones that had gotten there earlier in the day had claimed the best rooms, and since you were among the last, you were stuck just wherever, which meant that you were meant to sleep in the room with Karina and Winter, which wasn’t the worst place you could think to sleep, but it wasn’t the best either. They were fine, usually friendly, but among all of your friends, you were probably the least close with them. 

So you slept in the room that night, feeling like you were invading the two girls’ space, and first thing on Saturday morning, you were up and ready for the day to start. 

It was a beautiful day. Since Xiaojun was studying culinary arts, he made a very nice breakfast for all of you, while YangYang – who spenting most weekends bartending – made mimosas. 

Starting out, everything was great. 

It was sunny and warm, the water was perfect. There was a nice little beach, a boat, a dock. Some people played in the water, a few people left to hike on trails in the woods around the lake, you played a round of beach volleyball. 

It was a fun day except that Xiaojun kept sticking rather close to your side. It would have been fine if his intentions were just friendly, but it was the way he kept trying to flirt with you that put a slight downer on the day. Every time you tried to put some distance between you and him, he would find you again. 

You liked him as a friend, but what you’d had with him the previous year was in the past. You weren’t interested in being anything more than friends with him right now. 

At one point, you’d gone out to the end of the dock, hoping that you’d finally get the chance to be alone. Karina was floating on a fancy blow-up pool float that she’d somehow tethered to the dock to keep from floating off into the lake, but she was minding her own business, and you didn’t think she would bother you. 

But then you hear footsteps behind you, and you’re ready to turn around and fuss at Xiaojun to just leave you alone, but then Haechan plops down beside you. He calls over to Karina, and you watch her flick a mildly irritated look at him, but true to character, Haechan doesn’t let that deter him. He slips into the water, and swims right over to her. 

You try to ignore both of them as you lie down on your back on the weathered boards. A light breeze keeps the heat off the sun from fully baking you, and your feet are in the lake water, helping a bit with combating the heat too. You can hear Haechan and Karina talking, hear them laughing, hear voices carrying over the water from the beach behind you. 

Eventually, Haechan lifts himself back up into the dock, spraying you with tiny droplets of water. You’re about to complain about that when Haechan speaks instead. 

“Hey, man!” Haechan calls out in greeting. You don’t even have to look to know who it is going to be. “That breakfast this morning was great.”

“Thanks,” Xiaojun says appreciatively as he approaches. “I have plans for dinner tonight too.”

“He’s using us as a test for his restaurant plans,” you say, tilting your head and squinting in the sunlight. The shadowy figures of Xiaojun and Haechan stand there above you. “You’re both blocking my light.”

Which is how you come to be sunbathing and cloudgazing with Xiaojun and Haechan. Xiaojun’s arm rests against yours, he keeps tapping his foot against your ankle every few minutes too, and you know exactly why he’s being like this. Maybe if he would just come out and ask if you would have sex with him, you would, but he’s just constantly trying to initiate contact and being clingy instead, and you’re not enjoying that. But Haechan’s presence, on the other hand, is something you are enjoying. 

He’s in a particularly good mood, chatty and laughing, pointing up at the clouds to tell you what shapes he sees. 

“I used to do this a lot when I was younger,” he tells you. “My family lives in Jeju, and sometimes my younger siblings and I would just lie on the beach when we got too tired of playing, and we would look up at the clouds.”

You turn your head, resting your cheek on the warm boards beneath you as you look over at Haechan. He’s just gazing up at the sky, one arm lifted to point at a specific cloud that you have no interest in gazing at right now. You’re looking at him beside you, sunlight personified with his golden skin and bright smile. He’s talking and Xiaojun is too, but you’re not listening to either of them. 

And then Haechan looks over at you, and you snap your head around to look up at the clouds again. 

The rest of the day passes. Dinner preparations begin. You disappear inside to shower the feel of sweat, sunscreen, sand, and lakewater off of you. As evening sinks in, the air cools off, so you dress warmer before you return outside to sit by the fire. Most people are gathered out here, though a few of your friends are still inside cleaning themselves up or finishing up preparing food, but you find Haechan sitting in a foldable camp chair with an open seat right beside him. 

You take it. 

He flinches, startled at your sudden appearance, but he relaxes as you start talking. You talk about school of all things – you’d not thought ahead to figure out anything else to talk about right now, only knowing that you wanted to talk with him. But you do end up offering him some study help, and your heart beats a little faster when you think about the chance to be alone with Haechan in a study room in the library or at his dorm maybe. You enjoy Haechan’s presence, so you’ll take any opportunity to be alone with him, even if it is just to study.

“I might take you up on that. But like you said, this is a nice break,” he sighs, and tips his head back, looking similar to how he’d looked earlier on the dock. “I feel like this weekend we can all just relax and let loose.”

You want to let loose, really. To be a little careless tonight and just let your walls fall down, maybe use the excuse of some alcohol to kiss Haechan, to entice him into bed, and if it’s weird in the morning then you can just blame it on the alcohol. Your mind plays with the idea of drunkenly kissing Haechan tonight, sliding into his lap here at the bonfire to kiss him in front of all of your friends. You can already imagine the hoots, whistles, and catcalls, the sounds of surprise because none of them would expect something like that of you. 

You want to let loose, to look as carefree and relaxed as Haechan does. 

Haechan looks over at you, and you realize you’re smiling. He smiles too, an almost involuntary curve of his lips to match your own. 

"When do you ever hold back from letting loose, Lee Donghyuck?" You ask, feeling a happy laugh bubble from your lips. He always seems so carefree, very go-with-the-flow and happy. The idea of Haechan needing to become more loose makes you laugh. 

You see a hint of surprise in his eyes before he’s laughing with you. And then you’re laughing even harder, both of you leaning in towards each other with the gravity of the emotions. 

To no one’s surprise, least of all your own, Xiaojun appears to take the seat on your other side, wondering what you’re both laughing about. He does his very best to steal your attention away from Haechan, and it actually works. 

You do like Xiaojun, he’s a good friend, which is why your friends with benefits relationship had worked out so well for so long last year; he knows the right things to say to you, so you are fully swept into a new conversation with him, and when you next look around, Haechan is gone. 

You try not to let your disappointment show, but you think it must anyway because Xiaojun seems to make it his purpose for the rest of the evening to cheer you up. The food does a good job of that, and then Xiaojun and Chenle’s company does well at keeping you entertained as night falls, a chill creeping in off the lake, and YangYang’s alcoholic creations – as well as a typical cooler of beer – make their rounds. 

You don’t really pay too much attention to the rest of your friends while Chenle is regaling you with a tale of a trip he took, and you’re definitely not paying attention to how much other people are drinking, until you start hearing raised voices, teasing laughter, and Haechan’s voice cutting above the rest. You turn to look. 

They’re teasing Shotaro again, that quickly becomes obvious. 

He’s sitting there in his seat beside your friend he’s secretly been hooking up with for weeks now, and he looks a little embarrassed, but he’s still in the stage of not minding it. But Haechan is the one leading the teasing, and as you watch, you can tell that he’s setting Shotaro’s girl off, she’s getting rather prickly. 

You can tell Haechan is a bit more drunk than most other people. There’s a flush to his cheeks and his neck, a hazy gleam to his eyes, a slight slur to his speech. He’s not wasted, but he’s more drunk than not. He’s just teasing, and as you listen to him, you realize that he’s throwing a few barbed points in there, like he knows something most of your friends don’t. 

Does he know about the secret relationship too?

She gets all defensive, throwing some shots back at Haechan, and that’s when you see the drunken haze clear in his eyes, replaced by an angry heat as she calls his skills in bed into question. The teasing has become an argument, and you watch as Haechan rises to his feet, ready to face off with the girl, and he likely would have if it weren’t for Shotaro and Renjun stepping in. 

Renjun propels Haechan back into the cabin while Shotaro leads his girlfriend off towards the dark lakeshore. 

“Wow,” Xiaojun whistles beside you. “What the hell was that about?”

Chenle laughs. “Taro and her have something going on, don’t they? And Haechan is jealous.”

You keep glancing towards the house, looking for any sign of Renjun and Haechan returning. It was both a little bit scary and also arousing to watch Haechan get so heated. He had been a little bit of a dick, trying to out the secret couple to everyone, and also for really getting in there with teasing Shotaro. 

You’d once talked about it with Shotaro, and he told you that he usually didn’t mind the teasing, because he knew it was lighthearted and it’s just the way that all of the friends teased each other. But you also knew that sometimes it got taken a bit too far, and it was clear that tonight the scales had tipped more in that direction. Haechan had almost pushed it too far tonight, and you knew he was drunk so his judgment was perhaps a bit impaired in that regard. 

Eventually the happy couple returns to the bonfire, receiving congratulations from your friends, and a while after that Haechan returns. 

You keep looking at him, unable to keep your eyes off of him for too long. The flush has faded from his cheeks, and he keeps drinking water for the rest of the night while he snacks on leftovers from dinner, on s’mores YangYang makes, on snacks that people had brought down from the cabin earlier. 

Slowly everyone turns in for the night until only a few of you remain, the number dwindling down to just you, Xiaojun, Jeno, Mark, Haechan, Shotaro, and Shotaro’s girlfriend. 

Haechan has been moodily staring into the fire for the past fifteen minutes. You’ve been watching him do that while ignoring the way that Xiaojun has his hand resting in the armrest of your chair, palm-up like he wants you to take notice, as if he’s hoping that you’ll take his hand and go into one of the fancy glamping tents that are set up sporadically between the cabin and the lakeshore. 

It’s gotten a lot colder as the night has drawn on. Even with your pants and sweatshirt, with a blanket draped over your lap and the blazing fire, you still feel chilled every time that a lick of wind blows in off the lake. It doesn’t help that your feet are bare, so you pull them up beneath your blanket as you shiver. 

Xiaojun notices of course, and he grabs the blanket someone had left on the chair on his other side, and he covers your lap with it. If you’re this cold that you need a second blanket, you think maybe it’s time that you go inside the warmer cabin for the night. Besides, it’s getting late.

Jeno, who you’re fairly certain has been in a competition with himself for how much he can drink tonight without getting blackout drunk, grins crookedly, and suggests, “Maybe before we head in, we all take a dip in the hot tub?”

“Nah, I think I’m done for the night,” Mark sighs and rises to his feet. “It’s too cold.”

“I’m sure it helps that you’ve got someone new to warm your bed though, I bet, Mark!” Jeno laughs as Mark gets up and starts to walk away. 

You laugh along with the rest, knowing that Jeno’s referring to how Mark and one of the girls had disappeared into the cabin for a while earlier tonight. Mark just flips you all his middle finger. 

To your surprise, it’s the new happy couple on the other side of the fire that agrees with Jeno. Haechan lifts his gaze from the fire, brushing it over the couple, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he looks at Jeno. Haechan shrugs and agrees, and from there of course you’re going to agree too. Xiaojun, to your complete surprise, decides that he’s just going to head to bed. 

Xiaojun trudges back to the house alone, wishing you all a good night. The five of you follow the path back up to the cabin’s deck, walking around the side of the deck to the hot tub. 

You feel only slightly embarrassed as you watch the others quickly strip their clothes off. Shirts, sweatshirts, pants until they’re left only in their underwear. Haechan at least still had his swim trunks on from earlier today when everyone had been in the lake, so he’s provided a bit more coverage than the rest of you. You feel his eyes dart over to you as you’re the last to let your shirt fall, the last to shimmy your sweatpants down to your ankles, slipping them off along with your socks. 

You’re too aware that the bra and panties you’re wearing are mismatched. Panties white (a horrible choice for wearing into a hot tub, but it’s not like when you’d dressed earlier this evening you’d expected the night to go like this) and your bra just a lacy bralette that hugs your tits and does very little to hide the way that your nipples peak in the cool night air. You quickly step into the hot tub and dunk yourself in up to your chin, hoping the bubbling surface will hide you. 

It doesn’t take long for you to relax. None of them care or notice. Shotaro and his sweetheart are too enamored with each other. Jeno is finally teetering on the edge of dozy drunkenness. Haechan keeps alternating between looking up at the night sky and trying not to look at the girl tucked against Shotaro’s side. He’s sitting beside you though, and his knee keeps nudging yours under the water. 

One of the jets sits between you and Haechan, and it keeps brushing your side and your thigh, tickling you in a way that thrills you more than anything else. A different wet heat builds between your legs, especially when Haechan leans over to laugh at something you’ve said and he rests a hand momentarily on your thigh. 

You try to ignore your desires. To push it all down and tell yourself that you’re being stupid right now. 

But then his arm drapes over your shoulders (and Jeno’s on his other side, but you pretend that doesn’t matter) and all thoughts vanish except for your brain making a static moan at the feeling of his body warm and hard against your side, his fingers resting against your upper arm. His laugh sounds right beside your ear. 

You don’t even remember what it is that all of you talk about. Maybe classes. Maybe finals coming up or plans for the winter break that follows. It’s not until you smile at the cuddly couple across from you, until Haechan tenses up and withdraws his arm from your shoulders that your mind snaps back into place. 

He stands up and you lift your gaze in awe of him. Water drips from his shoulders over his chest and down his stomach to his navel and his hips. The swim trunks hang low on his hips, weighed down by the water soaking them, drawing your gaze even lower. You bite your tongue as you notice the slight bulge in the front of his shorts, and again you feel a pulse of need and want in your core. 

Haechan doesn’t say a word, just climbs out, grabs his clothes and disappears around the corner of the cabin. 

Is that it? He’s done for the night? He’s had enough of the happy couple rubbing it in his face?

You immediately want to follow him, but you give it a few minutes before you bid the others goodnight, and you hurriedly pull yourself from the water, cursing as the bitter air bites in deep. Even once you’ve bundled your dry clothes against your chest and made a run for the back door of the cabin, you’re shivering and wishing one of you had at least thought to grab towels. 

Jeno’s only a few steps behind you. He looks happy as he comes through the door, a loose grin on his lips. He drops his armful of clothes into one of the chairs around the small kitchen table, mumbles a goodnight, and then he vanishes through the doorway that leads to the room several of the guys are sharing tonight. 

There’s a vent blowing warm air positioned right beside the kitchen table, and as a shiver wracks your body, you collapse into one of the chairs right there. You fold your arms on the table, drop your forehead onto your arms, and you try to purge your mind and body of the lust you’re feeling from the sight of Haechan emerging from the hot tub like a sea god. 

It doesn’t work. 

Your mind’s eye keeps honing in on that bulge you’d seen. You’ve heard tales before of Haechan. He’s a little bit of a manwhore at times, slept with plenty of girls you’ve been friends with, so you’ve got some awareness of what he’s like. You’ve got a mental image painted by a very descriptive sex-positive friend of yours majoring in the liberal arts. She has an emphasis in painting and poetry, both of which she has created for almost all of her partners including Haechan. 

So you have a somewhat specific idea of what his dick may look like, and a more general idea of what kind of skills he might possess, and neither of those things are what you need right now when you’re desperately horny and stuck in a house with all of your friends and zero privacy. 

But they are all sleeping, right? Karina and Winter had turned in rather early, so they’re probably deep into REM sleep, so if you just quietly come into the room, maybe you can try to quietly rub one out before sleep. Or you could try to sneak into the shower. It would be nice and warm in there, private too.

Before you can make a decision, you hear the squeak of a floorboard, and the soft sound of bare feet on the floor. You turn your head so you can see who it is. 

Haechan. 

His eyes land on you, a glimmer of surprise and then his face lights up.

“Are you just gonna sleep out here?” He teases. “You know the King bed upstairs is still open if it’s the idea of rooming with Karina and Winter that has you scared to sleep in there.” 

You have nothing against those two. They’re nice and friendly, but you’re not terribly close with them, and when you’d placed your bag on the bottom bunk the previous evening upon your arrival, they’d exchanged looks that made you feel like they’d rather share the room themselves without your presence. Last night had been fine, and it’s not the reason you’re lingering out here at all. 

Haechan looks at you, like really looks at you, and suddenly you remember that you’re still in just your bralette and panties, still clinging wetly and semi-transparently to you. All of you is exposed in that moment. A blush rises hotly to your cheeks as you rock up to your feet. You press your clothes close to your chest again.

“Why is no one sleeping up there?” You ask, glancing at the set of stairs that leads up to the only King bed in the cabin. 

“A few of us played for it last night. Winner got the single room.” He grins, and proudly tells you. “I won. But I’m not tired yet, so you’re definitely welcome to sleep up there if you want.”

Your heart stutters briefly in your chest. “And what about when you do get tired? Where are you gonna sleep then?” 

He shrugs. “That’s a problem for then. I’m gonna head back outside. Fire’s still going so someone should probably keep an eye on it.”

