#does anyone else just replay scenes they’ve seen in their heads or are you all normal?

[ktheist]

heartbreaker of mine

muses. jungkook x reader

synopsis. ah, here we are again. the overtold, cliche as hell story about two best friends who might or might not be in love with each other. except you can’t - wouldn’t dare to dream about being with jungkook.

alternatively, wherein you fell for the one who could break your heart.

words. 7.5k

universe. university / slice of life

warnings. mentions of physical insecurities; appearance, commitment issues

x

you should have known that in the absence of two of your best friends, nothing ever goes right when you decide to hang out. it isn’t the fact that you’ve known each other since diapers and basically know anything and everything about the other, that at some point you feel like your friendship is stale and need new additions - that’s where park jimin and kim taehyung comes in; a year older but several younger at heart, you couldn’t have imagined going through uni life with someone but them - but it’s the fact that realization hits you at the end of your final year that makes you drift apart. 

the fact of the matter is, you prefer the solitude of your room, the library of that one spot in the cafe that you’ve claimed as yours. and jeon jungkook prefers the blare of music, strobe lights and bodies grinding against him.

by your final year, as you receive a job offer at the company you interned in on your second year, taehyung is already working part time at the company he interned in, jimin thinking about that modeling offer he just got scouted for and jeon jungkook is getting daddies of the girls he’s having a thing with to get him to work at their office just so their daughter can see their favorite boy more - yours and jungkook’s friendship has dwindled down to mere silences as you wait for the other two to knock on the door and fill the place up with their endless bickering about whether dumplings are better than mochi.

 “shouldn’t you like, give me advice?” are the words jungkook said to you while you type away on your laptop, trying to do some light reading for tomorrow’s class before your mac gets confiscated for ‘pooping the party’ as taehyung likes to call it.

and you know what he’s talking about without even having preambles of the topic make its way into the conversation.

yet you still take off your glasses and set it down in your lap and ask, “what could jeon jungkook possibly have not known and needed advice on?”

he scrunches his nose, not appreciating your sarcasm but humors it anyway, “you know,” he shrugs, as though shrunk into the sofa from either shyness or embarrassment - you don’t know, “on like, how to start being serious about life - and settling down.”

the silence that stretches is a stale one, filled with your blank stare and jungkook’s peering eyes - even at the age of 22, the stars still glimmer like they’ve been freshly plucked from the skies.

“you want me to help pick, out of the many job offers you got from your girlfriends’ rich parents, for you to do?” is your conclusion - though if you were 2 years younger and had a little bit more faith for the boy you basically called your twin, it would have been a good natured jest. but you’re older and jungkook isn’t exactly portraying characteristics of an upstanding citizen either.

“no,” his hair brushes against his brows as he shakes his head almost too eagerly - as though he saw that coming but still got upset and wanted to prove you wrong, “like how to start taking things seriously like settling down with someone and no, not with out of my many girlfriends - can we not call them that? it makes me sound like an ass.”

it takes you less than five seconds to digest his words, eyes drifting to the white screen of your mac for the sole reason you can’t bear to hold his intense gaze while you conjure up a response, “well for one, you are but there’s honestly nothing i can tell you that you don’t know already and there’s nothing i can possibly say to make you want to change - it has to come from you. or like, a professional that could help and if you think you need one, i’ll be with you all step-“

the brief scoff is what puts a rest to your racing thoughts while the smile on his lips put your heart at ease, “i’m not addicted to sex.”

“oh, okay.” is all you say, not seeing where the conversation is going as you watch the boy scratch the back of his ear, lips pulled into a pout - one way you know he’s trying to strum words into existence. and when he does, confused is an understatement to describe what your face is portraying.

“okay,  i’m saying if and if you’re looking for a husband, no, scratch that, would you even introduce someone like me to your parents?” but that’s the thing, you’re not confused because you don’t know where this is going but you’re confused because you don’t pretend to be oblivious.

but you’re also not a master at the art of heart-to-hearts and the gargantuan elephant that it brings. so you settle with a, “uh, i don’t know, you already know my parents, don’t know how i can reverse that and reintroduce you-“

“that’s not the point,” he blinks, the sight almost endearing as he freezes in his spot for a split second in contemplation of how to approach the matter and explain it to you who seem like you’re way off, “the point is-“

“i get it.”  you nod, arms crossing over your chest as jungkook’s wide eyes peers into you like a mixture of relief anticipation.

“you do?”

“you’re worried if your future partner will be insecure about the bodies you’ve seen before them,” there’s a knock on the door just as you’ve finished speaking.

as you get up to get up to answer it, knowing already who’s there from the obnoxious chatters - more like argument - you’re not sure if your brain is playing tricks on you or if jungkook’s shoulder line really falls as well as his face.

but the, “uh, yeah, i guess,” is what makes you push the image of dimmed stars and downturned pink lips to the back of your mind as you unlock the door, welcoming the two halfway-into-a-deep-quarreling men and their two bags of take-away roasted chicken, chips, mashed potatoes and whatever else they thought necessary to fill the game night with.

“thanks, shortcake,” taehyung smiles at you after you take a plastic bags off his and jimin’s hands and proceed to place it on the coffee table.

“tae, you’re literally taller than everyone,” throwing him a side glance, you shrug as you begin taking out the packed chicken wings and placing it in front of jungkook while taehyung helps with unpacking the add-ons from another bag, “calling me short isn’t exactly an insult.”

“i’m just saying we should demolish mint chocolate chips all at once,” jimin plops down on the couch adjacent to jungkook, “and no, we can’t let these savages go eating them - we need to educate-“

somewhere in the middle of jimin’s colonial-esque speech, you turn to the boy who’s never said a word since the two came in. not that those too needed an additional converse partner with how taehyung is advocating for leaving mint chocolate chip eaters alone and jimin staying with his stance that these people haven’t had a taste of all flavors in the world yet.

the way he seems to look at something past your shoulders tells you enough - he’s still deep in his thoughts about settling down, or changing or whatever. you don’t know why exactly he wants to change his heartbreaker ways but- “there’s nothing wrong with two adults having a - or multiple - consensual sexual relationship prior to finding their significant other. and if they have a problem with that then that’s something they need to work on, not you so no, i don’t think you should change anything unless you want to.”

x

it’s some days later that taehyung brings up the remnant of the conversation he overheard before the four of you began arguing about what movie to watch and ended up putting the fate of humanity in rock paper scissors. and so you tell him, without ever thinking of the one thing that spurred his ridiculous thought and the hesitance of pouring it onto you.

“don’t look at me, i’m not snitching.” jimin’s round, disbelieved eyes stares back at taehyung as though surprised the latter would ever think he’d do such a thing.

“okay but someone’s gotta tell her.” taehyung lowly mumbles, upper body turned to jimin, gracing you with his beautiful side profile - whoever gets to date him will forever be the lucky one.

“guys, i’m literally right here.” the sound of your voice warrants a turn of heads and a wide-eyed stare as though they’re seeing your ghost rather than your physical form that entered and picked a spot together with them.

it takes a moment for the elephant to settle somewhere in the corner and crush you with its invisible weight before taehyung turns to you, hand behind his mouth as he fake coughs into it. then, another moment for you to register taehyung’s words as you watch his mouth move and his gaze trained on you like a father teaching his daughter a life-lesson before he lets her out into the world. once his mouth stops moving and a second passes for you to take in the information, only two words leave your lips.

“you trippin’,” with a half-manic smile and brows knitted together, you look almost like you’re made for the asylum- but understandably, your admittance is overdue.

as your heart palpitate inside the confines of your rib cages and the scene from that night replays at the back of your eyes like a broken record - jungkook’s hesitant glance, the windows to his soul shutting tight with hesitance and the teeth that traps his lower lips as though his body is forbidding him to say whatever his heart and mind wanted - as much as it pains you to admit it, the signs were all there.

you just didn’t want to admit it.

that’s what pining over a best friend you’ve known for over a decade does.

the denial that comes after realizing you don’t want anyone else to touch jungkook when im nayoung stood on her tippy toes and pecked jungkook’s lips before running off with a flustered expression - you were both in elementary and jungkook was more into sleepovers with the abundance of plushies you had than hanging with ‘other kids’.

then comes the ugly head of self-loathing and guilt as you fixed park jihyo a smile as jungkook introduced you two. one, as his girlfriend and the other, his best friend.

both, in love with him.

it’s ugly and disgusting, jealousy that is. but you’re uglier for smiling and laughing with jihyo over the things you would with a best friend who’s a girl - there were things you couldn’t share with jungkook as a girl. but you’d let your eyes linger a second too on them as they shared a peck when he’d meet you too in front of the school gate after his extra class was over - you lost count of the times you wished you were her.

you carried the pathetic little mask of a smile to uni. by then, jungkook had broken up with jihyo. there was a lot of tears and consoling and empty words of assurance.

“hey, if you guys are meant to be, you’ll meet again someway somehow.” you’d fixed her an encouraging smile as your heart bloomed with hope for when you’ll get jungkook’s attention all to yourself once you start uni.

getting into the same one had been pure luck.

it didn’t bring you far though. jungkook started gaining attention for his friendly nature and bunny smile that attracted both males and females. it wasn’t long until he’s bringing you to parties where he’d keep you by his side because he knew you didn’t know most of these people. tried to get you involved in the conversation but there was nothing interesting about the dude who drank himself silly and woke up in front of an old lady’s door butt naked or about that girl who woke up a five minutes before class in a city an hour away from where her dorm is.

well, at least, none of them seemed like jungkook’s type. he never had a girlfriend throughout his years in uni though he had plenty of other experiences that makes you wonder what in the world he hasn’t tried yet.

being in a relationship, is probably the only thing he hasn’t done.

jungkook liked kind people. ones that didn’t point at a random person and say an offhanded comment and collectively laugh about it. someone that laughs and smiles a lot because and didn’t have a single bad bone in their body.

liked.

because you don’t know what kind of person jungkook likes now. but you never thought him asking a hypothetical question from what seems like another person's perspective about his lifestyle would be, as taehyung calls it-

“i’m telling you,” he slams a hand on the table, a loud pap! resonating in the air but he doesn’t seem bothered by the pain - if there is any - as his eyes bore into you, “that was jungkook shooting his shot!”

“i don’t know,” you take a sip from the metal straw of your matte black tumbler for the sake of doing something, “it doesn’t feel real but i can kind of see it?”

“take it for what it is, love,” the pull of his eyebrows together couldn’t have been more frustrating, “jungkook has every reason to have the fattest crush on you - i mean look at you, you’re funny, adorable and nicer than all his friends combined.”

jungkook has multiple friend groups he hangs out with. funny how you started out as duos and merged into a quadruplet and ended up being that friend group that jeon jungkook doesn’t really look like he fits in but he’s probably hanging out with you guys from time to time because you’d known each other the longest. or so word has it.

“that’s basically everyone who’s not his friends.” with an eye roll, you wrap your mouth around the straw. this time, for the sake of hiding the smile that threatens to bloom on your face as it is in your heart.

x

and that’s how you find yourself in more than one ‘don’t you dare’ moments. jimin has begun randomly pointing out something about your hair accessory to your clothes to your fucking strawberry printed socks. 

to prove a point, he said.

“hey beautiful,” oh, and he’s resorted to calling you all the adjectives in the world - but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work in making jungkook’s face scrunch in displeasure for the briefest moment as he glances at jimin as though he’s an adjective away from beating the man into a bloody pulp, “nice shirt.”

despite knowing the comment is every bit staged - and probably doesn’t mean that your minnie and mickey mouse shirt is anywhere compliment-worthy, you still look down at the two mice, one kissing the other on the cheek.

the “uh, thanks,” couldn’t have been more dubious and skeptic.

and so begins jimin’s not-so-secret mission to bring jungkook’s attention to you.

“isn’t the stickers on ___’s mac cute, jungkook?” 

jungkook skims at the grizzly, panda and ice bears scattered across your mac before breaking into a smug smirk, “of course they are, i bought them for ___.”

you can almost hear jimin and taehyung high-fiving on the row behind you just as the professor walks in.

while jungkook seems to oblivious to it all, eyes trained to the display on the on the front, you allow yourself to indulge in the heat that seeps through your pores and warms your heart.

it’s not like jungkook stopped going to parties.

but finals season is almost upon you and he’s been hanging out with you more. sitting next to you in class while jimin and taehyung dozes off at the back. 

“they sleep in class just to spend hours on end studying at the library,” jungkook huffs, eyebrows knitting together adorably as he stresses over your two friends’ stamina for sitting in one place for six hours straight and only needing a bottle of water at their disposal, “i mean, why can’t they just focus in class so they don’t have to study a whole semester’s worth of syllabus in the last minute and drag us into it?”

the six hour mark ended and they’re out getting some snacks for you to secretly munch on until the library closes.

“i mean,” you begin, eyebrows jolting upwards at the more-than-obvious fact he’s supposed to already know, “you technically came here with your own free will, you’re free to leave whenever you want.”

another sigh hits the air as the boy slams his onto the book he has open in front of him, “yeah, but i need to study to pass and i needed you guys to push me,” he laments.

ever since then, there’d been far too many moments of where you’re stuck with jungkook to wait for the two non-time-abiding asses. at first, excuses like ‘sorry we’re late, we were getting mcdonald’s’ or some other poor fast food restaurants’ name that became the patsy, but they started dwindling to ‘oh hey, sorry, we didn’t notice the time’ and eventually a ‘hey, jimin’s got a meeting with a professor and he’s my ride so you guys go first’.

and before you know it, finals pass and you’re visiting your hometown while jungkook stuck around for a part-time job with taehyung whilst jimin drops off the face of the earth after having mentioned that he’s going on a family vacation at some private island with apparently the worst wifi connection ‘like ever.’

the two now-co-workers keep spamming the group chat with pictures of them in their uniforms, holding different drinks which they personally every time. when you’re staying over with your grandmother, it’s your turn to spam pictures of her great black cat who seem to only like sitting in her lap and glaring at you in every picture you take of the two watching tv together. almost as if he had a sixth sense when it comes to cameras.

“when are you coming back?” jungkook grumbles from the other end of line.

you’ve just got a shower and he’s just got home from a night shift. he’s probably haven’t even taken off his jacket yet when he proposed calling you like the sporadic times you both did throughout the break.

“i don’t know. i don’t feel like going back maybe even until the ceremony,” you confess, half-meaning it. the gardening, and saying hello’s to everyone you see while buying groceries because everyone knows everyone here, and the best-tasting cookies your grandma make, and waking up to her cat suffocating you in your sleep, isn’t so bad.

“i’m dying here,” he sighs, sounding more relaxed and probably lying on his bed now, “if i have to insist that i can’t ‘reheat’ coffee and can only make a new one and end up having to hide in the kitchen for five seconds to pretend like there’s a secret microwave only for coffees,” he says all in one breath before letting a suspenseful silence hang in the air and then finally revealing the next big thing he’ll do, “i’m seriously going to spit in their coffee while in the kitchen pretending to reheat it with an invisible microwave.”

the laughter that tumbles out of your mouth is probably ugly and you probably snorted a couple times but jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. or care as he keeps insisting ‘i’m really gonna do it’ whilst you end up laughing until your stomach hurts and tears begin to prick your eyes.

“is this the same regular that like, wants their coffee like super hot?” you finally manage to ask, traces of laughter still threatening to spill from your lips.

“yeah,” his sounds impressed, “how’d you know?”

“tae told me,” you make an incredulous face and shrug even though he can’t see, “you do realize you work at the same place, right?”

“yeah but i never see him talk about it in the group but i probably missed it-”

“oh no,” your hand goes up in a dismissive wave, “we talk on the phone and he told me about it.”

“you guys talk on the phone too?” there’s a strain in his voice, possibly out of surprise.

“yeah, like every day.” you say, tongue subconsciously lapping over your bottom lip.

