#we are going to beat you to death bottom text

[fromthedamage]

[dougielombax]

POV: You are a homophobe/TERF/fascist/any other associated nasty bigoted sort, and are about to be killed by two middle-aged queers and their son.

This meme was in the back of my mind ever since I saw the TOH finale in April.

I HAD to get around to making it eventually.

Feel free to reblog this.

[thelukesalvez]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Hostage

Description: request: can you do an imagine where the reader is luke’s wife or girlfriend and she gets involved in a hostage situation at a bank and the bau is called in to help with the situation? thanks, i love your writing so much :)

 Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: hostage situation, gun violence, minor character death

“This came in just a few minutes ago from the Director,” Prentiss confirms.  With the click of a button on the remote, a local news station clip projects onto the screen behind her, illuminating the chaos underway. “There’s a situation downtown that he wants the BAU to take the lead on.”

With bewilderment on his face, a reporter stands in downtown Washington D.C., which was littered with law enforcement and a crowd of people. The headline across the bottom of the screen reads ‘Hostage situation underway at Capital One Bank’. 

Luke drops the pen he was holding, drawing attention from other members of the team as it clashes on the table in front of him.  

“Sorry,” he mumbled. The rest of the team averted their attention back to Prentiss, but Luke’s attention was halted in its tracks. Instinctively, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, quickly checking his messages under the table. He tries to remain calm and rational, but his stomach sinks when he realizes none of the messages were from you.  

Luke had been in a rush this morning, per usual. He was running around the house, scrambling for keys, wallet, coffee, his to-go bag, just in case. He only half listened as you told him the list of errands you had to run that morning, while simultaneously scarfing down a buttered bagel.  Whole foods, the post office, the bank–

Luke swallows dryly. You were okay, he tells himself. You were okay, you were okay, you were okay. He repeats the mantra in his head as he types out a quick, casual message.  

Did you make it to the bank this morning?

Luke forces himself to turn at least some of his attention back to the team, but keeps his phone unlocked and open to your text messages.   

“Local officers have invited us in,” Prentiss informs the group, she sets the remote down gently on the round table. “They’ve informed us of at least two armed man inside the bank, no contact or ransom demand has been made as of yet. Garcia is working to gain access to security footage of inside the bank as we speak.” 

The sounds of Garcia typing frantically on her laptop can be heard throughout the conference room as she works.  

Luke stares back down at his blank screen, waiting for text bubbles to appear, indicating that you were responding– alive and well.  But there’s nothing. Luke starts frantically tapping his foot, why weren’t you texting him back?

“Alvez?” Emily’s voice causes Luke’s head to snap up.   

Luke is quick to realize that the entire team is looking at him again as he sits anxiously in his seat, his phone still cradled in the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” he repeats. 

This time no one looks away. 

“What’s wrong?” Rossi asks, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“I’m uh, I’m sorry.” Luke says for the third time. He tries to explain while his brain races. “My wife… My wife told me she was running errands this morning, that she had to go to the bank–”  

The moment of silence feels like an eternity to Luke. 

“That’s our bank,” he motioned towards the screen, still playing news clips on the board. “Do you mind if I just give her a quick call?” He asks, holding his phone up. 

Prentiss nods. “Of course.”

Luke mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before jetting out of the conference room. He escapes into the hall before dialing you. Luke can feel his heart beating rapidly inside of his chest as the line waits to connect– but he’s sent straight to voicemail. 

Luke tries again. He’s not entirely sure why he expected a different outcome, but again, your cheery voice directing him to leave a message plays. This time he does. 

“Hey, it’s me. I just– I really need to hear from you right now.” Luke swallows the lump in his throat, realizing how dry his mouth felt. “Call me back, please. I love you.” He ends the call and turns his phone over in his hand a few times. You were okay, he tells himself again. 

“I– uh, couldn’t get ahold of her,” Luke states as he walks back into the conference room. He makes eye contact with Rossi, who’s gazing wearily back at him. “But I’m sure everything’s fine.” Luke says with as much confidence as he can gather. He’s not so sure he believes it himself. 

That’s when Luke notices how eerily quiet everyone else is. He glances around the room to see everyone else staring at the screen.  

Garcia had managed to tap into the security footage at the bank. Luke scans the image, his eyes immediately landing on the unsub.  He was a tall man, dressed in all black, strutting around the frame with a rifle.  He’s waving it wildly as he randomly lunges intimidatingly at one of the victims huddled on the floor.  There’s no sound to the video, but it looks like he’s shouting at them. 

Garcia suddenly lets out a gasp, her mouth falling open in unison. “No,” she whimpers, she tore her eyes away from the image on the screen to look at Luke. 

Everything inside of him goes numb when his eyes land on one of the hostages curled up on the ground, her knees tucked tightly into her chest, and her familiar looking hair shielding her face as she hangs her head low. There’s a tense silence in the room as Luke stands motionless near the door. Only his chest moved as he let out choppy, labored breaths.  

He could feel eyes on him as the rest of the team came to the same realization he and Garcia just had. You were inside the bank. 

“We are gonna get this guy,” Prentiss says hesitantly, like Luke might break just by her words. 

Luke just nods slowly. He couldn’t find the words to respond, even if he wanted to.    

“She’s going to be okay,” JJ closes the distance between her and him and places a soft, gentle hand on his shoulder.

Luke should say something. He can’t just keep nodding, but all he could think about right now was you, and the way he rushed out of the house in such a hurry this morning. He didn’t even kiss you goodbye– or tell you that he loved you. What if that was the last time he’d ever see you?

“We have to get to the scene,” Prentiss declares somberly. She eyes Luke cautiously, but the clock is ticking.  

JJ lifts her hand off Luke’s arm, leaving behind a cold spot that made him shiver. She follows Tara, Matt and Reid out of the conference room.   

Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia remain in the conference room with Luke.  

Prentiss clears her throat before speaking. “Luke, you know you can’t come with us on this one.”

His jaw tenses at her order and he finally breaks his silence. “Screw the protocol, Emily, there’s no way I’m staying back here.”

“Luke, I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now,” Rossi says softly.  He stands up from his chair and looks at Luke sympathetically.  

“Don’t–” Luke whispers. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he blinks them back before sighing heavily. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of the victims’ families.”

Prentiss and Rossi both stare at Luke for a moment, neither one knowing what else to say.   

“Emily, please,” Luke sighs, he lets his shoulders fall slightly. “I can’t stay here and do nothing.”  

She sighs heavily and she turns to face Rossi, like she’s looking to the more experienced profiler for advice. They exchange a mutual nod before she responds. “Look at me, Luke.”  His eyes meet hers. “You have to remain level headed and you have to follow my orders. Or I will take you off the case.”

Luke understands that Prentiss was legally bound to follow protocol. He wishes that rules and regulations could be pushed aside at times like this, but he nods in agreement. He would have to control his emotions in the field.  

Emily nods back in affirmation before offering him a sympathetic look. She outstretches her hand and gives his shoulder a firm squeeze. “If it’s personal for one of us, it’s personal for all of us.” She tells him, implying what Luke already knew: that they wouldn’t rest until this was all over. 

A variety of emotions flood through Luke’s mind as he rides in the back seat of one of the SUVs to the scene.  Luke shared the car with Tara, Matt, and Reid, but didn’t speak to any of them. Instead he stares directly out the tinted window, remaining silent during the entire duration of their trip. 

Spencer kept turning his head subtly towards Luke, in an attempt to gauge how he was doing. It was hard for him to see his friend suffering like this. Luke was generally the confident, reassuring one, but today he just looked broken.  

The prospect of losing you was all too consuming as he thought about the careless and threatening way the unsub had been waving his rifle around. He thought about how you had been huddled on the ground, curled up and hiding your face against your knees. He thought about how you were probably wondering where Luke was, and why he wasn’t there to protect you. 

Luke swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to blink back tears building pressure up behind his eyes.  

How could this be happening?

…

A round of loud pops rang loudly through the air.

“Everybody on the ground!” 

Confused by the sudden chaos around you, your eyes quickly shift towards the door. Two men in combat gear stand there, their faces covered by ski masks. It takes you a moment to realize that the things they were holding high above their heads were guns. Your stomach drops.

You crouch to the floor in an instant, hastily trying to gauge the situation. Your view is partially blocked by the bench in the middle of the bank, all you can hear is frightened cries and the sound of heavy boots trudging across the floor. You scoot out from behind the bench so that you could better see what was happening.  

Someone is talking with the men, probably a teller, you think. Their voices are angry and harsh. 

Suddenly, in the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard. At first, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, thinking that law enforcement would be able to save you all soon enough. 

But then, you hear someone curse loudly then a pair of boots stride back to the counter.  

“Did you call 911?” One man asks. His voice is eerily calm. You watch as the teller shakes his head, terrified. The man laughs before raising his gun, shoving it near the teller. “Don’t lie to me!” He screams, causing you to jump. 

The teller continues to shake his head, sobbing and pleading now. You watch as the robber rips the mask off, displaying his face. He smirks evilly before spinning his rifle around and jabbing it into the teller’s face. You jump in shock as he falls to the floor, groaning in pain.    

Someone screams, another person sobs.  

Fear floods through your entire body upon realizing that these men weren’t leaving peacefully.  Now that their heist had been cut short, they weren’t going down without a fight. The heavy boots came closer and your eyes quickly became clouded with tears.  

Your eyes remain fixated on the floor, even after the footsteps stop right in front of you. 

“Get up,” the man orders. 

You do as you were told, trying your best to steady your shaking hands. Everyone else gets up too, as the other robber circulates the room repeating the same order. 

“Congratulations,” the man said menacingly. He lifts his gloved hand to trace the outline of your jaw. Your nostrils flare in response to his touch. “You’ve just been upgraded from background noise to hostages. Thanks to whoever called the cops.”

He motions for people to head towards the back corner of the bank. Once everyone is gathered around in a semicircle, (you counted eleven other hostages) the robbers bark more orders.

“Cell phones, now.”

People hurry to throw their phones towards the middle of the circle. You pull yours out, your heart sinking when you see an unopened message from Luke flash across your screen. 

‘Did you make it to the bank?’  

You wonder if the BAU had gotten wind about what was happening yet. You clutch your phone tightly before tossing it on the tiled floor with everyone else's.  

No one speaks, everyone just watches as the two men circulate around the room. You curl your knees into your chest, hugging them tightly. 

“You weren’t supposed to hurt anyone,” you hear the masked man whisper to the other. “You said we’d just take the money and go.”

“There’s cops outside, Diggy, we’re surrounded. The only way we’re getting out of here is a negotiation. Or if we shoot our way out.”

He strokes his beard lightly, another smirk washing over his face. “Now take that off,” he nods towards his partner’s mask. “Don’t matter much anymore if they see your face, does it?”

The man peels off his mask to reveal his young face. His features are furrowed, like he was concerned. “Cops have protocols they have to follow,” he says to the bearded man. “They won’t just barge in here unless you hurt anyone, so cool it. We can figure this out.”

Just then, the phone starts ringing.  

The older man answers, “What?” he barked. 

You hear muffled voices on the other end of the line.  

“Oh yeah?” He said mockingly, “And what can you do for me, SSA David Rossi of the BAU?”

You let out a shaky breath upon hearing the name of your husband’s coworker. The BAU had been invited in– which meant Luke knew. You wonder if he was outside, too. 

It makes your chest ache to know there was such a small barrier between you and his safe arms.   

“I’ll tell you what I need, I need a way out of here, or else people are going to get hurt.”

You hear Rossi’s muffled voice on the other end of the line again, no doubt using his profiling skills to help defuse the situation. You see the man’s brows slide into a firm line, like he’s thinking hard about something Rossi’s said. But in an instant his face contorts into an angry scowl and he clenches his rifle tighter. 

“Get me a way out of here or they die,” he snarls, before hanging up the phone. 

The man walks back over to the group of hostages with malice in his eyes. He scans the faces of people before landing on a scared woman, looking to be in her early 30’s. He bends over and wraps his hand around her arm, hoisting her up on her feet. 

“No,” she pleads, tears streaming rapidly down her face. “Please, no,” she sobs. 

“Shut up,” the man yells, lifting his gun tauntingly, before dragging her from the group.  

“What are you doing?” you can’t believe you were speaking, you even startle yourself with your words. 

But he doesn’t even turn around– doesn’t even acknowledge that you had protested.  

He pulls her towards the end of one of the teller stations and scribbles something down on a piece of paper. The woman stands by, shaking terribly in her shoes. When the man stops writing he hands her the note. 

“Take this to the cops,” he orders. 

“W-what?”

“Take this to the cops,” he repeats, slower this time. 

She nods, her trembling hands accepting the note. 

…

“Guys–” Tara says. 

The team turns to face where her attention was focused. The front doors of the bank were opening.  

Luke hurries to unholster his gun, his shaky hands gripping the handle as he and every other cop in the area draws their weapons. 

Confusion washes over him as a woman exits the bank, her hands above her head. 

“Please,” she sobs.  

SWAT rushes over to escort the woman to safety.  

“He told me to give you this,” she cries, handing a note over to the SWAT member.  

Prentiss rushes over to take the note, reading aloud the demands.

“Two million dollars and an escape plan. Every 30 minutes you keep me waiting, someone will die.”

The knot in Luke’s stomach tightens. 

…

“Tick tock,” the bearded robber states as he struts around the interior of the bank. The younger man had been quietly sitting on the bench, staring at his shoes for the last few minutes or so. 

The robber picks up the phone, dialing the number that had previously reached out. 

“Is this Rossi?” he snarls into the line. “It’s almost been thirty minutes.”

You watch as the robber converses with Rossi. You’re wondering what he’s saying. 

“You just got someone killed.” He hangs the phone up harshly before taking a deep breath, staring at the clock on the wall. 

“And thirty.” The robber made his way back over to the hostages. He doesn’t hesitate before pulling up the older man who had been praying silently next to you. 

“No!” you cry, trying to grab his hand to pull him back, but the robber just yanks him harder.  

The man is dragged across the floor, but he’s still visible to you. He’s slammed down on the floor on his knees, facing away from the robbers. Your eyes widen as the man brings the rifle up, only inches from the elderly man’s head. You know you should look away, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, especially when he turns his head and locks eyes with you.  

You are the last thing he sees before the robber pulls the trigger.  

You’re too terrified to scream, or cry, or do much of anything. You just stare in shock as the man collapses into a pool of his own blood.  

“That’s what happens when these cops don’t listen to me!” He rants, waving the gun around. He fires a couple of more shots into the ceiling, causing debris to fall. More screams rattle the interior of the bank. 

“What are you doing?” The quieter robber stands up fiercely and rushes over to his partner. He looks frantically at the dead body on the floor. “You just killed someone!” 

They get in each other's faces. “I’m doing what I have to do to get us out of here!” he screams back. He postures towards the younger boy, intimidating him into backing down.  “I’m trying to save us, Diggy.”

“But killing someone, man? I didn’t sign up for that, Kalo.”

“You just gotta trust me, okay?” The older man, you now knew was named Kalo, spoke. 

Diggy lowers his head, biting his lip harshly. He shakes his head, still in shock that things had gone so wrong, so fast. 

…

“Were those gunshots?” Reid asks, worry evident in his voice. 

“Those were gunshots,” JJ confirms, strapping her vest on tightly. 

Luke squeezes his eyes shut tightly. “We have to go in there,” he states, trying to remain calm. 

Rossi lowers the phone that he had been talking to the unsub on. “He said we just got someone killed.”

“If they’re shooting people, we have to go in–” Luke speaks up again. He’s terrified. What if it was you?

“It wasn’t her,” Matt speaks up. He’s watching the video footage that Luke had been too scared to check. “It looks like an older gentleman.”

Luke lets out a shaky sigh. He feels guilty for being relieved about someone else’s death, but he couldn’t help it. He looks at the clock stationed above the monitor. In another 24 minutes, it could be you. 

“What’s our game plan, here?” One of the SWAT members asks.  

Emily sighs. “We have to play this smart– these guys are reckless and they’re not going down without a fight. If we barge in there, they’ll just start shooting. Who knows how many hostages could get hit in the crossfire?”

“If we don’t go in there, he’s just going to keep executing them one-by-one.” Matt refutes. 

Emily nods. “Someone get me the layout of this building, I need to see the back entrances and side doors. If we go in, I want them surrounded.”

…

You’d never given much thought to how you would die. But sitting here, on the cold tile floor, surrounded by people you didn’t know and two masked assailants, wasn’t something you think you could have ever imagined.  