Haechan reaches for the doorknob of the door, and right as it turns in his hand, the words leap out of you: “When you get tired, Haechan….” He turns to look at you, and his eyes are gentle and deep, and you forget your words for a moment. “Uh, well… it’s a big bed. I'm happy to share.”

You’re definitely a little bit in love with the way he smiles then. This slow smile, surprised and leaning a little bit towards a smirk. His eyes sweep over you quickly, from your bare toes curling on the floor up to your face which feels hot right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Haechan says, and then he’s gone, stepping out into the night. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s from the cool breeze that snuck inside or if it’s just a chill running down your spine at your own boldness in inviting Haechan to join you in bed. Maybe not necessarily in the way that you want him, but certainly in more of a way than you’ve had him before. 

Almost as soon as the back door clicks shut again, you’re off, hurrying up the stairs and taking the turn to the King bedroom. The other doors up here are closed, and when you step inside this room, immediately you’re assaulted with the smell of Haechan’s favored fragrance. You’ve asked him before what it is, but you never remember. All you know is that this room now smells like him. 

You close the door behind you, and you don’t even bother to turn on the lights. This room is situated on the corner of the house, and with windows on two of the walls, you’re provided just enough light to see by. The flickering of the firelight barely comes through the window to your left, and the window right ahead of you is filled with the glow of the lights strung through the pergola over the hot tub. 

The bed is still unmade from when Haechan left it this morning. His bag is on the desk, several of his clothes flung around. There’s a door slightly ajar that leads to an en-suite bathroom. You should probably shower again after being in the hot tub, but now that you’re this close to the bed you’re not feeling like doing anything more than just crawling into bed and passing out. 

Before you succumb to the lure of sleep, you take a moment to peek out the window facing the lakeshore and the bonfire. You can see the bonfire still going, see the chairs still circled around it as well as the two fancy glamping tents that no one has used yet, except Xiaojun when he took a nap earlier. 

But you don’t see Haechan. 

You scan the shadows, wondering if you’ve somehow overlooked him. 

And then you notice a shadow stretching across the deck beneath you. A long shadow originating from the corner of the house, just out of sight. It’s definitely a man-shaped shadow, the lights over the hot tub cast the shadow diagonally backwards across the deck until it fades in the light coming from the back door. You notice the shadow isn’t moving, and you’re curious as to why. 

You just barely manage to not stub your toe or trip over anything as you move across to the other window, the one looking down just around the corner of the house. 

A quiet gasp leaves your mouth as you look down at the hot tub below. 

Assuming that it’s Haechan’s stationary shadow at the corner of the house, you can understand why he might be frozen right there. 

Shotaro and his girlfriend are having sex in the hot tub. She’s riding him, his hands all over her body as she moves on top of him. You’re sure if the window was open even a little bit you might be able to hear them. 

Is Haechan down there just watching them? Like a pervert?

That’s gross….

… But you also kind of like it. 

Your mind gets absorbed into a fantasy, imagining him standing there touching himself while he watches his friend fuck the girl Haechan wishes he was fucking. Haechan the voyeur, the pervert, masturbating while watching two of his friends fuck. 

Thinking of that just sends you farther down the path, and you step away from the window, sliding into the bed without delay. 

The sheets definitely smell like Haechan. You slide into the spot where the sheets look most rumpled, rest your head on the pillow that looks slept upon. You bury your nose in the fabric and breathe in, wrapped entirely in that scent that reminds you so much of Haechan. 

Your mind still swirls with the fantasy of him down there touching himself, the images in your mind turn to just Haechan stroking his cock, maybe a scenario where he’d found you alone in the hot tub, touching yourself and he stands beside the tub, jerking off while you make yourself cum on your fingers.

You can’t help yourself when you slide your fingers down your body, dipping them inside your damp panties to touch yourself while you breathe in Haechan, while you let the scent intoxicate you and build your fantasy, although your mind can’t settle on just one. A fantasy where you’re tangled with him right here in these sheets, one where he comes up to go to bed and finds you with your fingers buried in your cunt and his name a chant on your lips, another where you joined him out at the fire to blow him while the crackling heat of the fire warms your back, and one where you’d dragged him into one of those unused tents out there and let him ride your ass until you can’t fucking move tomorrow. 

You cum on your fingers, making your panties just that much wetter as you drip around your fingers and rut your hips against the bed. Your moan of Haechan’s name is muffled against the pillow as you bite down on it and wish that it was his shoulder you were biting. 

Your body goes so relaxed, boneless after your orgasm. You don’t even pull your fingers away, leaving your hand inside your panties as you breathe and wait for your pounding heart to return to normal. The house is quiet around you, though you swear you hear a moan from outside the window. 

You don’t know what drives you to do it, what filthy part of you thinks it’s okay, but once you regain some mobility in your limbs, you slip your hand from your panties. Your fingers are still wet and slick, and you lift them to wipe them on the pillow case, mingling your scent right there with Haechan’s. You breathe it in, and your heart thrills at the combination, the perfect perfume. 

Just as you’re about to roll over, to slide onto the other side of the bed to leave Haechan’s already slept-in side for him again, the door of the room opens. 

You jump slightly. 

“Sorry, it’s just me.” Haechan apologizes. 

You sink back into the sheets on his side of the bed. He closes the door behind him, and you hear his shuffling footsteps cross the floor. You hear the soft whisper of his sweatshirt being pulled over his head,  a similar sound when a moment later he drops his swim trunks. He steps into the en-suite for a few moments, and when he emerges you can just see the shadowy shape of him moving over to his bag on the desk. He pulls out some sweatpants, slips them on and then crosses back to the other side of the bed. 

“You smell like lake water, bonfire smoke, and chlorine,” you mumble as he slides into the bed. Not that it’s a bad thing that he smells like that because even under it all, you can still catch that definite Haechan-scent. You still wish you could pull yourself closer and bury your nose against him, breathing it all in. 

“I’ll shower in the morning,” Haechan says, his words already half-muffled. “You’re on my side of the bed, by the way.”

He shuffles a little closer, and although this bed is big, you’re still very aware of him when his foot bumps against yours. 

“You’re the one that invited me. Guess you should’ve been more specific about where you wanted me.” You flip over onto your side to face him. His eyes gleam slightly in the dim light still coming in from the lights over the hot tub. 

“Next time I’ll make it clear where I want you,” Haechan says. 

You don’t know what exactly he means by that, but you’ll take it as a promise that there will be a next time for you to end up in his bed. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” 

Xiaojun asks it so casually that you almost don’t even hear the question. 

Since the camping trip just two weeks ago, you’ve given in to his desires, slipped back into your old ways. Reentering into your friends-with-benefits sort of situation with him. 

You’re currently in the process of extracting yourself from his bed, dressing yourself as you sit perched on the edge of the bed. You pause what you’re doing to look back over your shoulder at him. 

Xiaojun is reclined among the messy sheets, carefree with his sex hair and his bare chest dotted with hickeys and marks left behind by your fingernails. He’s watching you warily. 

“A date?” You ask. He nods. “Where’s this coming from?”

He shrugs. “I just thought maybe it might be nice to hang out just the two of us without it only meaning sex. Plus there’s that Halloween party tomorrow night. Most of our friends are gonna be there. There’s booze, movies, music. It should be fun.” Seeing the apprehensive look on your face, Xiaojun says, “It doesn’t have to be like a date-date. I just want to have someone there to have fun with, y’know? A date for the party.”

You like Xiaojun. He’s hot, handsome, fun. He’s nice too and he treats his dog like his firstborn child which is kinda endearing, but you’re not really into him like in a romantic sort of way. You’re too hung up on Haechan to allow yourself to truly develop feelings for anyone else. And truthfully, that night during the camping trip when you’d shared Haechan’s bed is part of the reason you’d so eagerly thrown yourself back into Xiaojun’s arms. 

You’d woken late the next morning on the trip still in bed with Haechan. Your nose was buried against that spot on the pillow that smelled like you and like him, and you’d maybe let yourself watch him sleep for a few more minutes until you decided that it was creepy to watch him. So you’d left, fleeing down to the kitchen.

Haechan hadn’t even acknowledged you sharing his bed. He’d only spoken a few words to you for the rest of that day, and then that night you hadn’t dared return to that bed, too worried that you would throw yourself at Haechan and be faced with outright rejection or maybe he would accept your horny advances but that’s all it would be. Just sex, like this with Xiaojun. And you might end up heartbroken. 

So you’d turned to Xiaojun. 

Maybe he’s exactly the distraction you need. 

“Do we have to wear costumes?” You weren’t planning to do anything like that this year, and with Halloween only a day away, your choices are probably pretty slim. 

“Please?” He wheedles, giving you a sweet smile. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The following night, you’re walking arm-in-arm with Xiaojun across the long lawn in front of one of the nicer buildings on campus. The air is rather nippy, so you wish you’d dressed warmer considering this party is outdoors, but at least there are the large bonfires to put off a bit of heat. And Xiaojun is kind and considerate and keeps you close to his side with a jacket draped over your shoulders. 

The jacket kinda ruins your costume but you don’t really care. You came dressed in contrast to Xiaojun’s devilish costume, so you’re an angel tonight, wearing just a short white dress, white shoes, a hastily made halo, and enough sparkly highlighter on your face and collarbones that you seem to glow when any amount of light touches your skin. 

You wander around with Xiaojun for a while, just chatting and strolling around the bonfires, stopping to grab drinks, even briefly dancing together where there’s a DJ. Eventually you find a small cluster of your friends – Renjun, Jisung, YangYang – but you visit with them only briefly before moving on. 

You want some excitement tonight, and you know that Xiaojun had invited you on this not-date with a promise of seeing each other in a non-sexual way. But you want sex. That’s your favorite thing to do with Xiaojun.

So once you’ve led him away from your friends, you pull him around the side of the building that presides over this long lawn where the party is being held. Everyone is too focused on the party being held in front of the building to notice the couple sneaking around the side, so you pull Xiaojun against you as you lean back against the wall, dragging his mouth down against yours for a kiss.

He falls into that easily enough, succumbing to your kiss instantly. But you don’t want just a kiss. You want more.

Xiaojun moans softly when you curl your fingers around his wrist, when you pull his hand to your thigh. You lift the short skirt of your angelic white dress, and you guide his hand higher until his fingers find the soft warmth of your panties. 

“Been thinking about your fingers, Xiaojun.” You press the words against his lips between kisses, begging a little when you say, “Need to feel your fingers inside me. Now.”

“Now?” He repeats, pulling his mouth away. “Here?”

You hum, nodding your head, using your fingers against his to massage them against your clit. Xiaojun just watches you, a curious look on his face when he asks, “Won’t we get in trouble if anyone catches us?

“No, Xiaojun, it’s kinda hot, right?” You tug him forward by the lapels of his jacket. “Please?”

“But what if someone sees?” He looks around, peeking right around the corner to the steps up into the building not so far away at all. Currently there are a few people clustered around the base of the stairs, chatting over their drinks, their laughter loud enough to mask any sounds you might make. They’re so close by, and that thrills you.

You want to know what it feels like to have sex somewhere that you might be caught, somewhere that someone might be able to watch. 

Xiaojun still looks hesitant.

“Look,” you sigh, patting his shoulder lightly. “We don’t have to if you really don’t want to. I just thought it might be something fun and different.”

The way Xiaojun looks at you then tells you a lot without him even having to say any words aloud. He thought tonight might be fun and different too, different than you just wanting to fuck him.

But you’re feeling the urge to do something slightly dangerous tonight, and maybe it’s because ever since that night at the cabin about two weeks ago, all you’ve been thinking about has been the way that Haechan stood down there on the deck, peeking around the corner at Shotaro and his girlfriend. And you’ve wanted someone to watch you. Of course, a part of you kinda wishes it would be Haechan, but when you’ve actually thought about it over the recent days, you’ve realized you really like the idea of anyone watching you.

Maybe you’re an exhibitionist. It’s a new thing that has never occurred to you before, but lately it’s all you’ve been thinking about.

“I can’t.” Xiaojun shakes his head and takes a step back. “I have some… different things that I’m into, but I just can’t get into this. Public stuff is not a thing for me.”

That’s your cue to ask him what is a thing for him? What sorts of different kinks is Xiaojun into?

But you don’t ask because you realize in that moment that you don’t care. This is why you’d ended your friends with benefits relationship the first time around. The sex was generally good and fun, but there were some differences in what you wanted to try out even that first time around. You’d forgotten that.

“It’s fine, Xiaojun. You can leave.” Your words are maybe a little too cold and dismissive, but Xiaojun doesn’t react in any way other than simply walking away, leaving you there around the dark corner of the building. 

You sigh and press your shoulders back against the stone. It’s still slightly warm from the sunlight earlier, though the night air is still sharp against your exposed skin. You don’t care that you’re alone. Maybe you’ll just stand right here and get yourself off. Your clit is swollen, pussy throbbing with need, so all it takes is just that thought that you could get yourself off right here, and your hand is already drifting in that direction.

Your skirt is hiked up around your hips now, and your fingers visibly disappear down the front of your panties. You don’t care what you look like right now with your head tipped back against the wall, the motion of your arm and fingers making it very obvious what you’re doing if anyone were to look this way. You’re playing with your clit, dipping your fingers back to your slit to gather up your wetness, slicking your fingers between the folds and just teasing yourself.

The thin strap of your dress slips down over the curve of your right shoulder. You rock your hips forward against the slide of your fingers.

You’ve never done anything like this before. The closest you’ve gotten was masturbating at your apartment when your bed was in front of the window, but your window didn’t face any neighbors, just a solid, windowless wall of the building next door. Tonight you’re horny and feeling risky and adventurous. Thus, the semi-public masturbation.

Just around the corner, you can hear people talking and laughing. 

You lift your free hand to your chest, palming the curve of your breast, and with the other hand, you finally give your pussy what she really wants. If you can’t have Xiaojun’s fingers, you’ll certainly settle for your own.

There’s not a free hand left to cover your mouth to hide your gasps and small whimpers of pleasure. You bite your lip, but that only works so well as you finger yourself and imagine that it was someone else, or imagine that someone is hiding in those bushes a few feet away watching you, touching himself as he watches you edge yourself closer and closer to orgasm.

That thought makes your pussy pulse hungrily, your breath coming out sharply. You want to pull your dress down, bare your tits so you can touch them properly. You wish Xiaojun hadn’t left you because you would get him down on the ground right now so you could ride him, feel the night air on your skin under the not-so-distant glow of the nearest bonfire. So you do squat down right there beside the building, spreading your legs a bit so you can get a better angle with your fingers buried in your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you moan under your breath. Your ankles wobble, and you lose your balance, flopping down onto your ass, your shoulders come to rest against the wall, but you don’t stop what you’re doing. 

You don’t stop until you feel your orgasm mounting, you don’t stop until it is coursing through you, your head tipped back against the wall, heart pounding, pleasure curling your toes and flushing your skin with sweet heat to combat the night’s chill. 

You gasp then sigh, catching your breath as you slide your fingers out of your panties. You wipe your hand on the grass, drag your dress back down to cover you, and you take a moment to just come back to yourself. You can feel the heat settling under your skin, your panties sticking wet against your pussy lips. Exhilaration at having just done that makes it all the more enjoyable. 

You liked that a lot. 

Getting off in public. 

A branch cracks underfoot nearby, and you look up. 

A police officer is walking across the lawn from the closest bonfire, making for you. He freezes when you get to your feet, then he takes a few wary steps closer. 

When he’s close enough, you realize who the officer is. 

“Haechan?”

He pulls a cocky grin onto his face. “Yes, angel?”

You flutter your hands over your dress, making sure it’s all properly pulled back into place. 

Haechan cocks his head a little to the side. “What’re you doing way over here? By yourself?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Just needed a moment to breathe.”

“Are you alright?” The look of amusement on his face fades, replaced with one of concern. 

“I’m fine. I promise.” Truly, you’re more than fine after an orgasm like that. “Xiaojun asked me to come with him tonight and I think he’s thinking of this more as a date than just us casually hanging out. I needed a little space from him.”

Haechan watches you, his gaze running over your face and your posture, and you feel like he’s picking you apart, but you’re not exactly sure what it is that he’s seeing. After a moment he just looks away, back over his shoulder to scan the lawn. When his gaze returns to you, he’s back to wearing his cocky expression, “Well, I’m looking for a naughty schoolgirl. Have you seen one come by here?” 

Not recently, but you saw one earlier tonight. You vaguely recognized her as a friend of Mark’s. She’d come around the group a few times, but she wasn’t a regular. 

“Why are you looking for her?” You ask. 

Haechan just grins. “Oh, you know how naughty schoolgirls are. I’m just doing my job as a truancy officer, looking for her to punish her.”