“oh,” is all he says for the longest moment before chirping out the billion dollar question, “why aren’t we talking every day?”

“i don’t know,” your shoulder line rises, almost swallowing your neck as a war breaks out within yourself, “we did try at the beginning of break but you always had a party to go to so...”

“oh,” this ‘oh’ is a little bit dejected and perhaps hits a little different before he continues, “i don’t go to those anymore.”

this time, it’s your jaw that falls. your voice is small, almost as though cautiously teetering on tightrope as you ask, “...why not?”

“i just didn’t see the point of going anymore you know? once we graduate, i won’t even talk to these people anymore - but i wanna continue being friends with you guys.”

the ‘you guys’ meaning you, taehyung and jimin. the bros. the homies. it’s no secret that he probably sees you all as the same gender, not a guy nor a girl but just friends.

well. it’s not the first time jungkook’s friendzoned you.

“that’s great,” you can’t help but nod even though you know he can’t see you, “i wanna keep being friends with you too, jungkook.”

ever since then, you talk almost everyday. sometimes in three’s and when taehyung had a shift and jungkook got off his, it’d just be the two of you. and for the first time, in ages, it feels as though the ‘best’ in your friendship has somewhat reintroduced itself once more. jimin somewhat manages to get a connection somewhere along the way and the first thing he did was complain about the three digit number in a red bubble in the corner of the message app and then managing to get one picture of him in flowery trunks, and a baby monkey eating a banana perched on his shoulder with the beach in the background before disappearing for the rest of the month until two weeks before the graduation ceremony.

“so like, do you have anyone to pick you up?” jungkook asks from he other end of the line. he sounds more free since it’s the last day of his job.

“yeah,” you announce, attentiveness laced in your tone for your next words might be indicative enough, “my sister.”

“what.” he drags out the word in a disbelieving tone and it’s no secret why he’s doing that- “i haven’t seen you in ages! and you’re going to your sister’s? wait - this isn’t like a permanent thing right? we’ll get to hang out before the ceremony, right?”

it takes you a moment to register the series of questions he bombarded you with and before you know it, the silence has already turned your voice into a small and guilt-ridden, “um, yes and no?”

a groan.

“i haven’t seen seulgi in forever too and she kept nagging me to visit her during break but i never did so now she has like a whole week’s worth of itinerary planned out for us to do before the ceremony,” the excuse trickles out of your mouth hurriedly, “jungkook, i have to do this, or the next time we’ll meet it’s at my funeral and you’ll be talking to my dead carcass before they bury me.”

it takes a moment of anticipating silence before he grumbles out a “fine. but after that, you’re staying over at my place.”

“okay but i mean if we’re having stay over’s wouldn’t tae’s place be better since he has a whole ass apartment for himself?” you’re at that point where you’re discussing stay over arrangements before actually consulting the owner of the place.

“i guess,” his voice is a little lower and smaller but it revives at the mention of the new pizza place that just opened before you decided to invite the other two in the call to make plans to visit there.

when the day finally comes for you to don the royal blue robe and cap, you do so with barely enough grace and composure for someone who’s about to receive her blood sweat and tears on a stage all because you and your sister are - this must be karma for shading taehyung and jimin for being - a bunch of non-time-abiding asses.

the double doors are almost closed as you struggle with not tripping on your high heels whilst trying to keep your hair out of your face.

“where have you been?” you almost didn’t recognize the golden man who tapped you on your shoulder from behind.

“jimin! you made it!” is the first thing you say.

“rich coming from someone who barely got to her seat in time,” he gives you a once over and you’re not quite sure what he sees because your back which he’ll be looking most at is clad is oversized blue robe. but despite that, you reach out to give his hand a squeeze and he takes it with just as a tight, ‘we made it’ kind of squeeze before you turn to the chancellor that’s beginning his speech.

you’re not sure which row jungkook is at or if he even sees you and you read taehyung’s ‘i feel like a proud momma’ text because his major adds another year to his studies than you, jimin and jungkook.

the ceremony goes on without a hitch and you’d like to believe your picture is as perfect as your make up which your sister claims to be ‘out of this world!’ - only because it’s her that did it.

“so you guys talk everyday?” jimin pulls you into him, a smile gracing his beautifully tanned skin as he steals a glance at something behind your shoulders - possibly jungkook whom you saw was being swarmed by his friends to take pictures with.

“yeah, i guess,” you casually say with a shrug.

“it’s true, i was there,” taehyung comes up next to you, replacing jimin’s arms with his in a side hug.

“man, i really wish i witness it all,” jimin grumbles, “but the connection on that island was shitty.”

“i’m sure you connected in different ways,” the taller man adds, a strain in his voice which the shorter doesn’t seem to notice as he try to wave off the belatedly relayed fact that his family is a different kind of family.

like the kind that invites sex workers and other business colleagues alike to enjoy themselves for as long as they wanted, as long as the park family was there.

“okay but how long is he going to take?” jimin quizzes, eyebrows soaring whilst you and taehyung follow his gaze to the growing size of people a few feet away who clearly look like they’re here for a photoshoot than a simple graduation ceremony, “my parents kinda skipped work to see me go on stage and get a piece of paper they paid a lot for so i kinda want to get the family pic done before i go to my second family...”

time doesn’t seem to stop like they do in the movies. it happens all too fast, in fact - jimin’s voice fading into the background, the countdown of the person taking the picture of the group of graduates jungkook’s in starting from three, two, one! and a girl with the prettiest curls that seem to bounce as she turns around and stick her tongue into jungkook’s mouth.

it must have been your uncanny silence that draws the attention of the two boys and a ‘oh shit...’ from one of them - you’re not sure who even though taehyung and jimin has two distinctly sounding voice.

all you’re sure of is the involuntary movements of your feet as they carry you away from the scene. your eyes are dry but that’s probably only because your brain hasn’t registered what exactly happened though deep down, you’re perfectly aware of the fact that those daily calls, the spams of good mornings and randomly sending each other selfies were nothing more than exchanges between two people who were onlu ever connected through a childhood bond that got translated into best friendship just because there was no other name for knowing someone for so long even though you probably stopped being friends first year of college.

“___! wait!” someone calls for you and you wish it so badly to be jungkook but you know better than to expect for the impossible. a modern day fairy tale.

“hey, don’t cry. jungkook’s a fucking dick,” the tall stature that finally caught up to you and trapped you in his arms, whispers. gentle, understanding and pitiful.

it’s not just the comforting warmth, it’s also the hand that’s rubbing your back that you know is probably jimin’s that makes you break out into your first sob. whilst the day isn’t exactly free of tears, those who did shed them did it out of gratitude and a sort of ‘i did it’ kind of relief but not you.

today, your cheeks are marred by the excruciating pain of a heartbreak. you might as well tear your chest open, take out the beating organ and hand it over to jungkook so he could crush them with his own two hands.

maybe it’d hurt less.

somewhere amidst your fit, you choke on your laughter as you catch the two bickering.

“that’s not how you comfort a crying lady, taehyung, what the fuck?” jimin doesn’t hold back with his colorful words.

“what? what did i do?” the taller man sounds all the more confused but still pass you on to the shorter one like a gift basket when a hand pulls you into another pair of arms.

a hand patting your head as jimin murmurs, “there, there, you’re going to be okay, sweetie,” he hugs you just a tad bit tighter as though to say i promise, “you’re young, you’re beautiful and you just graduated with honors. in five years you won’t even remember your little crush for jungcockhead.”

you would have laughed if not for the shadow in your periphery stopping dead in its trek just a few feet away from you and close enough to hear every word jimin uttered in his attempt to placate your rising desire to flee the scene.

“what?” even a simple syllable is enough to tell you who the voice belongs to. perhaps it’s because you’ve heard it in real life and on the phone countless times and countless more during the span where he worked sporadic shifts and you were gardening and getting scratched by your grandmother’s cat that you tried relentlessly to befriend.

“nothing, jungkook.” you wish it was you who said it but it’s jimin who’s hugging you tighter like a mother comforting their heartbroken child, “why don’t you go back to your girlfriend and stick your face where it’s actually wanted?”

almost as though physically slapped in the face.

with a brick.

jungkook’s shoulder line jolts as he flinches, brows knitting together as you can almost see the rewind of the moment your heart gets split in two. she has the prettiest, softest tanned complexion, luscious curls and body that fits the definition of a glowed-up.

he takes one step forward but stops when you shrink into jimin’s arms, almost as though seeking protection. but it takes everything in you not to run to him and make up an excuse about feeling hot and stuffy and that being the reason you left, when the crestfallen expression mars his otherwise ever-smiling features. 

“that wasn’t what you thought it was-” you could almost swear he chokes at the end of his words but the pause is too short to tell, “i left her as soon as i saw you running off.”

“oh my god, cut the bullshit! this isn’t the first time and this won’t be the last. don’t talk to ___, don’t even look at her, douchebag,” the rumble of jimin’s voice vibrates against you as he pokes taehyung in the rib, making the boy cry out in pain.

the assaulted man has half a mind to ask for further instructions when he turns to you and jimin but decides against it, squaring up his shoulders and placing a warning hand, “just leave, man. ___ clearly doesn’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“ever.” jimin half-shouts.

those deep brown eyes search for yours as though holding on the last strand of what you call best friendship - hoping, wishing that it isn’t true. but as soon as they find your puffy eyes, you throw your gaze to the ground, finding the crack in the asphalt in a better state than your heart.

you can only imagine jungkook’s face falling at your refusal to affirm the strength of years’ worth of friendship. because the fact of the matter is, you’re not so sure if you want to keep pretending to be oblivious as he wraps his arms around another person and kiss them like he means it.

x

“___,” the bed dips as you feel the weight of the blanket get yanked off you. seulgi’s sweet peaches perfume filling your senses, “get up, it’s been days since you had an actual meal.”

“i’m not hungry,” you grumble against the pillow just as your stomach starts making the most monstrous sound ever existed in history of mankind.

“yeah right,” she scoffs but her hand on your arm is warm and soothing, “come on, please eat something - i’m saying ‘please’ here and you know i never say ‘please’. people say ‘please’ to me.” 

you can’t help but laugh at that. seulgi’s never truly begged anyone for anything in her entire life. she would have asked once and left you be until you were done moping around over jungkook getting with jihyo. it was after you did get over your first heartbreak, did she get you ice cream and you’d spent the night in her room with fairy lights and forts, watching the notebook.

“don’t let a boy hurt you like that again, ___, promise me.” she held up a pinky, and yours felt like a ton of weight just dropped over you.

in the end, you hooked your pink with hers and made a promise of sisterhood.

but she hadn’t been there when you needed your off days in college when rumors started spreading about jungkook and a different girl every week.

the wounds to your ever bleeding heart don’t heal. but you got used to picking yourself up and you got better at that with that one class you failed, that one presentation you blew, the humiliating mistake you made in front of your supervisor and every time after that. seulgi had her own ways to deal with problems and you had yours - or maybe patching yourself up after a fuck up was more of your forte.

who knows?

“what’s for dinner?”

“really?” at your inquiry, the face you thought would light up like a christmas tree - doesn’t. if anything, she bites her bottom lip just like you just caught her red-handed for doing something you probably won’t like.

“what?” you ask plainly, at this point, you won’t even be surprised if she said the sky is falling.

it’s not.

but her next words are far more foreboding than the end of the world, “look, jungkook came over like he always did everyday since that day and today i wanted him to stop coming for good so i told him if you at least have the energy to get some food, i’d let him see you,” her eyes glimmer with a sort of remorse that you can’t even hold her against.

“then can’t you tell him i still don’t wanna eat?” is what you say, completely unperturbed or rather not registering the fact that your best friend whom you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember is in your sister’s living room because he probably heard about your hunger strike. 

but the only problem is, he’s not in the living room-

“he’s right outside the room. i told him he can stand there and see for himself how bad he fucked you over so he’ll feel bad enough to leave you alone.” she says in a hurried whisper, eyes glancing to the half-agape door every second.

a spark lights up inside you, like smolders blown by wind and flares into flames, “seriously? you couldn’t talk to me first about it?”

her eyebrows furrow as her mouth opens and closes for a moment before she confesses, “...i didn’t think you’d say yes to lunch.”

“whatever just-” you tear your gaze away from your sister’s involuntary puppy eyes just so you wouldn’t end up clawing them out yourself, “...just go, seulgi.”

for the longest yet briefest moment, the only thing you can hear in the room is your steady breathing. the flame still burns but it doesn’t flare into a raging fireball. and you know full well it probably isn’t easy for jungkook to pass to through the door after having heard how you reacted when you found out he’s just outside.

when he does, he doesn’t even hide the way his doe eyes shine with something you can’t pinpoint as he takes you in. all of you. with your mused, oily hair and three day’s worth of hoodie and puffed eyes.

“hey,” he murmurs ever so softly, the bed dipping where seulgi sat.

you echo the same greeting back but with a hoarser voice compared to his velvet one.

“so, what do you want for dinner?” he begins, cautious eyes finding yours.

“i don’t want it anymore,” is all you say as you shrug casually.

“oh.” he sounds fragile. nothing at all like the self-assured jeon jungkook you’ve come to know.

silence fills the room like a big, blue elephant. seconds stretch on into minutes and you find yourself leaning against the headboard, drawing invisible patterns over the sheets while jungkook-

you don’t know what he’s doing. he could be fiddling with his fingers like how 10-year-old him would whenever you met at your favorite spot after a fight. but you’re both no where near 10 and if there’s any traces of the boy you once called your best friend, it’s probably only his appearance that’s never really changed.

either way, you don’t dare to even steal a glance his way.

“i like you too.”

the words hit the air like a drop of water that vaporized faster than what science dictates it too. you almost thought you were hearing things if not for the way he looks at you. as though waiting for something. anything.

“i...” you trail off before shaking your head, almost as though coming to your senses, “i can’t do this.”

jungkook laughs awkwardly, hand scratching the back of his head, “yeah, i understand - i’m sorry i- i just wanted to make sure you’re fine and then i got carried away- i should leave.”

but before he takes a step towards the door, you call for him, “jungkook, wait.”

“i’m leaving for japan in two days,” you finally let the cat out of the bag.

“what?” comes out a second later - you don’t dare to look up from your hands to see what kind of emotion he’s making.

but he at least deserves an explanation, “for the longest time, i feel fucked up because i get so jealous of the girls that dated you...” taking a deep breath, you continue, “but i know it’s because i think i’m not enough-”

“you are - you’re more than enough,” the interjection is what makes you look up involuntarily, if not to confirm it yourself - the knitted eyebrows and heartbroken gaze proves it and then the sinking realization settles in, “but you don’t believe me.”

you shake your head, a bitter smile on your lips, “i’m not enough for me and that’s something i have to work with.”

“by running away?” his voice rises to the ceiling, confusion and frustration pooling in his eyes.

“by finding myself,” you correct, “you know like how people go to a different country and come back a different person except i’m hoping to find that person.”

“in japan,” he sounds like he’s a word away from hooking you up with a specialist - not that you haven’t thought of one but-

you laugh and he looks at you like he’s stuck in the middle of a never ending maze, “my mom’s planning to visit my aunt in japan and since i’m officially unemployed i guess, i’m tagging along.��

“oh,” his shoulder line sags as he sighs in relief, “so like a vacation.”

it tenses back up when you say, “i might look for a job there.”

“you’re permanently moving to japan?” jungkook’s body seems to be here but his conscience seems to have flown out - probably to japan.

you want to laugh but it doesn’t seem like a proper setting for it. especially when you’re confessing to your crush that you like him but also subtly admitting that he’s partly the reason you’re leaving the life you know for a new one. and you might not even do it willingly.

“i might find a job with a branch company in korea - work there for a year and then transfer here,” you shrug, “i don’t know.”