You wonder how Luke was doing– you knew how protective of you he was. You just hope the team has convinced him to keep a level head. 

The woman sitting next to you was spinning her wedding band around on her finger rapidly.  

“What’s his name?” you ask, motioning towards her ring. 

She looks up at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “Julian,” she spoke softly, her lips tugging into a sad smile. “And yours?” she asks. 

You touch your finger to your own ring. “Luke.”

You move your hand across the floor and rest it on top of hers. “We’re going to see them again.”

She nods, using her other hand to cover the sob that was escaping her lips.  

“These FBI agents just don’t learn, do they?” Kalo snarls as he struts across the floor. “They’re gonna let another one of you die.”

This time, he came straight for you. His firm grasp hauls you up to your feet, and before you had time to protest or fight back, he was dragging you to where he’d shot the last man. 

Your breath became choppy and uneven as fear flooded your insides. You were going to die. He was going to kill you. 

“Kalo– stop, no one else has to die!” His friend protests. He even reaches out to pull you away from his clutches, but Kalo shakes him off, jolsting you away from the other man. 

“Kalo!” he shouts, but his partner ignores him.

Just as you get to the middle of the floor, an array of loud bangs echo through the bank, causing you to jump. 

“FBI. Freeze!” A voice yells, before you realize what was happening, Kalo is wrapping his arm around you, and pulling you back against him. The hard barrel of his gun presses against your temple, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’ll shoot her!” Kalo hollers back, his forearm jabs into your throat. 

When you finally get your bearings, you’re able to look around the room. You see a few faces you recognize.  

The first is Emily. She’s got her gun pointed right at you– or the man holding you, you suppose.  Rossi is beside her, he holds his gun up in his hand before holstering it. 

“We just want to talk, Kalo,” he says calmly.  

Of course they figured out who these guys were, you thought. With Garcia’s tracking abilities, she probably had the men identified within the first five minutes of the robbery. 

You also notice JJ and Matt, they were to the side of you. Clearly they’d found a way in through another door. Reid and Tara flank on the opposite side, they made their way around the two of you, ensuring that the robbers were surrounded. You scan and scan for Luke, but he isn’t there.  It was probably against some policy. You are glad he was following the rules, but you still wish he was there– you wish you could see his face. 

“I’m done talking!” Kalo screams back. His grip tightens and you struggle to breathe. “Go away, or I’ll kill her!” 

He was losing control, you can tell. You squeeze your eyes shut and think about Luke some more. You let his face appear in your mind, his warm brown eyes and soft smile came into focus.  It makes you sad, thinking you may never be able to hear his voice again– or feel his touch.    

“You know we can’t do that, Kalo. Put the gun down and we can work this out.” Rossi says calmly. You open your eyes again. 

“I’m not going back to prison.” Kalo mutters. His arm becomes shaky as it is pushed deeper into your throat, you gag as your airway becomes almost completely blocked. 

“Kalo– don’t do this,” Rossi pleads with the man, he senses that he is about to snap. 

“I’m not going back to prison!” Kalo shouts, and you know– you know that this was it. 

A loud gunshot rings out and you feel yourself dropping to the floor. Your entire body goes numb. You’re sure that you’re dead. 

But as you collapse to the tile floors, you slowly realize that there was no pain– or darkness. You open your eyes to find Kalo lying lifeless next to you. His eyes are still open as blood starts to spread across the ground. You push yourself away, realizing the crimson liquid had splattered all over you and your clothing. You scoot backwards until you ram into the bench.  

You look around the room as the agents jump into action. Rossi hurries to Kalo, kicking his gun out of the way before kneeling down to check his pulse.  

Matt, JJ, and Tara rush to gather up the other hostages, still huddling on the floor in the corner.  

Emily crosses the room to put handcuffs on the other robber. Diggy stands with his gun still pointing at his partner. The smoke is still curling off the end of the barrel as he looks at his fallen friend. 

As Emily approaches him, he drops the weapon, showing that he is willing to go peacefully. 

“No one was supposed to die,” he says in shock. “I had to shoot him.” 

Emily starts telling him his rights when you are approached by a soft, calm voice. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer says soothingly. He kneels beside you. “Are you hurt?” he asks. 

You shake your head, your eyes staring blankly at him as you try to regain the feeling in your body. 

“Can you stand?” Spencer asks wearily.  

You nod, slowly getting to your feet, with support from Spencer.  

“Luke–” you manage to spit out. Your voice is shaky. 

Spencer nods, wrapping his around your waist reassuringly, “Luke’s here,” he tells you. “I’m gonna take you to him.”

Spencer leads you outside of the bank. The sunlight is almost blinding and you hold your arms up to shield some of it. You want to search for Luke, to scream out his name, but your senses are betraying you.  

Your knees wobble, and you rely way too much on Spencer’s support to get down the steps of the building. You lean into his side, almost ready to fall, when you hear your name being called by a familiar voice. 

“She’s okay,” Spencer tells Luke as he darts across the sidewalk towards you.   

You barely have time to lay your eyes on him before he’s replacing Spencer’s arm with his own embrace. Suddenly, you’re engulfed by his touch and smell and everything Luke. It takes a moment for you to realize it’s real– that your husband is here and that you’re finally safe in his arms. But when you do, you let it consume you. You collapse into his frame and wind your arms tightly around his neck, squeezing like you just couldn’t get close enough. Your face presses into the nape of his neck and you breathe in his warm, familiar scent. 

“You’re okay?” Luke asks, finally pulling back to assess the damage that had been done.  

He winces when he sees the blood covering your shirt. “It’s not mine,” you whisper, knowing what he was looking so concerned about.

It was his– the man who had inflicted upon you the worst day of your entire life. You scratch at the fabric, suddenly desperate for it to come off. 

“I want to go home,” you tell Luke. 

He nods softly. “I’m gonna take you home.”

…

You stand in the bathroom later that night, staring at the reflection looking back at you. Your eyes were hollow– lifeless. The shower is running, the steam already rising above the curtain and starting to cause the mirror to fog up.  

You peel off your shirt to showcase the deep, discoloration already evident on your neck from where the robber had held you. You were tracing the line of bruises across your skin when the wave hit you. In an instant, you let out an earth shattering sob. The cries come from deep within you and wrack your entire body.  

You’re heaving so loudly that you don’t even hear Luke enter the bathroom. Only when he is behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into your chest did you notice his presence. 

He holds you like that for a while, muttering sweet nothings into your hair and swaying you gently. When your sobs finally subside, he slowly starts helping you undress. First, he helps you unclasp your bra, then he undoes your pants, and acts as a balance support while you step out of them.  

Once you are finally naked, he starts undressing himself.  He is much faster than you. 

Luke leads you into the shower and piles in behind you. The warm water washes over you causing goosebumps to rise up on your skin as you adjust to the sudden heat. 

Luke is gentle. He helps rinse the hardened blood that was caked in your hair out. You watch the water that falls off your skin turn crimson as it swirls down the drain.  He softly takes a washcloth and runs it up and down your skin, you lean into his touch, grateful that he is here to help you. 

Luke plants random kisses all over your skin as he washes it. On your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your shoulder. When he gets to your collarbone, he stops. Luke’s fingertips ran across the bruise that had been left behind on you. You watch as his face twists in pain. He hates seeing you hurt. He hates the fact that he couldn’t stop this from happening to you. 

You break Luke out of his trance by gathering his hand in yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Your team saved me today,” you tell him. “You saved me.”

Luke brings your hand to his lips and softly kisses your knuckles. 

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” you tell him. On the last word, your voice breaks, and you start crying softly again. 

Luke pulls you in closer, his hands winding down your back. You press your face against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist. He holds you like that for a long time, until the hot water causes your fingertips to prune and until the mirror is completely covered in fog. Luke holds you tightly, his head resting against your wet hair as you breathe against his rising chest. 

You sigh heavily. For now, you are content like that. In fact, you don’t think you’d care if the two of you stayed in the shower forever You could spend an entire lifetime like that– wrapped up in Luke’s safe embrace. 

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

chapter 3.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

The party was at 5, so I made sure to wake up at 3 to get ready. I dug through my closet, romaging around the very bottom drawer where I put the shit I don't wear anymore. I eventually found the dress I wore to homecoming my senior year. To say it was slutty would be an understatement. I was against wearing it at first, but why not go into the new year with a bang. Ew, I hate that. 'with a bang.' whatever. I slipped on the dress and it fit better than it used to.

I did my usual makeup, just adding eyeliner and darker lipstick to match the dress. I pulled out my phone and texted johnnie.

y/n: ready when you are

johnnie: alr, me and Jake should be on our way soon I think, idk

y/n: lol ok just lmk when you're here

johnnie: ofc :))

I slipped on the beat up converse I've been wearing since middle school and waited in the living room for them to get here. I was a little nervous for the party.

my phone dinged.

johnnie: herrrreeeeee

I read his message and ran out the front door.

Who I assumed was Jake sat in the front seat, while Johnnie leaned against the car facing me. "hey." I smiled.

his eyes grazed over my whole body. "you look really good."

"thank you." I smiled, tilting my head down towards him. he was wearing a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans with a white button up that he didn't tuck in. Something clicked in me, maybe because he was wearing something other than pajama pants, but I shoved that feeling down.

he smiled sweetly and opened the backdoor for me. I hopped in and was quickly followed by johnnie. "Damn, Johnnie, leaving me to sit in the back of my car with a pretty girl."

"shut the fuck up, fuck face." he rolled his eyes.

"sorry, we've never really met. I'm jake." He reached over the seat and stuck out his hand.

I shook it. "I'm y/n. it's really great to meet you. Johnnie has talked about you."

"yeah, talked shit." Johnnie joked.

"Johnnie has talked about you too." Jake replied nonchalantly. Johnnie's gaze quickly met Jake's. He gave him the death stare before returning to his phone.

"you've never been to a party?" Jake asked me, beginning to drive off of my street.

"yeah, my parents kind of kept me locked in a cage my whole life." I looked out the window, watching as snow began to fall to the ground. The bright white snow contrasted against the dark sky, making it extremely visible.

"you're going to have the night of your life." Jake said with a southern accent.

I turned to look at johnnie, who was still on his phone. I admired the way his dark makeup contrasted against his pale skin. ill admit, he was just as gorgeous as the snow. I smiled slightly to myself before responding to Jake, mimicking his accent. "Let's hope so, little missy."

johnnie looked up at me with a goofy smile on his face. he had a certain look in his eye that I couldn't quite read. my stomach errupted with butterflies. I was usually able to read anyone, it didn't matter if I knew them or not. Johnnie was different, and it was confusing.

Jake had turned up the radio and I looked back out the window, racking my brain for what that look was for. was it because I was being funny? was I getting along with Jake more than he liked? was he happy I was getting along with jake? I came up with every possible answer, but none made sense. whether positive or negative, why would he look at me like that?

we eventually arrived at the party, parking down the street from the house. "I'm going straight for the drinks." I commented. "I will never be the one to turn down free alcohol."

"I second that." Jake said, sticking up his pointer finger and pursing his lips.

loud music radiated from the house. it was still decorated for Christmas. lights were strung all over the house while the roof held a porcelain Santa and reindeer.

I grabbed Johnnie's arm. "Look! no one told me Santa was still in town!" I made a shocked face.

he began to jump up and down. "oh my god, Santa! Jake, it's my dad!" he said in a childlike voice.

"you're finally reunited!" Jake patted his back, making two rough slapping sounds.

we waited on the doorstep while Jake was talking to someone out on the yard. "it's nice seeing you not so stressed because of your job."

"I guess I do seem pretty stressed." I admitted. "but I do love my job."

"still, I've never seen you in something other than jeans and a t-shirt with an apron." he smiled.

"well, I've never seen you in anything other than pajama pants. you look very-" I paused, thinking of a not so obvious word to describe him. "good. sorry, I'm not the best with compliments."

"it's the thought that counts." he playfully nudged me.

"A for effort, I guess." I rolled my eyes at him.

"those shoes look like they've been through hell and back." he looked down before making eye contact with me again.

"I mean, technically they were. I wore them in middle school." I kicked a rock out from under my foot.

"I dropped out in middle school." he snickered as Jake walked up to us.

"Sorry, guys. the ladies love me."

"I'm sure they do, jake." I replied sarcastically.

[older-men-are-sexy-okay]

Soft Spot

CH 4

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You have just graduated with your Bachelor’s degree and decide to stay at home with your dad to save some money before graduate school. The thing is, he is moving from California to Texas to live next to his best friend/college roommate, Joel, along with his daughter, Sarah. Growing up, you heard so much about him from your dad. It’s almost like you know Joel, but you don’t. You’ve never actually met him. This Summer will be interesting…

Warnings/Tags: Dbf! Joel, slow burn, eventual smut, kinda mean Joel, explicit language, references to death, struggles with depression, reader is younger than Joel (22/43), lowkey creepy Joel?

Note: Don’t you stress - they’ll have their first kiss next chapter🥳

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 4

You wake up Sunday morning to someone knocking on your bedroom door. You try to remember if you had another dream about Joel, like the past couple of nights. You hadn’t. A bit disappointing but you’re also relieved. “Come in”. You sit up in your bed

“Hey.” Your dad walks in the room and sits on the foot of your bed. “We missed you last night. Where did you go?”

You take a deep breath. “Joel hates me. And I think I’m beginning to hate him back.” 

Your dad looks confused. “Why would you say that?”

“He never speaks to me, and when he does some rude shit always comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t treat me the same as you or Sarah.” 

“Honey, he didn’t like me either when we first met. But now he’s my best friend. Just give it some time, he hardly knows you.” He replies. 

“Okay.” You say. This conversation with your dad doesn’t give you any clarity, but you’re done talking about the topic. You’ve made up your mind, you’re done with being nice to Joel. 

Your dad pauses for a moment. “Want me to talk to him?” 

Your eyes widen. “Please, god, no.” 

Your dad chuckles. “Okay, then.” He then walks out of your room and shuts the door behind him. You quickly shower and get ready for your date with River. He’s supposed to pick you up at 11 am. You decided to try to dress up. You know what they say, look your best, feel your best. You’re wearing a light blue sundress that brings out your eyes with brown sandals. Hopefully you don’t look like a little girl going to church. However, the dress is maybe a little too short, because you can see your small thigh tattoo poking out from the bottom of your dress. Your hair is curled and makeup looks great. You’re ready to distract yourself and have some good conversation. 

You walk downstairs to see your dad grabbing his car keys and an energy drink from the fridge, looking like he is about to leave. 

“Where are you going?” You ask. 

“Work called, they have something wrong with their shipment.” He said, sounding annoyed. “I’m not even supposed to start until tomorrow and they’re already bothering me with this shit.”

“Well, I guess that’s what it means to be a manager.” You say back. Your dad was a carpenter back in California, he accepted a job as the manager of a flooring company when he decided he was going to move here. 

“I guess. See you later, hun.”  

“Bye, dad.” He walked out the door. You were a little surprised that he didn’t notice you were all dressed up and asked where you were going. But you’re not complaining, he would just be constantly texting you if he knew you were on a date. You take a seat on the couch and wait for Rivers ‘I’m outside’ text. 

Your phone dings about 10 minutes later, and yup, it’s River saying he’s outside. Funny how you just assumed he wouldn’t come to your door, and you were right. You say bye to Obie and lock your front door. You look in your driveway to see a red truck. It looks a bit beat up, but not super old. You wave hello to him and hop in the passenger seat. 

“You look great.” He says looking over at you. 

Just as you say “thanks”, you notice he’s just wearing a white shirt and jeans. He’s not even dressed up, even though when asking River what you should wear on the date, he said “maybe something like a dress😍”. Boys are idiots. Whatever, you try to brush it off. At least you look really cute. Not that he doesn’t look cute, but your expectations were maybe a bit too high. 

“So where are we going to brunch?” You ask him. 

He begins reversing his truck out of the driveway. “There’s this spot down the street called Huckleberry’s. They have great brunch and mimosas.” 

You chuckle at him. “I’m always down for a good mimosa.” 

He smiles in response. 

When he said down the street, he really did mean down the street. It only took like 5 minutes to get there. Which you were glad about because it saved you from most of the small talk on the drive over. You both walked in and grabbed a table. 