You roll your eyes and walk around him, making it only a few steps back towards the light of the front of the building when Haechan’s hand closes around your wrist. 

“What were you doing over there, little angel? Your ass is covered in dirt.” He laughs, and you halfway twist around to look down. Sure enough, the butt of your white dress has dirt on it, but you can’t really reach it very well. Haechan offers, “Do you want some help?”

The moment that his hand touches your ass, patting to remove the dirt which puffs away in small clouds, you feel your core reignite with hunger. Haechan’s hand comes down again, a light pat that you wish was a bit harder, though at the same time, you’re grateful it’s not any harder or else you would probably moan aloud. As it is, your face feels very warm when Haechan finally takes a step around you.

“There,” he says proudly, “All better. But your halo is a little crooked too.”

He reaches up, readjusting your halo. You take the moment to look at him, to stare at his handsome face, so light with amusement right now. And then he lays a hand on top of your head, right beneath the halo, and his gaze lowers to yours. 

“You make a good angel. Perfect and innocent as you are.” Haechan smiles, a real soft smile. 

“I’m not innocent,” you immediately shoot back. 

He shrugs a little. His fingers pet your hair a bit before he removes his hand. “Well you’re certainly no naughty devil. I’ve never heard any wild stories about you, which makes you an innocent angel in my eyes.”

You frown. 

Haechan just smiles, then says, “Well, I have a naughty schoolgirl to look for, if you’ll excuse me.” He walks away without another look back, and you decide that you’re done for the night. You’re done with this party. You’re probably done with Xiaojun, honestly. And you definitely don’t want to hang around and find out if Haechan is going to find his naughty schoolgirl.

You take the winter break to give yourself the opportunity to put some distance between you and Xiaojun, and some distance between you and your useless crush on Haechan. Most of your friends leave campus for the break, but you hang around to work and get a little bit of a head start on the new semester. It’s your final semester, so in a few months you and most of your friends will be graduating. 

You also take the winter break to explore that side of you that you’d started to see during October. The exhibitionist side. 

You start small at first. 

Going out with no panties, no bra just for the impropriety of it. 

You test the waters by touching yourself while you drive back to your apartment from the grocery one day. You build yourself up very, very slowly. Scared of getting caught, but also thrilled with the idea of someone seeing what you’re doing and maybe them getting turned on too. 

As soon as the semester resumes, you begin taking your exhibitionist thrills onto campus itself. No panties and a short skirt while you’re sitting in class or in the library, legs spread just enough that the students or even a professor could see. You rub one out in the restroom between classes a few times, and you’re almost certain that you were found out at least a couple times by others using the restroom when a moan or other such sound escapes you.

As your last semester begins to tick by, you finally begin taking more risks. Such as a picnic in the park with a guy you’d met online who seemed interested in hooking up and doing it in public. He’d fingered you while he fed you cut up fruits with the other hand, which was really more of an excuse to let you suck on his fingers to keep quiet. Just a one-off because, although you liked the experience, there was something lacking with the guy. 

So you’d tried again with another – a guy that actually did see up your skirt while you were studying late one night at the library, and as soon as you noticed him keep sneaking glances, you decided to tease him. One hand slid down to tease yourself, and when he caught you watching him watching you, you’d silently invited him to join you for a quick fuck in the nearest restroom. Again, the experience was fun, but there was something missing about him.

And then one night you’re over at the rented house of several of your friends. It’s midterms, so everyone’s trying to study together for various classes, or at least trying to drink away the stress. Jeno and Haechan are studying for their Econ exam in the kitchen, taking up the majority of the space although there’s still just enough room for YangYang and Renjun to make a mess in trying to be chefs and bartenders for the rest of you. 

You know that YangYang has already given up on studying for any of his midterms. Renjun already knows that he’s well-prepared. They’re just trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time. Mark, Shotaro, Jaemin, and a few of the girls are in the living room attempting to study with you, but you’re on the verge of giving up for the night. You have a bit of a buzz going on from the boozy drinks that YangYang keeps passing around, and you have a full belly from the snacks Renjun keeps making.

“Should we watch a movie instead or something?” Renjun suggests when Jaemin also complains about being bored with studying.

“Maybe we should all just go to bed.” Jaemin frowns a little as he says it, casting a look first towards his bedroom down the hallway, and then looking towards the kitchen where Haechan and Jeno have just loudly begun bickering over some Econ lesson. 

Shotaro’s girlfriend leans her head on his shoulder. “I agree. I’m tired, and I have a project due early in the morning tomorrow.”

“I told you not to take such an early morning class,” Shotaro teases, slipping his arm tight around her shoulders. He puts on a cutesy tone as he asks her, “Do you want to leave, baby? Should we go?” 

Gross, you think. And then you almost laugh.

You’re grossed out by their cutesy, romantic display of affection in public, and yet you’re the one with actual exhibitionist tendencies. 

Jaemin disappears to bed. Shotaro and his girlfriend leave. Everyone else in the room gives up on studying to instead settle in and watch a movie. You look towards the kitchen again as you settle in comfortably between Renjun and YangYang on the sofa, lights off, movie on. Jeno and Haechan aren’t paying any attention to the rest of you; they’re still in the other room diligently studying, and you can’t help watching Haechan.

He’s clearly frustrated. The glasses he's wearing keep sliding down his nose, his hair is ruffled from him running his fingers through it. He’s pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow. He’s wearing loose basketball shorts, and he has one foot resting on his chair with his knee bent up which has caused the leg of the shorts to bunch up, revealing so many inches of beautiful bare thigh. 

You’ve been trying so hard to get over this crush you have on him, but right now you’re epically failing. All you can imagine is sitting on the floor beneath that table, licking and biting at his thighs, pulling his dick out of the shorts to suck him off while he continues studying. Give him a reward for behaving so studiously. 

“Hey.”

A finger pokes your cheek.

You return to reality, and the fantasy of having Haechan’s cock in your mouth fades away. Renjun smiles at you. 

“You’re not even watching the movie right now. Is Haechan really that much more interesting?” His voice is just a whisper, but it’s still loud enough that you feel a minor surge of panic. You glance around making sure that none of your other friends have heard, that Haechan couldn’t have possibly heard even though he’s all the way over there in the kitchen. Renjun laughs again, leaning closer until his lips are right against your ear. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“What secret?” You play dumb, and Renjun just rolls his eyes. “Really, Renjun. What secret? I was just staring because, well, if I’m being honest –” Which, for the record, you’re not being honest. “ — their talking is distracting me.” 

Renjun cocks an eyebrow and looks back over towards the kitchen where Jeno and Haechan are sitting in silence, poring over textbooks and notebooks and Jeno’s iPad screen. The only sound coming from them is the scratching of pens on paper. 

You sigh, momentarily letting your gaze wander to Haechan’s thighs as he now brings his other leg up. The shorts on that side also slide down so both of his bare golden thighs are on clear display. Maybe you let out another day-dreamy sigh.

Renjun looks back over at you, a quick up and down. He looks like he doesn’t entirely buy your story. He snorts, “Why don’t you just admit it?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, but you refuse to admit to him that you have a crush or whatever on Haechan. Not happening. 

“I’d have to be blind to miss that horny gleam in your eye,” Renjun whispers. 

The call-out feels like a wallop to your chest. You actually flinch, struggling to find the words until you eventually mumble, “It’s just been a while, okay? I’m… lonely, Renjun.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Renjun promises.

On your other side, YangYang loudly laughs at something that happens on the screen, and you realize there’s no way that he’s paying even the slightest attention to the conversation you and Renjun are having. There’s no way that he notices as you shift yourself a little bit closer to Renjun, and Renjun doesn’t even comment on the way that you reduced the inches of space between you to now just a few centimeters. He turns his attention back to the movie without another word about you staring at Haechan or you confessing to him that you’re lonely. 

You try to watch the movie too. You try to forget Haechan with his beautiful thighs sitting right over there in the kitchen, try to forget the way that in the brief fantasy you’d allowed yourself, you’d somehow made yourself very horny. You try so hard to suppress that horniness, and it works for a little while as you get sucked into the movie.

But then a sex scene comes on. 

The atmosphere in the room changes slightly. 

You shift a little – bunching your hands up in the blanket that covers your lap, you move your legs, shift your weight trying to get a little more comfortable.

Renjun’s hand lands on your thigh. “Settle down,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. 

You look over at him. The way he’s not even looking at you, but still watching the scene playing out on the screen. Then your gaze slides down his arm to the place where his hand disappears beneath your blanket, to the lump beneath the blanket that is his hand on your thigh. Renjun seems to notice your gaze suddenly, and he begins to remove his hand.

His head snaps around towards you the moment that your hand covers his, keeping his palm flat against your thigh. You make eye contact, and his lips part slightly. His eyes dip down to your lap before sweeping around the room to make sure that no one is looking, and then his eyes settle on your face. 

You nod, squeeze his hand.

YangYang sits just half a foot away from you on your left side. Blissfully unaware as Renjun’s hand begins inching up your thigh, as his fingers trace along the center seam of the athletic shorts you’d worn over here tonight. On the small loveseat perpendicular to your sofa, Mark and one of the other girls sit entirely oblivious even when Renjun lets out a tiny gasp of surprise when his fingers dip inside your shorts and find that you’d foregone panties tonight. The other two girls are stretched out on their bellies on the floor, and they don’t have any clue that you spread your legs a little wider, casually draping one over Renjun’s leg to open yourself up for him to touch you in the presence of all of your gathered friends.

You can’t believe Renjun is doing this. Yeah, you’ve heard a couple stories about him, but nothing like this. Just a few tales about him, but none of the handful of stories had mentioned him having any interest in anything like this.

His eyes shine in the light coming from the screen when you reach a hand of reciprocation over into his lap. Unlike you, Renjun is wearing underwear, but that doesn’t get in your way too much. Soon you have him in your hand, and he’s circling his fingers at your clit. 

You both touch each other, taking it slow and building up that tension and heat. You want to keep it unnoticeable, but also you feel a zing of excitement when you think about YangYang beside you or your friends on the floor or the other sofa. Of course, it’s when you think about Haechan looking over from the kitchen that your body buzzes a little more extremely. You imagine him looking this way and seeing the way that you’re leaning your head on Renjun’s shoulder now, staring at the movie playing on the screen without really seeing it; him noticing Renjun’s hand disappearing beneath your blanket, noticing your leg draped over Renjun’s, noticing the way that you’re both moving your arms slightly, both a little flushed in the face, lips parted and eyes glazed.

It’s that thought of Haechan looking over, seeing everything and knowing what you’re doing, him getting hard and watching because he’s a pervert like that. That is what makes you cum around Renjun’s fingers. Your thighs snap shut around his hand, and it’s only by nearly biting through your lip and through sheer will that you keep from moaning.

Renjun keeps his fingers moving, stroking that soft spot inside you that makes your belly tingle even more. You can feel the way that your pussy is dripping around his fingers, and as soon as your thighs relax around his hand, Renjun slides his hand out of your pants, out from beneath the blanket.

His fingers shine with your wetness, and when he pulls his fingers apart, you can see your stickiness there. And then Renjun brings his fingers up to his lips. He makes direct eye contact with you as he licks his fingers, then as he stuffs them into his mouth to clean them up. You’ve halfway forgotten that you’re meant to be jerking him off as well, but his free hand drops down to cover yours on his cock, getting your hand moving again while he sucks the taste of you from his fingers.

And just like that, Renjun cums too. You can only just barely hear the sound of a slight groan escaping from around his fingers. His cum pulses sticky and warm over your hand, dripping down your fingers, slicking your palm as you smear it around his leaking tip. 

Your hand is still around his cock when you lift your head from Renjun’s shoulder to touch your lips to his ear so you can whisper, “Next time, I want to ride you. Okay? Right here, like this.”

Renjun visibly swallows, his throat bobbing. “I don’t know about that.”

He reaches down, pulling your hand away from his cock, out from beneath the blanket. He doesn’t look at you, and it’s not like you really have feelings for Renjun or that you’re super attracted to him, but his rejection still stings a bit. He quickly stuffs his cock back into his pants, stands up, and heads upstairs. 

Renjun doesn’t come back.

You wipe your hand clean on the back of the little throw pillow tucked on your end of the sofa. You lay down over Renjun’s abandoned spot, stretch your feet out into YangYang’s lap, which makes him frown over at you slightly. He doesn’t move your feet though, so you lay your head on the throw pillow that you just wiped Renjun’s cum on the back of, and you watch the movie.

The two girls on the floor say that they’ve got to leave when that movie ends. Mark puts on the sequel to the movie you’d just watched. Still Renjun doesn’t return. Still Haechan and Jeno study in the kitchen, conversing in low voices. Halfway through that movie, the girl sitting with Mark falls asleep, and when he carefully lifts her into his arms to carry her upstairs to his bedroom, you remember that they started officially dating recently. 

YangYang moves over to the empty loveseat now that it’s empty, giving you the entire sofa to stretch out on. You fall asleep before this movie even ends, replaying the fun with Renjun, but wishing too that someday you’ll be able to sit on the sofa surrounded by friends with someone’s cock buried inside you, all of your friends none the wiser. 

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a/n: she's a little bit of an experimenting exhibitionist lol, just as much a pervert as Haechan honestly, though I don't think she realizes it yet. As I said a while back when I was posting about my writing process with this series, this is definitely a slowburn that gets there eventually, like obviously if she's trying to start something with xiaojun and then with renjun it might take a minute for that burn to really get going between her and haechan, but hang in there for the ride! I hope you enjoy it!

[cecilysass]

Shine On (1/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter One: Vandy

Rawlins Middle School Rawlins, Wyoming February 3, 2015

“Vandy.” Louis slams into Jackson with the force of his entire body. It’s an affectionate body slam, but also hard enough for Jackson to lose his pencil and nearly his armful of books and binders. “Did you hear? I hope it’s true. It better be true.”

“What are you talking about?” Jackson bends over to pick up the pencil, trying not to get knocked over again by the continual current of students on their way to third period.

“The police came to shut the school down. We’re getting out of here, bro.”

Jackson looks up at his friend skeptically. “Louis, what are you talking about, seriously?”

“Second period we could see the police coming into the building.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. And I heard it was because there was a bomb threat and they’re going to close school right after lunch.”

“If it was a bomb threat, they wouldn’t wait to close school,” Jackson points out. “They’d close it right away.”

“Maybe it’s not a for sure bomb threat,” Louis replies. He looks suddenly doubtful. “Fuck, it better be true. I haven’t finished my essay yet.”

“What did you plan to do if there wasn’t a bomb threat?” Jackson asks curiously.

“Hey Vandy.” Delia Rich suddenly appears next to Jackson, and he quickly straightens his posture. Delia is so pretty: brown hair, bangs, pink cheeks, round behind. “Did you hear about the girl in seventh grade?”

“No, I didn’t,” Jackson says. His tone is considerably more polite all of a sudden. “What about her?”

Delia leans toward him seriously and lowers her voice. “She killed her parents and herself and the police are here to question everyone.”

“Naw, the police are here for the bomb threat,” Louis says dismissively, shimmying to the side to avoid a group of loud and oblivious sixth grade girls walking past them.

“Who told you about that?” Jackson asks Delia, frowning.

“Hannah R. in 8C,” Delia says, shrugging. She seems to think of something else. “Oh, Vandy.” Her eyes widen and roll dramatically. “Did you study for algebra? Oh my god, it was awful.”

“Yeah.” Jackson nods, but he’s distracted, even from a conversation he would normally be thrilled to be having.

“I spent three hours last night on quadratic equations,” Delia says. “I’m not even exaggerating. I should have asked you for help.”

“Because he’s such a fucking nerd?” Louis adds helpfully.

“No, because he’s really good at helping with math,” Delia says to Jackson, bumping into him a little. “Can you quiz me before class?”

Over Delia’s shoulder, Louis begins to raise his eyebrows up and down significantly like a maniac. Jackson studiously ignores him.

“Yeah, but I, uh, gotta stop in there first,” Jackson says, gesturing vaguely behind her.

“Stop in where?” She looks around the hall.

“Restroom,” Jackson says, irrationally embarrassed.

“Oh, right.” Delia turns back around. “I’ll see you in a few minutes then?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, attempting the most winning smile he can muster as she darts across the hall into the classroom.

Louis immediately shoves his shoulder. “What are you doing, dumbass? I thought you liked her.”

“I do,” Jackson says pathetically. “But I have to use the restroom. For real.”

“Jesus, you have absolutely no game.”

Jackson decides not to bring up his friend’s own unsuccessful record with girls. “I’ll talk to you later, Louis.” He begins to make a beeline for the boys’ room.

“Wait, are we playing GTA after school?” Louis calls as Jackson begins to walk away.