“i-is this because-” he starts but you shake your head.

“yes and no?” you say, “none of this is your fault but i’m projecting my frustrations onto you and this isn’t healthy... i need- i need to go away for awhile and figure myself out.”

and that’s how jeon jungkook finally comes to the realization that nothing’s been the same. you haven’t been the best friend you prided yourself to be for a long time and that best friend completely disappeared in second year of college after he started spending nights at parties and only lunches with you. until eventually, you’re stuck in a habit - a cycle that you can’t break from until something dramatic or life changing happens.

and so it goes, he sees you off at the airport with taehyung and jimin. unsure of whether they were still friends after they’d deliberately stopped him from running after you on your graduation day, they were the first to approach him. they understood that it’d only be worse if he chased after you but they didn’t hate him - dislike him at times when - as they called it - he was so damn clueless, yes but they didn’t hate him. and that was a relief.

nothing major changed. he moved in with taehyung and jimin and even got a job at the same company as jimin. you went off radar but still kept in contact every once in awhile - it was like that time jimin went to that private island except you had all the reception you needed, just not the time to text as much as you used to.

job hunting was tough and he understood the competition. when you got a job, you were plagued with a newbie’s role, having to do overtimes to finish up work that was piling before they gave you that position.

then one year turned to two and two years turned to three. jungkook became a manager while jimin took up the position as a secretary in their rival company - it’s funny because everyone at the office would shit-talk him and they would make fun of those people as they drink into the night.

jungkook lost contact with most of his party friends - they were great with hooking him up with a potential client but besides that, he was basically living the workaholic life with his two apartment mates as his only source of social interaction outside of work.

from meetings to gatherings to meetings and then private dinners with clients. the cycle goes on until that one evening where arrives at an invites-only event.

“jungkook, come here,” the director gestures him over and because there’s a server blocking his view, he only notices the girl standing in front of his superior, when he’s finally by his side.

“...a hardworker - every project he’s ever handled hits the internet like a boom!” the director was saying.

“ah jungkook,” the man taps him on his shoulder but he can barely feel it when his eyes are trained on you, stunning in that deep toned dress and new hairstyle, “meet ___, you guys will be working on the twin tower project together.”

x

“so you’re back for good?” he asks when you’re finally alone, lingering at the balcony and away from your superior’s eyes.

“not quite - i still have to fly to japan every week,” you shrug casually.

“oh,” he nods.

“you look great by the way,” he adds a moment later, scuffing his foot against the floor.

you can’t help but giggle at how boyish he is, even at the age of 25, he still acts like a child, “thanks - you don’t look half bad yourself.”

he echoes a “thanks” as well before throwing his gaze over the magnificient view of the cityscape. artificial lights from the buildings appear like stagnant fireflies. it’s sad that they’re the reason you can’t see stars anymore.

but fate is too cruel.

because hoseok, your partner is calling you over - a couple of middle aged people standing next to him, smiling that mechanical smile that isn’t any different from your business smile.

“i gotta go,” you sigh but shoot him one last melancholy smile, “i’ll see you this monday?”

“yeah, see you this monday.” jungkook smiles a smile that says he’s not so sure where you stand. colleagues. ex-best friends. acquaintances?

with a wave goodbye, he watches as you strut to the couple, transforming into a woman so sure of every gesture, even a smile and a throw of your head back as you laugh. everything you do, every movement you make is mesmerizing. 

and he knows he’s not the only one who thinks so as he watches your partner gaze at you with eyes that doesn’t seem to see anyone else but you. laughs at something you say as if he’s completely enchanted.

jungkook turns around, hand propped on the railing as he takes a sip of the wine he’s been holding. without realizing it, a smile slips onto his face, he makes a mental note to check your company’s dating policy.

most forbid office romances anyway.

x

note. i’ve had this in the draft for forever! and thought i was never gonna finish this but i somehow got a burst of inspiration yesterday and here we are! hope yall enjoyed!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts au #jungkook au #bts fluff #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

[221bshrlocked]

I saw you answered my ask about Mando requests!! Yay!!! Would you write a Mando x reader fic where she had a lot of trauma in the past (being assaulted/stalked at 18 and having an abusive/toxic relationship at 22-23) and she has a lot of anxieties and trust issues? Please and thank you!

Hey friend, I’m sorry it took me a while to get to your request. I hope you like this, and just a quick fyi to anyone reading this, I am not currently taking any requests so this and a couple of others are just exceptions :)

The first time you feel the Mandalorian’s touch, you shrink away from him, your entire body trembling before you quickly move behind Peli. It was a complete accident and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve such a reaction. He was never violent or cold towards anyone who didn’t mean him harm, but looking at you now, with your eyes aimed away from him and hands clinging onto Peli, he can’t help but let out a string of apologies. Peli believes it must be the end of the universe because did the Mandalorian just apologize?

He says nothing as you run out of the office, and as soon as he moves towards the door to ask if you were alright, Peli holds him back and tells him to let it go, briefly mentioning something about you not having a good track record with people of his kind. When he asks her where you could have possibly seen other Mandalorians, Peli laughs and tells him that she was referring to him being a man. She doesn’t need to say anything else for him to understand what that might have been about.

By the time he does make it back to his ship, he sees you playing around with the kid, laughing and running after him before he starts running after you.

“He likes you.” The Mandalorian breaks the little game and raises out his hand to let you know that he means you no harm. You look cautiously at him, frantically turning around to try and see if you can hide. But then you watch the child running towards the big bounty hunter and raising up his hands. You could only gawk when he leans down and carries the kid in his arm, fixing his clothes and saying nothing as the kid babbles before he shoves one of the large gloved fingers in his mouth. You’re surprised by the scene unfolding in front of you. You’ve never seen someone like him be so caring and soft with another, let alone show this much affection without needing to assert his dominance.

“I am sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to...it was not my intention to scare you or make you feel uncomfortable.” You’re still staring at him when the kid starts whining and you nod briefly as you watch the bounty hunter take some cookies out of his pocket and hand them to the kid. “Slow down, don’t eat them all.” His voice is a whisper and you can’t help but run away at the sight of them. The Mandalorian doesn’t understand what he could have possibly done now but he doesn’t run after you, afraid he’d scare you even more.

The second time he touches you, it’s because you’re asking him if you could play with the kid while he fixes up the Razor Crest with Peli. His gloved hands skim over your wrist accidentally and he immediately apologizes, remembering what Peli told him many cycles ago about you having issues with someone like him. He backs away when he sees your eyes widen in shock and your lips quivering, not giving you a chance to say anything as he to his ship to ease your anxiety. You feel a strange sensation crawl up your neck face breaking out into a smile when you feel your wrist tingling where he touched you. But the comforting sensation is gone as soon as you touch your skin, the memory of his soft touch twisting until you can only remember the hurt you experienced under another’s touch.

You say nothing to him as you bring him the child before he leaves and the Mandalorian thanks you profusely for taking care of his foundling while he patched him his kid. You offer him a slightly forced smile and a quick wave before you move back to Peli’s office. 

Small progress is still progress.

The third time you feel him is when you, him and Peli go to a cantina looking for some parts for his ship. They’re bargaining with someone so you decide to give them some space, approaching the bartender and asking him if he had anything for the kid. You’re in the middle of paying for the juice when someone comes behind you and grabs your waist, laughing like a drunk as he whispers the vilest things in your ear. You’re whimpering at his touch and closeness, and the sound breaks the Mandalorian’s heart. Without thinking twice of the consequences of his actions, he’s standing up and heading towards the two of you, wrapping his hand as softly as possible around your wrist and pushing you behind him. You gulp at the sheer size of the man you’re hiding behind, shushing the kid as the bounty hunter looks at the drunk and his gang. He warns them once and when the drunk man tries to punch the Mandalorian, he’s ducking away before laying a blow right in the middle of his face. You watch as the man falls down and his friends try to pick him up to leave. You say nothing as he turns around to ensure that you’re alright and you don’t look at him, can’t even if you tried.

It takes him many sleeping cycles to realize that you never thanked him or even dared to look into his helmet following the incident because you were terrified of him. He’d shown you that he was just like any other man, and whatever hopes he had getting to know you were crushed.

But something magical happens because the fourth time the two of you touch is of your own volition. The Mandalorian is surprised and doesn’t understand how he should react so he opts to stay still and silent. He’s fixing his ship one minute, and the next thing he knows, you’re running towards him with a medical kit and taking his gloves off to inspect his hand when you hear him swear and drop the tools. His breath hitches when he feels you rubbing some sort of ointment on the mild burn on his wrist. His eyes are boring into your focused expression and once you’re done, he puts his gloves back on and thanks you before walking up the ramp. The bounty hunter hides in the refresher and takes his helmet off, shutting his eyes in relief when he realizes that deep down, he must have known that you were a friend because his reflexes never kicked in and he hadn’t tried to cut your arm off when you revealed his skin.

You, however, don’t realize what you were just able to do until he’s out of sight. You look down at your hands, refusing to believe that you willingly touched him without cowering away. It’s both frightening and hopeful and you sleep soundly at night, replaying the memory in your mind over and over again.

The fifth time, maker, the fifth time you feel Mando’s touch is when he comes to you and tells you that he took care of the men you spoke of. You’re shocked and unable to process his words. Mando takes his gloves off and holds out his hands, hoping that you’d take them and allow him to comfort you. He smiles to himself when you slip your smaller fingers into the palm of his hand before throwing yourself in his arms. He says nothing as you break down in his embrace, thanking him for doing something that he didn’t need to do. He shushes you and whispers pretty things in your ears, telling you that no harm would ever come to you as long as you’re around. You sense discomfort from him when you ask him whom he went after.

“I don’t wish for you to be afraid of me mesh’la.” He admits lowly and you can’t help but smile up at him once more before you wrap your arms around him.

“I could never be afraid of you Mando. You’re my safety.” You confess to him and wait for a few moments to ask him again.

“I went after both of them sweet girl, the one from your younger days and the one who drove you away from your new home.” Mando speaks through the vocoder and you feel him tighten his hold around your back when he feels you sob against him.

“Why Mando? Why did you do that?” You needed to know, hoping that whatever it was you saw between the two of you the last time you spoke was not a figment of your imagination. He was so quiet that night as you apologized for not being more friendly with him.

“Hearing what they’ve done to you hurt me more than you can ever imagine. I wanted you to never waste another moment of thought on them and- and I wished for you to feel safe with me.” Mando confessed quietly as he kept you in his arms for a little while longer before you pulled away.

“Oh Mando, I always feel safe with you.” You take his hands in yours and bring them to your lips, kissing both palms before he rested them on your cheeks. Slowly leaning forward, Mando rested his visor against your forehead before pulling away.

“No more sad memories sweet girl.” Mando broke the silence after a while and watched as you looked up at him with admiration and love in your eyes.

“You healed them all Mando...you healed them all.”

#mando x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando request #mando fic #pedro pascal

[kyeungsoo]

a head full of dreams.

× pairings: byun baekhyn + reader

× genres/warnings: soulmate au—where when you dream of your soulmate, you can see the world/their day through their eyes, college au, barista au!!, fluff, it’s not chanyeol’s fault he’s tall and handsome ://

× notes: yes, i like soulmate aus. no i do not believe in real life predetermined soulmates. yes we exist <3

Baekhyun isn’t actively looking for his soulmate, but he’s not not looking, either.

He knows that it’s completely normal to not have found his soulmate by his current age. That many, many students and professors alike on campus were still soulmate-less. He knows he shouldn’t care that much about finding you—that he’ll meet his soulmate when the time is right and the stars align and all that good shit. But coping with that is so much easier said than done. Especially since he’s quite literally been dreaming of you since he was ten.

Not to mention that the majority of his friends have already found their soulmates, too. He’s happy for them, of course. It’s nothing short of incredible to see just how perfect their partners are for them, how seamlessly they fit into their lives. Hand-picked; their exact other halves.

He remembers when Kyungsoo first started dreaming of his soulmate. Kyungsoo had just turned eight, and called his best friend (with his parents’ permission, of course, like the good-mannered boy he was) in a frenzy, voice frazzled and loud—extremely uncharacteristic of himself. And Baekhyun listened to every detail; not just that first night, but every time Kyungsoo indulged him for the next six years.

Kyungsoo’s one of the lucky ones, Baekhyun thinks. To have had his first dream that young, to have found his soulmate in middle school, to have known them for the majority of his life. Baekhyun’s a little jealous, sure, but he knows Kyungsoo deserves it. If anyone deserves to have that kind of luck, it’s definitely Kyungsoo. 

So, overall, he’s happy for Soo; and for all his friends who have already found their soulmates. But, it does get a little tiring, disheartening at times—sometimes, even leaves a bitter taste in his mouth—to know that he hasn’t found his person yet.

He’s gotten really good at dreaming, though. Which shouldn’t be all that surprising, since he’s only had the last decade to practice, but, still Baekhyun prides himself on a bit. It’s nice to know that he can see you—or, rather, see as you—when he wants to. 

The science of soulmate dreaming isn’t exact. 

Generally, what’s seen is a sort of playback of your soulmate’s day. Somewhat of a fragmented, first person movie going on in your head. There are a few caveats, though. There’s usually no revelation of your soulmate’s face, and no indication of their voice—of anybody’s voices really. And it’s worth noting that the dreams are replays of their memories of how their day went; and a single person’s memory isn’t exact to begin with. 

Which is usually why it’s not a full play-by-play of their day from wake to rest. Usually they’re scenes strung together. Nobody knows exactly how the images are picked, or what they mean for you or your soulmate. Some psychologists theorize that you see the parts of your soulmate’s day that were most memorable to them; others think it might be the happiest moments; others, the darkest. But everyone has different experiences, different ratios of the kind of scenes they see and the emotions they provoke; so there’s really no way to calculate it.

People usually start dreaming when they reach middle school. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule. Those who have their first dream younger than that age, like Kyungsoo; and those who don’t start dreaming until well after they’ve graduated college. 

Regardless of when you have your first dream, there’s still no guarantee that you’ll have them every night after that. Like everything else about it, there’s no magic number, no statistic to it, no predictable pattern; no way to know for sure when the dreams will happen. 

But, it is known that a few people can focus their minds on their soulmates. Almost command their subconscious to dream of their partners by their own will. 

The dreams still aren’t exact—you can’t go as far as to perfect your soulmate’s memory—but it does allow some kind of control, and comfort even. If you’re observant, you can learn a lot about your soulmate through dreams. Their hobbies, what they like to eat, who they live with, where they live. More importantly, how they see the world. And the little things add up over time.

Some people, if they’re really, really lucky, can even even see their soulmates current point of view; quite literally see the world as it is through their eyes. It’s rare—less than a percent or so report the ability. Baekhyun is a part of that less than one percent.

So, yeah, he’s gotten really good at dreaming of you. It’s not easy—seeing your current point of view—and he can’t even do it every time that he tries; but, if he focuses hard enough, clears his mind enough, it’s possible. Sometimes, he wonders if you can, too. He hopes that you can. It makes him feel that much more connected to you.

Exhausted from morning classes and last round of midterms, Baekhyun’s hoping today is one of those days where he gets to see things the way you do. It’s always nice to get a little reminder that you’re out there—that you see the world as a little brighter than he does on days where he’s feeling down.

So, Baekhyun drags himself through his apartment, barely mustering up the energy to greet Kyungsoo as he passes by him in the living room, before plopping down on his bed. It’s only midday so, if he can’t close his eyes to see you right now, hopefully he can if he takes a nap.

Baekhyun shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Gently, he brings palms to massage against his closed eyelids. He steadies his breathing, clears his mind of anything but you, and hopes—prays—for the best.

Everything is black for a bit, but then, there you are. Well—not you, exactly, but your life. First, the picture is fuzzy, but Baekhyun makes out that you must be at work. He sees your hands maneuvering around espresso machines, pouring milk into ceramic mugs, sprinkling cinnamon on top of latte art.