Brunch went pretty good, you have to admit. You only had two mimosas and Belgian waffles. He scarfed down a whole breakfast plate. You two had good conversation, got past the small talk pretty quick and got into deep stuff. You shared about your dreams, going into grad school, what growing up was like, etc. You learned that he has one sister and two brothers, he goes to a community college nearby but plans to transfer to the university to pursue criminal justice and that he wants to be a police officer just like his dad. After learning all this stuff about him, you think that you like him a bit more than before. Before he was just a face, now he’s a face with a story. During brunch, he held your hand and you let him. It was nice to be touched. You hadn’t been touched since your last boyfriend, Jackson. You never really liked Jackson all that much, either, but he kept you from being lonely. Brunch went about two hours before you both decided it was time to leave. 

River pulls into your driveway and puts his truck in park. He turns to you. 

“That was a great time, thanks for hanging out with me.” 

You blush. “I had a great time, too.” 

“Um, can I… kiss you?” He asks hesitantly. 

You think about it for a second before nodding your head ‘yes’. 

He leans in to kiss you and you kiss him back. He slips his tongue into your mouth, but you wish he hadn’t. He shoves his tongue down your throat. ‘Does he even know how to makeout?’ You think to yourself. You agreed because you thought ‘what the hell’ but you’d rather be making out with Obie at this point. 

You pull away before it can get any worse. There’s saliva all over your mouth and you put your arm up to your lips to wipe it off. 

“I guess I’ll see you later.” You say putting on a fake smile. 

“No, wait. Let me walk you up.” River says quickly. 

You let him, it’s the most gentlemanly thing he’s done all day. 

He gets out of the truck and you both walk up the short path to your front door. You turn to face him to say goodbye. 

Just as he leans in for another kiss, you think you’re saved when River stops abruptly. Until you realize why River stopped. You turn to follow where River is looking and see Joel standing a few feet from you on the sidewalk. He’s standing with his arms crossed like some suburban mom. He’s staring at you like usual, completely silent. When Joel realizes you see him, he walks up to meet you both on the porch step. 

“Who are you?” Joel asks River harshly, completely ignoring your existence. 

“Um, I-I’m River.” He reaches out his hand, “Nice to meet you, sir.”  

Joel looks down at his hand and back up to his face, clearly dismissing his attempt for a handshake. 

“Sir?” Joel asks. 

“Uh, yeah?” River turns to you. “Isn’t this your dad?” 

You let out a small huff of air in amusement. “No. No, he’s not my dad.” 

“Get the fuck out of here, kid.” Joel says motioning his hand toward River’s truck. 

River looks at you, as if he is scared, and says “I’ll, uh, s-see you later.” He practically fast walks to his truck and pulls away. 

You turn to Joel. “What the fuck?”

Joel has his arms crossed again staring at you. He says nothing while you wait for an answer. 

“Why do you keep telling me what to do? You don’t even know me!” You shout. 

He uncrosses his arms. “Because I know your dad isn’t here and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like you fucking a scrawny little boy in his house!” He raises his voice back. 

You’re taken aback by his accusation. You scoff, “Fucking? I don’t even like him! He was just saying goodbye.” 

“Don’t lie to me, I saw you two making out in his truck and then you both just coincidentally walk up to the house? Bullshit.” 

“What do you care anyways?” You ask with your arms crossed now. 

He looks at you and doesn’t answer. 

“The only fucking around here is fucking aggravating, and it’s you.” You don’t give him a chance to speak. You bolt inside and slam the door. 

You walk inside and head straight for the couch. You couldn’t even make it all the way upstairs because you were so pissed. You sit on the couch and put your knees to your chest. You’re so angry, this guy sure has the balls. Joel just likes to boss people around, you think. He’s controlling. Just because he saw you and River making out… wait. Joel saw you making out. Did your dad put him up to this? But your dad didn’t even know you were going on a date. It couldn’t be that. You begin to wonder if Joel saw River pick you up and waited until you both got back on purpose. Why was he watching you so closely? After pondering for a little while, you attempt to shut that thought out of your brain. The thought that Joel actually cares about you. Thinking that he cares about you will only make you more hurt when he’s an asshole to you like usual. 

You go about your day, watching movies in sweats and making brownies. Your dad is still nowhere to be seen. He should be home from work soon. As you finish watching ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ on cable TV, there’s a knock at your front door. You open the door to find Sarah standing on your porch. 

“Sarah? What’s up?” You ask. 

“Hi! Do you want to come over and watch a movie with me?” 

You check your phone, 7:30 PM. “It’s getting late, don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“School's out for the summer!” She says excitedly. “I officially do not have a bedtime.” 

“Oh, then sure that sounds fun. Is it okay with your dad though?” You want to make sure you don’t piss Joel off even more today. 

“Yeah he said as long as we don’t make much noise. He’s already getting ready for bed anyways since he has to be up super early for work.”

“We’ll, let’s go then.” You say smiling. 

You and Sarah walk across the street over to her house. You both walk in and sit on the couch to pick a movie. Joel’s nowhere in sight, he must be upstairs. You prefer not to see him anyways. 

“Want to watch Mean Girls?” Sarah asks, holding the remote in her hand. 

“Hell yeah! It’s a classic.” You just finished watching a movie back at your place, but you don’t care. You love watching movies. 

About a quarter through the movie, as you’re both lounging on the sofa, Sarah says your name. 

“Are you hungry?” She asks. 

“I could eat. What do you want to get?” 

“Pizza?”

“Sounds good.”

Sarah points to the kitchen counter, “You get my dads card and I’ll call the pizza place.” 

“Are you allowed to use his card?” You ask. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t care.” 

‘If you say so’ you think. You get up and walk over to the kitchen counter. You see a ring of keys and a brown wallet laying on the counter. You open the wallet to see a bunch of cards and his license. He looks just as cold in his license picture as he does in real life.

“Which card is it?” You call over to Sarah. 

“The blue one, in the front.” She responds. 

You see the blue card and carefully pull it out. As you’re pulling out the card, it reveals a small sliver of paper in the back of the wallet. You’re curious what the paper is. You look at Sarah quickly to make sure she isn’t paying attention. She is googling the phone number to the pizza place on her phone. You turn your attention back to the wallet and slowly pull out the piece of paper. Only it’s not a piece of paper. It’s a small picture. ‘It must be a picture of Sarah’ you think. You pull it out all the way and hold it in your fingers. Your heart drops. It’s a picture of you. On your college graduation day. You're smiling big, holding your diploma and wearing a black gown and cap. How did he get this picture? More importantly, why is it in his wallet? You barely have time to process what’s in front of you before you hear Sarah calling your name. You quickly put the picture back, close his wallet, and bring the card over to her. You think about that picture in his wallet the rest of the night. 

[trans-axolotl]

Image description: [Screenshots of pages from Brilliant Imperfection by Eli Clare. Text reads:

Your Suicide Haunts me.

Bear, it’s been over a decade since you killed yourself, and still I want to howl. I feel anguish and rage rattling down at the bottom of my lungs, pressing against my rib cage. If ever my howling erupts, I will take it to schoolyards and churches, classrooms and prisons, homes where physical and sexual violence lurk as common as mealtime. I know many of us need to wail. Together we could shatter windows, bring bullies and perpetrators to their knees, stop shame in its tracks.

Once a week, maybe once a month, I learn of another suicide. They’re friends of friends, writers and dancers who have bolstered me, activists I’ve sat in meetings with, kids from the high school down the road, coworkers and acquaintances, news stories and Facebook posts. They’re queer, trans, disabled, chronically ill, youth, people of color, poor, survivors of abuse and violence, homeless. They’re too many to count.

Bear, will you call their names with me? It’s become a queer ritual, this calling of the names—all those dead of AIDS and breast cancer, car accidents and suicide, hate violence and shame, overdoses and hearts that just stop beating. The names always begin wave upon wave, names filling conference halls, church basements, city parks. Voices call one after another, overlapping, clustering, then coming apart, a great flock of songbirds, gathering to fly south, wheeling and diving—this cloud of remembrance. Then quiet. I think we’re done, only to have another voice call, then two, then twenty. We fill the air for thirty minutes, an hour, a great flock of names. Tonight, will you sit with me? Because, Bear, I can’t sleep.

I remember your smile, your kindness, your compassionate and fierce politics. I remember our long e-mail conversations about being disabled and trans. I remember a brilliant speech you gave at True Spirit, a trans gathering in Washington, DC. I remember you telling me about how you’d disappear for months at a time when your life became grim, how you’d do anything not to go to a psych hospital again. I remember your handsome Black queer trans disabled working-class self. And then, you were gone.

The details of your death haunt me. You had checked yourself in. You were on suicide watch. I imagine your desperation and suffering. I know racism, transphobia, classism colluded. The nurses and aides didn’t follow their own protocols, not bothering to check on you every fifteen minutes. You were alive and sleeping at 5:00 a.m. and dead at 7:00 a.m.; at least that’s what their records say. Did despair clog your throat, panic coil in your intestines? In those last moments, what lingered on your tongue? I know about your death as fleetingly as your life.

Bear, I’d do almost anything to have you alive here and now, anything to stave off your death. But what did you need then? Drugs that worked? A shrink who listened and was willing to negotiate the terms of your confinement with you? A stronger support system? An end to shame and secrecy? As suffering and injustice twisted together through your body-mind, what did you need?

I could almost embrace cure without ambivalence if it would have sustained your life. But what do I know? Maybe your demons, the roller coaster of your emotional and spiritual self, were so much part of you that cure would have made no sense. You wrote not long before your death, “In a world that separates gender, I have found the ability to balance the blending of supposed opposites. In a world that demonizes non-conformity, I have found the purest spiritual expression in celebrating my otherness.”

Yes, Bear. I know that truth. Your otherness was a beautiful braid— your hard-earned trans manhood looping into your Black self, wrapped in working-class smarts and resilience, woven into disability, threaded with queerness. I saw you last in an elevator at True Spirit. You told me that you were spending the weekend hanging out with trans men of color. I can still see your gleeful smile, sparkling eyes.

Friend, what would have made your life possible with all its aches and sorrows? I ask as someone who has gripped the sheer cliff face of suicide more than once. Calling the names exhausts me. Your death exhausts me. The threat, reality, fact of suicide exhausts me. Its arrival on the back of shame and isolation exhausts me. Bear, will you come sit beside me tonight? I’m too exhausted to sleep.]

From Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure by Eli Clare, pages 63-64.

This passage has stuck with me since I first read it and I find myself returning over and over, especially in the times I want to be gentle to my grief.

Thought I'd share it with you all right now <3

[onestopfanficshop]

dating carmy berzatto

warnings: language

author’s note: literally just a mish-mash of random headcanons + little phrases i think this man would say/do ; if my feeble brain allows i’ll make a part 2 🤷🏾‍♀️

"honey, that knife is really fuckin' sharp. be careful, yeah?"

never even considered or cared about quitting smoking until he met you. after your first date he went to his local bodega and started buying packs of nicotine patches and gum

"shit. are we outta onions?"

so we all know that carmy would usually hate it when people bug him while he's in the zone and he's cooking, right? okay but picture this. you're over at his place. he's making pasta sauce and he just looks so peaceful and before you even know what you're doing you walk over and wrap your arms from behind him and you kinda just rest your head against him. he's taken aback at first. yes you two started dating but... physical touch? he kinda tenses up a little.

"is this okay?' you ask cautiously.

a beat. "yeah... it's great," he says with a little smile, turning back to look at you. now he can't cook at home without you hugging him :,)

you once tried to convince him to let you sit on his head and tug on his hair while he was cooking

"like the rat in ratatouille!" you had said excitedly. he looked lost. "you know... the movie? ratatouille? isn't that... like... required reading for chefs?"

apparently he had never even seen it which made you shed a tear for his childhood

of course you had made him watch it with you that very night. he mumbled something about health codes and about how anton ego's assholery reminded him of his old boss but he thought the movie was pretty cute. a rat that could cook? he would have to remember to text richie later that he had found a biopic that was based on his life story

"soooo?" you said expectantly when the credits started rolling. again, he looked lost. "will you let me be the rat?" you say with feigned seriousness.

"absolutely not."

he drinks his coffee black. when i say black i mean black black. only occasionally does he get it with two sugars if he really feels like it. when he tried that shaken oatmilk espresso brown sugar or something (he could never remember the name) that you always get from starbucks, the sweetness of it had him shocked

"honey, this is like... 5% coffee and 95% milk ಠ_ಠ"

you two have made it a tradition where you'll go over to his place and dust off one of his dozens of cookbooks, flip to a random page, and make what's on it. sometimes it comes out absolutely awful, but you've found some real gems, too. you two's favorite ravioli recipe had come from a weathered cookbook that was at the bottom of one of his piles

farmers market dates are a given

he likes to knock on coconuts to see if they’re “ready” (michael taught him this)

on the rare occasion he drinks, he goes for white wine. the drier, the better.

i know i said he's not big into physical touch, but i'd like to think that if he drank enough of that aforementioned wine, he would become super touchy. drunk carmy (and sleepy carmy) just would not be able to keeps his hands off you (and it's kinda hot)

“does this need more salt, hon?”

i feel like this man either has a shit ton of aprons at home or he has only one that he has used to absolute death; no in between

his favorite candy is any flavor salt water taffy (except banana) or super dark chocolate (i’m talking 70% cacao content or more) with carmel inside

i feel like his receiving love language would be words of affirmation. he loves being assured, even if he doesn't quite believe you. he's a sucker for a good old-fashioned "i'm proud of you". in terms of giving, his love language is definitely acts of service. you have some dry cleaning ready? no problem he'll pick it up for you on the way back from work. you have a stomachache? don't worry, his mom has a recipe for that and he'll whip it right up for you. had a bad day at work? he's already on his way to get you your favorite thai food, even if it's out of his way. this man lives to please you :,)

[prinnamon]

[Start ID. A posed render of Gina Cross and Colette Green from Half-Life: Decay with white all-caps Impact text. Top text: "We are going to b" Bottom text: "We are going to beat you to death" End ID.]

do... do they promise 😳 ❓

[fierysplash213]

Take me back.

Eijiro Kirishima x reader

Drabble.

Prompt: You and Kirishima were best friends. You liked him. Honestly, who wouldn’t? You were just about to confess to him when someone beat him to it.

Fluff to angst.

Pairing: Kirishima x gn!reader

Warnings: Cussing. Mina is also an asshole. Sorry to all the Mina fans! We all know she wouldn’t do any of this in the actual show.

A/N: I think out of all my other angst x readers, this is the saddest. If you guys want, I can make a sequel where some fluff takes place to lighten the mood. This might actually be the longest x reader I have written.

Sorry for not posting, I didn’t really have the energy to post anything, much less write anything, until now.

Thank you to the people who have been supporting me!

Well, I won’t make you wait any longer. Enjoy!

———————————————————————

Kirishima was a very kind and gentle person. The best part? His was your best friend.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t have a tiny crush on him. You would be lying if you said that as well. You had a huge crush on him. However, you were very good at not showing it.

You don’t know why you like him. His goofy smile, his shark like teeth, his easy going personality. You just loved it all.

Whenever you’re ere around him, it was as if every single bad thing that happened to you never existed to begin with.

You both don’t really talk about feelings. So you have no idea whether he likes you back or not.

You never thought that one stupid night would ruin your friendship, and maybe… soon to be relationship.

“Hey, Y/N. You coming to the party this Friday night?” Kirishima asked you.

“Of course I am.” You replied.

“Always got to have a friend beside me.” He wacks your shoulder.

“Always.” You smiled.

It was just a small party in the dorm. You all got your hero licenses so why not celebrate?

Timeskip: a few days later. (Before the party)

You got sick. A bad flu. It would take at least a week to recover, meaning that could not attend that party. You texted Kirishima. He was pretty sad.

On Friday night, you stayed on your dorm, not wanting to spread your flu.

You were coughing, having runny nose, having blocked nose, etc. In short, it sucked.

Eventually, you recovered on Sunday.

You went to school on Monday, not expecting what was going to happen.

You walked to class, expecting Kirishima to arrive. Well, he did arrive, but Mina was leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Hey Y/N!” Kirishima waved at you, Mina lifting her head, making sure that Kirishima didn’t see the death glare she was sending you.

Kirishima left the room, leaving you and Mina alone. You guys were all pretty early, so no one else was there.

“Don’t go anywhere near Kirishima.” She hissed at you.

“But he was my friend from the start.” You returned, realising the situation. You tried not to let your heartbreak in your voice show.