“Uh, no,” Jackson calls back. “I can’t today. My parents stayed home to meet the guy delivering our new washer and dryer.” Jackson’s mom hates Grand Theft Auto, so he can only play when she’s out of the house.

“You’re a loser,” Louis responds good-naturedly. “See you later.”

Jackson flees, weaving in and out between students hurrying to make it to class on time.

As soon as Jackson is inside the restroom, he heads directly for the third stall, the only one with a fully functioning lock on the door.

By some miracle, it’s unoccupied. Actually, the whole bathroom is empty. He hurries inside and fastens the latch as quickly as possible.

And then for a moment he stands there, clutching his books and trying to catch his breath. He stares at the back of the stall door. It is covered in scrawled “suck my dick” and “turrrn uuup” in black marker.

Jackson’s not sure why the news of the police coming to his school has him so worked up, but it does. He can still feel his heart racing. Every muscle in his body is tense.

Calm down. Calm down.

He places a hand on his chest and counts to four as he breathes in, then holds his breath for a count of seven, then breathes out. It’s a technique his therapist likes to recommend to him. He’s slightly skeptical that it really works, but he tries it anyway. When he’s getting worried or irrationally fearful, when his emotions start to betray him, he wants anything that will help.

After a minute, the bell rings. Now he’s officially late for algebra. And they’re having a test, one he’s prepared for.

He should leave this bathroom.

He should go to class right now, take his tardy gracefully, sit down, smile at Delia, get out his pencil, and take his test.

Still, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even begin to move. Every instinct is telling him not to move.

Instead, he closes his eyes and empties his mind.

Hesitantly, he begins to push out cautious little tendrils to probe around him in the school. He doesn’t really want to do this, but something deep inside tells him it’s important. That he needs to.

People’s minds feel different, have different textures to them. Right now, as he shines into people, as he gently touches the minds closest around him with his own, he can tell that most of them are kids, his friends and classmates. Kids’ minds are usually sort of bright and loud and flashy, like commercials for kids’ cereals. Every once in a while there’s a kid mind that’s very sad, unusually sad, but even then it’s sad in stark, dramatic colors, clear and tragic and obvious. Kids don’t hide things well.

But he brushes against adult minds in the school, too: teachers, mainly. Adults’ inner lives are so much more complicated than kids’. Harder to get into. Some of them are complex and curlicued, like honeycombs, and others are like smooth stones you find on a riverbed. Some are like an animal carcass rotting, full of holes you don’t want to shine into too deep.

It’s because of adults’ minds that Jackson doesn’t like shining into people’s heads very much. He’d prefer to stay out of other people’s minds as much as possible.

He peeks into the teachers’ minds just enough to identify them, to see their memories: their own faces in the mirror, their classes back up at them, bored faces staring from desks. He’s not looking for a teacher, so he moves along quickly. He doesn’t want to see any of their secrets.

Finally he’s found something different: the front office, a group of minds clustered together, a cloud of anxiety shared among them. One of them he recognizes must be his principal, Mr. Werther – he can see in his memories speaking into the intercom for the morning announcements today. Mr. Werther is feeling very troubled about something right now. His thoughts are racing. He’s wondering what the right decision is. He’s wondering whether he will be blamed if something goes wrong. His mind feels like a soda bottle shook up, ready to burst.

Quickly, Jackson switches his shine to another mind in the group, someone calmer. This mind is sharper, metallic-feeling, and he realizes that it’s a police officer, someone in charge, someone named Davis. He pushes further into Davis’s mind, into his current consciousness, and he sees that Davis is trying to explain the situation to Mr. Werther, trying to assure him that everyone will be safe, trying to let him know that there is back-up waiting right outside the school. Davis doesn’t think Mr. Werther is very smart.

Dimly, Jackson is aware that he is tightening his grip on his books, his anxiety rising. Something is very wrong here. He feels it in Davis’s thoughts. He sees flashes of himself.

He prods the shine deeper into Davis’s mind, pushing back thin layers that seem a little like aluminum foil.

In Davis’s recent memory, there is an image of something horrible: a crime scene. Bodies, shot, a man and a woman. Lying on their kitchen floor in a pool of blood, their faces vacant. Davis stands over them, shaking his head, writing notes.

The bodies’ faces are familiar. They’re Jackson’s parents.

Jackson feels himself start to breathe faster.

As though seeing light behind a dirty window, he starts to see what Davis thinks happened.

He thinks Jackson shot his parents before he went to school that morning. Davis pictures it happening: Jackson, shouting, lifting a gun and shooting first his father and then his mother. Davis thinks he possibly has a gun on him now, at school. The police want to apprehend him safely, with no one being hurt.

“We need to consider him dangerous,” Davis’s voice is echoing through his thoughts. “But we can do this in a way that makes sure no one gets hurt.”

All at once Jackson opens his eyes, falling back into his own consciousness, feeling short of breath.

He realizes he’s trembling. Mom. His parents.

Are his parents really dead? How could they be? He saw them just this morning. His mom had reminded him about his therapy appointment tomorrow and his dad had told him to stop leaving lights on. He hadn’t kissed his mom good-bye. He had been in a hurry.

Jackson feels sick. Mom. Mommy.

It’s impossible. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wants his mom. He wants to throw up.

There is a crackling sound echoing through the bathroom, and then the sound of a tinny voice speaking over an intercom. “Students and teachers, please pardon the interruption. Jackson Van De Kamp in eighth grade, would you please come to the main office? Jackson Van De Kamp in eighth grade, come to the main office.”

Jackson tenses his whole body behind the door of the bathroom stall, ready to push through, an instinctive defensive maneuver.

They’re really going to try to arrest him, he realizes. They really think he killed his parents.

He feels panic rising in his stomach, seriously threatening to make him lose his breakfast. They think he’s a killer.

You don’t have to worry. Not you. You can protect yourself. Stay calm.

He closes his eyes again and carefully shifts the perception of all minds around him, giving himself a thirty foot perimeter of altered reality.

It’s a big effort for him — bigger than his usual modest experiments — but he doesn’t feel any headache. Maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Walking like he’s in a dream—like he’s in a nightmare, really—he cautiously steps out of the bathroom.

Anyone looking in the hall simply sees Louis.

Jackson, as Louis, walks down the hallways of his school at the same slow pace, so as not to attract attention. It’s an effort to keep the minds around him altered and his own posture casual and unassuming. He walks past classrooms, watching all around him with his peripheral vision and the little fingers of his mind. Louis, please don’t happen to come out in the hall to use the restroom at this exact moment. Please.

He heads towards the entrance of the school, which means passing the front office. As he approaches, he sees that now there is actually almost no one around the front office at all. That seems weird—usually there are tons of students and teachers congregating near it.

Just keep walking, he thinks. Hopefully you’ll be unnoticed.

As he’s stepping past the door, two policemen emerge, moving quickly.

“Where are you headed, son?” From a quick tap of his mind, Jackson recognizes this man as Davis, the officer apparently in charge.

“My mom’s car. Dentist appointment,” Jackson mutters.

Davis glances out the door, where there is fortunately a car in the parking lot that looks plausibly like a waiting parent. “All right, go quickly. Don’t hang around. We need all students out of this general vicinity.”

Davis waves him out, and Jackson eagerly follows in the direction of his gesture out the door.

The February temperature hits him like a slap in the face. Regretfully he realizes his good winter coat is in his locker, back inside the school.

He keeps walking casually down the steps of the school and down the driveway, already beginning to shiver uncontrollably.

When he gets to the road, out of easy eyesight of the school, he drops his books on the ground and begins to jog. The school is on a wind blown, gray, desolate-looking Wyoming road, with little traffic except for those coming to the school. He drops his Louis perception filter. There’s no one to see.

And after he does, he discovers to his surprise that he’s crying.

He has no idea where he’s going now.

He has a vague idea that he should get out of town—maybe to a big city, like Cheyenne or Denver—but he isn’t sure how to get there. He has no money. He could hitchhike, but the idea of hitchhiking scares him, which makes him feel ashamed.

It’s just he’s too familiar with the kinds of things that adults think about. And after all, someone just killed his parents.

Why did someone kill his parents? Who would do that? His parents never did anything to anyone. They weren’t drug dealers or thieves. They were Lutherans. His mom made casseroles, and his dad carved wooden ducks. They were cheerful, optimistic, the type of people to see the good in everyone. Sometimes Jackson felt like he didn’t have much in common with them— like they saw the world very differently from him— but he loved them. He could never have hurt them. And he hates to think of what they thought, in the moment they died.

He finds himself crying harder as he jogs. He shouldn’t do this now; it’s too cold for tears. He tries to wipe them off with the sleeve of his sweater. But it’s hard to stop crying once he’s started.

He tries to jog faster. Turns it into a run. Maybe this will snap him out of it, clear his head. He’s always been good at running. At the very least it will warm him up.

Just keep running, he tells himself. He smiles a little, because it reminds him of a line from one of his favorite movies when he was a kid, Finding Nemo. Just keep swimming. His mom would repeat the line to him as a joke when he was learning to swim.

He blinks back the tears again and runs harder.

He wonders if Louis will think he really did kill his parents. He wonders if Delia will. He wonders if the other kids at school will all talk about it: Jackson Van De Kamp, the psycho kid who shot his family and was planning on shooting up the school. If they will make up stories about why he was going to do it.

A car passes on the road, and he quickly slips a filter into the driver’s mind: he’s a nice old lady picking up trash along the side of the road.

When the car passes, he continues running and considers his options. He doesn’t have a phone. His parents were waiting until high school to get him one. Even if he did, he couldn’t use it now anyway—the police would track him.

Shelter is an immediate problem. There’s a Frontier Museum in downtown Rawlins. He wonders if he might go inside and find a place to hide overnight, at least until he has a better idea. But the museum costs money to get a ticket, and he doesn’t have money.

He could try to contact his Uncle Wyatt to see if he would help him. But what if Uncle Wyatt believes the story and thinks Jackson killed his parents? Uncle Wyatt has always found Jackson annoying, ever since Jackson threw that basketball into his flatscreen TV when he was six. He could very well decide to turn his nephew in.

Then there is his birth mom. Jackson wishes he could ask her. He thinks he’s seen her, once or twice, in his occasional visions that come in fast and bewildering flashes. At least he thinks it’s her. It’s a woman he has some very close connection to, a red-headed woman, who is always very sad. He wonders if she would help him. He likes to think she would. But that’s a childish fantasy, because he has no clue where to find her. He can’t reach out and try to shine every mind in the whole world to try to locate her. He needs to stick with practical ideas right now.

He’s been walking and running for three miles, the wind biting incessantly into his clothes, when he hears another car coming down the road. With the fingers of his mind, he reaches out towards the driver’s mind to tweak their perception.

But strangely, he finds he can’t. Something in the driver’s mind is pushing back, keeping a wall up so that Jackson can’t change what they see.

He feels a stab of panic. He didn’t know this was possible. He’s never seen this before. Some paranoid part of him wonders if this is the person who killed his parents.

The car is sleek and black, with mirrored windows. It slows down right next to him. Jackson looks wildly back and forth for somewhere to run and hide, just in case there is someone inside with a gun—but there is nothing around him but open land, no possible shelter for miles.

He finds himself doing nothing but standing there stupidly, an open target, his eyes widening as the window rolls down.

“Jackson Van De Kamp?” a female voice says.

“Yeah,” Jackson manages, his voice scarcely a whisper.

It’s a woman: a surprisingly young woman wearing mirrored sunglasses, her blondish hair pulled back in a ponytail. She doesn’t look like a killer. But Jackson knows very well that evil people don’t always look evil.

“It’s come to my attention that you might need some assistance.”

He can’t think of anything to do but bob his chin up and down in a nod.

“Why don’t you get in the car, and we’ll talk?”

It looks so warm inside. He has nowhere to go. She dangles the promise of information, something important he doesn’t know.

Still, some sense of self preservation keeps him from stepping forward. Desperately, he tries to noodle a shine into her mind, trying to see what she’s all about. But he can’t. It’s like it’s boarded up.

She smiles a little at him in a guarded way, not showing her teeth. He has the weirdest feeling that she knows exactly what he is trying to do.

“W-who are you?” he says hoarsely. “Do I know you?”

She sighs, as if she expected this. “If you get in the car, I promise I’ll explain, Jackson.”

He hesitates. Then, taking a deep breath, he starts to make his way toward the passenger door.

Really, what other choice does he have?

***

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West Chapter 47

In this chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest we finish the Daoist debacle and start a new adventure. So let's get into it shall we?

So the King is crying about his dead immortals, until Sun Wukong goes up to him and calls him an idiot. Since those 'immortals' were probably planning on just killing him and stealing his kingdom anyways. Thanks to this, the King is able to gain a single wisdom point, finally putting him in the positive integers. To celebrate his newfound brain cell the King hosts a huge banquet for them. And while he's at it he also makes a decree that welcomes the bhuddist monks back to the city. Though personally I can't see why they would ever want to live in this city again. Regardless they at least have to stop by to thank Sun Wukong for his help and return his hair to him. After Monkey collects his hairs from the monks, he makes sure to inform the King that he actually did do all that shit the Daoist's accused of him earlier. He also makes sure to tell the King to treat all the religions equally from now on. With that we close out the arc, and the journey continues.

So the group travels for a few seasons without incident, until they reach a eight hundred foot wide river. And it's deep to, they checked, they threw a pebble in it. Tripitaka is so frustrated by their inability to cross it that he bursts into tears. While Tripitaka is crying about how hard this journey is, Pigsy hears the sound of drums in the distance. Pigsy, who only has good idea's when food is involved, suggests that they go and request some vegetarian food from whoever is doing this bhuddist religious service, and they can just ask for a boat ride from them in the morning.

So Monkey leads the group into town, and Tripitaka tells them to wait here while he tries to go secure a place for them to stay. After all they are so ugly and ill-mannered, Tripitaka doesn't want them to ruin their chances. Monkey thinks that's a fair enough assessment and lets Tripitaka go on ahead. So Tripitaka greets the elderly man of the house, but the man simply tells him that he arrived to late for the feast. Tripitaka explains that he wasn't here for the feast, and that instead he's just traveled a very long way from the Tang Kingdom on a fetch quest for some scriptures. The man doesn't believe that Tripitaka could have gotten here on his own, which considering the book so far... fair. However Tripitaka explains that he had some help from his disciples.

The man asks to see the disciples, after all he should have enough room to house all of them for the night. However as soon as Tripitaka calls them over, the three rush into the house, and nearly scare the old man to death as well as all the other bhuddist's in the house. He calms down a bit however after he watches Tripitaka yell at them for their poor manners. I guess Tripitaka going nuclear mom mode on them was enough to convince the old man that they really are Tripitaka's disciples.

Anyways the monks had just finished the service they were doing, but the old man is still happy to host them for the night. The old man calls for some lights, but as soon as the torch bearers see the three disciples, they all freak out and run away screaming about monsters. This alerts the man's older brother, who asks what kind of brazen demons they are to break into their house in the middle of the night. The man however explains that these ugly monsters are actually monks on a journey to acquire scriptures.

With all the necessary screaming and crying out of the way, the older brother joins them for a late dinner. So the pilgrims enjoy a nice meal with their hosts, and once Pigsy is done trying to eat them out of house and home, we can finally start getting into the plot of this arc. Tripitaka finally gets around to asking for the name of their hosts, and learn that their last name is 'Chen' just like Tripitaka's father. Tripitaka also asks them what kind of religious service they were holding earlier, and they tell him it was a 'preparatory mass for the dead' which Tripitaka can't say he's ever heard of before.

Pigsy meanwhile calls them out saying there is no such thing as a preparatory mass for the dead, which Monkey agrees with. Monkey impressed by Pigsy evidently also gaining a brain cell in this chapter asks for more information. The old men then proceed to tell them that the river has a demon in it, because of course it does, what self respecting river doesn't in this book? Turns out this demon has been blessing the town with good weather in exchange for some good old human sacrifices in the form of one young boy and girl a year. And this year it's the old men's turn. And despite their ages of they each only have one child, an eight year old girl named One Load of Gold, and one seven year old boy named Chen Guanbao.

Anyways these two unlucky children are the chosen sacrifices for this year, so the preparatory mass for the dead was for them. Of course they don't want to sacrifice their children, they are all they have, but the demon called for their children specifically, so they can't even buy a replacement child to sacrifice to the demon in stead. Tripitaka is moved to tears by their unfortunate situation. Monkey however has a potential solution to this problem and asks to see the son. So Monkey takes a good look at the boy before transforming himself into his exact copy.

The old man is very impressed by Monkey's ability, and is thrilled when Monkey offers to be the sacrifice in his son's place. The old man even agrees to give Tripitaka a thousand ounces of silver for his travel expenses. When Monkey asks where his thank you is, the old man points out that there is no use thanking a dead man walking. Monkey is just like 'we'll see about that' and agrees to be the sacrifice.