Then, strangely enough, he sees Chanyeol.

Baekhyu bolts upwards, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He shakes his head repeatedly, even knocks his hand against ear for good measure, before laying back down and shutting his eyelids again.

But, no, Chanyeol is still there.

Confused, he opens his eyes again, slowing trying to piece things together. But when it clicks, it clicks. Hard. 

Frantic, Baekhyun jumps off the bed and immediately scrambles through his jacket pockets in search of his phone, scrolling wildly to find Chanyeol’s contact. The phone rings all too slowly, and Baekhyun all but screeches incoherently when his friend finally picks up.

“Do you have actual words to say me, or are you just going to screech like a hyena?” Chanyeol questions, cautiously holding the receiver away from his ear on the other end of the line.

But Baekhyun is too off the walls, too excited to register the sarcasm in his words. “My soulmate! Chanyeol, she was your barista! You—was she—you have to tell me how she was and where she works and—”

“No way, that’s great, Baek!” Chanyeol chirps, “Do you want me to get her number for you? I’m pretty sure—”

“No!” Baekhyun shouts, almost falling over his backpack in the process. Kyungsoo is eyeing him judgmentally as he stumbles through the apartment like a drunken elephant, but Baekhyun can’t find it in himself to care right now.

“No?”

“No! Absolutely not,” Baekhyun confirms, “You and your big mouth and all your height and pretty face do not speak a single word to her! Just tell me where you are, I’m already on my way.”

Chanyeol huffs and pouts, but takes the flattery anyway. He hurriedly gives Baekhyun his location, and waits in a corner of the cafe for his friend to arrive. It takes all of eleven minutes for Baekhyun to come stumbling through the glass doors of the coffee shop, a feat which surprises both himself and Chanyeol, considering he lives a good twenty to twenty five minutes away.

Baekhyun’s breathing heavily and looking around frantically. He realizes he probably looks like a madman, or at the very least an extremely disheveled and sleep-deprived undergrad. He can’t exactly blame the soulmate situation for that last one.

Chanyeol’s waving excitedly at him, and Baekhyun bumbles through the crowded store to his table, his eyes glancing back behind the counter with every step he makes.

“Which one is she?” Baekhyun questions, eyes still fluttering back to the counter. There had to be at least eight baristas back there making drinks he can’t pronounce or afford. And one of them is his soulmate, holy shit.

“Do we not greet people anymore?” Chanyeol scoffs, “Hello to you, too.”

But Baekhyun doesn’t have time for the formalities. He gives Chanyeol a glare that shocks the younger into submission, and reluctantly, but not after some more much needed teasing, he points you out to Baekhyun.

And Baekhyun smiles. You’re perfect. You were perfect before, when he had no idea what you looked like, but, still—you’re perfect now, still. Even with your uniform hat on with a stupid pun about coffee written across the front, even with your head bent forward to focus on perfecting the latte art you’re doing, even as you fumble a bit and spill some milk. You’re perfect and Baekhyun’s been waiting his entire life to meet you.

So, he pushes his chair back, stands up straight, smoothes out his hoodie and starts to march towards the counter. He’s almost there, almost, then it hits him: Baekhyun’s been waiting his entire life to meet you. You’re his person—the perfect person for him. What the fuck is he supposed to say to you?

He freezes, body heavy with the sudden realization that speaking to you could literally change his entire life. He blocks a few snooty patrons’ paths, before he’s knocked out of his own trance, and makes a prompt, sharp turn before scurrying back to where Chanyeol is seated.

Wide eyed, and confused, Chanyeol all but wails when Baekhyun takes a seat. “Bro, what are you doing, she’s that way—” he points unnecessarily, “—not over here!”

Baekhyun’s shoulders slump. “I… what am I gonna say to her? I have no idea—what if I fuck it up and she hates me forever.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what to say?” If possible, Chanyeol’s eyes grow bigger, “You don’t have to know anything! You’re meant for each other!”

Baekhyun straightens himself upwards in his seat, Chanyeol’s words giving him a sense of purpose. He’s right! You’re his soulmate, you two are meant for each other! He can do this.

He’s standing up again, ready to do it—really do it this time, but he takes one look over to counter and sits himself right back down.

Okay, sure you’re supposedly made for each other, but what if you don’t even believe in soulmates? What if you don’t want one—what if you don’t want him! There’s a million questions and doubts running through his head right now.

Honestly, Baekhyun has never considered any of the previous questions, or any of the hundred continuously popping up into his mind. All this time he’d just assumed that things would go smoothly, assumed a picture perfect happy ending for the two of you, but maybe, really it was just for him. What is he going to do if you don’t want the same things?

Or what if you don’t want to be romantic soulmates at all? There are definitely cases of people who’ve met and know their soulmates, but have no kind of romantic attachment to them. Completely platonic—best friends and soulmates. Baekhyun remembers that Yixing is like that—met his soulmate during a study abroad trip sophomore year. An older guy, tall too; they have no sort of romantic feelings for each other, but they’re still a perfect match.

Come to think of it, Baekhyun could consider a few of his own friends to be his platonic soulmates, too. Sure, they’re not the people Baekhyun lives through in his dreams, but Kyungsoo, Junmyeon, Chanyeol—they’re all his soulmates in that respect. They’re his best friends, he loves them to death.

So, when he reasons about it, it honestly doesn’t sound too bad. Girlfriend, or not, Baekhyun just knows that simply having in you in his life as some kind of partner would be better than nothing. Maybe the universe has it cut out that the two of you are platonic soulmates. That’s fine, Baekhyun would still absolutely love to have you in his life.

He voices his concerns and newfound thoughts to Chanyeol, who listens with crinkled eyebrows and over dramatized expressions. Baekhyun thinks he’s going to offer him some advice, or at the very least some encouragement, but instead Chanyeol reaches over the table to flick him on the forehead.

“Ouch—what was that for! I didn’t even—”

“It was for being a chicken,” Chanyeol declares, hands retreating back to a folded position in front of his chest.

“I’m not a chicken!” Baekhyun cries, “I’m just thinking things through! Junmyeon tells me all the time I never do that, so I’m finally taking his advice.”

“You’re over thinking things.”

“There’s no such thing as being too careful.”

“Yes there is.”

“I think Junmyeon would disagree,” Baekhyun huffs, “You know what—let me call him and find out.”

Baekhyun clumsily fishes his phone out of his back pocket, but it’s snatched out of his hands before he can even unlock it. Chanyeol all but slams it down on the table in front of him, paying the pout on his friend’s face no mind.

“You can keep wondering and wondering and come up with a billion scenarios, but you won’t know anything unless you go talk to her.”

Baekhyun knows that Chanyeol is right—a sentence rarely ever formed—but it doesn’t make the entire situation any less nerve-wracking. 

As much as he thinks Baekhyun is avoiding the inevitable, Chanyeol feels a sense of pity for his friend. Chanyeol was lucky enough to have known his soulmate from his childhood, so he never really had to meet them. He can’t imagine that it’s easy to introduce yourself to your forever person for the first time. Still, he knows Baekhyun isn’t dreading meeting you, but rather making sure he lives up to everything you’ve been dreaming about.

“Okay, how about you try running it by me,” Chanyeol suggests, “Just… tell me what’d you wanna say to her and you can practice, yeah?”

The idea doesn’t sound terrible to Baekhyun, so he tries. They both do, spending nearly thirty minutes just getting his simple greeting and introduction down, then (embarrassingly) another hour coming up with a list of things to say on the off chance that he got past “Hello, I’m Baekhyun and I’ve been dreaming about you since I was 10.”

Chanyeol thinks it’s all very dumb—quite a statement coming from him of all people—for several reasons. Namely, because Baekhyun has the memory of a small rodent and he’s damn sure that he’ll forget all his so called talking points the second he opens his big mouth. Also because Baekhyun is the chattiest person he knows. The fact that he thinks he needs to write down and memorize a list of potential things to say really just goes to show that he’s completely lost it.

“—Does that sound dumb? I don’t know if she already knows that I like to swim, but what if she’s deathly afraid of water, and I completely turn her away by telling her that? I probably shouldn’t mention it then, right?”

Yeah, he’s completely lost it.

Even Baekhyun knows that he’s losing his mind. It’s been almost two hours, and he feels like he can’t form a coherent thought. Like every possible scenario could end in a flaming hot dumpster fire of a mess.

“Do you think I should call Soo?” Baekhyun questions, but his words are so frantic and strung together, Chanyeol can barely make them out, “I think I should. He always knows what to say. Give me my phone, I’m gonna—”

But he doesn’t get the chance to, he doesn’t even to reach for his phone at all, because actions halted by a small tapping on his shoulder.

And then looks up and there’s you, with your hands retreated behind your back, and your ugly uniform cap shading over your eyes, looking down at him with the smallest, hopeful grin on your face. And if Baekhyun thought he couldn’t speak before, then it’s nothing compared to right now.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to, because you do for him.

“Hi, um… I know this might sound weird, but I took a nap during my break just now and I keep seeing this guy—” you pull your right hand from behind your back to gingerly point towards Chanyeol, “—In front of me, so I, uh, I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate.”

#exo smut #exo fluff #exo fake texts #exo reactions #exo scenarios #exo imagines #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #exo soulmate au #exo college au #baekyun x reader #exo x reader #chanyeol smut #chanyeol fluff #sehun smut #sehun fluff #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun soft icons #exo soft hours #*bbh #soulmate au

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.12

It's late Friday night or very early Saturday morning depending on how you want to look at it. You're just laying on your couch playing Stardew Valley when your phone goes off. Without looking you answer it.

“Why are you even up?” comes Kirby's exhausted voice from across the line.

“Medical condition, wbu?” you place the phone in between you ear and shoulder but don't really change your position as you continue with your game.

“Jesus fucking Christ you did not just pronounce 'wbu' like 'wah-bah-u'.” he's ranting a bit and you know from experience this is the tired slap happy ranting where he sets himself off every five minutes on new topics. So, you wait it out and continue your quest in learning the wizard's secrets.

Kirby finally calms down after a few moments to get to the point of why he called. To remind you that Saturday Night Dead was canceled tonight due to the Pride Picnic tomorrow.

“I know.” you said plainly barely paying attention to the ginger on the line.

“You're a little shit.”

“I know that too.” a smirk graces your lips and you pause your game.

You listen to Kirby's rant for three minutes before asking if anyone else still “needed” a reminder. And when he said 'no' you sent him off to bed and said you'd see him Sunday morning. With a cranky man toddler dealt with you went back to your game.

Contrary to what you had originally thought, this week had been pretty chill. Everything had been going great, no drama in the town, no set backs with the picnic, your stalker had been keeping a low profile, and sure you were on day three of no sleep but that's just a you issue really. You didn't even have a foreboding feeling about the picnic. Everything was going great...at least it would be had Jo not   specifically requested you wear something red, to her recital in a few weeks.

It's going to be so hard to thrift something school appropriate, red, and in your size. You thankfully have three weeks but unfortunately you're limited to weekend trips since you work during the week and wouldn't be able to go a few hours out to larger thrift stores to drive a few hours back home.

Your do nothing day is turning into a do something day. And you definitely can't get any sleep tonight because now you know you have something to do at five AM and you just wouldn't be able to rest peacefully at all. Scared that you'd fuck up the shopping trip you had planned. God you hate executive dysfunction and the anxiety it gives you, even for something like sleeping.

Thursday evening you spent all night googling the towns within a five hour radius and their second hand shops, after Jo had made her request to you. Your big ticket shops were two closer to the border of Pennsylvania. They were in pretty medium to high income neighborhoods so were the most likely to have formal wear on hand. Your plan was to drive there and get to the closer one by eight maybe get some breakfast while you waited for the shop to open. Then go to the second, and if you still hadn't met the requirements for an outfit you'd go to the town an hour away from there. Just to rinse and repeat until you went to all eight locations on your list. Making one big circle back to Kepler.

You really hoped you find something to wear at the first two. Seriously you don't want to be out shopping all day but you'd rather have a buffer of looking for things now than rushing the night before her recital.

Checking the time you see it's just a little after one in the morning. You've been playing Stardew for a few hours and are starting to get bored. Maybe you should switch games? Exiting out you ruin any progress you've made for the day, but you couldn't remember so it probably wasn't important progress. And you are now scrolling through your games looking for something to play.

Spiritfarer? No you don't feel like crying right now. Undertale? No you really don't feel like crying right now. Onion Boy Commits  Tax Evasion? Hmm, possible...but it's a quick game and you'd be done and back here in thirty minutes. Sally Face? Yea! You've been meaning to replay it for a while now and this seems as good a time as any.

Loading the game you settle deeper into the couch to become a teenage ghost detective. And you stay like that for the rest of the night until your alarm goes off mid way through chapter two. You'd been so focused on trying to get secrets that you hardly noticed the time going by. Okay, you were looking at Gizmo and taking pictures of the silly furball.

Stretching you get up and make your way to your room to grab a change of clothes, neck snapping to the side as you went. When you enter your room you're met with a white face with blocks of black for the eyes and black lipstick as its only facial features looking at you from the corner just feet away from the door. Even though your heart jumps into your throat at the sight you notice the figure doesn't get closer to you. Noting that and its immobility you figure it's a really weird and specific hallucination.

'Fucking weird?' you think as you ignore the hallucination and start rummaging through your closet.

It wouldn't be the first time a source of media has either triggered or inspired one of your hallucinations. But the face isn't exactly Sal's mask but it is mask like. Maybe Sal mixed with a panda. That's a fun thought. But overall nothing you need to worry about. Just have to get sleep tonight so you could enjoy the picnic tomorrow without any issues.

When you turn back around with your clothes in hand the hallucination is gone. You shrug before going to your bathroom to change. In a blink you are out the door and on the road by five after five. You hope you pass a Dunkin' in an hour or so, you'll need a little energy boost to get your day started. But pushing that thought aside you turn up your radio and turn off your thoughts.

Just vibes for right now, just you and the empty road.

Making it to the first thrift shop you are pleasantly surprised to see a string of old ladies shopping today. Wonderful, they'll look at knick knacks and you'll look at clothes. Looks like there won't be a need to guard clothing with your life. However when you get into the store it becomes incredibly apparent that the only thing to look at here are in fact the knick knacks.

Sighing you figure it'll at least be worth it to comb through skirts and shoes. Skirts are very limited to paisley prints that give you middle school dance flash backs, and long khakis. Neither are really what you're looking for right now so you leave them be. They'll find their homes with some home schooled kid eventually. Shoes are a bit more promising as you find a pair of red kitten pumps in your size immediately, they're a little worn but nothing a little shoe polish and leather paint can't fix.

That is until you think you see something grab at your wrist.

When you jerk back a shoe drops from your hand and the heel pops off. Again a very easy fix, plus this may get you a discount. Dropping to your knees you try to grab the heel from under the rack and when you do you notice a pair of boots that look like they've been hidden behind several pair of knee high riding boots. You grab them, they're reddish brown suede heeled boots. They're in pretty good condition and the price tag says thirteen, not bad. And they're in your size! Best find of the day, calling it now. You quickly collect your shoes and make your way to the register. While you may not wear the kitten pumps often you for sure have just found your new favorite boots.

Getting back in the car with one of three pieces for your outfit and one store down you make your way to the next town over for its store. The second store had a much wider selection of clothing however you didn't find much of anything this time. But there was a cute mini pencil skirt that had a tiny orange heart on the left side hem. You couldn't resist it when it was only two dollars.

Third times a charm or so they say. But as you're looking through the racks of dresses and skirts you start hearing whispers. Briefly looking up to see if anyone was actually around to where you'd be able to hear them you see no one. It's weird that you'd get auditory hallucinations without a visible one or without being asleep. That puts you on edge but you ignore the feeling to continue your shopping.