“I don’t give two fucks. Plus, I was the one that got the courage to confess to him. At the party. The one that you missed.” She sneered.

Just then, she laid on the floor. Acting as if she were in pain.

Just then, Kirishima walked back in, seeing the scene happening right in front of him.

“Babe! Y/N pushed me!” She said.

“What? No I did-”

“How could you do something like that Y/N? I thought we were friends…” before you could say anything to protest, Kirishima interrupted you.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. How could he believe his girlfriend, who had known him for less than a week, over you, the best friend he had since the start of high school?

You were silent, and walked back to your seat. You could see from the corner of your eyes Mina giving a smirk at your direction.

From that day onwards, Kirishima never spoke to you again, and you never spoke to him either. It was as if your friendship evaporated overnight.

Every time you saw him and Mina together, you would feel a pain in your chest.

One day, you were just carrying books to your locker. (Hmmm… sounds like a familiar trope.)

You weren’t looking at where you were going. Then, you bumped into… him.

Yup, that’s right. Eijiro Kirishima. The guy that backstabbed you.

“What’s your problem?” He said, glaring at you.

You said nothing, wanting that moment to be over.

You walked away. Not wanting to interact with him.

That was how it would go whenever you bumped into him.

As your friendship faded away, your feelings towards him faded away too, as if they were never there to begin with.

One particular Saturday evening, everyone ate ate their dinner and went to their rooms.

Everything was so peaceful. Until…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!”

“YOU ARE AN ASSWHOLE!”

“I HATE YOU!”

Shouts came from Kirishima’s room. It sounds like he and Mina were fighting. Oh well, you couldn’t care less.

It has been an hour at least. And you just wanted to sleep. You tossed your pillow over your head. You wanted to wake up early tomorrow…

Eventually, the shouting stopped. And you could finally sleep.

You wake up early tomorrow and decide to go for an early morning jog. Training your stamina.

When you came back, your good friend, Ochako (finally bringing her into the story) walked up to you.

“Have you heard the news?”

“What news?”

“Kirishima and Mina broke up!”

“Oh… so that’s what the shouting was about last night…”

“Didn’t you have a crush on him? Now’s your chance!”

“I- I don’t really know… we haven’t talked since forever.” And I don’t really have those type of feelings towards him anymore.

“Oh. Okay. Well that’s for you to decide.”

As the conversation went on, you two were unaware of the heartbroken Kirishima eavesdropping. He heard everything, especially the first part.

Honestly, at one point, he liked you. But he didn’t know that. He thought those were just some genuine feelings of a really good friend. Adrian Agreste 2.0

Wait, why was he even thinking about this? He’s still suffering through a breakup!

He takes a deep breath, and knocks on your door. Hm, that’s strange… how did he end up here?

A few hours ago…

He lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Then, he realises how much he fucked up. Why did he believe Mina over you?

He messed up. Real bad. And he’s only then realising it.

He had to apologise. At least try.

And that brings us back to where we are now:)

He’s scared. He doesn’t even know whether you would respond in the first place. Luckily for him, you answered the door.

“Kirishima?”

“Hey Y/N… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed her over you.”

“It’s too late, Kirishima.”

He frowns.

“Please, Y/N. You can’t do this to me. You are the only person I have left!”

“You lost me a long time ago…”

“No, please! Take me back! I know you used to love me! Please! I’ll do anything!”

You began to shut the door on him. He hurt you so much back then. You were going to make him see just how much he hurt you.

“Please… take me back.” He said, voice barely over a whisper.

Then, the door fully closed on him.

———————————————————————

Never thought I could write that much. Oh well, I’m pretty proud of this.

Thank you for taking time to read this!

See ya!

[lucyandthepen]

a lesson on style - v . [ ljn | njm ]

pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv.,  pt. v, pt. vi

you’ve always been content with being associated with one word and one word only: average. average in looks, academics and social skills, you’re just looking to graduate high school without causing disasters you’ll have to live with until you kick the bucket. when you’re paired with school king lee jeno for the semester-long physics thesis, you can’t help but think the entire situation has pretty much set itself up for failure. that is, until you strike a deal with your partner. alternatively: an au tale involving lessons in popularity, eleven consecutive B­ minuses, a secretly sensitive, chess­-loving jock, and an amateur sex tape.

pairing: jeno x fem!reader, jaemin x fem!reader    verse: high school au { jocks!nomin ft. a super cute whiny ap physics genius renjun }  rating: M for sexual themes ( there are allusions to sex but no explicit smut! ) chapter warnings: none!  word count: 10.9k

author’s note: is this twice as long as any other chapter? yes. do i believe it might be twice as devastating? also yes. side note, i sincerely hate proofreading and the thing i hate the most is trying to figure out where i applied italics and stuff because it doesn’t transfer over from google docs to this gosh darn tumblr text editor and i refuse to use the weird beta one so if anyone has any ideas on how to retain it please lmk :^(

tagging: @justalildumpling, @spiderrenjunfics

It’s a yes or no question, you tell yourself. It’s literally one answer, one word — yes or no. And you don’t even have to second-guess it, because you know the truth, and it’s not a complicated one. It shouldn’t be that difficult to answer.  With Jeno looking at you, though, you feel a little off-kilter, as per usual. Still, even with his gaze on you, you think that your response should be as normal, calm, and truthful as possible.

What comes out of you is a derisive laugh that clearly shocks the both of you.

“Wh — dating you — I wouldn’t — that’s preposterous,” you splutter out, gripping your laptop so tightly that you actually hear the bottom of I make a soft sound as the metal tightens. You’ve never used the word preposterous in any real life conversation, and it’s clear Jeno hasn’t heard it in a similar context either because he looks at you weird.  

“I mean, I’m not saying I’m mad about it,” he goes on. “I’m just wondering why he’d say that, unless you said something.”

“He — I — he — he’s crazy. All smart people are loopy,” you laugh again, and it sounds even grosser this time, with your voice going up really high and breathy like you’re being strangled to death. Which, come to think of it, you’re pretty much doing to yourself, figuratively. “That had no basis whatsoever. I would — I would never. Ever.”

“Never… date me?” His eyebrows shoot up so high they almost touch his hairline.

“Yes! I mean — no, no! I mean, I would definitely not say that we were dating when we’re obviously—” you laugh derisively again, which just causes Jeno to look even more confused. “We are clearly, obviously, clearly not. Not dating.”

“Obviously,” he repeats simply.

“Yes. That’s… I mean, obviously, I would date you, like in the hypothetical way, because… I mean, why not? but we — you know. We’re not. Dating. Definitely not.” Your heart rate, thankfully, is starting to decline from the thousand beats per second it had been going in; Jeno’s eyebrows are also calming down. “Right?”

“Right,” he confirms slowly.

“Right. So. I didn’t say we were to him. Or anyone. Nothing.”

“Oh, okay,” he finally says after a moment of silence. “That was just… plain out of the blue, then.”

“Totally,” you agree wholeheartedly. “So, so weird.”  

“Okay,” he shifts his position now, turning more deliberately towards you; you instinctively grip your laptop tighter, pressing it harder against your stomach. The bottom corners dig in, and in your peripheral vision, you can see that you’ve been pressing the A key down for so long that you have an AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA in your chat box with Renjun and he’s typed out a very concerned and confused WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG TO TYPE. You move your thumb away from the keypad. “Sorry for the sudden question. I just wanted to clarify because, you know, I don’t want anyone else to think we are yet, or anything. And I definitely don’t want Huang Renjun attacking me for the wrong things, considering his track record.”

Your heart suddenly skids to a stop at the yet. He’d said it so offhandedly you were sure he wasn’t giving it much thought, but to you, this kind of felt like one of those weird, fever-induced dreams you had, except it seemed to be going fairly well as long as you didn’t factor in just how much you’d blubbered just now.  

“Um. Right,” is all you can say.

“That being said,” he jams his hat back onto his head, which is ludicrous considering he’s inside, but it just makes him look cuter, and you’ve never minded that. “Thanks for saying you’d date me. Hypothetically.”

“Oh — that. Right. You’re welcome,” you reply, and you desperately want to ask if he’d also hypothetically date you, but you sort of also don’t really want to know the answer. In the moment that it takes for you to tell your brain to quiet down, he claps his hands, startling you a little.

“All right. So. Project. Proposal. Graduating.” He points to your laptop, and you nod vehemently, shifting it against your stomach a little to make sure he doesn’t see the chat box with Renjun. “Let’s get to it, then.”

You hurriedly exit your internet browser and open a blank Word document. It kicks off slowly, with you taking a good fifteen minutes to format the title page because you’re not sure which citation style to use and also because you can’t stop thinking about the previous conversation, which causes you to misspell both your names wrongly. Luckily, Jeno doesn’t say anything, even though he clearly sees your blunders; the fact that he is clearly attempting to be interested (or pretending really well to be) in getting things done allows you to pick up a slightly more comfortable pace of discussion later on. He even agrees to do a lot of the supposed heavy lifting in the experimentation phase, which involves playing musical instruments, and you volunteer to do the mathematical work, which is the only thing you think you’ll be able to do in that part of the experiment anyway.  

Everyone in your house is up at this time, so it gets increasingly louder as the hours move on. There’s some kind of intermittent yelling coming from your brothers’ room that could either be Jiho gaming or Jiho getting strangled, but no one seems too alarmed apart from Jeno, who learns to let it go once you tell him that your other brother is in there with him and is probably the one strangling him, if the latter scenario is true. Either way, your dad comes out, banging on their room door to keep it down, which adds to more of the noise pollution.

Sooyeon also makes it down later than everyone else, dressed but still clearly out of sorts, stopping mid-yawn when she sees you and Jeno sitting together as you’re trying to drag out an explanation of what the significance of the study is.

“Oh. Good morning,” she sidles over to you, sitting on the arm of the couch next to you to peek over your shoulder at your laptop; you know she’s not really interested in your work, but her inherent nosiness makes her acting so natural. “What are you guys working on?”

“Physics term project.”

“Oh, right. You mentioned you guys were partners. How’s it going?”

“It’s going… well. Fine.” You bend your laptop’s monitor down halfway so she stops looking.

“Oh, I know you,” Jeno suddenly snaps his fingers, pointing his finger at her. Your sister looks up, beaming. “You’re on the cheerleading team. I’ve been trying to figure out who you look like since last year,” he turns to you, amused. “Can’t believe it took me this long. Small world. Hey, how come you’re not on the cheerleading team?”

“Because she wouldn’t give up Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo for late-night cheer practice,” your sister reasons out for you before you can find a cooler (and less honest) excuse. “Hey, dad’s taking me to the mall. Do you need anything? We’re also picking up lunch, so Jeno oppa, if you’re staying for lunch, the cuisine choice is all yours.”

“Raincheck,” you deflate at Jeno’s response. “I’m supposed to be having lunch with my sister. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Can you get me a new USB drive?” You weigh in. “And not the crappy Daiso kind.”

“Okay. Text me so I don’t forget. Not now,” Sooyeon pushes down your hand before you can pick up your phone. “Wait ten minutes, then text me. Hey, dad, can we get tangsuyuk today?”

Your dad is by the door, two brothers in tow, having probably convinced them to leave the house as well, and Sooyeon joins them, pushing them all out hurriedly. You don’t miss the fact that she winks at you just before closing the door, and you resist waving her away.

“You… have a really big family.” Jeno finally speaks up again once you’re alone.

“Yeah. Sorry. It would have been worse if my mom were here. She might have tried to adopt you.”

“Jaemin’s mom technically has first dibs,” he lifts a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes a little aggressively. “Do you think we can call time of death on this for today? My eyes are falling out of my skull.”

“Sure; I can finish up the conclusion anyway. It’s just… repeating everything we said, but really fast. I’ll just e-mail you a copy for safety.” You save the document as he nods, working your trackpad so you can open your NAVER mail account and attach the file. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “Uh… sorry, but I just realized I don’t have your e-mail address.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he reaches out, and you retract your hands quickly, planting them firmly onto your lap. He starts typing away, pressing send and turning the laptop back to you with a satisfied groan. “Cool. So — serious question. Why aren’t you on the cheerleading team if your sister is?”

“Well, I was going to come up with a great excuse, but since I got ratted out — I don’t really like staying in school late. Plus, they practice on rainy days, which is not my thing.”

“I mean, we do too on the football team, and it’s usually fine. It’s weird; do you not dance? Or… I don’t know, cheer, or whatever?”

“I mean, I don’t fail PE, or anything. I just… never had the interest.” You admit, shutting down your laptop.

“I could talk to Jimin — you know, the captain? We’re pretty close.” He pauses, then adds an afterthought. “She’s dating one of the other guys on my team.”

“Who?”

“I’ve told you about Jisung, right? That enormous tree of a guy with the small face?”

“Kind of weird for a guy as tall as you to call a similarly tall guy a tree…” you trail off, and he laughs — laughs! Score for your unintended humor. “But yeah, I’ve seen him around.”

“Yeah, so they’re a thing. Anyway, what was I sayi — oh, yeah. If you want me to talk to her, give you a shot at it, I think she’d be open to it. You don’t have to be a gymnast or anything, I’m pretty sure.”

“That’s a really nice gesture, but I’ll pass.”

Jeno sighs, leaning back onto the couch and lifting one of his legs to cross it casually over his knee. He looks at you disapprovingly, which is a little terrifying until you realize he’s feigning it because his lips are curling up a little. So cute. “Come on, _______________. Okay — lesson number one.”

“What?” You’re at a loss, and you don’t bother hiding it this time. “Lesson?”

“I told you I’d help you get more popular, right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think we were having lectures and quizzes.”

“No quizzes,” he corrects you. “Lectures, very brief. Five minutes tops. I have no time to grade anything.”

“Well let me just—” you grab your phone, trying to navigate to the voice memos app, but he takes it from you and plants it back onto the table. You note how his fingers brush yours briefly, leaving you frozen, your hand still shaped around a phone that isn’t in your grasp anymore.

“No need to record anything. Note taking is for nerds. Just listen to me. Be in the moment. Absorb it,” he instructs. “First lesson in being popular: don’t turn down things that will make you more popular.”

“Okay, that one was fairly obv — what are you doing?”  

“I’m texting,” he really is, unlocking his phone and scrolling through his contacts before he starts tapping away on his phone screen. “I told you; I’m sure Jimin will be more than happy to —“

“Wait — okay, stop, stop,” it’s your turn to seize his phone from him, but you don’t do so very smoothly, and it ends up falling midway from him to you, wedging itself into a crack in your couch cushions. Jeno doesn’t really seem like he minds in particular, but he does offhandedly reprimand you for it.

“You’re being a horrible student.”

“I’m not — look, no, thank you for… you know, going the extra mile to ask for me,” you fish his phone out of the couch, making sure to exit the messaging app. “But I can’t join the cheerleading team.”

“Why not? It’ll make you infinitely cooler. Is it because your sister’s on it? Because we can get her kicked out if you really want —“

“Wh— no, I don’t want my sister kicked out!” You raise your voice in tandem with your palm, and he desists, a little surprised at how loud you’ve gotten. “I’m just saying that it’s the last semester of high school. There’s no point in me joining. I won’t even last a full year on that team.”

Jeno falls silent, suddenly struck by the logic in your words. “Huh. I guess you’re right. I didn’t think about that.”

Now that you feel like it’s kind of safe, you perch his phone back onto his thigh, and he takes it, slipping it between his legs without a second thought. You try hard not to think about how his phone may have brushed against his… never mind.

“So I… you know, I appreciate what you wanted to do for me. Really; it was… extremely cool of you,” you say with utmost sincerity. “But as a plan, I feel like… there might be better ones.”

“That’s true,” he agrees. “But the lesson still stands. The things I recommend that you do, I really feel like you should do them.”

“I promise this’ll be the last time I reject your suggestions.”

“Cool. Well — we just have to think about what else we could do to help you get up that ladder.” He looks up at your ceiling, a little wistful, and you feel so useless that you just busy yourself with shutting your laptop down. This sudden silence drags on until he snaps your fingers and you start, turning your attention back to him. “Oh, I know. You can come to this party I’m throwing next week.”

“You’re throwing a party?”

“Yeah. I just thought about doing it. Like, right now.”

This time, you don’t even have to try to push away the idea that he’d just thought to throw a party for you; a surge of unpleasant memories arises to do the job. The last party you’d been to was back in middle school, and it had ended with you skidding across the floor because someone had puked on it. You were only lucky that the extremely furious parents who actually owned the house and didn’t know that there would be a party in their living room had caught you before you’d broken something of theirs.