And now it's time for the girl, who's father is currently weeping, because although he's grateful that Monkey is saving his nephew, he still doesn't want to lose his only daughter. Luckily Monkey has a plan to save the girl to, so he tells the old man that if he wants to save his daughter, he'd better do his best to bribe the pig. However surprisingly enough Pigsy isn't that easy to bribe and won't risk his life even for a decent meal. Monkey however informs him that since he's already eaten their food this is the least he can do for them.

Pigsy however protests that he's not as good at transformation as Monkey is anyways. Tripitaka meanwhile tries to persuade Pigsy to do the right thing, simply because it's the right thing to do, but unsurprisingly Pigsy isn't swayed. He argues that he may be able to transform into large creatures and objects, but that transforming into such a small girl will be impossible. Monkey however tells the old man to fetch his daughter in order to force Pigsy to give it a try anyways.

So the old man brings out his daughter, and Monkey orders Pigsy to transform into her, under threat of a beating. So Pigsy gives it a try but... well... while he got the head right the body is still a little bit... er... big. Monkey tells him to get good, but Pigsy argues that even if Monkey tries to beat him, it's not going to get any better then this. So instead Monkey helps him complete the change with a little magic of his own.

Now that they have their duplicates, Monkey orders the two old men to hide their children away until it's all over. After that, the two fake children are ready to be sacrificed to the demon. So Monkey and Pigsy sit on some fancy trays and are carried out by the temple boys to meet their fate. Pigsy is rather worried about this whole 'being eaten by a demon thing' but Monkey assures him that if the demon eats him first, Pigsy is free to run away. Pigsy is fine with that plan, but what happens if the demon wants to eat the girl first? Luckily the old man informs him that the demon always eats the boy first, so that's that I guess. Anyways, with a partial plan in place, the procession begins.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction, vanishing in a flash of light, super healing and transforming others. Demon Kill Count: 9+ Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1009 God's Defeated: 22 + Unknown number Defeats: 5 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape, Damage to Religious Property and contaminating a substance for human consumption. Cry Count: 7 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization, Heart Sutra and Meditation. Cry Count: 23 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 31 Paralyzed by fear: 5 Bandit Problems: 2 Kidnapped by demons: 6 Falling Off Horses: 8

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, and Sword Dancing. Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 2

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement and CPR Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 2 Kidnapped by Demons: 3 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 3 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation, Damage to Religious Property and contaminating a substance for human consumption

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater and Cloud soaring. Demon Kill Count: Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 2 Human Kill Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, Damage to Religious Property and contaminating a substance for human consumption

[jimblejamblewritings]

starlight moonlight sunlight — blurb four

Blurb Title: Warm Jumpers by the Fire

Pairing: ex!Remus x reader, Remus x Sirius, eventual poly!Wolfstar x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: the fancast gifs don't relate to the story at all, I just use them to break the story from the info. Imagine who you want.

blurb series navigation here | previous blurb here

The school was buzzing as owls dropped flyers for the new cafe opening in two days. You and Dora’s cafe. Running a bakery wasn’t something you wanted to do forever. You wanted to be known for something past the girl that escaped America and Voldemort. Pandora understood that. She was more than willing to learn all the special nymph recipes and how to ingredients from you so she could continue the cafe outside of Hogwarts once you left the business. But for now, the two of you were content working there. 

You thought as much as you set down a tray of goodies for some students and summoned another tray for a few faculty members that came for a visit. Of course, they never got the stuff you were giving to students but they didn’t have to know that. Lily, Remus, and Regulus entered the classroom with their books in tow. You pointed them to an empty table while Pandora took the last of the pastries out of the oven. She charmed the bell so you two would be alerted if anyone needed anything before you guys joined the others at a table by the window.

“I hope you guys don’t mind that we have another person joining us,” you said as you took a little rat off the pillow on the windowsill. 

The others laughed. Peter had been disappearing a lot recently and now they knew where he was going. He liked listening to you hum or sing. It calmed him down in rat form immensely. For a few days now, he’s been trying to convince the boys to come sit with him by the fire and listen but Sirius wasn’t up for it all which meant James staying behind in solidarity. 

Wormtail got comfortable in the large center pocket of your overalls. You had been wearing a lot of tops with high pockets for him. His little rat form was adorable. You wanted to meet the rest of the marauders’ animagus forms. Finally getting comfortable, you poured drinks for your book club and opened up to the latest chapter of Interview with the Vampire. 

Remus rested his cane against the windowsill and got himself comfortable. He reached for your hand, pulling it into his lap where it just rested on his thigh. He knew he had to do better. It was a conversation he had with the other boys back in their dorm. The point was for it to seem like you were drifting apart naturally or there was no spark anymore, not for him to push you away. If you got suspicious then surely you’d accidentally walk in on him and Sirius and everything would go awry. He had to be a better fake boyfriend. 

Which meant he poured out your tea during book club, he held your hand as you walked through the hallways of school, he gave you chaste kisses whenever his boyfriend wasn’t around, and he cuddled up to you on the couches in the Gryffindor common room right in front of the fireplace while the two of you finished up homework. You were wearing his jumper, loving how tall he was because it just made the whole thing cozy to slip on. Remus wasn’t even sure when you took it. He hadn’t noticed it missing from his closet until you showed up to Hogsmeade earlier wearing it. 

You set down your nearly finished Potions essay. “I’m going to write a famous book.” 

Remus looked up from his work. “Yeah?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t just Pandora who knew about your desire to make something of yourself after Voldemort took your normal life away from you. The whole group knew about it. Remus set his work down and pulled you closer, your back against his chest. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, dovey. I’ll be the first to read it.” 

“You will?” 

“Of course… Hey, there’s a Halloween ball coming up soon. Will you be my date?” 

You chuckled as you accepted the invitation. Remus didn’t have to ask you but it was sweet that he did anyway. The thought got you a little excited. Dressing up for Halloween wasn’t just a muggle thing. Wizards loved it too. You had a brilliant idea for your costume and dress, telling Remus such as you kissed him.

| next blurb here |

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[ciaomarie]

Chapter 2: Getting to Know You

I recently wrote a post-season 2 story about Carmy helping with Sydney's apartment search. I wanted to back track a little to get into his head space just after the Friends and Family almost disaster, but prior to the apartment hunt, during which he is hopelessly crushing on Sydney. Mostly, it's backstory and gives more context to why Carmen is who he is :)

When Carmy stumbled frozen and broken out of the walk-in the night of Friends and Family, Sydney was waiting for him. However, something in his eyes made her reconsider whatever she had been planning to say. She pointed him to sit on floor against a stove she had turned on and made him hot tea. Wordlessly she sat on the floor next to him until he finished. When he tried to speak, nothing came out. His icy mottled fist began to circle his chest, but Sydney closed her hand over his.

"We'll start over again tomorrow."

Weeks later Carmen asked her why she hadn't quit that night. She said "Your face…it looked like mine did when I lost Sheridan."

In return she had asked him what happened with Claire and if it had been her fault.

"No. She thought she knew me, but she didn't and honestly, we didn't have anything in common."

The more Carm thought about Claire the sorrier he felt about how he'd behaved and the less he regretted the break-up. Claire was his high school dream girl. She was always kind to him, despite being able to mingle in nearly every clique at school. She was as comfortable with the student government club, as she was with the skaters. Everyone liked her and for no apparent reason she frequently stopped at his locker to ask if he had gum or invite him to study. So he always kept a pack of gum for her, but was too shy to join her study group. Once she and two of her friends ambushed him after school and convinced him to come to a party the night prior to graduation. He decided he might as well not end his high school career without ever having gone to one. The party was held in woods behind one of the football player's homes. There was a bonfire, cheap beer, too few cups, and couples making out or swaying to "Die in Your Arms".

Claire found a clean Solo cup and they shared a drink as she gazed into his eyes.

"I love this song"

"Yeah…it's popular".

Natalie had been playing Justin Bieber non-stop for the last few years and Carm was almost willing to give up all music if he never had to listen to him sing another note.

He didn't remember the rest of the conversation, but at some point Claire kissed him. 12 years later when they began dating she brought up the night of the party and how he looked so surprised and blushed.

"You were so cute. I bet it was your first kiss!"

"No, but almost" he said a little taken aback. As pleased as he was that Claire was interested, he felt like her project. Something about their relationship reminded him of a cheesy 80's teen movie. Too sweet. Not enough acid.

He could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he'd not given her any number, much less a fake one. But it was Claire, the brilliant, fearless, beautiful girl he'd used to sketch over and over again and she wanted HIM. He liked her so much back then. She went off to Michigan State and he began peeling mushrooms at a restaurant eventually becoming Carmen Berzatto "the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America."

But before Claire, in 7th grade summer school, there was Kyla Branson. Carmy needed to take 7th grade math again before they'd pass him to 8th grade and Kyla was a transfer student. She had just finished 6th grade, and was taking 7th grade math and English early, because she was a pianist. A whole freakin' prodigy that would be touring with Eric Clapton later that fall. The math teacher had told the class, much to Kyla's obvious discomfort.

On the third day the class split into pairs to do an assignment and Carmy and Kyla were paired. He could barely look at her. Kyla had thick curly eyelashes which framed her large black brown eyes, her hair was usually brushed up into a soft coily bun like a ballerina, she wore small white diamond earrings in her shockingly small ears, and she had an heart-breakingly cute overbite that showed whenever she smiled. Carmy was gone over this little black girl. She was very shy too, but an overachiever so she persevered in making him talk enough to get the work done.

Once she saw his sketches on the back of his notebook and said he was artist. Using his best charcoal pencils he drew a portrait of her in the privacy of the attic at home. On the last day of summer school he gave it to her when class dismissed and dashed out of the room, his face redder than Heinz ketchup. Kyla caught up with him outside and grabbed his hand leading him out of the view of the car pick-up line.

"Thank you Carmen. I think you're beautiful too" Kyla whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. For three seconds. Then she ran back to the car pick up line, got into her parent's car and Carmen never saw her again.

Once he thought he saw her. The eyes and overbite were startling familiar, but the name was different. It was the day that Sydney Adamu walked into The Beef. It was the day that someone saw who he really was again.

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter four — the willow tree

WORD COUNT — 2,390

WARNINGS — talk of parental death and parental abandonment, cheating, and divorce

NOTES — god i love this chapter with everything i have i'm not kidding

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Since your first ‘official’ group hang out last Friday, you’d nearly been jumping at any opportunity to hang out with the group. Sure, when you read into it it sounded borderline creepy, but you couldn’t help it. You’d never had that much fun with your friends before, even in the city, where pretty much anything and everything was at your fingertips. 

You could only compare it to the high you felt the first time you’d ever watched a musical in a theater. You were a freshman at the time, and your dad surprised you with tickets by calling you out of school in the middle of the day. You’d never forget the magical, light feeling that filled your chest throughout the show, watching everything happen all at once and so quickly, admiring the performer’s work in real time. It had been such a rush that, for the following four days, everything felt dull, and all you wanted was to relive that night over and over again for the rest of your life. 

Today was Thursday, and although everyone would be hanging out again tomorrow at Mickey’s, some of the group had decided to hang out at the park again, anyway. All of you did have some form of curfew for weeknights, so it would be bordering on sunset when you would meet at the park, before one by one, you’d all have to head home at one time or another. 

When you’d left school, it was agreed — everyone would meet at 6pm by the gate. But as you got home, and the evening crept onward to the time you were supposed to leave, the texts began trickling in, and before you knew it, almost everyone had canceled. Whether it was family obligations, chores, or — in Harriet and Sonya’s case — couple time to themselves, everyone who was involved in the initial plan had canceled, aside from Newt. 

Not long after the final cancellation text came through — Minho, saying that his parents had family coming into town and needed to help get the house ready — your phone began to ring from its place on your bed, where you sat writing the last few sentences of your history homework. 

You pushed the textbook and workbook from your lap, reaching for the phone only to see that Newt’s contact was the one lighting up your screen. You prepared for another cancellation excuse before pressing the bright green ‘accept’ button and holding the phone to your ear. “What’s up?”

Newt’s voice filtered through the speaker almost immediately. “We’re still hanging out tonight, right?”

“Yeah, we are,” you said, “but it’s just gonna be us, if that’s alright. Literally everyone else canceled.” 

“Really?” Newt asked, and you muttered a confirmation in response. 

You sighed, leaning back on your bed frame. “I know we were supposed to go to the park, but Minho has the key, so… is there anywhere else you’d wanna hang out?”

“Actually, yeah,” Newt replied. “I’ll be there to pick you up soon, yeah? Half an hour.”

“Got it.” You nodded. “Half an hour.”

With Newt’s final goodbye, you picked your book back up and finished off what little you had left of your history homework. As you did though, you thought about spending time with Newt, just Newt, and how you haven’t had the chance to do so since he gave you the tour of the school. The thought seemed to bring an untameable smile to your face. 

By the time Newt’s car appeared in the driveway, and Newt at the front door, you had packed all your schoolwork away, pushed your hair back (after attempting four different styles), and grabbed a hoodie to wear. Whatever makeup you’d put on at the beginning of the day was mostly worn off now, and you didn’t see a point in reapplying anything, because as long as your mascara and eyeliner weren’t majorly smudged, you were okay with how it looked. 

Newt came in after you greeted him at the door, giving you time to gather up what you needed to and to slip your shoes on, and he talked with Maggie and your dad as they watched a movie in the living room. When you finally stepped out of the house, the sky was painted with an array of oranges, fading into various pinkish red tones, and finally, a beautiful purple that got deeper and more rich the higher in the sky it went. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” You asked as Newt reversed out of the driveway. 

“I was thinking we’d grab some food from Mickey’s and hang out over on the field by the school?” Newt suggested, turning onto the main road. “Nothing extreme, y’know? We have all night tomorrow to do that.”

You nodded and told him that it was a great idea, looking out the window as he drove. It was getting visibly darker with every passing moment, and the lights on Newt’s dash and radio were glowing a bluish green when he parked in front of the diner. When you stepped out, you were met with a subtle breeze, which was quickly overtaken by the warmth of the diner. 

It was quiet inside, with only a few straggling patrons scattered around. Mickey greeted you both at the counter with his usual bright smile as you sat on the stools, ready to order. “Aren’t you two supposed to be here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but you know me, Mickey.” Newt smiled cheekily. “I just can’t get enough of your amazing food.”

Mickey laughed before taking your orders — you, another loaded burger meal and double chocolate milkshake, and Newt, a crispy chicken burger and vanilla milkshake. Newt ended up paying for the food, but only after you argued about it and settled on you paying for his food tomorrow. 

You admired the retro style of the diner as you sat and waited for your food to arrive, noticing all of the pictures on the walls, the vintage clocks, and achievements the establishment had seemed to receive over the many years it’d been running. Through the order window, though, you noticed a boy your age, frying up your burger. 

Newt seemed to read your mind and follow your line of sight, because not long after you noticed the boy, he told you, “That’s Frypan.” 

“Hmm?”

“The cook, back there.” Newt explained. “His real name’s Siggy, but everyone calls him Fry or Frypan. Even his parents, and Mickey. Frypan’s Mickey’s grandson.”

You only nodded, waving at Frypan along with Newt when he caught sight of you and smiled politely. Once Frypan was done with your orders, he bagged them up and brought it over to you at the counter. 

“What’s up, Newt?”

“Hey, Fry,” Newt said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Things good?”

“Yep,” Frypan nodded, handing over the bag of takeout, before looking over to you. 

You smiled at him again and said, “I’m Y/n. Thomas’... step-sister? I think.”

Frypan laughed and nodded, his smile wider than before. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“I think step-sister’s the right word,” Newt said. “Tommy told us about her, remember?”

“I remember,” Frypan nodded as he leant against the counter. “Said a lot about you when you guys would hang out and stuff. Didn’t you get him lost in Times Square once or something?”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I think he got that story mixed up. He was the one who got us lost. Dumbass thought he could get us around New York without a map because he’d been there a few times before. And he didn’t even go to Times Square any of those times, by the way.”

Both boys laughed at your retelling of the story as you smiled, watching Mickey place two to-go cups next to the bag of food. “There y’all go. I’ll see y’all tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, guys. See you later, Fry.” Newt nodded, waving goodbye before standing and grabbing the bag of food. 

You waved the pair goodbye happily as you grabbed the drinks and slid out of the stool, following Newt out the door, blinds clanking on the door behind you, and back into the car. The sky had darkened exponentially since you’d been inside, and the brief breeze you felt when you arrived had taken a more permanent residence in the air, cooling your skin. 