You've just turned to go have a look at the blazers when a voice pops into your head.

'He's here.' there's an edge of static following the words and the buzzing is enough to cloud your own thoughts.

Neck snapping to the side twice before cracking on the third time, “There we go” you say as you look around  only see families with kids in the store with you. No one is on their own or even looking your way.

'That you can see.'

Your heart is pounding harshly against your chest and while every fiber of your being is saying run. You can't it'd be obvious or it'd make you look like a whack job. So with a sharp intake of air you steady yourself and being to walk calmly to your car.

It's broad daylight and you would definitely be making a scene if your stalker tried anything. If anyone even came near you right now you'd probably scream in self preservation.

But it turns out you didn't need to worry as you got into your car, locking the doors without hassle. You didn't bother turning your radio on as you drove to the forth store. There wouldn't be a point not like you could focus with your nerves so frazzled. And that frazzled feeling doesn't go away as you arrive at the store.

Staying in the car a moment you wait to see if any other car near by seems familiar. Or any persons exiting seem familiar, like you've seen their faces in passing. No one does, and while that puts you at ease you'll still be vigilant of your surroundings.

The store's much smaller than the previous three and you decide to start with the blazer section this time. It seems like a good choice, even though it looked like a sea of black ¾ sleeve blazers and jackets you caught a glimpse of red from inside one coat. Pulling the hanger off you notice it isn't a richly colored lining but that someone shoved a red Chinese inspired silk skirt into the blazer. You aren't sure if they were judging the compatibility of the items as an outfit or if they were trying to hide it, but either way it's ended up in your hands. It's beautifully decorated in golden swirls and a dragon pattern embroidery. Putting it up to you it curls around your waist. Could mean it'd be a bit big for you, but nothing a little sewing couldn't fix.

You're pretty sure you had a black turtleneck tank top that would look great with this, and still be appropriate for hot late July weather. But maybe an additional red blazer or shawl would be a good idea. Looking at the sea of black before you you think it'd be best to continue this hunt another week.

Right now your nerves are fried and the sun is already starting to set. With thoughts of getting caught alone in the dark with your stalker you can't help but want to get home as soon as possible or at least get to a town where people would know you if your body showed up in a ditch.

Checking out with your skirt you once again find yourself in your car driving along the highway.

You get back to Kepler a little after nine, gas tank near empty so you drive on to the mini mart rather than stopping at home. You notice another car, which isn't strange for a gas station but very rare that more than two customers are here at the same time. Getting in to pay for gas you're stopped by Ronnie's pissed off voice.

“Leave Dave or I'll ban you from the shop!” she seems to seethe at the man in front of her.

“You don't have that kind of power Veronica.” gross it's David.

Whatever feeling of uncertainty you had before vanishes instantly at seeing the slime ball try to “flirt” with Ronnie. He continues to pester her and the two don't even register your entrance. Unfortunately for Ronnie she really can't do anything to stop these advances without getting in trouble. Fortunately for you, you have no such qualms.

“She said fuck off.” you push past the man shoulder checking him as you get to the counter to start talking with Ronnie.

David stumbles away not expecting the rough push. He glares down at you and you ignore him now that you're in a setting with another person. A person who has access to a silent emergency police button if things go sideways. You have back up this time and an escape plan, there's no way David can harm you right now.

“Hey, I'm gonna need thirty on pump four.” you said hoping you could just ignore the man and stall by talking about useless merchandise in the store to get him to leave. But that was before you're interrupted.

“Oh did someone grow a back bone while I was away?” you roll your eyes and pause before you lie.

“...anyway is Tim on break yet?” hoping she caught the look in your eyes to play along.

Tim was a new hire that David probably didn't know since he just got back into town. Easiest one to lie about and make excuses for why there wasn't a fourth car in the lot. The boys only seemed to have the RV and the sedan so perfectly reasonable that he got dropped off because one of his roommates needed the car.

The way Ronnie's eyes widen at you aren't out of relief but more out of realization. She shakes her head slightly, and you want to smack her for being an idiot and ruining your attempt to scare David off when she turns and yells towards the back.

“Hey Tim! You have a visitor!” you jump a bit at her volume and notice that David tenses by your side as well.

'...is she bluffing...' if she is this is the dumbest fucking bluff in the world and so easy to catch on to. You'll have to get her acquainted with true crime podcasts and shows so she can be better prepared in the future.

It isn't until you hear muffled swears and the sound of thudding from the back room of the store. It isn't long before the door to the back opens and you hear Tim's hushed voice speaking to Marigold for a second, “can you please not walk in front of me.”, and you see Tim walk through the door.

Tim's brown eyes scan the store clearly trying to find either Brian or Toby. His gaze barely passes over David but when it settles on your form leaning away from said creep and Ronnie shifting from one foot to the other the situation seems to click.

It was such a subtle change in his eyes, something you're sure that had you not been trying to catch his gaze to get your message across you would have missed. The way the highlight died before picking back up. It was probably just a trick of the over head lights, maybe he shifted a bit and it caused the light to hit differently. Something you could brush off...something you would have brushed off had you not heard a different voice speak when he opened his mouth.

“YN hey, did'ya need somethin'?” it was a notch lower than normal and somehow the tone was smoother than his usual rumble. For a moment you think he put on a voice for bravado.

Something inside tells you that's not Tim. But right now you need someone who looks like Tim. Someone who despite their “short” stature has an obvious muscle mass to them. One that confidently says “authority” to scare off the creep next to you.

You wrack your brain for something anything to say that would seem normal in this situation while you could try to assert the discomfort of Ronnie and yourself in your current situation. Just as you go to speak David begins to talk over you as he greets the man in the room.

“Hey there, name's David. Nice to see a new face in this place, how long you been here?”

Tim slides his eyes away from you and back over to David. He seems to straighten out his posture and looks over you and Ronnie before staring back at David.

“A while, is there a problem up here?”

“Oh no 's nothing like that!” David says jovially as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You jerk from the contact. “Just talking to these nice ladies.”

'Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting' plays over and over as you squirm out of his arm.

There's an emotion you can't quite place running through you as you heart rate picks up. You feel sick as if you can feel the bile rising to your throat. Are you having a panic attack? No that's not it you're too conscious and your thoughts aren't a jumbled mess. You're probably just over stimulated. You want to calm down.

'Do you' the whispered voice is back, 'Do you really?'

It's mocking you and the strange emotion from before spikes. Is this...is this rage? Are you so upset at being touched that you're experiencing genuine rage? One with such a burning passion that you can feel your body grow warm all over.

But what did the voice ask 'do you?' do you what? Do you want to calm down?

….no....

No you didn't you can feel it in your veins, in your bones, in your entire being. You didn't want to calm down you wanted to hurt David. You want to tear him to pieces. You wanted him to give you  a reason...any reason at all. Any reason to fucking destroy him.

You aren't entirely sure where these thoughts are coming from. Maybe you're just overstimulated, your  nerves fried from the weird feeling at the thrift shop today and then paired with someone you hated very much, touching you out of no where seemed to be your ultimate breaking point.

It's Tim who brings you out of your thoughts.

When did he get so close to you?

“I think you should leave. I know for a fact YN's boyfriend won't take kindly to you upsetting them like this.” he stresses the 'them' and it seems you've missed a few key points...like when the hell you got a boyfriend?

“Oh right, what's that scrawny kid gonna do twitch at me.” when did David start taking that tone with Tim and why was he talking about Toby? What did Toby have to do with this? How did David even know about Toby?

Seems David's taunt and knowledge of Toby unsettled Tim as well, if the hand on your shoulder gripping tightly had anything to say. Has that been there this whole time? When did he put it there?

“Trust me the kid's bite 's lot worse than his bark.” there's humor in Tim's voice as he says that but it's like an old joke no one else has context for.

'Fuckin' dick...is that suppose to be a joke about his mutilated mouth?' it really does sound like it. Maybe you're reading the clues wrong...maybe you heard Tim wrong.

Thankfully whatever the fuck is building up comes to an end when Pigeon walks through the doors. Oh she's on duty, Deputy Pigeon. She looks at the four of you and your positions. And although she has a pretty good idea what's happened from Ronnie's texts she can't help but ask.

“Al'ight, what's going on here?” it's clearly been a long day for her.

“Harassment. We've asked him to leave the store but he's refused and keeps bothering our customer and us.” Tim's fast response had you and Ronnie stumped.

Did a white cis male actually come to the aid of two decidedly not male people...instead of the other white cis male? Has Hell frozen over?

It's like he knew just what to say to the officer. And he didn't try to tiptoe around it to save the other man. Tim clearly didn't want this dragging out any longer than it already has. Even David himself seems a bit taken aback by Tim's, accurate, claims. Meanwhile Pigeon looks around the room and sighs. While she knows her younger sister wouldn't have texted if this wasn't serious she was the only one on duty tonight and would only be able to take the other three's statements.

“Al'ight I'll grab y'all's statements starting with you Nychn c'mon.” the tired looking woman took David outside so he could tell his side of the story. But even with two against one he'll probably end up getting a ban from the store. Especially since he did harass a customer and not just an employee.

After getting his statement and watching him drive off from the establishment Pigeon returned back inside.

“I swear tha' boy's head has never been on right.” shaking her head.

Pigeon asked for both your and Tim's sides of the story taking you a little ways away from each other  to “prevent compromising the other's story”.

“So... looks like I've got everything, I'll have the station call Monty in the mornin' and let 'im know that he's got a new ban.”

“What about Ronnie's statement?” Tim asks as Pigeon put away her pocket pal.

“Oh Tim, Pigeon's my sister.” it's the first time Ronnie's said something since calling for Tim.

At least you think it is after all you did have a little spell after being touched.

Tim nods and Pigeon heads off after warning the three of you to stay out of trouble. Now with just the three of you in the shop you turn to Tim.

“Thanks for the save Tim.” He just nods again.

“No problem, but you really should'a said somethin' sooner.”

“I don't know what happened I like blanked and forgot you went on break before he came in.” Ronnie pipes up looking flustered.

Weird. You've noticed that does tend to happen when David's around. Maybe you should look into memory stealers. Might be why David's vibes are all off. That or he's a fucking serial killer and your instincts are trying to warn you but there are so many red flags your brain glitches instead. Whatever the reason may be you'll have to keep your guard up when he's around. It's super sketchy he left when Bambi went missing and it's a strange time to come back to town after “helping” your sister after her divorce. Two months isn't enough time to find a new routine or settle court battles.

Tim leaves to clock in and continue his break for another twenty minutes. You aren't sure that's right but Ronnie doesn't seem to complain and you've got to admit he did save you guys from that creep unpaid so he kinda deserves it. You go to pay Ronnie for gas and for some of the frozen taquitos that they normally have on the rotation cooker. But she puts thirty dollars on your pump and then just hands you a pack of the taquitos.

“Thanks for...y'know.” she might be a bitch but Ronnie can be nice if the situation calls for it.

Plus you can see by the expiration date that she'd have to just toss these out at the end of the night anyway. Who are you to turn down free food?

You head home and take your clothes and taquitos inside. You toss the clothes in an arm chair in your living room. And fall asleep on your couch shortly after eating. You are thoroughly exhausted and you had actually been tired last night. Had it not been for errands you'd have slept last night. Now you definitely have to sleep early to wake up early to finish cooking for the picnic.

#ticci tobyx reader #timothy wright x reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #brian thomas #masky #masky x reader #creepypasta fanfic

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

Head Case (S2, E6)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:03 - This clip of Malcolm in the car is from the pilot episode. I was so betrayed by this clip. Full disclosure - I’ve always had a thing for Malcolm’s jacket from the pilot episode. I just love it and I think Tom Payne looks cute in it. BUT - I was betrayed because Malcolm isn’t wearing my favourite jacket in the next scene (I was disappointed but not surprised). Rant about wardrobe over. 

0:20 - This is weird to me. In the clip right before this, when Malcolm was coming to Claremont (wearing the awesome jacket) - Malcolm is clearly in emotional distress. He’s not in a good mood. BUT right here, when Malcolm is chatting with Mr. David he seems like he’s in a good mood. Not one of his manic good moods - just a regular good one.

0:32 - Anyone else notice how visibly uncomfortable Jessica AND Malcolm are? This whole Ainsley situation is literally going to destroy them both. :(

0:34 - sooooo Mr. David knows by now right? He has to? ALSO when the European FBI guy shows up in a few episodes this is going to be bad for Malcolm and Jessica right? The FBI guy will probs talk to Mr. David who will be like - oh yeah, they’ve had more ‘family meetings’ in the past 6 months than in the past 20 years. 

1:22 - Sooooo this whole family honestly thinks Ainsley’s going to become a serial killer. From the tidbits of her childhood that we’ve seen, the way she treated Malcolm in Q&A, and generally how she acts when she wants to get a story - I’m not surprised. Read my thoughts on older episodes (1x7, 1x20, 2x5), I’ve always thought Ainsley was a sociopath or psychopath. The girl doesn’t show a lot of moral backbone or sympathy for anyone. 

1:33 - Wait. Does this montage of Malcolm’s erratic behaviour mean that Malcolm killed someone as a kid? And doesn’t know it? Or is this just a reference to the whole ‘girl in the box’ trauma arc from last season?

1:44 - “I wish I didn’t know that you were a killer.” Anyone else get major flashbacks to the movie Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause? “I wish I had never become Santa at all” then we get an AU for 40 mins? Just me? Cool - excuse my bad taste in Christmas movies. 

1:50 - hahaha Martin is so bitter.

2:25 - You know, as much as I love to hate Martin - he has a point. Malcolm loved his Dad (still does whether he wants to admit it or not) in 98′ - why is Malcolm chill with Ainsley killing but not Martin? Is it because with Martin, he found a poor girl tortured in a box but with Ainsley he saw her kill a man that was threatening their family? Or was it because Martin tried to kill Malcolm but Ainsley hasn’t (yet?) **honestly - that would be such an interesting episode - if Ainsley tries to kill Malcolm**

2:33 - THANK YOU. Someone finally thanks Malcolm for trying to protect Ainsley (and in extension Jessica) from the emotional trauma he’s been dealing with since the age of 10. EVEN THOUGH PROTECTING THEM IS MAKING HIS MENTAL STATE WORSE. Seriously - Malcolm is going to snap soon I honestly won’t be surprised if we get some suicidal ideation from him this season (especially if things don’t improve). Look at those big sad puppy dog eyes when Jess thanks him.

2:38 - hahahaha that side-eyed glare directed at Martin. 

2:53 - I know Jessica had good intentions here - she’s trying to protect both of her children but honestly, this whole interaction was probably super upsetting for Malcolm. Think about it - BOTH of his parents haven’t tried to have a serious discussion with him at the same time since he was at 10 years old or younger. This interaction is probably bringing up some memories for Malcolm and making him grieve for the childhood he lost all over again. 

3:06 - “You’re gross.” followed by a very regal wave at Mr. David. YES. Queen Jessica. <3

3:25 - Malcolm startling JT is pretty freaking cute. Look at how JT’s expression immediately changes from startled to concerned. I don’t blame him. Malcolm gives off major manic energy in this scene. The visit with the parents did not leave him in a good place. Also - Malcolm straight up admitted that he’s had a ‘rough morning’ this boy almost never tells the truth when he’s struggling. He’s fine. He’s always fine. 

3:30 - “Rough month.” IS THIS IT? IS THIS ALL I’M GOING TO GET? JT had a baby THREE EPISODES AGO. ‘rough month’ is a reference to the fact that he’s a new dad and he’s struggling with lack of sleep, leaving Tally alone with the baby while he’s a work, being a good husband, adjusting to dad life, ect. RIGHT?!? We’ve literally had no mention of the baby since 2x3 and I’m losing my mind. I just want someone to say, “Hey JT, how’s the baby?” that’s it. I want 5 seconds of dialogue. Just an acknowledgment that the child exists. 