You remember Jeno had been there. He was in a different section at that time, and you’d never spoken with him; in fact, you’re fairly certain you hadn’t known his name back then. But even so, he was still the coolest kid in attendance. Everyone liked that kid that was extremely tall and good-looking and also knew how to play the electric piano.

“That’s… cool.” You inhale a little reluctantly, and Jeno cottons on, looking at you warily. “It’s just… you know. Parties. They get messy. People get drunk. Puke. Make out.”

“Yeah. That’s what they’re for.”

“Not really my scene. Especially the puking part.”

“Oh god, I remember I was at this party once in middle school. Some kid had puked in the middle of the living room and some other poor chick had slipped on it. Hilarious.”

“Ha,” you feign laughter, and it sounds disgustingly dry. “Hilarious, yeah. Can’t remember that happening, but I’m sure that was super funny.”

“Come on. It’ll be fine. Besides, you said you wouldn’t reject any of the other stuff I recommended.” He tilts his head like he’s asking, but his face is pretty resolute. You wring your hands together, and he notices. “If I promise to make a no-puke rule, will you go?”

You know he’s doing this because he’s fulfilling a part of the bargain; it’s really more of an obligation to him than anything else, and that much is clear. Still, the way he talks, the way that he presses the subject makes it really easy to trick yourself into thinking he actually, really, really wants you there, which creates this huge, almost terrifying and overwhelming wave of elation that muddles you into agreement.

“Okay. I’ll go.” He smiles at your response, and the feeling in your chest just swells to a new height; it’s almost like he’s happy you’re going, or you can at least delude yourself into thinking that much.

“Awesome. I’ll let you know about the details, although it’ll probably be at Jaemin’s.”

You point to the opposite side of your house, in the general direction of your neighbor’s lot. “That Jaemin?”

“The one and only.”

“I guess it’s cool if I don’t have to look for a ride.”

“You can still hop into my car. Make a grand entrance. People will love that.”

“That’s okay,” you laugh again, but this time, it sounds genuine, to your relief. “But is Jaemin going to be okay with it? His parents?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. They all love me,” he chuckles. “Jaemin won’t say no, anyway. It’s not like we can have it at my place.”

“Why… not?” You suddenly get flashbacks of Jaemin calling you nosy, but you shake him and his loud laugh off once Jeno starts talking.

“Too small. Not good for entertaining. You guys would probably have to eat dinner in my bedroom.” He says lightly, jamming his cap back onto his head just as his phone starts ringing, a light blinking from in between his thighs. He looks down at his phone briefly before turning his attention back to his cap, making sure his bangs aren’t flattened by the rim. “That’s my sister. I’m supposed to pick her up from work. I have to get going, but hey — I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you stand with him, and he grabs his backpack before patting his pockets to make sure if he has everything valuable to him. You walk him to the door, opening it for him, and he steps out into your driveway, walking towards his car. You stand by the doorway, hugging your laptop. The assumption is that he’s just going to drive off, but he turns around as he opens the driver’s side door, pointing a finger at you like he’s just remembered something. You freeze in place, once again squishing your laptop close to you so hard that it makes a noise.

“You should probably text your sister about that USB drive, by the way.” he reminds you with a small smile before folding his enormous body and climbing into the car.

You don’t even have the opportunity to say anything because he’s shut the door behind him. Through the tinted glass, you see one pale palm move; it takes you a second to realize he’s waving at you. Your hand instantly shoots up, waving back at him as he pulls out of the driveway and back into the road.  

You wait for his car to zoom out of sight before you close the door, red in the face and ready to explode with joy.

Lee Donghyuck gives you back your proposals with a smile on his face near the end of the next physics class. Technically, he smiles like that all the time because he’s required to, but his grin looks a lot more genuine as he approaches you with your proposal, which Jeno takes from him.

“Cool topic,” he even comments, pointing a finger to the huge B-minus on top of the paper that’s circled in red ink. “You guys need to work a little on the content development, though, but it’s just the proposal. If you guys work even harder on other requirements, you’ll ace it.”

You seriously don’t think he expects you to actually ace anything, but you appreciate the quick pep talk, especially since Jeno actually looks impressed.

“I would have never thought I would have gotten a B-minus in anything for this class,” he whistles under his breath. You smile at him, not bothering to add the fact that B-minus isn’t as breathtaking of an achievement. Still, you think that if you can push each other — and also maybe Renjun into helping you out here and there — you might at least secure him a slot into the graduating class.  

You’ve gotten used to parting ways with everyone else in the class to have lunch together with Renjun, and even on days when Physics classes fall before lunch, you only linger a minute longer than usual to accord Jeno the traditional gaze of longing that he doesn’t notice before dashing off. This time, though, as you’re gathering your books and making to leave, Jeno stands up with you, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  

And there they are — the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him. Well, some of them.

“Want to walk to the cafeteria together?”

You look around to make sure he’s not calling out to anyone else, which becomes clear once you realize the only other person who’s left behind is Lee Donghyuck, and he doesn’t even turn at the sound of Jeno’s voice.

“Really?” You can’t even mask the elation in your voice, which just spikes when you see the corners of Jeno’s lips turn up slightly in amusement. “Yeah — yeah, okay.”

No one actually looks at you while you walk next to him in the cafeteria; the probability is that his height eclipses yours so much that you don’t even look that noticeable, and neither of you is causing a scene, which is always a great bonus. You have to take two steps for every one of his, but you also notice that he’s taking a much slower pace than usual, which can only mean that he’s making sure you can keep up.

You spot Renjun at your usual table, reading Lee Ho Cheol’s Panmunjeom anthology, which he’d posted about on his Facebook status over the weekend. The feeling of being able to like his statuses again was fairly nice, and you’d given it the little heart reaction. On instinct, your feet carry you towards him until you feel a warm hand wrap around your forearm. It covers more than half of that part of your arm, so it can’t be anyone’s but Jeno’s, and you look up in total shock as he stares down at you with equally strong confusion.

“Where are you going?” He asks, genuinely perplexed.

“What… are you doing…” you breathe out, feeling a little faint. He doesn’t notice that you look like you’re close to drooling on him since he’s starting to steer you away from Renjun. “What…”

“Table’s this way,” he says plainly, like this should be obvious to you. You can see that he’s headed towards where he normally sits, which is already filled with people, laughing loudly and talking over one another. You jerk your head back to Renjun, who has noticed you now and is watching you with an unreadable expression over the top of his book, half of his face hidden.

“Um — yeah, but I just thought —“

“Okay, so second lesson — don’t write this down,” he stops you from reaching into your pocket to bring out a pen. “If you want to be popular, you need to make sure you surround yourself with equally popular people.”

“Are these rules stuff you just sort of make up on the go, or…?”

He gives you an amused and patronizing look. “Obviously.”

“Okay — okay, but can’t Renjun sit with us?”

“He can if he’s not just going to ignore everyone by reading his book. Or if he’s not going to make any mean comments about anyone.”

You open your mouth, ready to promise he’s not going to, but you’re struck by the realization that he might just sit there and finish Panmunjeom without even saying hello. Even if he didn’t, you can’t guarantee that Renjun will be pleasant around everyone being noisy all at once about things he doesn’t really care about. Being pleasant around one person — Jeno — is already kind of a herculean task for him.  

“Yeah, okay, fine. But can’t I at least tell him I’m sitting here?”

Jeno slowly releases your hand, nodding. You try not to make it too obvious that you’re disappointed at how quickly that moment of contact had come and gone. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get my food and save you a seat, then.”

You wait for him to walk towards the cafeteria line, noticing that a couple of freshmen give way so he can go first; you can tell he smiles at them because they giggle as he walks by and grabs a tray. Making a beeline for Renjun, you also see that he suddenly lifts his book higher to cover his face, probably to hide the fact that he hasn’t flipped a page since.

“Hey,” you say, and he puts the book down, looking disgustingly innocent in his fake surprise.

“Hey. When did you get here?”

“Just now,” you slip into the chair across from him. “What’s for lunch?”

“Something they say is bulgogi but might be yesterday’s fake steaks cut into really thin pieces.”

“Okay, cool,” you don’t even look at the bowl when he tilts it your way so you can see. “Anyway, um, I really hope you don’t mind, but Jeno asked me to sit with him today for lunch.”

“Oh.” Renjun takes a bit of bulgogi on his fork, examining it with feigned interest before popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly. “I see.”

“It’s just for today. I promise. Are you — is that okay?”

He studies your expectant face, thumb brushing over the spine of his book. Your fingers are knotted on the table like you’re praying.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he finally concedes. “I said I’d support you… so… this is me. Supporting. You. The both of you. If that’s already a thing.”

“It’s not, but you’re the best,” you reach out, giving his hand a squeeze. He mutters something that sounds like I know, taking his hand back and using it to shut his book.  

“But we’re still going to see Love and Thunder  this Saturday, right?” He confirms.  

“Ye— oh, wait,” his expression darkens considerably when you backtrack, looking a little sheepish. “I think I might have something to do over the weekend, so I can’t really make any promises right now.”

“Dude, seriously? It’s the movie of the year. What could be more important than three hours of Marvel hero ass-kicking?”

“Well, it’s just,” you drum your fingers against the table, trying to think of a less direct way to phrase such a basic statement. You come up with nothing, so you just come clean. “There’s a party…”

“You hate parties,” Renjun replies immediately. “You’ve haven’t been to one since middle school.”

“I know that, but —“

“Do you? Does it make sense that you know that you hate parties but are thinking of going to one anyway?”

“Well — you know. Jeno invited me.”

Renjun makes a slightly sour face, but it isn’t directed at you; he’s looking at Jeno, probably, seated a little way away. You turn to look apologetically at him, but you notice that he’s already looking your way, his eyes narrowed in effort like he’s trying to read your lips from this distance but can’t.

“What if something bad happens? Parties aren’t exactly the safest, cleanest, least traumatic events in the world,” Renjun points out. “You could turn someone’s house into a puke slip ’n slide again.”

“Or,” you raise a finger. “Is this the party I could go to so that I can forget about that event that happened ages ago and, thus, free myself from that trauma?”

“Thus? What is happening to you?” He shakes his head, fingers coming up to knead at his brow. “But — so no Love and Thunder?”  

“We can go the day after.”

“You’re not going to be too hungover?”

“No, of course not. Besides, it’s going to be at Jaemin’s house. If it gets too much, I can just walk home.” You can see he’s softening at the mention of it being in a nearby location and not in like, some abandoned warehouse. “Plus, you can come. You know, we can have fun together. Just… eat, dance a little, mingle. It’ll be fine.”

“Am I allowed to come?”

“Of course,” you don’t know if there’s a guest list, or anything, but Renjun seems to get along with most people in your level as long as their names don’t start with a J and end with a eno. “Please? We can even walk there together.”

“It’s like twenty steps from your house, so it’s really not the appealing case you think you’re making.” He sighs. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. And we can watch Love and Thunder the next day. But I’m holding you to that.”  

“Awesome,” your heart feels infinitely lighter, and Renjun even gives you a half-hearted grin. “Great — so, I’ll just — you know —“ you point towards Jeno’s table; Renjun nods slowly, picking up his book again.

“Yes, yes. Go on,” he shoos you away, once again pretending to grow immersed in his book, even though you know he’s snorting to himself when you give him an excited thumbs up before leaving the table.

You even feel like there’s a small skip to your step when you walk to the line, and the grin never leaves your lips as you get your tray and pile what really does look like fake bulgogi on your plate; the cafeteria lady is surprised by your expression, considering you’re surrounded by generally somber ones, and she mistakes your smile as you being excited to eat the food and tells you to take more. Somehow, you’re in such a good mood that you do, which earns some alarmed stares from the people behind you.

The conversation is in full swing when you approach Jeno’s table, and your heart jumps a little when you’ve noticed that he’s kept his word and saved a seat for you — right beside him, no less. His food is half-finished, and he’s talking to Park Jisung about what sounds like some massive multiplayer online shooting game, but he stops when you sit down.

“You guys don’t know _______________, right?” He addresses the whole table; a whole set of eyes lands on you suddenly as his voice rings louder than everyone else’s. “She’s my physics project partner.”

“Of course we know her,” the girl to Jisung’s right, Jimin, pipes up. “We don’t live under a rock, and we’re almost all in the same year, dumbass.”

“I was just announcing it for Jisung’s and Minjeong’s sakes,” Jeno fires back easily. “Who, by the way, aren’t in the same year level.”

“Well, address them specifically next time,” she laughs. “Hey, _____________.”

“Hello,” despite your excitement, your voice comes out way smaller than normal, and it even cracks, which causes you to clear your throat, a feat that mysteriously causes most people to laugh.  

“I know Jimin noona is dazzling to everyone,” Jisung says. “But just for the record, she’s taken. By me. Obviously.”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded, as Jeno tosses a wilted leaf of lettuce at his face. It doesn’t even make it to the halfway point of the gap the table makes between them. Jisung sticks out his tongue childishly.

“Anyways, I told you guys earlier that we were having a party, this weekend, right?” He points at Jaemin, who, until now, has been quietly wrapping his bulgogi into his lettuce and stuffing them whole into his mouth. “Your house, dude.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes good-naturedly, still in the middle of chewing his food, but he takes one big gulp to respond. “Did you even ask me?”

“Does he ever?” Jisung contributes, amused. “Jeno hyung, why can’t we ever have parties at your place? Jaemin hyung’s house has like ten million pictures of his family that we might break.”  

“Okay, fine; my house. You guys better pull food weight this time, though,” Jaemin agrees suddenly, like he hadn’t been indignant a moment ago. Jeno looks satisfied with this response, not bothering to answer Jisung’s question, which is a little weird; you’d assumed that everyone he was close to also knew of the reason why he never held any events at his house considering the answer he’d given you when you’d asked the same thing had been so simplistic. You don’t take the time to dwell on this, however, since Jeno speaks up.

“I’ll bring the drinks,” he volunteers before adding, “Ice included, Jisung.” The latter makes a face at him, and everyone laughs again, and you presume it’s some inside joke. You smile for a second before you realize it probably seems disingenuous.

It’s weird, you think, that they’re so comfortable around each other, even with their seemingly different personalities. It had always just been you and Renjun, which suited you just fine, but it’s also robbed you of the opportunity to figure out how to interact in a much larger, more outgoing crowd, which is a missed opportunity you’re feeling the effects of now. People start piping up about what they’re going to bring, with Jisung getting a small smack upside the head from Jimin after he volunteers (again, apparently) to bring utensils and “himself, which is gift enough.”

“What should I bring?” You whisper to Jeno.

“Nothing,” he sounds surprisingly sincere and reassuring, not to mention he matches the volume of your voice somehow, making it seem like you’re having your own private conversation. “Just come and have fun.”

“Okay,” you half-wheeze, and he smiles down at you before rejoining the conversation, responding immediately when Jaemin speaks up.

“This time, you guys seriously need to stay away from my bedroom. And my brother’s. And my parents’. Actually, what I’m really saying is that you people need to unlearn how to use stairs.”

“You’re really going to deny your room any action?” Jeno fires back easily.

“I don’t want to go to sleep on a bed someone else made out on,” Jaemin sighs, in a heavy way that somehow causes you to think he’s probably been through it more than once before.

“No one just makes out on a bed.”

“We’re in school, Jeno. You know what I mean.”

“We’ve made out on a bed,” Jisung wiggles a finger between himself and Jimin, who tells him to shut up, something he does almost immediately, even if he and Jeno exchange a high five that creates a sound so loud you’re surprised there’s no physical aftershock.

“________________, Minjeong and I were going to go to the mall on Saturday morning,” Jimin calls your attention underneath Jeno and Jisung’s long arms. “Want to come with? We can have lunch together, too.”

“Oh — yeah, sure,” you agree, and she smiles so brightly and sweetly at you that you blush. Jisung was right about the dazzling thing, then.

“Cool. Text me your address and we can come pick you up.”

You spend the rest of your lunch mostly listening and learning about these people, and you’re somewhat thankful they don’t put you in the hot seat and just interrogate you about yourself. You find out that Minjeong’s trying to get her driver’s license soon, and Jisung had actually been interested in joining an entertainment company as an idol trainee before he’d found out that they confiscate your phone for years, something that ended up being a dealbreaker for him. You learn that Jimin is applying for a English Comparative Literature undergraduate degree in Seoul National University, which Jisung says is inexplicably both “the hottest and the most boring thing about her.”  