As Newt headed over to the school, staying on the main road, you snacked on fries from the bag that rested on your lap. A song filtered through the speakers, muffled by the static of a distant radio tower, and dim street lamps lit the way for you. You would’ve been perfectly content simply sitting in the car and driving around until curfew, but Newt had other plans. 

He parked in the school parking lot, in one of the spaces closest to the field. It was unusual to see the parking lot empty, to see the school devoid of light and students lingering around. You and Newt stepped out of the car, and you followed him as he rounded the back, opening the trunk and pulling a thin blanket from it before heading out to the field, blanket tucked under one arm, a milkshake in hand and the bag of food in the other. 

Soon, one milkshake became two, along with a heavy bag filled with food, and you ended up handling a minor juggling act while Newt laid out the blanket at the base of the willow tree he pointed out to you on the first day. When he was done, he took his milkshake and the bag of food from you, allowing you to sit next to him on the blanket while he sorted out the food. 

For a little while, there was nothing but the sound of the wildlife at night while you enjoyed your food together. This, however, gave your mind time to wind down several paths of thought, and it didn’t take you long to put your burger back in its wrapper and face the blond to your left. 

“Why doesn’t Sonya have an accent?”

“What?” Newt asked, still chewing his food. 

“You have an accent.” You stated. “And Sonya’s only a year younger than you, so she should have an accent, too, right? But she doesn’t, so, why not?”

Newt swallowed his food, took a sip of his milkshake, and cleared his throat before speaking. “We moved here from London when we were pretty young. I was eight, and Sonya was almost seven. Small town people can be quite… harsh, but I didn’t quite mind what the kids in school were saying about how we talked. Sonya did, though. I guess kids in her grade were harsher toward her. Anyway, she started to train her voice to sound American, and now she doesn’t have an accent.” 

All you could think of to respond was nod. It seemed like a simple enough answer, despite how heartbreaking it really was, and so you left it at that and went back to eating your burger. No more conversation occurred between the two of you until you were cramming the empty wrappers and fry containers into the takeout bag. 

“Why’s your dad marrying Maggie?” 

Confused, your face scrunched as you looked at Newt. 

“You got to ask a question, so now I’m asking one.” Newt shrugged. “So, why’s your dad marrying Maggie?” After a moment, it seemed like Newt realized what kind of question he’d asked. “If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. I’m just curious.”

“No, no it’s fine.” You assured him, taking a deep breath. “It’s not his first marriage, or anything like that. And my mom wasn’t some horrible, evil woman he was just dying to get away from, either. He loved her. A lot. They met when they were teenagers and everything. She was a ballerina. A really beautiful one, too.” You explained. “When I was about seven, though, she got diagnosed with breast cancer. I can barely remember it anymore, but I know she was a great mom, and a great wife. She died when I was ten. Maggie’s the first woman I’ve met that’s been able to make my dad laugh like my mom used to.” 

Newt stayed silent for a few moments, the heavy atmosphere you brought to the conversation settling in your chests. He picked at a loose thread in the blanket before speaking. “I wish my mum could find someone like that.”

“Why?” You asked, your voice soft. “What happened to your dad?”

“He’s an asshole,” Newt snapped, tilting his head all the way back to look at the pieces of sky that poked through the leaves, leaning on his elbows for support. “He moved us halfway across the world, away from my mum’s family, away from her whole bloody life, for a job offer, only to quit and chase some bleach blonde woman who’s half his age to Florida and mail my mum divorce papers. He didn’t even have the decency to sign them in person.”

The anger and resentment Newt held for his father was clear in his tone, rolling off his words in harsh waves. 

Hesitantly, you placed a hand over Newt’s twisting your body to fully face him. “You’re right, Newt. Your dad is an asshole. And he missed out on watching you grow up, on seeing you turn into one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met. But that just means that you didn’t need him to be the person you are today.”

Though Newt’s eyes remained on the sky, you could see tears gathering along his waterline, the gleam of the stars reflecting within them. For a moment, you both stayed that way, until Newt shifted and pulled your body into his, arms wrapping around your neck as he gripped you in a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him a little closer. The heavy atmosphere felt a little lighter, now, and you did, too, knowing that something between you and Newt had shifted, that you knew each other better now. 

After the mood lifted, you both finished your drinks and laid back on the thin, cold blanket, hands on your stomachs as you talked and looked at the sky through the drooping curtains of the willow tree’s leaves.

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 2

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings and tags: fluff and mild angst

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 1 here!

After another day of dirty, sweaty work, you hurry through your shower and grab two bottles of beer out of the conservator, opening them quickly and heading to the front porch for your nightly rendezvous. Mayday hasn’t arrived yet, which is a first, so you settle in to wait for him. The sun dips lazily below the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold, and then fading into a lavender haze, and finally darkening to a field of deep blue dappled by brilliant points of light as the stars blink into view. You finish your beer slowly, and then drink the second as well, wishing you hadn’t opened it so hastily earlier.

It’s surprising and a little alarming how quickly you’ve adopted your evening conversations with Mayday into your daily routine, and how much you miss it tonight. You can’t help but wonder, What will I do when he leaves?

Eventually, once the evening has fully transitioned to night, you stand with a sigh, stretching your tired muscles and making your way into the house. You can’t stay up and wait forever; tomorrow will be another hard day’s labor, and you are already exhausted. Everyone else has already gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as it can possibly be considering the sheer number of clones currently sleeping in your guest bedrooms.

Just as you turn off your bedroom light and settle into bed, you hear the sound of an approaching speeder bike. You rarely receive guests, particularly not in the middle of the night, so you hop out of bed and cross to your window to peek outside. The vehicle slows to a halt in front of your garden, and the rider dismounts and leans against the bike. 

Mayday. You recognize him immediately. He stares contemplatively at the garden for a while, and then he turns his head and looks directly at you. His movement startles you, and you nearly flinch away from the window before you realize that you are standing in total darkness and there is no way he can see you watching him. Can he?

He stares at your window for a long, long time, until at last, he straightens and walks into the house. You don’t hear him enter, and you don’t hear him go to his bedroom, and at last, you return to your bed and will yourself to sleep, ignoring the quiet voice in your head that asks where he had gone. It’s none of my business, you think, and you almost convince yourself.

Rain begins to fall in a steady drizzle the next morning. By noon, the weather is miserable enough to chase everyone indoors. Hexx and Sunni, enthusiastic hosts that they are, round up the rest of the clones for a loud game with incredibly complex rules. You scan the group but don’t see Mayday, so you slip quietly out the door while they’re all distracted. As you make your way to the barn, you hear a rhythmic scraping sound that piques your curiosity. Warm light spills out of the open doors, beckoning you in from the cold, gray rain.

The barn hasn’t housed animals in decades. Instead, you use it to store your farm equipment and agricultural droids when they’re not at work, and as a place to dry the flowers that you sell in the off-season. The familiar botanical aroma washes over you as you enter, along with something new—something at once strange and nostalgic. When you see Mayday, you slow to a halt just inside the barn. 

He has set up a workstation at the open end of the barn, and as you watch, he runs a hand planer over a large beam of lumber, shaving off flimsi-thin curls of pale wood that flutter to the ground. You immediately identify the fresh lumber as the source of the unknown scent. That slow, rhythmic rasping sound comes again and again as you watch him work, and something about it sends tingles down the back of your neck.

Mayday hasn’t spotted you yet, and you take a moment to appreciate the confident way he moves. His bare hands glide over the wood as he feels for rough and uneven spots, and the muscles of his forearms flex and bulge as he drags the planer across the surface. His movements are hypnotic, mesmerizing. He handles the wood with scrupulous care and attention, and you feel a brief, ridiculous surge of envy toward an inanimate object. He stills abruptly, and you raise your eyes from his hands to see him watching you.

“Hello,” you say, feeling a little foolish that he caught you gawking.

He doesn’t look angry, though, or even amused. He regards you with the same intense focus that he had directed toward his project only a moment before. You lick your lips reflexively, and his gaze drops to your mouth and then back up to your eyes.

“I came to see if you wanted to come in out of the rain,” you say, feeling a little proud that you managed to get the entire sentence out without stuttering, even if your voice catches suspiciously.

He looks briefly out the door to the torrential deluge. “I didn’t even realize it had started raining.”

“It’s been raining for hours,” you say. “Aren’t you cold?”

He smiles at that. “This is nothing compared to Barton IV.”

“What happened on Barton IV?” you ask.

“Nothing good,” he replies. “We were lucky to make it out alive. If I never see snow again, it will be too soon.”

“You should be safe from snow here,” you reply. “Even in the winter, we rarely get anything more than rain. It’s what makes Nakadia such an ideal agricultural planet.”

Ugh, am I seriously talking about the weather right now? you chastise yourself. Still, Mayday looks intrigued as he arranges his tools neatly and walks across the barn to join you. 

“Where are the others?” he asks.

“They’re all inside playing a game,” you reply. 

“I’ve never been one for games,” he comments offhandedly.

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve also never been one for standing out in the rain when there’s a perfectly warm house available.”

“We’re not standing in the rain,” he points out, moving subtly closer to you, close enough that you can smell the vanillin of the sawdust on his shirt; the salt of his skin; and beneath it, the faintest hint of something spicy and warm and a little smoky—something uniquely Mayday.

“True,” you admit.

He frowns and starts to reach for you before pulling back. “But you were. Your hair and clothes are all wet. You should go inside and get warm and dry.”

“Will you come with me?” you ask. He hesitates, and you scramble to add, “We can go in the back and avoid the crowd if you’d rather.”

“Is there somewhere we can go where they won’t find us and drag us into their game?” he asks with a smile.

You shrug. “It’s a big house. I’m sure we can find something.”

“Lead the way,” he replies.

On impulse, you take his hand and tug him along with you, dashing across the field through the downpour. Mayday follows at a more sedate pace, and he slows you down as his fingers tighten around your hand to keep you from slipping away.

“Don’t you know you know you get wetter when you run in the rain?” he asks, his voice laden with amusement.

“But we’ll be out of it and into the warm house sooner this way,” you laugh. “Come on!”

He allows you to hustle him along, and soon the two of you slip quietly into the back of the house and kick off your muddy boots. Uproarious laughter bursts from the front of the house, signaling that the game is still in full swing. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you lead him down the hallway and duck into a room, easing the door closed behind you. You turn to see Mayday surveying the room with astonishment.

“What is this place?” he asks.

“It’s my reading room,” you reply.

His eyes widen as he takes in the bookshelves that line the walls; the soft, overstuffed armchairs; the small wood stove that crackles cheerfully in the corner.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place,” he says. “At least, not paper ones.”

“Holonovels are wonderful, but there’s something so comforting about a physical book,” you say by way of explanation. “I started collecting them when I was little, and I just never stopped.”

“Have you read them all?” he asks curiously.

You laugh. “I intend to read them all, but I have to admit, there’s an embarrassingly large stack of them waiting for me to find the time. You’re welcome to anything that catches your eye, though.”

His gaze flicks almost imperceptibly toward you before he turns to examine the contents of the shelves. “Which one is your favorite?”

“That would be like asking me to pick a favorite child,” you reply. “I can’t choose just one.”

“Humor me.” His voice is a low rumble.

You pull a well-worn volume off a shelf, and then another, and another. Mayday chuckles as you pass them to him.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through all of these in the time I have left here.”

“You can take them with you, if you’d like,” you offer. “You can give them back at the wedding.”

“You’d trust me with them?” he asks.

You think of the care with which he handled the fire lily, the conscientiousness and respect you witnessed as he worked on the planks of hardwood in the barn.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. 

His hair is wet with rain. A strand has fallen forward, and you raise your hand to brush it out of his eyes, but he stops you, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist.

“Don’t.” 

Startled, you meet his eyes. They blaze with intensity, but he steps back to put a little distance between you. 

“Mayday?” you whisper.

“Don’t do something we’ll both regret,” he says quietly.

“Sorry,” you stammer as mortification floods you. You pull away from him. “I’ll go.”

He doesn’t try to stop you as you retreat and close the door behind you. You hurry to your bedroom, pressing your cold hands against your burning cheeks. How could I have misread the situation so badly? No wonder he would have preferred to stay in the barn.

You don’t bother going to the porch that night. With all the rain, there’s no sunset, anyway.

It’s easy enough to avoid Mayday after that. He keeps to the barn, and you have plenty of work to do elsewhere. You miss watching the sunset each night, but it’s a small sacrifice for your peace of mind. Before many days pass, the wedding preparations are complete. The rest of the wedding party arrives, and your farmhouse is absolutely at capacity, but at least by tomorrow everyone will be gone and you’ll have your farm to yourself again until the wedding day. All that remains now is the rehearsal.

It is awkward as kriff. You subtly keep your distance from Mayday as long as possible, forcing yourself not to look at him. You try to focus on literally everything else: the wedding planner, Sunni’s lovely dress, the way Hexx’s eyes light up when he looks at her, the excited chatter of the other bridesmaids. Anything except him. He doesn’t approach you, either, so at least that makes your life infinitesimally easier, even though it stings.

Unfortunately, you can’t evade him forever, and as the wedding planner hustles the bridal party into position, you brace yourself for impact. Mayday moves to stand beside you, and you meet his eyes briefly. He looks so kriffing handsome, it’s unfair. The late afternoon sunshine glints in his dark curls and lights his eyes in shades of gold. You paste a bland, polite smile on your face as he holds out his hand to take yours. You walk down the makeshift aisle on Mayday’s arm—maid of honor and best man, as bad luck would have it. That unmistakable warm, spicy, smoky Mayday scent washes over you, and you breathe shallowly as you try to ignore it. It’s a simple ceremony, thank the Force, because you are too distracted by trying to appear nonchalant to pay much attention to the officiant’s instructions.

The ceremony is set to take place with the expansive fields of flowers as a backdrop, and at the entrance to the garden, a gorgeous wooden archway has been constructed. You realize with a start that this is what Mayday has been building since he arrived. The workmanship is stunning. Up close, you can see that the entire structure has been crafted to fit together so perfectly that it requires no screws or fasteners.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sunni sighs happily.

You nod, unable to speak.

“I had him install it permanently as a thank you for letting us have our wedding here,” she says with a radiant smile. “Our gift to you.”

Your breath catches as Sunni envelops you in a crushing hug. Wonderful. A perpetual reminder of how badly I messed up with him. Just what I needed.

By supreme force of will, you make it through the rehearsal and the dinner party afterward. The food is beautiful and by all accounts delicious, and you don’t taste a single bite as you eat. After the meal, the group dances and drinks and parties late into the night as tiny lights twinkle in the trees overhead. Veetch pulls you onto the dancefloor and spins you around until you are giggling and dizzy, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eases.

Mayday doesn’t dance, to the visible disappointment of several bridesmaids. He is wrapped up in a discussion with a few other clones—also commanders, if you remember the introductions correctly. You refuse to give into your impulse to eavesdrop on their conversation, instead smiling brilliantly at Veetch, who is both charming and a surprisingly excellent dancer. The music changes to something slow and romantic, and he pulls you closer and settles a hand on your waist.

Because you are not totally devoid of common courtesy, you focus on your dance partner instead of looking back at Mayday. Had you looked, though, you would have seen the way his eyes, unreadable as ever, follow you across the dancefloor as you sway in Veetch’s embrace. Veetch flirts in a harmless, meaningless way that you know better than to take seriously, even if you were interested. Everything about him screams that he’s enjoying the single life and has no intention of giving it up any time soon.

So you dance with him and with Hexx’s other groomsmen, and by the time you stumble, alone, into your bedroom, you are so exhausted that you fall asleep almost immediately. When you awaken, nearly everyone has gone. Hexx and Sunni are still there, but Sunni tells you that Mayday had ordered the men to wake up early and ensure the house was spotless before they departed. Sunni and Hexx only stay long enough to hug you goodbye before they, too, leave for Coruscant, and then you are alone.

[witchysquirrel]

Epiphany

Chapter Twelve

“Ravenna!” Rhys boomed, wrapping her into a hug and kissing her on the cheek as if he’d not seen her merely 20 minutes ago. 

“Rhysand,” she laughed, then stepped aside. “This is Fetrin, my childhood friend from the Dawn Court.”

Rhys extended his hand to the male with a broad smile on his face, though Ravenna could see the silvery glow in his eyes that dared Fetrin to say the wrong thing, and the air was thick with the darkness that his power exuded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rhys said. “Anyone who’s a friend of this one is a friend of ours.”

“Pleased to meet you. It seems she’s been well taken care of here,” Fetrin replied, bowing his head to Rhys. 

“She takes care of herself very well,” Rhysand corrected. “And takes care of the rest of us too, now that I think of it.” With that, he winked at the pair and headed off in the opposite direction. “Enjoy the party! Send Thesan my regards!”