3:54 - “Sooo bring me up to speed.” OMG. That smile is both extremely manic and completely adorable. Seriously - why is no one on the team more concerned about Malcolm during this episode? AND WHERE THE EFF IS EDRISA IN THIS SCENE?!? We’ve been robbed. 

4:21 - “What? I liked math class.” OMG. JT is a closet math nerd. You can’t take this headcanon away from me. 

4:24 - hahahaha look at Malcolm absorbing the new information about JT. He’s like.....yes. I will keep that information for later. Very good. Will pry further. 

5:04 - I love Dani. She’s perfect. She can see that Malcolm just checked out into his own horror of a memory. So she gently teases him to bring him back to reality. <3 This is true friendship. <3

6:00 - Was I the only one who thought it was weird that Gil asked Malcolm to help with the canvasing? Like - doesn’t Malcolm always help? Isn’t that part of what he does to build his profile?

6:12 - “KGB agent” Yes. Malcolm is still annoyed that Ainsley was so competitive about a literal murder last episode. I promise you. Ainsley’s probably still annoyed too. 

6:26 - This is why Malcolm is considering telling Ainsley the truth. He’s already losing her. May as well rip off the band-aid. She might not react as badly finding out from him as she would finding out by herself.

6:51 - “That is my vagina.” hahahahaha OMG. As a woman I must say: HOW?!?! As someone who adores JT:  hahahahahahahaha OMG. 

7:23 - “You’re getting a lot of mileage out of that tidbit”. lol. JT gently teasing Malcolm is one of my favourite things. Hands down. Especially since they’ve reached a point in their friendship where Malcolm doesn’t seem scared or offended when JT makes fun of him. They’re acting like brothers and I LOVE IT. <3

7:25 - “That’s the tip of the iceberg my man.” I have no idea why I am so amused by someone calling Malcolm “my man” but I am. 

7:36 - “The Bowery Ripper” hahaha the look that JT and Dani exchange when Malcolm starts nerding out.

8:00 - Wendell is kind of creepy. But like a weird, non-threatening creepy?

8:22 - OMG. JT let the vagina sculpture go. hahaha Look at how grossed out Dani is hahahaha she’s like, “Ugh. Men are gross.”

8:30 - This is why I love JT. He knows that that elevator is sketchy as hell. Plus it’s some (less than subtle) foreshadowing for what’s to come in this episode. 

8:41 - How did Dani find out he was at Claremont?! Does Mr. David call Gil every time Malcolm visits?!? ......this is my new headcanon. You will have to pry it from my cold dead hands. 

9:00 - This is a really cute moment between Dani and Malcolm. Regardless of whether or not you ship Brightwell - it’s really sweet to see Malcolm interacting so honestly with someone. He’s telling Dani the truth about something and she’s not making him feel bad about how messed up his family is or how weird his situation is. She just listens and teases him to make him smile. That is a good friend. IDC how you feel about Brightwell - right now - this is a GOOD FRIEND moment and Malcolm deserves more of them. 

9:10 - Annnnnnndddd this is why Brightwell shouldn’t happen (right now). Dani is still hurt that Malcolm doesn’t trust her enough to tell her everything. She still doesn’t completely trust him after what happened last season. A romantic relationship without 100% trust will fail. End of story. They’re great friends but right now they can’t be in a romantic relationship. It’ll end poorly. (Damn, I hope Brightwell is endgame though).

9:38 - hahaha Greta Swan is a perfect comedic relief for the Dani/Malcolm tension we just witnessed. This girl is a little nuts and a lot funny. 

10:00 - “Dad’s lived here his whole life” - wow. The writers really left us some big bread crumbs. We go from the scene where someone mentions a serial killer who killed someone (who was abducted from this hotel) in 1963. THEN we find a strange, gossipy woman and her grumpy father who has lived there his whole life. Coincidence? Nah. 

10:17 - SERIOUSLY?!? The Whitly home is ENORMOUS. WHY IS JESSICA LETTING AINSLEY WORK IN THE MURDER BASEMENT?!?!?! We literally just found out that Jessica has a SOLARIUM somewhere in this house. 

10:40 - “The guy definitely seems like he kills people.” Oh the irony here. 

10:55 - “Are you upset with me?” This is soft and I love it. Malcolm is being vulnerable with his little sister and it warms my heart. 

11:07 - “Insomnia sucks.” “Who knew?” Again. Irony. 

11:18 - “Anything you want to talk about?” This is precious. Malcolm loves Ainsley SO FREAKING MUCH. He has major Dad/Big brother/concerned school counsellor energy here and I’m here for it. 

11:38 - Malcolm’s soooo going to replay this conversation in his head about a million times. He’s going to blame himself for Ainsley’s murder victim of this episode. He’s going to play the “what-if” game. What if - he told her the truth here? Would she still have killed someone tonight? 

11:52 - Look at Ainsley’s face here. She seems sort of confused and comforted? Like maybe the fractions of memories that she’s admitting to having are making her believe that she killed Endicott and it scares her. Malcolm telling her otherwise is probably comforting on some level. It’s helping her convince herself that she’s done nothing wrong. 

12:25 - According to IMDB - this isn’t the episode LDP directed SO WHY IS THERE SO LITTLE GIL CONTENT IN THIS EPISODE?!?!?!

12:27 - What the hell is the puddle on the floor btw? Is it paint? Tar? Blood? I thought construction hadn’t started on the hotel yet?

14:14 - Malcolm. You. Are. A. Moron. Why go towards the creepy elevator that opened by itself? Why did you think that was a good idea?

14:29 - The Bowery Ripper is pretty strong for an old guy. I mean, Malcolm isn’t that big and he was caught off guard but still.

14:38 - I wanted this scene to be reality SO SO BADLY. I don’t even care about the Brightwell interaction in this scene. Malcolm is on a hospital bed. With an ice pack. I could’ve watched 45 minutes of “Malcolm in the hospital” content. The fact that this boy didn’t spend longer than a 30 second scene in the hospital is a CRIME. Why does Fedak hate giving us the whump aftercare?!? WHY?!?! Doesn’t he know like half the fandom LIVES FOR IT?!?

14:40 - You know how I knew this was the start of Malcolm’s AU dream? 2 reasons: 1) Dani has her hand on the ice pack on Malcolm’s head, even though he totally doesn’t need her help to hold the ice pack to his head. 2) GIL ISN”T HERE. .....although this episode did us dirty with the lack of Gil content (I miss Papa!Gil so much)

14:46 - There’s something about dream JT. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Real and dream JT are almost identical. But dream JT seems to be more open with Malcolm? IDK - he’s more relaxed around Malcolm? I can’t quite describe it. Did anyone else notice that there was just something a little bit different about dream JT? Not even in a bad way. Just different. 

15:15 - “Noooo she said it could’ve been worse. Not the same.” hahaha YES DANI. Good looking out. Call out this boy for neglecting his health. 

15:24 - This whole scene where Dani and Malcolm do a joint interrogation was awesome. They were talking pretty fast which I found a little distracting but JT said it best, “They were on FIRE”.  One thing I REALLY liked about the scene was the dynamic between Dani and Malcolm. Neither one of them was really taking a lead in the interrogation. They were equal partners and I think that says a lot about Malcolm’s romantic desires. He doesn’t want to dominate anyone. He doesn’t want to be taken advantage of. He just wants someone he can trust and respect. Someone who will trust and respect him. He wants a partner. An equal partner. I think that’s a really healthy desire for anyone in search of a relationship. 

16:12 - an affair? Did we know that Lyle and/or Katrina were married?!? If they weren’t married it would just be a relationship. Not an affair. 

17:01 - Is this honestly the first time Dani has called Malcolm by his first name? In 26 episodes? It must be right? Because I swear I was so shocked my heart skipped a beat (also my Brightwell heart melted but that’s a whole different thing). 

17:06 - .....so in Malcolm’s dream does he still work for Major Crimes? Is JT running the department? I need some more details here. 

17:12 - Soft!JT <3 <3 <3 How cute is it that in Malcolm’s AU dream, JT (and Dani) don’t actually change (in terms of personality). Their roles in his life just intensify. Dani becomes his significant other and JT becomes a much closer friend/brother. It’s precious. <3 <3 <3 

17:52 - Something about the fact that Jessica isn’t drinking liquor in the AU is hilarious and depressing to me. It’s funny because, well, it just tickles me. It’s depressing because Malcolm understands that Jessica drinks to dull the pain. In this AU, she isn’t in pain. She’s happy. Therefore, she doesn’t need alcohol. I don’t know about you but the fact that Malcolm’s subconscious wanted his mom to be happy so badly that she became (more or less) sober - is heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time. 

18:11 - “No one in this family is scared of a little blood right?” The irony here is THICK.

19:23 - The fact that Ainsley is a doctor just like Martin in Malcolm’s AU is terrifying and hilarious. This whole “I watched Ainsley kill a man” thing is really destabilizing Malcolm’s questionable mental health.

19:27 - “Please Ainsley is the talented one. I’m a distance second.” ....does this mean that Endicott isn’t the first person Ainsley has killed? Does this mean subconsciously Malcolm somehow thinks that Ainsley is a better serial killer than Martin?

19:56 - “No phones at dinner okay?” Something about the way Martin is looking at Malcolm at this moment and Martin’s tone of voice made me think - “Shit. Martin’s still a serial killer in Malcolm’s AU.” Especially since they Ainsley literally just announced to the room that he’s getting a from Claremont. 

20:06 - Yep. That’s a nightmare. From the back, Claremont!Gil probably looked like Martin circa mid-2010s for Malcolm. 

20:09 - Look idc who you ship on this show. But I will fight you if you don’t think that Malcolm being comforted after a nightmare by someone he loves is the sweetest thing ever. Look at how Dani gently rubs his arm and back. Ugh. This is the kind of safety Malcolm DESERVES. 

20:43 - Dani lying on Malcolm’s chest. <3 It just makes me so happy. Not even necessarily because it’s Dani (although I do ship Brightwell as end game) but because Malcolm’s subconscious is showing us his ideal relationship and we don’t see anything wild or questionable - we just see G-rated cuddling. And damn if that doesn’t say a lot about how much Malcolm just wants to be loved. 

20:53 - .......Can we have a full episode’s worth of footage where Malcolm is unconscious on the floor? I know I’m a basket case but it would make my whump heart so happy.....even happier if that footage was immediately followed by 40 mins of hospital care/comfort footage.

20:59 - I know that time has sort of slowed down for the purpose of plot in this episode but ngl - every time we saw the elevator approaching passed out Malcolm all I could think was “this is the slowest elevator in the world.”

21:26 - Malcolm is so so relaxed and comfortable in this scene. I want him to be this happy forever. 

22:07 - “You deserve all of it.” Malcolm subconsciously just wants permission to be happy. He doesn’t think he deserves to be happy (especially after Endicott). That little revelation broke my heart. Also the Brightwell kiss was adorable. Dani takes control because, Malcolm wants to feel wanted and this is how his subconscious is manifesting that desire. I will argue that Malcolm doesn’t necessarily want a relationship where his partner takes charge or dominates him. He made coffee of both of them. They’re living in his apartment. They’re having calm, mature, adult conversations. They are both equal partners in his dream relationship. 

22:45 - Dani isn’t scared of Malcolm when his hand starts shaking. She isn’t judging him. She’s just concerned. <3

22:47 - “Existential ennui”? Soooo much french in this episode. Damn. “Jamais vu”, “Quelle suprise”. Now “ennui”. 

23:35 - “I don’t fit your profile.” ....am I expected to believe that Malcolm didn’t realize this was a dream until this moment? Dani calling him “Malcolm Whitly” in the last scene wasn’t a red flag? Or the fact that Ainsley is a doctor. Or that Martin isn’t in Claremont? Or that Jessica isn’t drinking booze by the bucket? I mean, I know he has a head injury but these are big red flags. 

24:15 - Sooooo is Wendell dead irl? Because this is technically a dream. 

25:02 - “I thought we were looking for an inexperienced psychopath. A first time killer.”......this is him projecting about Ainsley right? Am I overthinking this? And now he says, “I was wrong”. Is that supposed to suggest that Malcolm thinks Ainsley has killed someone before Endicott?

25:07 - “The blows are confident. They were having fun.”.....couldn’t the same be said about how Ainsley stabbed Endicott? They were definitely confident stabs (plus a confident throat slitting). 

25:14 - “We’re looking for a serial killer.” Istg the writers are hinting that Ainsley is a serial killer (or will become one soon).

25:27 - Mr. David appears in the AU but Edrisa doesn’t. We were ROBBED.

26:07 - I’m not the only one who thinks that beard makes Gil look like a werewolf right?

26:33 - Claremont!Gil is creepy. LDP’s performance here is really really good. Also - I hate it. Because serial killer Gil is just not my Gil and it upsets me to see Gil chained to a wall. 

26:56 - Sooooo in the AU “The Surgeon” is still at large right? ....you’d think Malcolm would be trying to solve that case with Dani and JT. You know, an active prolific serial killer in New York?

27:34 - The way that Martin, Gil, and Malcolm interact in this scene is really interesting to me. In a lot of ways, this isn’t an AU. Think about it. 

In the dream: Gil is frantically trying to convince Malcolm that Martin is a serial killer. In a way, Gil is trying to protect Malcolm from Martin.

In reality: Gil just shoots Malcolm disapproving looks when he mentions seeing Martin. Gil desperately tries to protect Malcolm from Martin.

In the dream: Martin is trying to convince Malcolm that Gil is a monster. He’s trying to convince Malcolm that he’s a Good father. That he would never hurt Malcolm. That he loves Malcolm. 

In reality - Martin is the same. 

The only main difference between AU!Martin, AU!Gil, and their real counterparts is their temperaments. AU!Martin has Gil’s calm, comforting, and rational temperament while AU!Gil has Martin’s angry, manic, and controlling temperament.

What is the same between the AU characters and their real counterparts? 

Martin is still a manipulative killer.

Gil still shoots Malcolm looks of concern (27:45). 

Gil and Martin still hate each other. 

28:30 - Even dream Martin tries to gaslight Malcolm. 

28:56 - “You can always count on Dad.” ....is this how Malcolm really feels about Martin subconsciously? It kind of makes sense? Who did Malcolm turn to when Ainsley did the unthinkable? Not Gil or Jessica. Malcolm said it in 1x12 - (I’m paraphrasing) “The child in me thought he cared. Loved me even.” I think there’s still a part of Malcolm that believes that. Or at least a part of Malcolm that desperately wants to believe that. 

29:17 - “I’ve never been to a crime scene before.” That’s because you create the crime scene, Martin. In all versions of reality. 

29:20 - annnnnnd AU Martin shares regular Martin’s weird fascination with Dani. 

31:00 - JT being buddy-buddy with Martin is hands down the most horrifying part of the AU. 

31:10 - “I think he’s having a psychotic break.” ......I want this to be foreshadowing so so so badly. I think it would be so interesting to see how the team, Jessica, Ainsley, and even Martin deal with Malcolm just having a total breakdown. Maybe not a full psychotic break. Maybe a nervous breakdown? Or he succumbs to his suicidal ideation? Probably a little too dark for network TV though.

31:34 - “I’m very protective of her and her boots.” Does Malcolm see himself as the Bowery Ripper, trying to protect Ainsley as opposed to his daughter? Or is the Bowery Ripper supposed to be a metaphor for Martin protecting Ainsley? Is Malcolm going to take the fall for Ainsley and all her murders?!? 

32:45 - “Why did you kill again? After all these years.” istg this is hinting that Ainsley killed someone as a kid and Martin knows about it.

33:00 - “I can’t let my daughter know what I was.” .....is the Bowery Ripper supposed to be Ainsley? Is Ainsley killing people to try and protect Malcolm? Ugh. I’m totally overthinking this.