The weirdest thing you learn about this band of friends comes up when Jaemin suddenly stands, saying goodbye to everyone hurriedly before rushing off with his plate. No one finds this weird except you, so you bring it up.

“Oh, Jaemin hyung is on the chess team. He has practice during lunch once a week,” Jisung informs you when you ask.

“He’s on the what?” You glance at Jaemin, who’s walking out of the cafeteria at a brisk pace.

“The chess team,” he repeats without any further explanation. You look at Jeno, who shrugs at you.

“Yeah, he likes that stuff. Everyone in our year is a big nerd.”

“Except you and me,” you add, and his lips turn up again, seemingly pleased with your statement. There it is again — your heart flipping over and screaming wildly.  

“Exactly. Except you and me.”

You don’t actually expect Jimin to follow through with her shopping invite, but she actually ends up texting you on Saturday morning instead of the other way around, asking for your address again after saying that she’d gotten your number from Jeno. You’re so out of sorts when they arrive not ten minutes later that you actually have to double back for your wallet and your phone.  

Jimin has almost always been in a separate section from you in school, while Minjeong is a whole year below you, and they’re also extremely close, so you’d never really gotten the chance to know them, and your expectation is that this excursion is going to be an awkward and pitiful event. They end up being really nice, though, and Minjeong even asks you about your physics project with a tone of genuine interest, commenting about how Jeno is exceptionally good at playing the guitar. You also naturally assume that they’re going to just mill around the boutique area for clothes, but Jimin actually drags you around to some electronics shops to look for a gaming headset for Jisung, and Minjeong goes to three different pet stores to look for the right dog food.  

“You should have tried out for the cheerleading team,” Jimin says when the three of you have settled down at the food court with bowls of bibimbap. Minjeong wordlessly picks out the carrots from her bowl and dumps them in Jimin’s, who doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “We’re a little under the member quota right now. No one likes risking their lives on human pyramids anymore.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say, and Jimin laughs.

“Seriously. It wouldn’t hurt for you to try. Besides, even if it’s the last semester, we could really use some extra members. Right, Minjeong?”  

Minjeong looks up at you, her egg dangling between her chopsticks.

“Do you want my egg, _____________?”

“Sure,” you reply, amused. She quickly lays the egg on top of your own, even going so far as to arrange them neatly so that their yolks are aligned. “Are you allergic to something?”

“She’s a picky eater.” Jimin explains, using her spoon to squash her egg’s yolk.

“I have a refined palate,” Minjeong corrects her, fishing out a stray piece of carrot and placing it in Jimin’s bowl.

“You eat like a baby.”

“Baby food is pretty good.” Minjeong admits. “The banana-flavored ones are nice.”  

“Gross,” Jimin laughs. “This is exactly why you and Jaemin broke up.”

“You and Jaemin dated?” You raise your eyebrows. Minjeong nods, mixing her rice methodically with her spoon. “What happened?”  

“He got tired of ordering banana-flavored baby food for her,” Jimin quips.

“Will you shut up? Anyway — yeah, we dated last year, really briefly. We just didn’t work out. I did some work for my dad over the weekends back then, so we just never got the chance to go on actual dates. We said we were going to take a break or something, revisit the dating thing when we were less busy, but we just kind of left it in the past, and we started seeing other people.”

“You started seeing other people, you mean,” Jimin corrects her. Minjeong nods, thoughtfully mixing her rice before taking a slow bite.  

“Yeah. Besides, it just sort of felt like a relationship of convenience. Like, we were both there, we were both single, so we tried it. It was okay while it lasted. We’re still friends.”

“But I’ve already heard about Minjeong’s boring love life six hundred times,” Jimin points her spoon at you, a grain of rice flying at high speed in your direction. “Oops, sorry. So what’s going on with you and Jeno?”  

“Oh,” you have to swallow your own spoonful of bibimbap hard because your throat has suddenly constricted. “Nothing’s going on with us. We’re just partners. And… friends?”  

“You’re not dating?”

“Not in the slightest.” Your mind flips back to when Jeno had said he didn’t want people getting the wrong idea about the both of you. Yet. Whatever that meant. “No way.”  

“Oh,” Jimin looks weirdly disappointed. “I thought you were, since he suddenly started asking about who you were seeing. We thought it was a trick question, like we were supposed to answer ‘him.’”  

“But you like him,” Minjeong says it like it’s not a question but a factual statement, which it is, but you still take a while to respond, feeling put on the spot suddenly.  

“I mean… he’s nice.”  

“And cute,” Jimin adds.  

“And cute,” you agree. She smiles triumphantly, as if this is some kind of game she’s winning. “But… nothing’s going on.”  

“Well, Jeno doesn’t date often. I mean, he goes out with girls. But I don’t think he’s been in a relationship for a while,” Minjeong adds thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s starting to think about getting serious with someone?”

“I don’t know.” You like the idea of it, but realistically speaking, it’s not like you two were that close. Then again, you also weren’t sure about how close any two people should be to start thinking about dating each other. It’s not like there’s some kind of rule book. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Coy answer,” Jimin sounds approving. “Definitely a sign that something’s going on.”

“Wh— no, I mean, I’m not sure about… you know, we don’t really talk—“

“You don’t really have to,” Jimin winks, and the seaweed pieces in your bibimbap suddenly get very interesting, even though you know the two of them are exchanging looks.  

They drop you back home after lunch, waving goodbye (with Jimin screaming out a see you later!) as they drive off, and you’re so exhausted from the walking and the fact that you’d had to carry Minjeong’s bags of premium dog food back to her car that you fall asleep the moment your body hits your bed. You wake up with a considerable amount of drool on your pillow and three missed calls from Renjun.  

“Not that it’s a big deal,” Renjun says when you call him back. “But I don’t know what to wear to parties.”

“I don’t think it’s a black tie event,” you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Just wear something casual? Cool? I don’t know either. Also, when did you suddenly start caring about how you looked at parties?”  

“You make it sound like I’ve never tried beforehand.”

“Your signature style is graphic tee and jeans, so…” There’s a loud noise on his end of the call and you hear him mumble a swear word. “What happened?”  

“The closet rod fell,” he whines. “Also, graphic tee and jeans are Jeno’s signature style too. He even had ripped jeans, which make him look more homeless than I do.”  

“Jeno’s jeans are artistically ripped,” you correct him. “Yours are ripped because your dog tries to eat them when they’re hanging out to dry.”

“And you don’t know if Jeno’s own dog has ripped his jeans artistically,” you can hear him struggling with the metal rod, and his voice becomes more and more muffled as you assume that his phone is sinking deeper into his neck as he holds it between his shoulder and ear. “I’ll call you back. Or — you know what, I’ll just be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Make it twenty, I’m still half-asleep.” You hang up and press your face into your pillow, falling back asleep until Renjun arrives within the promised twenty minute time span, chastising you for your lack of punctuality the entire time you sluggishly change your clothes. The only helpful thing he does is call your sister in to help you fix your hair, which she does enthusiastically as you yawn at your reflection and Renjun criticizes your poor scheduling even further while he plays online minesweeper on your laptop.  

“So we only stay for an hour, hour and a half max, right?” He confirms as you walk towards Jaemin’s house. The door is open, and there are people outside, already deep in conversation.  

“Right,” you agree. You don’t hold the fact that Renjun wants to leave quickly against him; for some reason, being around this many people is making you a little queasy, and you don’t know what people do in parties apart from truth or dare. Unfortunately, no one seems to be sitting in a circle around a spinning bottle when you enter; instead, all the furniture has been cleared out for a table that has food piled onto it, and the coffee table is stacked high with paper cups and drinks. Mark Lee and Jaemin are by the ice bucket, and the latter notices you first, waving at you.  

“Hey, ______________, Renjun. You guys made it,” Jaemin pushes a cup of what looks like Hwanta at you, taking Mark’s cup of soda as well and handing it to Renjun. “No traffic, I hope?”  

“Just the same old pile-up. It takes really long to get here, you know,” you smile, and he laughs easily.  

“So your parents are okay listening to trashy music from upstairs?” Renjun asks, looking around for any sign of parents.  

“No, they’re out for dinner with friends, and my brother stays in a dorm in college, so they’re not affected that much.” Jaemin looks like he’s about to say something else, but something beyond the two of you catches his eye and he mumbles an I’ll be right back before speeding off, disappearing into the crowd. Mark is pouring himself a new cup of soda, throwing Renjun a wounded look when he isn’t looking. You decide to strike up a conversation instead of watching him wait for Renjun to apologize for the technically stolen drink.  

“So has this been going on for a while, or…?”  

“No, it’s been maybe half an hour, or something. Oh, I think Jimin was looking for you. She’s somewhere—” He points around the room, clearly unsure. “Somewhere around here. I’m sure you’ll bump into her later. She and Jisung are probably groping each other in the garden or something.”  

“Since when did Yoo Jimin start dating Park Jisung?”  

“Since they sat next to each other on the KTX to Daegu over the break. You should ask Jisung about the make-out session that steamed up economy car A. He says seats 13 A and B still smell like her perfume and his cologne mixed together.”  

“Ew,” Renjun comments, and Mark makes a noise of agreement.  

You’re only half-paying attention to their disgust about Jisung and Jimin’s history of desecrating public spaces since you’ve spotted Jeno, who’s watching a group of juniors play what you assume is beer pong. You keep thinking about going over to him and saying hi, but you can’t seem to figure out when the right time is. Also, your nerves get the best of you, so you just stand beside Renjun as he starts a weird bonding experience with Mark Lee.  

Luckily, you don’t have to do anything at the end of the day; Jeno suddenly notices you, pushing himself off the window he’s been leaning against and walking over. You grab Renjun’s arm by instinct, and he lets out a sharp ow as you squeeze him. He manages to shake you off just before Jeno stops in front of you.

“_______________,” he looks pleased. “You made it. And… you brought Renjun with you.”

“Hey,” Renjun says flatly, handing his half-drunk cup of soda back to Mark, who takes it with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I think I see Donghyuck, so I’m gonna go say hi.”

He slips away before you can say anything, but Jeno doesn’t even look perturbed; he glances at Mark, who meets his eye then suddenly turns to walk off, and you hear him asking someone where the trash bag is.  

“So, are you enjoying?”  

“I just got here, but it seems great,” you try to sound enthusiastic even if you’re shouting a little over the new song that’s started playing. “Music’s a bit loud though.”  

“Makes awkward pauses less awkward,” he says sagely, and you can’t help but think there’s some logical inconsistency in that, but you just shrug it off, nodding up at him. “Did you get to try the pizza?”

“Not yet; why, did you make it with your own two hands, or something?”

“No,” he shrugs, grinning. “But I ordered it with my own voice.”  

You laugh as he does, but the sounds get drowned out by EXID’s Up and Down playing at full blast. He makes a motion, but you don’t catch on, so he just takes your wrist and leads you through a throng of people back to the beer pong game. Upon closer inspection, you see that the liquid inside is a lot darker than you expected.  

“It’s just cola,” Jeno explains. “We were thinking of buying beer, but most people here can’t drink anyway, so it would have been a waste of money.”  

“Smart,” you comment sincerely, watching the two guys on the opposite ends of the table consistently miss their targets. “So you just have to get the ball in the cups? And then what?”  

“The other person drinks. Hey, Jaehyun,” he calls out to one of the guys playing, who looks up and consequently gets hit in the cheek by a flying ping pong all. “Show _____________ how to play.”  

“She can just take Taeyong’s place; he sucks anyway.” This comment elicits a rude gesture from the other boy, and you notice they’re both wearing similar jackets with a logo you can’t really place but looks suspiciously official.  

“You both suck. Let her take a turn; I’m gonna go ask Jaemin if he has more ice or if we need to make a run.”  

Jeno places his hand on your back, leading you forward; the guy named Taeyong reluctantly steps aside as Jeno walks away, greeting some guy that looks familiar but who you also can’t place in your memory as he passes by.  

As it turns out, you’re not half-bad at beer pong; you manage to get Jaehyun to drink four cups of cola, which has him burping all over the place and begging for a break for his stomach. The party is in full swing now, but this is the part that starts to feel uncomfortable, and you excuse yourself from the game with the promise that you’ll play with the two of them again once you’re all of legal drinking age.  

The garden is no better when you exit; there are people in groups that you know you won’t be able to squeeze yourself into. You do actually see Jimin after a moment of scoping, but her limbs are intertwined with Jisung’s in the mini gazebo, and you don’t really want to interrupt, so you just head back inside.

The music is extremely grating now, and you’ve eaten two slices of pizza and downed at least three glasses of different kinds of soda, so you also feel a little bloated and sleepy. Jeno hasn’t resurfaced either over the last hour or so, and you think it’s high time Renjun must be antsy to get home. The problem is that you can’t find him in the living room or the kitchen; you actually knock on the bathroom after gathering up some courage, but the female voice that answers that it’s occupied makes all that effort go down the drain.  

You trust Renjun wouldn’t leave without telling you, but you’re also not sure why he would be missing for this much time. The fact that you’re just standing by the food table while people pass by, say non-committal hellos, and leave with pizza slices in hand makes it even more uncomfortable. In the end, you decide to text Renjun to meet you back at your house and weave through the crowd to get to the door.  

There are still people outside, and while some are leaving, others are also talking or flirting, and you notice that these are more people that seem familiar but unfamiliar all at once. They all look a little older, too; a couple of guys are all wearing sweaters with the same obnoxiously large logo you’d seen on Taeyong and Jaehyun’s jackets, and it dawns on you that these people must be from the university level, hanging at a party away from younger kids. You scan the grass for Renjun, but you don’t see him anywhere either.  

What you do see is Jeno standing extremely close to a girl who’s wearing a similar university sweater. He has one hand around a cup, but his other hand is sandwiched between the girl’s palms. You can’t really discern his expression, but his brows look knitted, and his mouth, while open, doesn’t seem to be moving.  

You feel like you’ve seen this scene before, back at the dance where you had snapped upon seeing Lee Gyuwon and Jeno together, leaving poor Chenle behind. You’d only recently learned to laugh about that situation, so this one comes as both a painful reminder and an unfortunate addition of scenarios that made you extremely uncomfortable. You have to placate yourself with the reminder they just seem to be talking, even if they are standing really close to each other; nothing is actually happening, save for the fact that you can sometimes see Jeno’s hand gripping the cup in his hand a little tighter now and again.  

All of this just goes out the door when the girl leans in, pressing a hand to his chest, and kisses him.  

A voice inside your head tells you it’s frankly masochistic to keep staring at two people kissing when you like one of them, but you just stand there, rooted to the spot, watching the girl wrap an arm around Jeno’s neck. He pulls away after a while, and his mouth starts moving really quickly. His eyes dart around, like he’s watching for something, until they land on you, and his lips stop mid-speech. The scene gets blurrier, and you think you’re going to pass out for a second until you realize you’re just crying a little.  

Soft fingers wrap around your forearm, pulling you away gently. You think it might be Renjun, who’s finally found you after all that hullabaloo, but when you regain some sense, your attention focuses on Jaemin, who’s leading you back to your house. He’s doing so wordlessly, without even looking at you, and the noise of the party fades into an easily ignorable buzz once you reach your driveway. He stops you right at your front door, pausing a little before facing you with a small smile.  

The part of you that hates yourself the most tempts you to look back, to see if you can still glimpse Jeno from this far away; your head actually starts to turn, but Jaemin reacts quicker, trapping your face between his palms and keeping your head steadily towards him. His smile grows a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and his teeth don’t show like they usually do.  

“Hey. Just look at me first, okay?”  

“Um,” is the only thing you can say considering you’re not sure if he’s doing this randomly or for some unknown reason.  

“Your hair’s kind of a mess, you know that? Did you get in a fight, or something?”  

“No, I was just… you know, there were a lot of people, so I probably bumped into a few of them,” your voice sounds distant, but you’re glad to hear that it still works and that you can form something of a coherent sentence. Jaemin laughs softly.  

“Yeah, it did get kind of crowded back there.” He starts to gently put strands of hair back into place, but it’s clear he has no clue what he’s doing because he sighs and drops his hands to your shoulders after a minute. “Anyway, you seemed a little out of it, so I thought you might want to go home for a quick break. If you want to go back, though, we can.”  

“No,” you say quickly. “I was… actually just looking for Renjun. So we could leave quietly.”  