Fetrin watched him leave, and then leaned down to Ravenna’s ear. “He is extremely scary,” he said over the din of the party. Ravenna laughed, genuinely, in response.

“He is scary, but he means well,” she added, finishing her glass with a giggle.

“I believe you. Another drink?” he proposed, his right hand falling to rest on the small of her back. 

“Please,” Ravenna answered, allowing him to guide her back towards the bar. She was feeling the freedom that the alcohol allowed her, and couldn’t remember why she had been nervous in the first place. The orchestra played beautifully, the crescendo of the music reverberating in her chest. She ordered a cocktail, and the pair floated back to the edge of the room. 

“Tell me more about you,” Ravenna said, sipping her drink and raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re not the kid I knew anymore.” 

“I’ve done a lot, since… since then. Studied philosophy for a while, did some more military service. Traveled some,” he answered, one hand in the pocket of his pants. 

“Married?” Ravenna asked as casually as possible.

He chuckled. “Never. My parents tried a few more arrangements but… I think work just takes up too much of my time.”

“I know that all too well,” she replied. “Sometimes I prefer it that way.”

“I don’t believe for a minute that you’re still on the market, Ravenna,” Fetrin said, shaking his head slightly. 

“Believe it,” she replied with a laugh. “I’ve been told my lifestyle isn’t quite what most males are looking for.” She scanned the ballroom, the hall glowing in contrast to the sky that was now dark with twilight, stars sparkling in the distance. Subconsciously, Ravenna knew she was looking for the points of Illyrian wings above the crowd, but when her eyes finally landed on Cassian talking with a group of soldiers she knew, her chest fluttered. She quickly returned her attention to Fetrin.

“My mother said something similar to me last week. That no one wants to marry a workhorse,” Fetrin replied, making a face. “But I don’t have nearly the same amount of charm as you.”

Ravenna leaned into his shoulder, nudging him slightly. “As charming as I may be, I prefer to just do my job, most of the time.” She glanced in Cassian’s direction again, surprised to meet his gaze. He gave her a small smile, before she averted her eyes again. 

“What does healing entail outside of wartime?” Fetrin asked. 

“Mostly helping people recover from their injuries, doing home visits for wound care in the city and things of that nature,” she answered. “The immediate post-war period is always the busiest. What about you?”

“In short, I attend a great deal of meetings and respond to an even greater deal of correspondence between the High Lords and their other allies on the Continent. A glorified messenger,” he conveyed, rubbing his chin. 

“You most certainly work more in collaboration with the High Lord than I do,” Ravenna said, “and I’m sure Thesan is a much better companion than Rhysand.” The pair laughed together, and Fetrin nodded emphatically. 

“Thesan isn’t old enough to scare me yet.”

They talked about their lives, where they’d been, how their parents were, how the places they frequented when they were young had changed. There seemed to be an endless supply of things to be updated on, and they found themselves chatting like old friends – Ravenna tried not to think about the subtext that they were chatting like he hadn’t killed the love of her life and then tried to marry her afterwards. 

Ravenna finished her drink. “Do you want to dance with me?”

Fetrin nodded, and her head felt fuzzy as he offered her his hand. She took it, allowing him to lead her through the crowd to the dance floor in the center of the room. They discarded their empty glasses on a nearby table, and Fetrin swept her into position, one hand on her waist. She took his hand, resting the other on the crest of his shoulder. She had to choke back the feelings that brimmed at the familiar scent of him now that he was so close. He carried her across the floor, the other patrons blurring in her peripheral vision. 

The first song that played was heavy with fiddle, quick and flighty, with lots of spinning. Ravenna reveled in the music, enhanced by the buzz in her head, and giggled the whole time. Fetrin kept her upright and headed in the right direction, and that was all she needed. The next song that played was much slower, more dramatic and sensual than the one before. She looked up at Fetrin, and he pulled her slightly closer by her waist, both hands resting just above her hips. She swayed with him, looked up at him from below dark lashes, until the music picked up slightly and he spun her once more. When Fetrin released her to twirl, she met Cassian’s gaze from across the room. His eyes were dark, siphons flickering vaguely as he watched her. The music carried her back around and into Fetrin’s arms, the scent of him overwhelming her again. 

He needs to watch his hands. 

Ravenna’s cheeks grew hot at the sound of Cassian in her head, barely more than a growl. She continued to dance, floating across the floor as her dark hair flowed over her shoulder behind her. The gown she’d chosen was perfect for dancing, the cape that flowed from the skirts sparkling as she moved.

I’m serious, Ravenna.

It’s just dancing. I’ll be done with him soon.

They danced for a few more songs, until the music slowed to a pace where they were able to catch their breath. 

“When do you go back to Dawn?” Ravenna asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Fetrin replied. “I’ve got a meeting to get back for.”

“So many meetings,” Ravenna breathed. “You sound exactly like all of my friends. Everything is always so political.”

Fetrin laughed. “There are always decisions to be made, pawns to be moved, I guess.”

“I only wonder where the humans fit into all of it,” Ravenna said with a sigh. 

“I do too,” Fetrin said, eyes softening. Ravenna let the silence sit for a moment after that, determining where to go from there. 

“I went on a mission once,” she started, “we’d invaded this mansion on the Continent, it was some sort of rescue mission. There were a number of injured and dead and it was my job to recover the casualties and heal as much as possible in the field.” He watched her intently as they danced, slowly swaying together. 

“Only two of those I healed from there had injuries from the invasion itself,” she continued. “The rest were human slaves that were being kept within the house, so badly beaten that I could only provide minimal relief.” She held her breath as she waited for Fetrin’s response. 

“That is despicable,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It’s despicable that it’s not completely outlawed throughout Prythian and beyond.”

“Isn’t it? I’ve always hoped something would change, but after that it became hard to ignore,” she returned.

“I’m hopeful something will change one day,” he said. “With the right people in charge.” Ravenna smiled up at him genuinely, detecting no mistruth. They danced one last song together, before he led her from the floor and went to fetch water. They stood together in silence as they caught their breath and sipped the water from crystal chalices he’d found at the bar. 

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” Fetrin said, “for everything that happened, back then.” They stood facing each other, and Ravenna tried to keep her face neutral as she responded.

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No. I took him from you because I thought I deserved you more. I was young and stupid and I’m so fucking sorry.”

Ravenna had not expected this from him, after so many years, and she wasn’t sure exactly what she should say next. She’d gotten the information she needed, she could really say anything she wanted at this point. 

“It’s okay, Fetrin. I forgave the kid who did that a long time ago,” she told him, and she meant it now. She didn’t think they should’ve married regardless, they clearly weren’t all that compatible – but his mistake was a childish one, and they had been so young, so impulsive and immature. 

He gave her a grateful smile, almost a pitiful one, and she tried to mirror the expression on his face as he stepped slightly closer to her. “I’m glad you invited me,” Fetrin told her, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You look as beautiful as ever, by the way.”

She felt herself starting to get an anxious feeling again, unsure of how she would say no if he made a move on her. Ravenna forced the corners of her mouth to turn upwards into a smile as he gazed into her eyes, but she broke eye contact a moment later to take another sip of water. Her liquid courage had worn off, and now she was just drunk and nervous. 

She took a deep breath, wetting her lips. She turned at the sound of someone coughing awfully close to her.

“Did you save me a dance?” Ravenna turned to find Cassian, hands poised behind his back, an expression she couldn’t identify on his face. 

“Oh of course!” she mused, grateful for the interruption. She turned back to Fetrin. “Fetrin, this is Cassian, General of the Night Court. Cassian, meet Fetrin.”

The two males shook hands, a tentative smile on Cassian’s face. “Do you mind if I steal my dear friend for a dance? She saved my life recently, so I feel like it’s necessary,” Cassian told him. 

“Be my guest,” Fetrin answered, tipping his head. 

Cassian outstretched his hand to Ravenna. 

Come dance with me. 

She slipped her hand into his and followed him back out to the dancefloor. 

You’re moving pretty confidently for someone who’s not the best dancer. Ravenna’s laugh echoed through his head and he couldn’t help but join. Finally he took her waist in his hands, pulling her into him. Her hands found his shoulders and they moved across the floor together, awkwardly at first, until Cassian let a giggling Ravenna take the lead. 

“How’d it go?” he asked, once they were far enough away. 

“Good, actually,” she said. “It was nice to talk with him.”

“He was getting a little handsy there for a second,” Cassian replied, a hint of warning in his tone.

“You are so overdramatic,” Ravenna teased, rolling her eyes. “Jealous maybe?”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “No,” he insisted. “I’d never be jealous of an emissary,” She beamed up at him at those words, letting him twirl her again. 

“Your wings are looking really good, by the way,” Ravenna added.

“Thank you. I can even use a sword again,” he said with a wink. 

They traversed the floor a few more times, laughing drunkenly as they moved to the music. When the song finished, he pushed her back in Fetrin’s direction and stalked off, looking back once to watch her walk away with a smile on her face.

Ravenna stumbled back to Fetrin, the remnants of the smile Cassian had left her with still painting her features. He looked amused, waiting for her to return.

“You didn’t tell me you had a mate,” he said as she approached, brow furrowed ever so slightly. 

She looked at him, with her head cocked sideways, her smile turning to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The General,” Fetrin said plainly. “He’s your mate, no?”

Ravenna’s mouth went dry, her stomach dropping. “No, he’s not my mate,” she said, voice dull. Her mind was racing faster than she could keep up with, thoughts ricocheting off of other thoughts causing her head to throb. Fetrin didn’t know them. He was just mistaken. That had to be the explanation.

“Ravenna…” he said, hesitantly, the look on his face a mixture of fear and realization. “You didn’t know, did you?”

She shook her head. “I mean no, we’re not mates so there’s nothing for me to not know.”

His face read pure pity. “You have no reason to, but trust me on this. That is your mate. Whether either of you has realized it yet or not.”

“He has a girlfriend,” Ravenna replied, raising her eyebrows at the male.

Fetrin shrugged. “Do you think the mating bond cares?”

“I don’t know!” She felt like she had been punched in the gut, like all the air had left her. She wondered then, if Cassian knew. Or if Rhys or Azriel had sensed it already, had all known it before she had.

“Let me walk you home,” Fetrin said quietly, offering her his arm. She latched onto it and followed him out of the ballroom wordlessly. “I know it’s a lot to digest.”

“I’m not even 100% sure I believe you,” she said. “I mean it’s just your opinion.”

“I’ve seen lots of mating bonds take shape over the years. I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you fit together. It’s inevitable.”

“What am I supposed to do about it? Break up his relationship for my own benefit?”

He pursed his lips, shoving his hands in his pockets as they walked. “It’s a sticky situation, for sure. Time will tell.”

They walked the rest of the way into town in silence, Ravenna trying to focus on walking in a straight line. She had already not been able to handle her feelings for Cassian, but she had thought they were just feelings. A mating bond was different, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was why his voice in her head felt so right. She couldn’t process it, and she briefly wondered where Mor was, as she hadn’t seen her since the beginning of the night. She doubted Mor would know what to say, but she felt like she needed to tell someone, to see if they agreed with Fetrin. Maybe she looked stupid, and it was obvious to everyone else. 

They made it to the street below the House of Wind and Ravenna turned back to Fetrin. “This is where I leave,” she said. “I’m really glad you came.”

“Me too,” he told her, moving his hair from his eyes. “I’m sorry if I told you something you weren’t ready to hear yet.”

“It’s okay, maybe I needed to hear it,” Ravenna replied. “Thank you Fetrin.”

Before he could reply, she winnowed above the wards that guarded the House, and made a rough landing in the courtyard.

-

Epiphany Masterlist

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 1}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: Running from the past to a new city gave you the perfect opportunity to open your own bakery. You're a regular at Brass Knuckles, and the owner is the right type of friendly you need in your life. Along with him, comes his group of friends, one Frankie Morales. You develop a crush on him nearly instantly. Can you manage to get your head above water long enough to tell him he's the most gorgeous man you've ever met?  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: cigarettes, self depreciation (reader is uncomfortable in their body)

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist 

Your legs were feeling tight and heavy, the soft thud of your feet hitting the treadmill reverberating up to your hips and began to cause a twinge. Sweat was dripping down between your shoulders, underneath your chest, down the sides of your face from your hairline. The shorts you were wearing had ridden up to expose the entirety of your legs, keeping anything important from view with the help of your oversized band tee. With a huff of annoyance at needing to stop you reached out and hit the button with a red square on the face of the machine. You allowed yourself to slow down, the cool down initiated to where you could walk at a measly 1.5 miles an hour as opposed to the 4.0 miles you had been running at for the last hour. You took the chance to reach out and greedily gulp from the water bottle you had brought with you before swapping it out for the towel and began wiping at your face.

You looked around the gym, taking in the way the late sun was hitting the interior. It was nearly sundown, nearly time for dinner. Your watch tilled, letting you know it was 7 on the dot. You had two more minutes of cool down time, but you know the gym closed right at 7. You were about to hit the stop button but a voice called out to you.

“You’re okay! Finish your cool down, just make sure to clean the machine when you’re done.” Benny, the owner of the place called from where he was at the front desk, bidding the only other person who had been in here the last two hours a good day.

“Oh, thank you! I really appreciate it, I had such a late start today.”

“I know, normally you’re here like clockwork.” He didn’t bother with locking the door, as a white pick up truck with two figures had just pulled up in the nearly empty parking lot. “I trust ya, you haven’t been the least bit intrusive the entire time you’ve been coming here!”

You tried to focus but the two men who entered the building were loud with jokes and banter, Benny feeding off their energy the second they were inside. The machine beeped and you felt the tread begin to slow down and then stop. You picked your towel back up and held it to your face for a moment. When you pulled it back you felt eyes on you and you looked over to the front where the guys were still gathered. Big, brown eyes met your own and you tried to focus on the face that they helped to make up but it was a little hard without your glasses. The man ducked his gaze, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck as he turned his attention back to his companions.

You turned and stepped off the machine, your hip twinging again and causing you to scramble to grab the handrail along the side of the machine. Hand were suddenly hovering around you, voices calling out to you. You shook your head and waved them off. Not sure how all three men had managed to get across the room so fast.

“I’m good, I’m good.” You stood at your full height, which wasn’t much to be honest, but you felt more confident when your hip just duly ached instead of spiked. “Faulty hip is all. Didn’t mean to startle y’all.”

“You gotta be more careful, manté.” Benny lightly scolded, using the shorted version of the nickname he had deemed yours after finding out you ran a bakery. It had been the address you put down for your application to join the gym. He had been confused but politely reminded you that you needed to use a home address on your application, not a business. When you told him you owned the building and lived on the second floor of the bakery he had lit up like a kid at Christmas. He’d been calling you butter in Spanish ever since, but had shortened it to ‘manté’ a few months ago on a whim.

You reached up to take your hair out of its tie, the long copper locks softly curling to the middle of your back. You just offered a smile to the men hovering so close to you, not put off by them in the slightest, having seen Benny everyday for nearly six months and his friend Santiago intermittently within that time frame.

“We’re celebrating tonight, manté, you wanna join us?” The older man asked, his salt and pepper hair curling beautifully atop his head, his jaw was ticking as he waited for an answer. “Fish here just got back into town and he’s the man of the hour.”

You thought about it, they had offered in the beginning, since you were always the last one in the gym come closing time. The third man was shuffling on his feet, the furthest away from your little group and looking a little uncomfortable. You had gone out with them once, but the brooding figure of Tom had put you off and you hadn’t gone out with them since. It had just been a couple friendly beers across the street at the dive bar, but when he had showed up and demanded who you were and which one of them out of the Miller brothers and Santiago you were fucking, you had quickly thanked them for the evening and left.

They had tried to invite you out again after that with apologies and promises that Tom wouldn’t be there, but you always used the excuse of needing to get home and try out a new recipe. You looked between the two men, wanting to say yes because they were genuinely good people and have always been nice to you, but you didn’t want to intrude on what was obviously an important night.

“How about a-“

“Raincheck. Gotcha.” Santiago turned with a little more haughtiness than you anticipated, but you stopped him with a hand on his broad shoulder. You didn’t like seeing the smile falter on his handsome face. You really did want to expand your social circle, it had been a lonely six months since relocating to the area. You had your bakery, and you had your friendly neighbor, and the sister of one of your oldest friends but you didn’t have anyone to just hang out with. You weren’t the biggest on social things but even you recognized that you needed to get out more.

“I was going to say, how about a quick run home to shower and change and then I’ll meet up with you? But if you wanna say no on my account, Santi, then by all means. Adios.”