33:02 - Even in his dream, Malcolm can’t bring himself to kill his father. Wether that is by cutting off contact with Martin irl or letting the Bowery Ripper kill him in the AU.

33:07 - Actually though - why doesn’t Malcolm carry a gun IRL? We know he’s trained to use one. We saw him use one in the pilot on a case for the FBI. Is there some sort of NYPD rule about consultants carrying weapons? Is it a rule that Gil has imposed on Malcolm? Is it a rule that Malcolm has imposed on himself? A mixture? I want to know. 

33:38 - OMG. Is Malcolm going to try and kill Ainsley?!?! What a twist that would be. AU Malcolm just killed a killer. He doesn’t seem to feel bad about it and he agrees with Martin that “everything is okay now”. 

33:55 - This hug deeply moved me. Malcolm is fully aware that this hug isn’t real but he looks so content to be hugged by his father. Malcolm is finally getting a proper hug. <3 It honestly makes me wonder what Malcolm would do IRL for his father’s approval though. He’s clearly sooo desperate for Martin to love him. Who knows what Martin will be able to convince Malcolm to do in this season? Malcolm’s not all that mentally stable right now and he’s really vulnerable emotionally. I’m worried.

34:26 - “Not that it’s a competition.” ....yep. Ainsley wants to be better than Malcolm even in Malcolm’s own subconscious. 

35:00 - Heart. Breaking. Watching Ainsley, Martin, and Jessica tell Malcolm how good they think Dani is for him breaks my heart. Look at how happy Malcolm looks. Look at how desperately Malcolm wants this to be real. Ugh. My heart is shattered. 

35:20 - “You’re the best, big brother.” Even Malcolm’s subconsious knows that he’s an excellent big brother. Seriously, I love my younger brother but I don’t think I could ever cover up a murder for him. Never mind dispose of the body. Maybe I would? IDK the situation has never come up (thankfully).

35:25 - .....aaannnnnndd we’re back to the Girl in the Box.

35:58 - “Why would you ever want to leave?” “Because it’s all a lie.” Isn’t Malcolm living a lie IRL too? He’s pretending that Ainsley is a law-abiding citizen. He’s pretending that he isn’t an accomplice in a murder. He’s living in constant fear because of his secrets. They’re going to destroy him. This is why I think a suicide attempt is a possibility for this season. This trauma is a lot bigger (in some ways) than last season’s. Plus - Malcolm has a lot of pre-existing trauma. This could be the metaphoric straw that breaks the camel’s back.  

36:45 - “Even in my wildest dream. I’m still a detective. I need to seek the truth. No matter how painful.” That’s it. That’s Malcolm’s character in a nutshell. “Traumatized boy who intentionally puts himself through more trauma for the sake of seeking the truth.”

37:01 - “You’re right. I need to work on that.”.......if Malcolm tells Gil and/or the team about Ainsley next episode I will lose my mind. 

 37:15 - TOM PAYNE. YOU ABSOLUTE TREASURE. THIS IS SUCH A GREAT PERFORMANCE. THOSE UNSHED TEARS. THAT DESPERATE ANGER. THAT HOPELESSNESS AND DESPAIR.  <3 <3 <3 <3 

38:21 - Look, I’m a mechanical engineering student (not an expert) but if that was a wooden stick like I think it is - that would’ve NEVER stopped an elevator (at least, not long enough for Malcolm to escape). But I’ll overlook it for whump. Because Malcolm has a head wound and I’m loving it. 

38:33 - I’ve rewatched this clip of Malcolm with a bloody face meeting JT and Dani about 50 times (wish I was exaggerating that number). There is something so gorgeous about this scene. I mean - the fact that Malcolm is clearly in physical and emotional pain is enough to make my whump heart sing but it’s more than that. Listen to the genuine concern in JT’s voice when he says, “You okay?”. Look at Dani’s concerned face. Listen to how soft and desperate Malcolm’s voice is when he says, “When was the last time I talked to you?” Look at how concerned and confused JT and Dani are when Malcolm says, “I know who the killer is.” They’re not scared of Malcolm. They’re scared for Malcolm. Malcolm just showed up covered in blood, he can’t walk straight, he’s clearly confused, and now he’s claiming that he’s solved the case. They’re worried about him and they have every right to be. Listen to how broken Malcolm sounds when he says, “Long story.” <3 <3 <3 I’m in love with this scene. 

39:19 - “Are you sure about this?” “I have no idea.” This. Is. Important. JT and Dani have every reason to believe that this old man isn’t a killer but Malcolm’s head injury is making him confused. BUT they choose to trust Malcolm (or at the very least, humour him). They trust him enough to take a risk on him and I think that’s beautiful. I think that’s exactly what Malcolm needed after his nightmare of an AU dream. He needed to know that they care about him IRL. I hope he notices their behaviour despite the head injury. 

39:35 - Malcolm puts the skull down with his ungloved hand. I’m blaming the head injury. 

39:55 - Look this was a really moving scene. The parallel of Malcolm arresting a serial killer in front of the serial killer’s child and Martin being arrested in front of Malcolm is haunting. HOWEVER, when that old man stood up from the wheelchair my stupid brain went “THAT ASSHOLE NEVER EVEN NEEDED THE WHEELCHAIR?!?”.....even though he literally wasn’t in a wheelchair in Malcolm’s dream. 

40:40 - WE WERE ROBBED. I want to see the scene where Malcolm explains his dream to the team. I want to see GIL. WHERE THE EFF IS GIL IN THIS EPISODE?!?! FURTHERMORE - I WANT THE IRL VERSION OF “MALCOLM GOES TO THE HOSPITAL FOR A HEAD INJURY” SCENE. WTF FEDAK. GIVE ME THE AFTERCARE. 

40:47 - “That man will be buried in a turtleneck.” hahahahahaha OMG. Iconic. 

41:27 - “Goodnight Malcolm.” <3 <3 <3 She called him Malcolm IRL. Excuse me while I go and stoke my slow burn Brightwell fire. 

41:36 - “Goodnight.” This is the face of a man who just accepted the fact that he will never be happy. Malcolm honestly doesn’t think he deserves to be in a relationship. Especially with someone as beautiful, kind, and talented as Dani.

41:40 - THAT HAT. Was this really in Season 1?!?! I don’t remember it? But holy hell - I want to see Malcolm wear it. Like now. It’s going to make me laugh. I can feel it. 

41:53 - Immediately you can hear that something is wrong in Ainsley’s voice. She sounds distracted, dissociated, and scared. 

42:14 - Give. Tom. Payne. An. Emmy. Listen to his voice breaking here. He’s so close to tears and it’s genuinely beautiful. Such an astounding performance. 

42:51 - I honestly think Ainsley is shaking her head because she realizes that she made a mistake. She came to Malcolm because she thought he killed Endicott. She thought that he’d be able to understand. That he’d be able to help her because he had committed the same crime she just committed. She was wrong. He can help her - but legally, he really shouldn’t.

43:08 - Look. A new scene for Malcolm’s night terrors. 

43:15 - Yep. This is going to drive Malcolm into a mental breakdown. This is bad. 

43:20 - There’s a part of me that wants Malcolm to tattle on Ainsley. Just so he doesn’t have to keep the secret any longer. The secret is killing him. Telling won’t make the situation any better though. Gil and the team will react horribly and it’ll make Malcolm feel like garbage. Plus I can only imagine how the press would scrutinize the Whitly’s again. It won’t be good any way you slice it. 

I have a love/hate relationship with this episode. On one hand - it’s the cannon AU episode that every fanfiction lover dreams of. It’s also a really compelling episode complete with some excellent acting and great insight into Malcolm’s psyche. HOWEVER: 1) not enough Gil, 2) WHERE IS MY WHUMP AFTERCARE?, and 3) I wanted to see Malcolm at the base of that elevator for longer. The whump wasn’t prolonged enough for my sick soul. 

#jess-rewatches-prodigal #malcolm bright #prodigal son #gil arroyo #dani powell #JT Tarmel #ainsley whitly #martin whitly #edrisa tanaka #jessica whitly #I LOVE this show #whump #rewatch #spoliers #malcolm needs a hug #ps #so good #2x06 #2x6 #head case #holy hell #the whump #<3 #this episode #we were robbed #where was the aftercare? #AND GIL #Also i loved this episode #s2

[mc-i-r]

Thrill of the kill

Chapter 10

Masterpost

Ship: intrulogical

Pov: Virgil

Tw: guns, shooting, blood, dead bodies, yelling, suicide (by cop)

Let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 1794

A/N: As promised, here is the last chapter of Totk. I'm so proud of this and seeing everyone who reads it has made me infinitely happy. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the super long last chapter!

“We’ve got ‘em. They’re at a bank downtown, holding everyone inside hostage. If we hurry we can diffuse it before it gets too bad,” I said, leaning on the doorframe to Roman’s office. He quickly got up, following me out of the station and to the car. We mixed in with the flood of police cars exiting the precinct, heading downtown to finally catch those maniacs.

“What have we got so far?” Roman asked on our way up there. I kept my attention on the road, following the back end of the police car in front of me.

“They planned out a bank robbery, a big one at that. I won’t be surprised if this is their last, if I’m being honest with ya. We profiled that they would stop at nothing to get away with it and if that means suicide by cop then so be it. They’ve been escalating for a few months now so keep your eyes open. This one is gonna be big,” I said. We turned the final corner, both of us practically jumping out of the car. I found one of the first responding officers, asking what the current situation is.

“So far, they’ve locked the door from the inside with chains and sealed off all the exits. We counted around 50 to 60 hostages inside. They moved them to the middle of the building but that’s all we know so far,” he said. He got a call over his walkie talkie, stepping way to answer it. I turned to Roman, sighing and running a hand down my face.

“It’s worse than I thought. They’re not gonna let those hostages live,” I said. Roman tiled his head like a puppy in confusion. Dammit, why does he have to be so cute?! Virgil, not now.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. 

“Because, Roman, they’re psychopaths. They feel no empathy. No remorse for anything they’ve ever done. They don’t care about those people and they don’t care about the money. They’re only doing this because you need money to survive, no other reason. They aren’t going to let those people go, Roman. I know it,” I said, gesturing to the door. I started pacing, trying to figure out the best tactic to cool down the situation. None of them were good options.

“We need to set up communications. It’s the only thing I can think of. We need to get in their heads somehow. You! Yeah, you. Can you help me set this up?” I ask, calling out to a random officer. He nodded and came over to where me and Roman were trying to set up the communications operation. “Thank you….?”

“Oh, Officer Heart. But you can call me Patton,” the officer said, the cheery character extending a hand for me to take. I don’t do handshakes so Roman stepped in, shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Roman and this grumpy man is Virgil,” he said. I glared at him, elbowing him in the side.

“Ow! Hey, what was that for!?” he said, grabbing his side. Patton just snickered, hooking up a few wires onto the recorder and phone. 

“You know what it was for, Princey, don’t act dumb,” I said, turning back to the task at hand.

“‘Princey’?” Patton asked, raising an eyebrow. Me and Roman both answered at the same time.

“It’s what I call this idiot.”

“It’s his special nickname for me.”

I let out a huff of air as Patton giggled, hooking in the last wire. I pressed the power button and the line went live.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you two to be quiet, okay?” I said. The both nodded and I punched in the number for the bank, picking up the phone and putting it to my ear. I heard it ring;

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Bingo.

“Eh? What d’you want?” a nasally voice sounded from the other end. It took all my willpower not to grimace. 

“Who is this?” I asked. It's best to set the scene first before getting into negotiations. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Virgil. Detective Virgil.”

“Ooh, fancy. So, Detective Virgil, what brings you here this fine day?” the obnoxious voice sounded from the other end. I’m going to have a headache by the end of this. 

“Oh, you know, just a couple of serial killers robbing a bank. The usual.” A shrill laugh rangs over the phone, making me pull the phone away from my ear to save my eardrums. “You never answered my question. Who is this?”

“Remus Prince at your service,” he said. That name made me pause. It was...familiar somehow. Remus, Remus, Remus. Prince. Remus Prince. Roman Prince. 

Oh. My. God.

It’s Roman’s twin brother.

Oh no.

“Do you plan on coming out anytime soon?” I asked. I had to keep my cool and try not to freak out that my crush’s partner’s lost brother is currently holding a bank hostage with his psychopathic boyfriend. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’. I sighed. ‘This is going to be a long conversation.’

“Then tell me, Remus, why the bank robbery? Why now?”

“Well, I was getting quite bored and thought a good ol’ bank heist would do the trick.”

"So you don’t have any friends to visit?”

“Friends? HA! I haven’t had a friend in years,” the eccentric man laughed. 

“Well I’m sure it’s hard to make friends when you murder them.”

“That was rude,” Remus pouted.

“So is murder,” I said, deadpan. “How do you plan on getting out of there? We’ve got all the exits covered, front and back.”

“I’m sure Logan will think of something. He always does.”

“So Logan is the other one? How long ha-”

“Hang on there sunshine, gimme a moment.” he interrupted. The line went silent for a second, the sound of distant yelling coming through on the other side. There was a gunshot, then another, and another; the sound echoing off the concrete walls. Several officers shouted, trying to advance forward to bust into the building. That would only panic them, making them shoot at random and kill more people than necessary. 

“DON’T MOVE IN!!” I yelled, commanding the officers to take a step back. I put the phone to my ear once more.

“I had to take care of something. I’m sorry, you were saying?” Remus said nonchalantly. I wondered just how many people he’s killed in his lifetime for this to be normal. I didn’t like that thought very much. 

“How long have you two known each other? You and Logan I mean,” I ask. I hear a humming noise come from the other end, indicating that he was thinking.

“About three years now,” he responded. 

“So you haven’t seen anyone except him for three years?” I asked.

“Nope!” he said, popping the ‘p’ once again. “And I’m not complaining either. I mean...have you seen that man?”

“Not even your brother?” I asked. The line went deathly silent; so much so that I thought he had hung up. The light on the monitor proved me otherwise though, as well as the burst of gunshots that came from inside. I heard the phone disconnect and I slammed the phone down in anger.

“Dammit! We almost had him,” I yelled. I started pacing again, trying to work away the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

“What happened? Why were there so many gunshots?” Roman asked, looking more confused than concerned.

“I must have struck a nerve. We need to move in soon or else this will end more bloody than we hope for,” I said. I tried to walk past Roman but he held an arm out, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

“Hey, are you good?” he asked, voice having dropped to almost a whisper. It was sweet how much he cares. If we weren’t in a hostage situation right now I probably would have finally confessed. 

“Yeah, I’m good. We just need to get them out of there,” I said, walking past him and to the line of officers. 

They had formed a barricade around the entrance of the bank, many of them already aiming their guns at the glass doors. I made my way over to them, joining in the line and aiming my gun as well. A minute or two later, Roman joined me, Patton following closely behind. I was getting ready to give the command for S.W.A.T to enter when two figures approached the door, both carrying guns, one undid the chains on the door while the other pushed the door open, both of them aiming their guns at us. 

I held up the signal for ‘hold fire’, analysing the two psychopaths that now stood in front of us. One officer yelled for them to put their guns down, both of them ignoring the command. They were almost in a daze, ignoring the outside world. The same officer warned them, saying that they would open fire. Again, they didn’t comply. Instead, they made their way closer to one another, guns still aimed at the line of officers. Their lips collided with one another, fingers pulling the trigger and opening fire. I ducked behind part of the barricade, shielding myself from the incoming bullets. They were doing it. They were actually doing it. 

They were going to die.

I took a breath and peeked around the barricade, watching as the two serial killers were almost riddled with bullets. Still, the two stayed locked in a kiss, holding on to each other. In their last moments, they pulled apart, both whispering something that was lost to time. Then, their bodies fell to the ground in a pool of blood, limp and growing cold. 