“Well, usually, if you’re leaving a party, you’re supposed to tell the host,” he chuckles softly. “But since I dragged you here, I guess it doesn’t apply.”  

You want to laugh, but all your body seems to want to do is produce tears; you can’t even understand why you want to cry, considering you and Jeno aren’t dating, and he’d made that extremely clear. You suppose that it had just seemed like all the events were leading up to you getting together, although you may have just been reading between the lines when you weren’t supposed to thanks to your endless bounty of personal delusion.  

Either way, you didn’t want to cry about it — especially not in front of his best friend, who probably thinks it’s pathetic enough that you’re hopelessly deluded. You inhale in an attempt to calm yourself down, but all it does it signal your body into letting out a soft sob. Jaemin doesn’t move, and his expression hardly changes, save for the fact that the smile is back to its unnaturally small state. He actually looks like he’s… sad? That doesn’t seem right, though; maybe it’s really more like he pities you, which you can’t even blame him for.  

Still, he gently raises his right hand again; this time, instead of attempting to fix your hair, he gently places his palm against your head. Then lifts it. Then places it back down again. Soon, you’re standing in your driveway, crying silently while the guy from next door is awkwardly patting your hair like you’re a wounded puppy. It doesn’t last more than five minutes, but it’s still a fairly embarrassing period of time, and you wipe at your eyes aggressively while he retracts his hand.  

“Kind of stupid, huh?” Your voice is thick and ugly. “Crying after a party.”  

“Crying after a party, yeah. Crying after seeing someone you like kiss someone else? Not stupid at all.”  

“So I didn’t hallucinate?” You sigh, hiccuping yourself into a slightly calmer state.

“No, unfortunately. I mean, Jeno is — anyway, it’s not really any of my business, I guess. Do you want me to look for Renjun back at my house, or something?”  

“No, it’s fine. I texted him that I was going home anyway, so he can just come find me when he sees it, I guess.” You feel like your voice is childishly sullen, and Jaemin must think so too, because his smile grows again, like he wants to laugh. “But… thanks for walking me home.”

“I almost dragged you home.”

“But I used my two feet,” you crack a smile, wiping away a stray tear that’s just fallen from your eyelashes. “So I still technically walked.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” he agrees.

You both stand in front of your door, not moving; you’re not making eye contact either, but it doesn’t feel too uncomfortable. There are a ton of things you want to ask him, but all of your questions seem either too upsetting or too invasive, so you just stay quiet until Jaemin looks up again, focusing on something past your head.  

You turn to find Jeno approaching, and his eyes are flickering between you and Jaemin. His hands ball into fists for a second, like he’s steeling himself.  

Jaemin’s voice seems different when he talks again, and he’s not looking at you when he speaks. “I should get back home. See you, _______________.”

He brushes past Jeno, not looking back as he returns to the party. Jeno watches him go, making sure Jaemin’s past your property line before turning back to you.  

“You left so quickly,” is how he opens the conversation.  

“Oh. Yeah, it just got crowded. I lost Renjun, and I couldn’t eat anything more,” you explain lamely. “Sorry. I guess I should have told you.”  

“No, it’s — that’s totally fine. I just… I guess you really didn’t have a good time.”  

“I did; no, I totally did.” Up until a few minutes ago, you want to add, but there’s no way you would. Jeno nods, not really looking like he’s fairly interested in how much you enjoyed the party. “I found out I’m… pretty good beer pong, so that probably bumped my cool points, right?”  

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” he suddenly blurts out, skewing the conversation’s falsely casual atmosphere drastically towards a topic you were desperate to avoid. You stand in silence, fairly stunned, and Jeno looks like he’s about to burst completely, his words coming out a little too fast because he wants to say so much. “She used to go to our school. A year older. We broke up during her last year; she said she didn’t want anyone from her past tying her down in college. I mean — we — she — we were over. It was fine. But she showed up tonight, I guess since she heard from Jaemin’s brother that there was a party… I didn’t know. She never told me. We just — I guess she thought we could get back together, so we talked, and she kissed me. But we’re not. Back together, that is.”  

“Uh,” you say, once again at a loss for words. “Okay.”  

“It didn’t mean anything,” he starts to slow down, looking a little relieved that he’s gotten the crux of the story off his chest. “She was a little drunk before she got here. It was just a spur of the moment — no, sorry. It was just a mistake. That’s it.”  

“It’s… I mean, it’s… it’s fine?” It’s not, you know, but you don’t know what else to say considering it’s supposed to be fine to you. “She’s your ex-girlfriend. You’re bound to still have feelings for each other. Also—”

“We don’t,” he interrupts you. “We don’t have feelings for each other. I mean, I don’t. For her.”

“Okay, but I also don’t know why you’re telling me all of this.”  

“Because. Because I know you saw us outside.”  

“I did,” you admit, still feeling the uncomfortable pang of distress at recalling the sight. It seems to be triggering your fight or flight instinct because you’re taking slow steps back, but Jeno is just moving forward with you too. Even when you run out of space to step, he’s still advancing, eyes focused on you, like he’s watching for your expression. “And it’s your right to make out with your ex-girlfriend. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”  

“Doesn’t it?”  

“Does it?” You’re thoroughly confused now, and it looks like Jeno is too. “We’re just friends, aren’t we? We’re not really even that. My opinion on your relationships doesn’t really… matter.”  

“It does though. It does to me.”  

You fall silent, dumbfounded; your mind can’t decide on which feeling to focus on first, so you just stand there looking stupid. Jeno is standing really close to you now, and you can actually smell the fabric conditioner on his hoodie and the cologne that’s fading off from his skin. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“You like me.”  

It’s not asked like a question, but he pauses like he’s waiting for you to respond. You’re too close to him to feel comfortable enough to lie and deny, plus the situation seems so intense that the thought of doing something wrong doesn’t even cross your mind. You nod, and he doesn’t even look the least bit surprised.

“I’m telling you all of this because I know you like me. Because I don’t want you to misunderstand something like that.”  

“It doesn’t matter, though,” your voice is also soft, less because you’re trying to be quiet and more because if you speak up, you’re afraid you might start crying again. “You don’t have to explain something like that to someone who likes you just because they like you. It shouldn’t be a concern.”  

“But I want to,” he says firmly. “I want to make sure you know — I’m really not with that girl. What happened back there — it didn’t mean anything.”  

“But why?”  

He reaches out, and the action feels eerily similar to Jaemin’s; his fingers idly toy with loose strands of hair, but it doesn’t feel laden with the motive of comforting. Instead, his hand skims down the side of your face gently, stopping just below your jaw. You wonder if he’s noticed you’ve stopped breathing, but if he has, he doesn’t make it obvious. His thumb extends away from his hand, lightly tracing the height of your cheekbone.  

“Because I don’t want something like this to push you away from me,” he murmurs. “Because I want you to like me. Just me.”  

[krii-bolts]

✨OH.✨

OH OKAY

NEW TEASER. HOLY HELL- Im gonna have to scavenge around the other episodes and compile posts together due to this teaser, HUH.

Aaaa scew it, Quick Observation post / Murder Drone Theory rant time LETS GO-

Big open Hallway from an Elevator, with it being all Old Hotel looking vibe. Very much "The Shining" type beat

Considering Ep 4 and how the Golden Roach mentioned a "Cabin Fever Labs" and corresponding elevator, along with Ep 5's TBC.................... y e a h.

Main Hall AND OH DEAR.

Nanite Tails, Disassembly Drone legs and.. a glitching screen? Too zoomed out + Blurry to see the words it flashes in between Glitches, but its symbol is a simple "Triangle Alert" kind

Like so vvvvvvv

uh.

UH

Yeah We're getting all the JC Jenson stuff now. More Nanite Tails and Accompanying bodies

It might just me being me but... it looks like the bodies are partially submerged in oil. That or Neatly sliced in half

Text reads "Don't Look" with Don't being repeated next to it

DON'T LOOK WHERE??????? (also matches Video title lol)

Typical office. Nothing unusual at first glance, might have some lore significance ON that computer though, who knows-

. . .

First off.

Baby Giggling is heard during the Transition from the Computer to THIS SCREENSHOT.

That combined with the Blue Loading Symbols / Wheel of Slowness or Death and that previous teaser of a BLUE ABS SYMBOL...

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmm...

ALSO-

Dress and Hair. HM. That and this screenshot is in a Office Setting.

We're getting lore drops on Nori and Yeva, huh.

DINOSAUR? IN THE SERVER ROOMS (or what appear to be server rooms)

WHAT.

I do notice a bundle of wires behind its head, connecting between the Upper top of the head and Bottom of neck. Interesting

Also Considering the Clawed hand at the Thumbnail, combined with The Blue Coloration... THIS MIGHT BE A GLIMPSE INTO THAT HAND'S OWNER. Or well

Perhaps a Warped version of them

SECURITY OFFICE. AND BODIES. MANY MANY BODIES

Not much to say here other then Some cameras are offline. Wonder what their supposed to view / record..

OKAY.

THIS ALSO HAS A TRANSITIONING OF GIGGLING

However, unlike baby giggling, this is more Mature sounding. Im PRESUMING ADULT, But Who knows. This is ONLY giggling after all

Who wana bet this "Giggling" is from NORI, at different stages of "Development" or whatever she was going through.

The only problem to that notion is the repeating Blue Coloration from the Teasers and Office Area so Who knows. Might as well put my Thoughts to the wind

BUT LIKE.

HELLO. SURGICAL BEDS AND OPERATING TABLES WITH OIL ON EM???? JC Jenson why are you like this.

More Cameras but MORE IMPORTANTLY..

B o x. Box with oil on it.

BIG HOLE.

BIG HOLE.

WHY BIG HOLE????

but hey at least we know what their looking at (HELL.)

[bluiex]

sorry this took so long, look at the bottom text for more info here finally is some clockers mafia au, im still very brainrotted about the clockers but it’s summer and i’ve become a potato lmao

possible TWs for child loss, cannibalism, child abuse/neglect/abandonment, death/murder, tag if you think i missed anything important!

—

Cleo’s not had an easy life, she knows that. She grew up dirt poor, she never got what she wanted because she couldn’t afford it. She got to comfortable with her streak of luck. She joined a local mafia at 15 and slowly rose up the ranks till she could practically make her own, which is what she planned on. Then her dream came true, she got pregnant. It was her dream to raise a family, give her children everything she couldn’t have when she was younger. But the world was cruel.

They walked through town numbly, they had been in the wrong place in the wrong time and had been exposed to something awful. Their skin had partially rotten and exposed bone in some spots. Their heart no longer beat, the doctors saved her sure, but they couldn’t save their baby. And due to their undead state, they could never have children as well.

The sky reflected her mood. It was dark and gray, showing that showers would soon spill. Some people in the streets showed fear at her zombified state and other showed compassion as they knew she was pregnant before the accident.

They were walking past the window of a hat shop when they felt the slightest shift of their back pocket where they kept their wallet. They instantly snapped up, they would not let their wallet be stolen it had the only ultrasound photo they owned.

She snapped around and saw a slight blur or white hair disappear around a corner to an alley. She silently crept around and peaked in, expecting a petty thief or a rival mafia but what she saw shocked her instead.

It was a small child, couldn’t have been more then 7. He was thin and malnourished, with a birthmark around one of his eyes making it look like he had a permanent black eye. His hair was white and choppy, his skin tanned and eyes a very dark brown. He was looking down through the money in the wallet counting it.

They fully stepped into view of the alley and cleared their throat in order to get his attention. His head quickly rising up fear apparent in his eyes. He started walking backwards arms in front of him trying to sputter out an excuse. Cleo felt awful, he was so young and frail, he shouldn’t have to steal to survive.

“Hey, hey, calm down, hand me back my wallet and I’ll buy you lunch alright? We’ll just talk, just give me back my wallet kid,” she said, careful to not spook him. She had her arm extended with her palm up so he could put the wallet there. He stopped walking and looked back and forth between her hand and the wallet.

He took a tentative step towards them and they stayed as still as they could so he wouldn’t be scared. They felt a bit bad for treating them like an animal but they didn’t know what else to do.

Slowly but surely the child moseyed over and carefully placed the wallet back in her hand. Cleo smiles gently at the boy and checked to make sure the picture was still in her wallet. Upon seeing it she sighed in relief snd held it to her still heart.

“Alright buddy, how about we go to the diner, they’ve got a little bit of everything,” they suggested holding their hand out for him to grab other hand putting their wallet with the photo safely away in their pocket again. The boy nodded eyes lighting up as he softly gripped their hand. The feeling of a young child holding their hand and trusting them made them almost start crying.

They both made it to the diner, on the way she learned his name was Bdubs, but she decided to wait till they sat down to ask him anymore questions. They walked in and the hostess told them to sit anywhere. Cleo decided the best spot would be a booth in the corner, it was well lit but allowed for some air of privacy. The menus were already on the table so she picked hers up just to not make the kid feel uncomfortable, she already knew what she wanted.

“You know how to read right?” They asked suddenly realizing he might not.

Bdubs scoffed and crossed his arms “Of course I do, I’m 9!” he responded in an adorable annoyed voice.

Cleo gasped and said “Your 9? I thought you were like 7!”

“Nope! 9! Nine-o!” He says proudly.

“You realize that means 90 right?” She asks an amused smile on her face as his falls.

“I said I knew how to read not that I was good at math…” Bdubs grumbled as Cleo noticed a waitress coming over with a little note pad.

“Welcome to Fre- oh my goodness Cleo! I almost didn’t… recognize you… Cleo what in the world happened?!” The waitress said trailing off before bursting out in question. They shrunk back mood suddenly darkening some before saying “I was in the wrong place, wrong time, doctors saved me but now I’m, well a zombie,” they said looking away in shame.

“Oh my goodness thats awful! I can’t ima- wait,” there it was. “What happened to her?” The waitress asked eyes suddenly fulling with horror and a bit of pity.

“Who’s ’her’?” Bdubs asked looking between the two confusedly. The waitress looked a little surprised by him, as though she didn’t realize he was there but then quickly turned back to Cleo.

“…I was pregnant and when I turned I lost her, my little girl… I never even got to meet her…” Cleo took a shaky breath in, it still hurt to even think about let alone speak about. “And now because I’m undead, I can’t get pregnant ever again…” she felt a cold tear drip down her equally cold cheek. Her hands shook the menu they held, and you could hear a light rattling from the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“I’m so sorry again, I know it won’t make up for it but I can pay for your meal?” She asked putting her hand on Cleo’s shoulder gently.

“No, I told the kid I’d pay for him so I’m going to pay for him, plus I know you’ve been saving for over a year now to go on that vacation, you make way less then I do,” Cleo replied giving her a sad smile. “Speaking of, kid what do you want to drink?”

Bdubs looked back at the menu uncertainty and mumbled out “Just a water.”

“That won’t do now will it, what do you actually want Bdubs? How about a milkshake?” Cleo prompted making him light up with hope.

“Can I get a strawberry shake?” He asked face full of happiness that made Cleo’s sadness melt away.

“Of course, and I’ll get my usual unsweetened ice tea,” They said turning back towards the waitress who quickly scribbled it down before rushing off to tell the chefs.

“Alright, so you’re name is Bdubs and your 9, what else? Do you have any parents slash guardians or are you an orphan?” Cleo prompted sitting back in the booth crossing her arms as Bdubs looked up at her from behind the menu.

“I’ve been by myself for a bit now, I don’t know how long though,” he answered almost shamefully.

“I’m guessing that means you don’t have a home, where do you sleep?” Cleo asked leaning forward again propping themselves up by their crossed arms on the table.

“Box, its got a pillow I found behind a home goods, but most pillows places throw them out they slash first so it’s kinda dirty and feels permanently damp cause i don’t have a replacement,” he explained looking away a bit ashamedly.

Cleo mumbled to herself about needing to ‘chat’ with them about that before saying “Well,” she turned her face gentle and caring as Bdubs looked back at her face soft with his childish curiosity and innocence. “I could give you a place to stay, living with me, you’d be free from the streets, have food, shelter, water, ect, BUT before you agree you need to know the danger,” Cleo continued before quieting down as the waitress came back over with their drinks. Cleo watched as Bdubs lit up as he sipped the milkshake a savored the sweet taste.

“What danger? You got a rabid dog army or something?” he joked between sips of his milkshake.

“Are you aware what the mafia is? You might also know it as a mob or gang,” they asked squeezing the lemon on their cup into their iced tea.