He turned around so fast and engulfed you in the biggest bear hug, lifting you off the ground with the force of it. His arms were strong around you, comforting in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You melted a little despite yourself, suddenly self-conscious of how sweaty you were, how you were barely in anything other than a big shirt and workout shorts. You must look an absolute mess, not that you coming in straight from the bakery in flour stained work clothes and frizzy hair was any better.

You patted his arms, prompting him to put you down.

“You could just tag along like that, none of us would complain, would we, Benny?” He tossed a wolfish grin over to the younger man. He reached out once he put you down to tug at the hem of your tee with a large hand, his fingers tangling in the fabric. The flush on your face from running felt hotter all of a sudden, though you were sure it was from the action and not the man itself. “You look mighty good, right now.”

“Santi, please.” You pinned him with a deadpan look, not worried about him actually doing anything or meaning his words. It was all harmless flirting that you had grown accustomed to from the man. “I just worked out for like two hours, I gotta shower.”

A few minutes later you had retrieved your bag from the women’s locker room and bathroom combination, the small duffle bag thrown over your shoulder. You had on a pair of tortoiseshell rounded glassed perched on your nose and your phone in your hand. You bid Santiago and Benny farewell where they were standing around the ring set up at the back of the large workout room.

“See y’all in an hour or so!”

“Text me when you leave, mante!”

You startled when you went to push open the front door to the gym at the same time Frankie was pulling it from the outside. He must’ve stepped out and was now coming back in. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, and you itched to reach for one from your own bag. You looked up at him, the sun silhouetting him in front of you, his shoulders were broad and his chest was wide right in front of your face. You felt heat creep up your cheeks but blamed it on the post workout glow.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” You gushed as you stepped back to let him into the building.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, apologies.” He shuffled to the side, his feet stepping carefully over your own. “I also…didn’t mean to stare at you earlier, you pinned me with a pretty harsh look but I was just spacing out, honest.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to think back on the last 20 minutes you’ve known him and couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. You remember looking around the empty gym and feeling brown eyes on your form. You hadn’t glared at him, you had just been trying to see…

“Oh! Oh no, I was totally not like death glaring at you, I’m so sorry.” You reached a hand out to tap your glasses. “I don’t have contacts and I was trying to see across the room, all I could make out were your brown eyes but I didn’t recognize you. You’re back in town, Santi said?”

He seemed to relax a little at your explanation, taking in the way your cheeks flushed and you spoke fast to alleviate any awkwardness. He moved a hand out to push your water back into its little pocket on your bag where it was jutting out, the movement bringing him close enough to smell your lingering perfume from the day over your sweat.

“I’m Frankie,” He held his hand out in front of his chest in an offer to shake. You slipped your smaller hand in his and your grip was stronger than he anticipated as he felt you pump your clasped hands once before letting go. Warmth spread up his arm from the contact. “Just got back from a flying course, touching up on some basics.”

“Oh, that must’ve been exciting still, and thank you. For your service.” You smiled at him, it was soft and genuine. “The boys have mentioned you before, I thanked them too, but they got bashful at the attention. First and only time I’d ever seen them shut up.”

Frankie just stared at you, not sure how he felt about your words. He always felt awkward when people did that but to be honest it doesn’t happen a lot these days. People were so afraid of being offensive to the point of ignorance. But it was…nice to hear you say that.

“Thank you, you’re too kind.”

“Nonsense, you guys deserve to hear that. It’s a lot to have been through, I can only begin to imagine, but it was still something to be commended, you all put your lives on the line.” You shuffled, aware of how much of a mess you were standing in front of this clean, handsome man with his curls tucked underneath a baseball cap and his basic but flattering outfit of jeans and a tee. You turned from him and pushed open the door, calling out over your shoulder. “I’ll see y’all in a bit.”

next chapter 

[silhouetteonpaper]

DERIVED FROM POWER | Ch. 6

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

WC: 2015

Warnings: Anxiety attack, guns, kidnapping attempt

CHAPTER SIX

Y/N rose from her bed still full of exhaustion even after eight hours of sleep. The episode from last night was still stuck in her mind, the settling emotions leaving her with tired puffy eyes. She looked in the mirror, sighing at her swollen face left over from crying. After splashing it with cold water, hoping she didn’t look too rough, she threw on some clothes and walked out to the kitchen for breakfast.

Her tired demeanor turned cheerful when she saw the three faces of Yelena, Natasha, and Wanda huddled around the counter preparing and eating their own breakfast. “Hey Y/N, how’d you sleep?” Wanda asked with a smile as Y/N leaned on the counter next to them.

“Pretty good.” The girl responded, attempting to wipe away her tired eyes. Yelena laughed.

“Pretty good? You look like you got hit by a truck.” The blonde joked. Wanda elbowed her, quickly looking up to Y/N who was smirking and shaking her head. She knew she looked a mess and was fine with it at this point, knowing there wasn’t too much she could do about it. She needed to listen to Wanda’s words and just let herself feel.

Everyone laughed together as they worked on breakfast, Y/N already feeling more awake and better than before. She assumed from Yelena’s comment that Wanda didn’t say a word about last night to anyone, so she flashed her a kind smile of thanks. Wanda nodded softly, knowing exactly what she meant by it.

“We had an idea for today,” Natasha started to speak. The three of them exchanged a playful smirk before looking back to Y/N. “We want to take you into the city to explore, whatever you want to do. And we should go shopping too, that way you can pick out your own clothes.” She explained. 

Y/N grinned, biting into a piece of toast she made. The idea of going out for the day with the three of them sounded like fun, and she needed that distraction to take her mind off everything else for a minute.

“That sounds perfect. But, are you sure it’s safe for me to go out?” Y/N asked, aware that HYDRA was still on the lookout for her. Her stomach flipped at the idea of being hunted if she went out in public, this time by killer agents instead of intruding paparazzi.

“Yes, we will be with you in case anything happens. We’ll also blend in pretty well, all of us are dressed normally and you’re not at a political event where they know to look.” Wanda explained. Y/N nodded, a wave of relief washing over her as she realized they were right. The main reason HYDRA knew where to find her was because she was always with her parents, who were often followed by cameras and press articles.

“Alright, let’s do it then!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly as she finished off her breakfast.

Soon, the four of them were walking through the busy city, taking in the tall buildings and beautiful store windows. “Hey, can we shop in this store?” Y/N asked as they passed a clothing shop with cute outfits in the display window. The group nodded, walking inside together.

They all spent some time browsing, each of them pulling a few hangers off the racks to try. Y/N was having the time of her life, choosing whatever she pleased without the worry of what her mother might think of each item. “I’m going to go try these on, I’ll be back.” Y/N spoke, getting a nod back from Natasha who was looking through a rack of shirts.

“Okay, we’ll be out here waiting.” She responded. Y/N happily walked back to the dressing rooms, pulling open a curtain and placing the hangers on the bar rack. She turned to close the curtain, but a sudden tight grip on her wrist prevented her. A masked figure in a black suit was standing there, his hold firm on the young girl's arm even as she tried to pull away.

Y/N’s eyes went wide, her heart nearly stopping at the sight of him. His suit had a small red emblem on it, reading the skull with tentacles. HYDRA. The figure pulled the girl out of the dressing room, slamming her against the wall opposite the row of rooms.

“Make any sound, and you’ll regret it.” He spoke quietly, holding up a small knife to the girls throat. She was stuck pressed against the wall, her entire body trembling underneath the pressure. HYDRA was going to take her, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

Y/N closed her eyes, letting a silent tear fall as she knew this was it for her. HYDRA would take her and she would be used as a weapon, not a person. Her anxiety took over, trying to wash away the present moment as her fear became too much to handle.

She was only brought back to reality when a soft thump could be heard, along with the pressure of the figure against her suddenly letting up. Y/N blinked open her eyes, tears blurring her vision for a moment. In front of her stood an angry Wanda, Natasha, and soon a running Yelena stopping to stand behind them.

“Can’t even try on clothes without HYDRA coming back, god damnit.” Natasha spoke, looking down at the unconscious body of the HYDRA guard. Y/N inhaled sharply, her lungs desperate for air after the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She slid down the wall slowly, all of the emotion hitting her.

She wasn’t safe, and she knew she never would be. Y/N thought it was stupid to even entertain the idea she’d be safe with the other three women. Anyone powerful enough to modify a human like Y/N was powerful enough to take her back. She breathed rapidly, more tears falling while cries softly escaped her lips.

Wanda bent down as Natasha and Yelena pushed the unconscious body out of the way, joining the pair on the floor after. “Hey, we’re here. It’s okay,” Wanda cooed, putting a hand on Y/N’s arm. The girl looked up at the strawberry blonde, her eyes still wide. She just nearly escaped getting kidnapped for the second time this week. Why did all of these bad things follow her?

“We have to get moving, Y/N. There could be more HYDRA agents. Are you okay to get up now?” Natasha asked, everyone knowing there really was no choice. If they didn’t move now, they’d risk the wrath of more HYDRA agents. Y/N didn’t respond, but still stood up slowly with Wanda’s help. She wasn’t okay, and she didn’t think she’d ever be. But for now she pushed as much of it down as possible to get to safety.

Natasha and Yelena led the way, Wanda staying behind them with Y/N right up next to her. They quickly stepped through the city, moving fast enough to hopefully out-run any enemies, but slow enough not to draw attention.

“HYDRA, 3 o’clock.” Yelena called out. Her and Natasha soon had drawn guns from underneath their jackets, somehow having concealed them this entire time. Y/N swallowed, realizing they probably brought them in preparation for this exact situation. Did they know HYDRA would strike today? And they still brought me out? The young girl’s mind was spiraling, and she wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and let out the wave of tears that began to flood her eyes, but for now she settled with a deep breath.

It was pretty hard not to draw attention now, Natasha and Yelena shooting off their guns, a crowd of people screaming as they realized what the loud sound was. HYDRA agents began to shoot back, Wanda immediately pushing Y/N behind a newsstand for cover. People ran up and down the sidewalk, gunshots firing like crazy back and forth.

Y/N huddled behind the newsstand, Wanda in front of her peeking out. The young girl noticed she was doing something with her hands. It was almost as if there was a red glow emitting from her palms. She’d never seen Wanda’s powers before, and wondered if this could be them. But after a moment, she shook her head, her emotions running so high she didn’t know what to believe.

After a few minutes of pandemonium, a black van screeched up against the sidewalk. Wanda grabbed Y/N’s arm and pulled her up to it, an unhappy looking Steve opening the door and pulling her inside. Wanda hopped up behind her, helping guide the frozen girl to one of the seats. Natasha and Yelena soon joined in after, out of breath as they sat down from the intense fight.

“All for a shopping trip, huh?” Steve jabbed at them, everyone now sitting and buckled in as Tony up front began driving. Wanda kicked his shin from across the van’s interior. They both turned to look at Y/N, who was staring in front of her with wide eyes. Wanda shook her head at Steve, knowing he might make it worse if he tried helping.

Natasha and Yelena exchanged a sad look, both of them having some understanding of what Y/N was feeling in the moment. Wanda put her hand on Y/N’s arm, making her flinch. She didn’t even move her gaze, but shook her arm slightly until Wanda let go. She was overwhelmed, sad, hurt, and most of all angry.

Wanda’s eyes fell to the floor, taking a deep breath as she realized just how hurt Y/N was. The shopping trip was a terrible idea, and she now saw that. But they were so desperate to get the young girl's mind off everything and give her a shot at happiness. It all backfired in the end.

The van soon stopped in the tower’s garage, Y/N jumping out of her seat and storming out of the vehicle. “Y/N!” Yelena called after her, but it was no use. The young girl ran off to the elevator before any of them could stop her, immediately heading to her room. The rest of the team in the living area looked up puzzled as the overwhelmed girl hastily passed by, going straight down the hall without glancing at them.

She shut her bedroom door and locked it, pressing herself against the cold wood as her. body slid to the floor. She let the tears that had slowly begun creeping up out, her cries soft as she buried her face in her hands.

“That poor girl.” Steve spoke softly, sitting on one of the couches filled by the rest of the team. Y/N hadn’t left her room since returning to the tower, and the sun had started to lower in the sky by now. The three women caught everyone up on what happened, the team groaning in frustration over HYDRA’s relentless attempts.

“I just don’t know how to help her, especially if she can barely even leave the tower without getting ambushed.” Natasha spoke, knowing her own combat could only do so much if HYDRA kept this close of an eye on her.

“Let’s just let her rest for tonight, I think we should all do the same.” Tony stated, the group agreeing tiredly as they all shifted to head to bed. Everyone was exhausted, especially the three women who spent the day battling it out with HYDRA. Still, none of them could compare their exhaustion to the poor young girl who sat distraught in her bedroom.

Y/N just wanted to be done with all of this, all of the danger and putting everyone else at risk. She couldn’t just sit in fear, waiting for the next attack while living her life in isolation. She had to put an end to it all. It was at that moment the girl realized exactly what she had to do. She had to turn herself in to HYDRA.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet. 

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry. 

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her. 

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before. 

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face. 

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all. 

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again. 

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.  

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it. 

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair. 

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments. 

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion. 

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open. 

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.” 

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more. 

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior. 

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife. 

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin. 

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved. 

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt. 

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it. 

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you. 

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it. 

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps. 

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors. 

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you. 

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon. 

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.” 

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks. 

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon. 

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.” 

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action. 

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?” 

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.  

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished. 

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.” 

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly. 

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike. 

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately. 

You fucked up. Badly. 

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff. 

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.    

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?” 

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.” 

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.” 

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.” 

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt. 

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen. 

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her. 

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior. 

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen. 

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.” 

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you. 

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention. 

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly. 

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed. 

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten. 

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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[roydeezed]

Senshi, Laios and Dunmeshi Episode 4

When I first read through DunMeshi, a lot of themes, ideas, and characterization flew over my head as I wasn't really sure what to make of it. What was it really going for? That was what I was trying to figure out going into it. Like some sort of narrative detective, I tried to piece together all the puzzle parts but the meaning of it escaped me. And probably for the better because that's kind of the point of Dungeon Meshi. The genius structure that winds through every narrative crack of the story is that it's about understanding. Through the worldbuilding that slowly reveals clues to the walls around the main characters hearts that slowly crumble away, to almost every single way the story is told, Dungeon Meshi works around this core act of understanding. Understanding through knowledge and experience. So, when I watch it now, every single part makes sense holistically. Through that final understanding of the story, each small piece gains more meaning. Dungeon Meshi gains so much from a repeated experience.

So that's why the character I was the most confused by when I read it, now makes so much sense to me that I'm experiencing it a second time through the anime. I'll keep the spoilers for people who've finished the manga below the cut in case any anime watchers stumble across this, but the gist is this: Senshi entering the story and the group makes him into a nearly complete and static character that symbolizes the really important theme of staying true to yourself. Specifically this idea that by staying true to yourself, you will find your place in the world. Senshi, by most others standards in the Dunmeshi world, is someone out of step with common and polite society. Someone that doesn't belong. And yet, by staying true to his ideals, he becomes an essential part of the dungeons ecosystem. He makes his own place in the world. And in connection with that central pillar of Understanding, he does it through understanding the dungeon and the world he lives in and also understanding and accepting himself.

Now if you've read the manga, maybe those idea's have some of your neurons firing, so I'll see y'all after the cut.

So, yeah, if you've finished the manga you probably understand what I'm getting at. And what this episode makes clear. Senshi is basically what Laios strives to be. Free and having found his place in the world. Hell, Senshi even plants the seed that pays off with the stories last few chapters in which Laios becomes the ruler of the Dungeon.

Just as Senshi is out of step with the world, so is Laios, except before Falin's death, though it did drive him to chase his freedom, he didn't reveal it to anyone. That system shock of losing his sister as well as meeting someone essentially living the life he so desires points him to that idea of finding his place by being himself. Which he does. By being himself, he conquers the dungeon and becomes an essential part of the world. By being free, understanding himself and the world around him, and very importantly, accepting all of that, he becomes the ruler of the dungeon.

And while Senshi is an incredibly developed character that has to grow very little compared to the others, his most important act of growth actually comes in the first instance we see him. His trauma has caused him to shut himself away from other and in that first act of reaching out to the party he basically completes the most important stage of his devlopment, though we don't know that until much later on. It's that acceptance of others, another part of understanding the world you wish to find your place in, that Senshi fully realizes his best self.

I'm honestly slackjawed in awe at how amazing the structure of DunMeshi is. Through that final chapter, we gain this understanding of the series that recontextualizes the whole thing, which of course isn't a new idea to storytelling, but the the way it feeds into that central theme and idea of Understanding is just breathtaking. Maybe by the time the first season wraps I'll find better words to describe it but I really hope that idea makes sense. It's basically like the theme escaping out of the story and becoming a part of the active reconsumption of the story. It's so cool.