“Oh yeah! I used to watch a show that had the mafia, they like beat people up and take money right?” Bdubs said innocently.

“They do more but thats the gist, you aren’t aware clearly but there is a mafia in this town and I’m one of the highest members in it, if you lived with me, you’d be agreeing to have a permanent target on your back, letting me teach you how to use knifes and guns, probably needing to accompany me to ‘meetings’, I will let you live with me and raise you but you would still be in danger likely the rest of your life,” Cleo explained slowly letting Bdubs soak it all in, his face was blank and she explained.

“But you would protect me?”

Cleo hesitated, glancing down at her stomach then up at the young boy in front of her “Yes, with my life.”

-

“Cleoooooo!” Bdubs called out drawing out the word.

“Yeah Bdubs? I’m getting changed!” Cleo called back from inside their room on the second story of their house.

“You promised me you’d take me to the pizza place with the good garlic bread this weekend! Well its Sunday, so we better get that pizza!” He called back huffing at Cleo forgetting about that.

“Oh but bud there were some people I needed to go see, haven’t paid their dues in like a month, boss is getting angry,” Cleo replied opening her door and heading n down the stairs to the living room where Bdubs sat arms crossed.

“You said this week, last week, just let me come with you then we can get pizza after!” He said with an air of finality to his voice.

Cleo sighed kneeling down to put their shoes on “It’s one that might get violent, you sure?”

“Yes. I want pizza,” Bdubs answered standing up from the couch and walking towards Cleo.

“Alright, let’s go, they have a kid a bit older then you actually, maybe while we chat you can chat with him, I think he’s homeschooled though,” She informed grabbing Bdubs hand walking them out.

-

“Come on open up, your just making it harder for yourself we just want our money,” Cleo said knocking on the door as Bdubs stood behind her looking around bored, he’d been to many houses and apartments during his year of living with Cleo, they all start looking so bland.

“Ugh that’s it I’m coming in,” they said trying for the door handle and predictably, it was locked. “Kid, can you grab my clock?”

When Cleo first took him in he mentioned this golden pocket watch he had always seen in a shop window and always wanted but of course could never even come close to the amount it cost. At that Cleo that night went out and got them matching ones. Cleo then ‘spruced up’ hers so that it had a compartment with a lock pick in it so whenever she needed it she’d have a completely non-suspicious place she kept one. Bdubs thought it was brilliant.

He reached into his pocket where Cleo requested he keep it and handed it to them, watching as they skillfully picked it as though it was the key.

“Alright I’m coming in lets keep this peaceful,” She announced walking in with Bdubs in tow. They got to the end of the entryway and right as they reached the doorway leading into what Bdubs assumed was the living room Cleo’s arm shot out to try and block Bdubs view as she screamed “Don’t look!” But it barely covered his face and his own curiosity got to him, so he looked around it.

Laying on the floor surrounded by a puddle of dark red and gore was two people. Adults, clearly the people that owed his mo- Cleo’s people money. But they were covered in the same dried red, and were missing large chunks of their bodies, as well as desperate claw and bite marks.

Then Bdubs looked up slightly and saw, him. It was a kid, only a few years older then him. He was standing behind the bodies looking terrified, but not of the bodies, of Cleo. His hair was brown and messy, his body littered with small scars that were covered currently by the same red, on his hands and his mouth. Then most curiously his ears had a point to them, the tips of his clawed fingers seemed to glow blue slightly, and he had frail torn up looking light blue transparent wings behind him.

“Oh my gods… kid, did you do this? Are you a vex hybrid?” Cleo cautiously asked, Bdubs didn’t know what a vex was but he was more then a bit scared.

“Okay… okay, this is your parents right?” The boy nodded slightly. “Okay, so you did this to them? You ate them?”

“….starving.”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“They were starving me, I begged for food but they would just hit me and lock me in my room, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ate,” the boy said, taking long pauses at different points his clear fear fading slightly as he spoke.

Bdubs watched as Cleo’s hand in front of him balled up into a first shaking at how tightly they were clenched. They took a shaky breath to settle themself before speaking again.

“Alright, alright… first off, whats your name kid?”

“…Scar.”

“Okay Scar, this is a bad situation, if the police find you like this, you are going to be arrested, hell possibly even killed, but I think I know how to save you, you just have to agree to come with me and do exactly what I tell you, from there you can live with me. I don’t want a kid going to prison, especially because your only crime was awful parents, will you trust me Scar?” Cleo said cautiously, tenderly reaching her hand out as an invitation. If theres one thing Bdubs learned during his time living with Cleo it’s that if possible she will never involve kids in crimes or violence, she’s always super hesitant to let him even pickpocket someone that they need to take something from even when she’s trained him perfectly.

“Trust me Scar, she’s really kind, tries to avoid wrapping me up with her job, protects me whenever she can, never hits, starves, yells, you’ll be safe, she can protect you,” Bdubs said reassuringly figuring he would trust him more as he was around his age.

“Alright, I’ll go with you, what’s your guy’s names?” Scar said hesitantly taking Cleo’s hand swallowing nervously.

“I’m Bdubs, shes Cleo, welcome to the clockers family!”

“The cockers?”

“CLOCKERS!” Cleo screamed in surprise causing him to flinch a little before he giggled.

Suddenly they became serious, “Okay kid, we need to thoroughly wash around your mouth and inside, remove your finger prints from anything incriminating mess up a closet like you were hiding in it, then follow what I tell you, we have a short time span for this.”

—

Bdubs gripped Cleo’s hand worriedly as she took a deep breath grabbing the doorknob turning it and opening it before waiting about two seconds and as loudly and blood curdling as she could screaming turning and clutching Bdubs.

Very quickly neighbors ran out to see what happened and she started screaming to call the police, that they were dead, blood was everywhere, it’s awful, ETC. They played their part beautifully, sobbing and clutching Bdubs who tried his best to act terrified and crying, the police quickly came and ‘discovered’ Scar hiding in the closet, he followed what Cleo told him to do and the police were none the wiser, they also lied about what had happened, claiming he and Scar had a play date set up but had to be rescheduled due to work and when they came they found them dead on the floor, no clue as to what/who had caused it.

Eventually the police agreed to let Scar go with them as he had no other documented family and was ‘clearly traumatized’ they returned to their home and all breathed a big sigh of relief.

“I’ve never had to lie that much in such a short amount of time jeez, alright, I need to talk to the boss about this Bdubs show Scar around, get him settled, pull out the extra mattress, we can work everything out later.” She said patting Bdubs on the head with a tired but sincere smile walking off.

—

screw it this is going to take forever im making a fanfiction so have this, might expand some of this to make like the first two chapters but i feel bad it’s took so long

have a good day bluie and anons i have a headache im going to go stare at the ceiling

-🍞

AAAAAH LOAF THIS IS SO WONDERFUL. I LOVE THEIR BACKSTORIES also take all the time you need dude please don't rush yourself or feel the need that you have to get this done anytime soon- we cna all wait!

[lilmissnatcat24]

Turn Left Ch 30- Meow

Shepard puts two and two together.

Relationship: Femshep/Garrus Vakarian

Archive Warnings in author's note

Additional tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, slow build, alternate universe- canon divergence, detective noir, sex club, anonymous sex, canon temporary character death, murder mystery, drug use, dom garrus vakarian, whump, smut, heavy angst, alien sex, dual pov, an overly sexual elcor named candy, earthborn, ruthless, fake/pretend relationship, dead dove: do not eat, identity porn, minor character death

Detective AU mixed with identity porn mixed with so much whump my fingers are bleeding

(or, start from the beginning here)

lil text blurb:

“I-- well-- this wasn’t my choice necessarily. I never thought-- I mean-- I’ve done a very good job at keeping this part of my life secret from all of my coworkers-- which believe me, has not been easy at times, but I guess we do what we can--” 

“Garrus, what is it?” Shepard asked, her curiosity now peaked. And frankly, it brought her a small amount of joy to see Garrus squirm like that after all of the shit he’d been hiding from her lately. 

“I… um…” Garrus said, for some reason looking at the crack at the bottom of his door intently, as if it were about to get up and walk away. “I have a roommate.” 

“Oh,” Shepard said. That wasn’t so bad, was it? “Okay, well I guess it’s time to meet him--” 

“Her.” 

“Ah.” Now it was starting to make sense. “So, like a girlfriend or something?” 

“ No, she is not a girlfriend ,” Garrus said so quickly it sounded like one garbled, jumbled up mess. A sound came from the other side of Garrus’s door. It wasn’t speech or anything, it sounded almost like a whimper. 

“What, is she a vorcha or something? Why does she sound like that?” 

“Shep…” Garrus said, rubbing his eyes. With a resigned sigh, he pressed his omnitool to his door, unlocking it. 

At first, it seemed like just an empty apartment. A tiny little kitchen on the back wall, a couch on one side, a bed with perfectly made sheets on the other. A few spare rifle parts littering the table in the middle, one window the size of a basketball onto the street below. Shepard almost didn’t see anyone. That was, until she looked down, gasping loudly much to Garrus’s dismay. 

“Oh my God. You have a kitty !” Shepard squealed, bending down to pet the cat. It was a very pretty gray color with white markings on its face and belly, giving a very satisfied chirp to Shepard’s reaction to it. 

“That is not a kitty ,” Garrus said through gritted teeth. “That is a cat .” 

“ What a sweet little thing !” Shepard cooed, scratching its ears as its tail stuck up straight into the air.

“She’s not, trust me.” 

 “What’s her name?” Garrus mumbled something under his breath. Shepard glanced up at him, so blue in the face it almost covered up his colony tattoos. “What was that?” 

“Hmph,” Garrus muttered, crossing his arms in an incredibly bratty and snooty fashion. 

“I’m sorry, one more time?” 

“ Whiskers von Trapp .” Shepard stared up at Garrus incredibly blankly, blinking rapidly. He refused to look down at her, or his cat. Just as she was about to open her mouth to say something, he gave her a little kick. “Will you just get inside already?” 

Garrus locked his apartment door behind him, Whiskers von Trapp weaving in and out between his feet merrily. “Did-- did you name her--?” 

“ No, I did not name the fucking cat Whiskers von Trapp ,” Garrus all but yelled. “Look, it was my first week as a beat cop on the Presidium. I was called to do a wellness check on this old lady, she ended up dying earlier in the day. And this creature was inside. I was just going to leave her be, because it is explicitly not my job to care after cretins like this, but then she gave me these big eyes and this manipulative little mew, so I thought I would scoop her up and take her to a shelter. But as soon as I put her in my car, she slinked onto my lap and started making this Siren sound that was like subvocals, and now she’s wormed her way here .” 

“What a devastating tale that is,” Shepard said, a scandalized hand on her heart. “The Day Garrus Vakarian Found His Soul.” 

“I tried to just call her Cat. Because she is a cat,” Garrus continued. “But she wouldn’t respond to that. Or Whiskers. Or even Von. The only time she responds is when I call her Whiskers von Trapp. Like she lives to patronize me into calling her such a ridiculous name.” 

“Cats do tend to do that.” 

“Do not be fooled by her soft fur or her adorable little face. She is a vixen, an evil creature of the night. Did you know I need to steam my uniform every night? Do you know how hard it is to get the smell of cat out of everything? Did you know that no matter how many times I demand that she sleep on the little bed I bought that cost me five hundred creds , she just ends up sleeping under my carapace? Ignorant little beast she is, not to be trusted.” 

“Oh, what a horrid life you lead,” Shepard said patronizingly, finally stretching back up from her squat. “Should I get you a trophy? A shot? Drones of whores?” 

“All three, thank you very much.”

[rain-yskies]

no wait im intrigued by your rb tags. tell me more (i am in the english side of the fandom due to only speaking english)

ok here we go

i guess i should start by saying that i don’t really browse through the hispanic ch community anymore. all of what i’m about to say was true back in 2019-2020, and we all know the kinds of headcanons everyone, whatever language they spoke, had. so buckle your seatbelts lol 

the most popular ship back then was rusmex. and the story went like this:

soviet onion is struggling. mexico and soviet are friends, so mexico visits sometimes with supplies such as food. sometimes, mexico and soviet are lovers, but that’s not what i’m talking about that’s a whole different story.

mexico is russia’s babysitter.(along with the other soviet republics, mainly ukraine and belarus). he is nice and caring, almost like a second father figure to russia. they bond and spend a lot of time together. usually, russia has a huge crush on mexico, and confesses to him about it, but mexico says he’s too young and should “wait until he’s older.” 

soviet onion dies, and russia is sad. mexico comforts him and they get into a relationship shortly afterwards. 

russia is protective of mexico and doesn’t let him look at other people without beating them to death. this was treated as comedic. (also there’s a bunch of nsfw i wish i could erase from my mind, but no, 12 year old me was insistent on looking through every wattpad “ch picture” book there was.)

mexico is also shipped with everyone. there’s this meme (i’ll put it here if i manage to find it) that goes:

(translation: dude they ship you with everything that breathes or moves.

bottom text: is it because i’m sexy?)

people were so insistent on putting these ships in their headcanons that they decided to make 3 mexicos to ship with different countries. they are called north, central, and south. they’re not much different in terms of personality. but i can’t speak for everyone. my point is he’s like the philippines of the spanish-speaking community. 

k rain talk is over hope you all learned something today

[xuanelle]

this is how their yakuza 7 cameo went basically

[id: image of Saejima Taiga and Majima Goro from Yakuza Like A Dragon standing side-by side, Saejima has a serious expression while Majila looks slightly amused. Over the top and bottom of the image is white text that together reads, "We are going to beat you to death." /end id]

[lemonhemlock]

Just saw a post saying season 4 will end with alicent slowing losing her sanity and her giving up on KL like rhaenyra and them making plans to end the war peacefully 🤡 but she’ll lose the last of her sanity when she witness rhaenyra brutal murder and will plead with aegon to not kill aegon iii but since she lost her sanity she will poison aegon ii herself because she hates what he has become…

I shit you not I actually saw this

Link to post: https://twitter.com/aemondzafiro/status/1609590418429349889?s=61&t=eWAkGou3VYunZLlshrA1Zg

You have to read this it’s actually hilarious 

https://twitter.com/elumaxluv/status/%201609647629469716480?s=61&t=%20eWAkGou3VYunZLlshrA1Zg

Thoughts?

I'll answer these two asks together since they're related.

We don't really know what the showrunners intend to do with these characters. There are a lot of ways their characterizations can diverge. We don't have the power to predict the future, nor can we read minds, so, at the end of the day, we'll just have to wait and see what they decide on. It's very likely that our own personal interpretations of the texts doesn't coincide with theirs. This isn't a case of wrong vs right.

Could they go down this route? Sure, they can do anything they want, they have the reins.

Is that my reading of Alicent? No. I do agree that it would be very dramatic for Alicent to be present for Rhaenyra's death and it would make sense to swap Aegon III's reaction for hers, since we're more emotionally invested in Alicent. I included the same beat myself when I wrote my favourite version of Aegon.

Would she poison Aegon? Only if he were in so much pain and begged her to help him unalive himself. I mean, by that point, she has lost three children, two grandchildren and her father. Aegon and Jaehaera are all she has left. As heartbreaking as Rhaenyra's death would be (even still), she wouldn't kill her own son over it. In the books, she works quickly to salvage the Baratheon alliance by betrothing Cassandra to Aegon. That's the action of someone who plans for the future, not someone who intends to kill the groom.

And, come on, Aegon killing Rhaenyra wasn't an act of injustice, it was the lawful execution of a traitor and, most likely, the only realistic way to end the war. Rhaenyra would 100% have done the same to her half-brother, had she captured him. Aegon doesn't even have time to 'become' much (that Alicent could be 'disgusted' by), because he spends most of the war bedridden. How is Alicent performing her duty to the realm when Aegon is well within his rights to dispense the King's justice?

Rhaenyra suddenly becoming a pacifist in the last season would another monumental whitewashing of her character and, frankly, it wouldn't improve the story for the better. Her complexity would be diminished, just so that A Man (i.e. Aegon) could be painted as the bad guy (again). IDK there are more interesting narrative and thematic choices they could make instead of this basic white feminism pandering.

The more compelling type of character evolution would be to have a (semi)heroic character like Rhaenyra slowly overgo a devolution of morals, while the one who received bottom-of-the-barrel characterization redresses (some of) his flaws by the end of the story. Turning Aegon into even more a villain and a dark monster or whatever, while Rhaenyra assimilates the Geneva Conventions would be SO cliche.