I never forgot that day. The day two lovers were caught in the whirlwind of bullets, how their love faded just like the life from their eyes. The day dozens of bodies are hauled out of that bank, their loved ones weeping at the sight. The final look they gave us before their bodies were torn to shreds. It was peaceful almost, like they had prepared for this since the moment they met. I suppose they had; having a plan in case things went wrong. It wasn’t just me that was haunted by that day. Roman almost broke down when he found out it was his brother, often visiting the crime scene and replaying the last moments of his lost brother’s life. I found him coming to my apartment almost every day, sobbing and almost collapsing from exhaustion. It was a sad day, one that ruined too many lives to count. It did help me realize something, something that I never forgot in the many years to come. 

People really will do anything for love.

Taglist:

@whattheremus @falsemood @braingoburr @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @martini46

#sanders sides #ts fanders #ts fandom #ts virgil #sanders sides virgil #ts logan #logan sanders #ts remus #sanders sides remus #sanders sides logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil sanders #ts logan sanders #ts remus sanders #thrill of the kill #tw guns #tw shooting #tw blood #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw suicide by cop #tw death #tw dead body #tw yelling #tw all caps #intrulogical #ts intrulogical #intrulogical fanfic #intrulogical fanfiction #logan x roman

[overwhelminglyaquarius]

‘let’s elope’

replaying trr3 for the millionth time, i saw (and loved) this dialogue from liam, so i wrote a potential different route this could've taken

pretty self explanatory, hope you enjoy! :)

/////

Yes, they were engaged, (at long last, they would add). But, yes, there were still difficulties. For Charlotte, one of the most irritating was the idea that it was ‘improper’ for the two to share a bed before they’re married.

‘If only they knew that not having a bed isn’t that much of an obstruction for Liam,’ she thought to herself. 

It’s not even that he’s perhaps the most handsome man to have walked the Earth, though she does think that it is fitting that Cordonia is so close to where the Greek Gods would have lived. No, the issue is that it doesn’t allow for a shred of private domesticity until they’ve so publicly made their vows.

Sometimes, her need to be near to him becomes too great to care what certain onlookers may think. The way he made her heart expand earlier in the day by instantly looking for her as they arrived at the Castellarian estate, only to take her hand and sneak a kiss, did nothing to help her keep her affection for him at bay.

So now that they were in the company of people Charlotte genuinely considered to be trustworthy, she felt confident enough to let her love for him show a bit more.

That’s why, after the wine tasting, she and Liam stood at the balcony whilst the rest were mingling and lightly clearing up. She had, at some point, snaked her arms under his jacket and around his waist, head resting lightly on his chest as he wrapped one of his strong arms around her in turn.

They’d settled on a wine choice for their wedding, talking about other little nothings to do with the day as they looked out over the vineyard.

She was lucky. She was so incredibly lucky, and she knew it.

Shifting her head to look up at him, she was struck once again by the reality of it all. This beautiful, kind, caring, witty man was hers. Soon enough, he’d be hers forever. It was all she could do to drag her thoughts away from just repeating the words, “iloveyouiloveyouilo-“.

Honestly, she might be embarrassed if he could hear her thoughts, but a tugging in her heart reminded her that she had incredible evidence to believe he felt the same way.

Head tilting downwards, his eyes caught hers. She could see the shift in emotion as their eyes met – she could write essays about how beautiful he is when he is able to take just a tiny bit of the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke, choosing his words carefully.

“You know… I know that we’ve agreed to make our wedding a public event for rallying Cordonia’s allies and people, but part of me wishes that it could just be the two of us, with no one else to distract us.”

Charlotte’s straightened slightly as her arms loosened to instead relax on his sides. Turning to face him, the previous repetition in her head restarted.

Liam almost took her hesitance to respond as disapproval, or a sign that he shouldn’t have shaken the already rocky road that had brought them to their engagement. He was ready to amend what he’d said when she looked up at him once again, turning the idea over in her head with furrowed brows.

“Well… why don’t we?”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, I mean, it could be, right? Just us? We could pull it off. I’ve seen enough movies to know that people can get married almost anywhere, by anyone,” she began to ramble. He felt her swinging their interlocking hands as she went on and couldn’t help but grin at her.

He did that a lot lately.

She was still talking, though. “I mean, you remember in that grotto in Italy during the ‘dark days’,” she made exaggerated quotation marks with one hand, “and you asked me what I could picture our alternative future as being? And I said I could see us getting married in a small church on a cliff? Well, why don’t we?”

Her chattering was growing more excited. Unbeknownst to the couple, it started turning a few heads in their direction. The rest of the gang were used to it, proud of their friends for finding this kind of love, even if they couldn’t quite hear what they were actually even talking about.

Penelope, however, was new to such occurrences. Even the blind could see the love between the pair – it radiated off them in waves. For months, she had felt guilty about her role in the scheme against Charlotte. She knew now how deeply they loved each other, but any time they interacted in her presence, she felt like a horrible intruder in their lives. To have kept them apart was a cruel act, even if she had naively thought at the time that Charlotte’s heart lay with Tariq.

“Max could covertly find a place, and I’m sure Drake would be willing to officiate. We wouldn’t even need the fanciest clothes, well, apart from a ring, but we could do it. I mean, if you really wanted to?”

Liam could see his whole future when he looked at her, and it shone with the brightest sunshine.

He gently cupped her face and kissed her, unable to hold back any longer.

Anyone still spying on the pair hastily looked away.

Her hands found purchase clutching to his button up as the kiss deepened. 

After what they both considered to be too short a moment, they separated. Charlotte was left breathless, a culmination of her excitement and unpreparedness. Looking up as they caught their breath, she tilted her head in silent question.

His responding smile was so wide and laden with love that she felt her heart working overtime to sew up the seams where it had burst.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I- yes. Let’s do it.” He pecked her lips again, still panting softly. Both hands were still on her face as he continued.

“There’s a chapel on the coastline. It’s sat on a cliff right by the sea. A small, old, white building – nothing around it save for a small town a half mile away. I found it online after we spent that evening together in the grotto. The image you painted of us, there, together, stuck in my mind. It’s a stunning scene.”

Charlotte felt her bones go weak.

“I- Do you think we could?” she ventured.

His face contorted as he went over all the possibilities, quickly coming to a conclusion. He took a deep breath.

“I would imagine you’re right about Drake officiating. Maxwell and Hana, too, could be there as witnesses and, besides,” he paused, taking a beat to properly look at her before he continued, “all I need for my wedding is you.”

#trr3 #playchoices #pixelberry #the royal romance #liam x mc #mc x liam #liam rys #trr2 #trr #trh #choices

[raleighcarrera]

limits

the wayhaven chronicles | mason x mc (kira langford)

mason has a realization.

m tag list: @raleighcarrera @choicesarehard @tkyoon @zigtheeortega 💕

~5.6k words | M (18+)

the thing about fucking her is that one time is supposed to be enough.

it’s not like he’s got a rule or anything -- he doesn’t. sure, most of his flings are just that: one night stands he can fade away from gracefully, who understand what he’s about and take what they can get.

necessity or scarcity means that he’ll occasionally come back for seconds or thirds, and maybe he can convince himself that’s the case, here. wayhaven is a small town, with few prospects, and he spends so much time with kira anyway. maybe it’s just the reality of the situation -- the assignment -- that has him double-dipping.

it’s not, though.

it’s her. usually, even a spectacular fuck only lingers in his mind for so long. there’s no use dwelling when there’s always the next partner, a new chase or some other way to spend his time on the horizon.

but the detective stays in his memories after he sleeps with her. he finds himself thinking about it a lot more than he usually would, replaying the way she’d felt under his hands and the sounds she’d made in an almost absentminded way, so that he’s remembering it even when he’s not jerking off. even when he’s not trying to get back into her pants again. 

nothing much changes, after they start sleeping together. he continues to hit on her in an overt way and everyone around them starts to catch on to the fact that what’s between them is more than just words. 

kira lets him touch her in the woods, in her car, at the carnival, in her bedroom, at the warehouse. even in the common spaces. even in the kitchen.

surely if once wasn’t enough, then twelve times should be, right?

but it’s not. she remains a persistent distraction in meetings, on patrols and just about any time he’s supposed to be doing something other than fucking her speechless. which gets to be kind of annoying.

and he doesn’t pursue anyone else. but that’s not new, either.

so -- the warehouse feels a little different when he knows she’s on her way over. he can’t quite pinpoint exactly what it is, but there’s suddenly purpose in the day when kira’s coming by for a briefing or a meeting -- something he never felt on any of the other assignments he had.

“what’s got you so excited?” felix asks, looking pointedly at his tapping foot, a grin spreading across his face. 

mason stares blankly back at him. “i look excited to you?”

“well, you’re not scowling, which is about as close to happy as you get.”

his lip curls with a sneer, but felix just laughs at him. nate turns around, looking equally as amused. “do i need to separate you two?”

mason’s already diverted his attention to something else -- the sound of footsteps in the hallway, the familiar subtleties of kira’s heartbeat. as nonchalantly as he can manage, he slips from his seat on the couch to the arm of it, freeing up the space he’d been sitting in.

she smiles at all of them and the room feels a little brighter for it. felix waves her over from the other end of the couch, but when she sits down, it’s at mason’s end instead of toward the center. her shoulder bumps into his leg as she drops into the seat he’d been occupying just moments ago.

mason bumps her deliberately back. “watch it.”

the detective turns her smile on him. “hi,” she says, her proximity softening some of the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders.

everything that had felt so annoying before her arrival slowly starts to fade into nothing. not a minor annoyance -- nothing. his brow furrows with deep confusion; since when had she become so relaxing? “hey.”

agent langford clears her throat and starts passing out folders. mason startles, reaching for his more roughly than is strictly necessary. he hadn’t even realized she was there.

“here are the details on your new case. there’s been a series of kidnappings and robberies in town we want you to investigate. so far there’s no discernible pattern -- victims range in age from fourteen to eighty.”

kira hums, her eyes scanning the brief inside the folder. when she opens her mouth to speak he can tell she’s just had a coffee. “what makes you think our perp is supernatural?”

“all victims we were able to make contact with were injected with a very specific paralytic. our lab analyzed blood samples and discovered traces of fae venom in the toxins. those that were kidnapped turned up similar results at the crime scenes.”

kira grins. “like pixie dust?”

rebecca’s lips twitch with a barely suppressed smile. “something like that. i want you to split up and visit each of the crime scenes today. try to find something to link them together so we can predict the next target. let me know what you turn up.”

adam stands in front of them all as she departs, frowning down at the file in his hands. “i’ll take the office building. nate, you and felix visit the high school. mason, you and kira can take the church.”

felix laughs. “is mason even allowed inside a church?”

“come on,” nate grins, already heading for the door, “as much as i’d love to see him handle the high school...”

when he looks back at kira, her lips are pursed to stifle a smile. he sighs at her, shifting to stand. “don’t take their side.”

“hey, they have a point.” she squints into the sun as they step outside, then asks, “are you alright with walking? it’s not that far from here.”

“sure.” for once, it isn’t freezing in this useless town, and it might be nice to take their time. plus, “we won’t have to risk getting stuck somewhere in that trash heap you call a car.”

the detective laughs. “you wish we’d get stuck in my car together.”

“well, i can definitely think of one way to pass the time if we did,” he smirks, tapping his fingers on the sides of his jeans as they itch for a cigarette. she shakes her head at him.

his eyes drift down to her ass as she leads the way down the street. the jeans she’s wearing seem like an unfair tease, even though they’re more or less the same thing she wears every day. but they do make him suddenly aware of the fact that it’s been a couple days since they’ve had time to sneak off together.

mason clears his throat. “been awhile since you spent the night at the warehouse,” he says casually, “you could stay over tonight.”

the ghost of a smile appears on her face, the look in her eyes making it obvious she knows what he’s talking about, even though she plays dumb. “why? it’ll be early enough when we get done here.”

he licks his lips. “you know why.”

her footsteps slow to a stop, and he blinks as he realizes they’re already at the church. there’s crime scene tape in front of the steps, and kira reaches out to hold it up for him to duck under with an expectant nod. “come on.”

he waits for her to stand next to him before they walk inside, in tandem, closer together than they probably need to be. immediately, the smell of dust and incense permeate his senses and he wrinkles his nose, sighing as he starts to glance around for anything amiss. “remind me what we’re looking for, again?”

“clues,” kira says obnoxiously, grinning over her shoulder at him. she moves away to walk down the left aisle of pews and the annoying church smell worsens, giving him a headache. he changes course to follow her instead of walking down the right side on his own.

it looks like... a church. he’d had a hunch this visit was going to be a waste of time before they’d even left to come here, but now that he’s seen what they’re working with he’s pretty positive he’d been right. “there’s nothing here.”

“do you always have to be so negative?” she asks, her voice hushed. it’s then that he realizes he’s close enough to hear her perfectly, anyway, and backs off a little, maintaining a more respectful distance behind her. though he does find his eyes glued to her ass again.

“it’s part of my charm.” the little scoff she gives in return makes his lips twitch, and he leans back against the pew in the front row as she steps up to the alter, her eyes narrowed on the artifacts -- props? -- strewn across the table.

he’s content just to watch her work. kira’s methodical as she walks slowly across the church, her brow furrowed and her lips frowning. it only takes her a few minutes before she sighs and admits, “i don’t see anything.”

“i told you.” she crosses the room to be closer to him again, and he can feel his grin return once she’s within reaching distance. his fingers find the belt loops of her jeans and tug her hips forward. “doesn’t mean we have to let this empty room go to waste, though.”

her eyebrows arch. “this is a church.”

“so?” his gaze is heated as it slides down her body pointedly. he maneuvers her into the pew, then drops to his knees in front of her. “maybe i’m taking up praying.”

she laughs, but when he looks up at her she’s biting her bottom lip, and he can read desire in the way her pupils dilate -- in the way the lightest flush spreads out across her face.

“okay,” she grins, “go for it.”

he’s never been religious, but there’s something about the sounds she makes when he eats her out that make her seem like a goddess he’d have no trouble worshipping. she threads her fingers into his hair and pulls, and he isn’t satisfied until she’s had too much and starts pushing his face away with a whine.

the sun’s low in the sky when he stands, and though his dick is straining at the front of his jeans, begging for relief, he knows they’re expected back at the warehouse. they’ll be the last to arrive as it is.

he grabs kira’s hand when she reaches for his zipper and helps her up, too. “later,” he says, shaking his head. his free hand travels up to his mouth, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth to clean it off. the way she shivers makes his smirk widen dangerously. “stay over.”

“sure,” she agrees, reaching up to smooth down her hair. he knows she’s probably hoping to keep what happens between them private, but there’s no way the rest of the team won’t know exactly what they’d been caught up doing as soon as they get back to the warehouse, especially with that look on her face.

as expected, she shifts back and forth on her feet obviously when they convene in the meeting room and adam says, “so you searched the church... for three hours. and didn’t find anything?” his voice is slow, like he’s working up to an explosion.

mason shrugs. “yep.”

even nate is eyeing them with disapproval, but behind him, felix is grinning like a kid on christmas morning. mason glares at him.

the detective clears her throat. “did you guys find anything?”

adam’s jaw clenches before he responds. “no. the rest of the employees had already cleaned up the office building.”

nate pulls his pinched look of disappointment away and confirms, “the high school was empty as well.”

kira nods like everyone in the room isn’t staring at her. “tomorrow we should speak with some of the surviving victims. i’ll stay over tonight so we can be ready to go first thing in the morning.”

six eyes snap to mason to stare at him instead. “sounds good to me,” he answers, unfazed, “later.”

he turns and leaves without a backward glance, though he can hear felix teasing kira even when he rounds the corner and heads down the hallway to his room. the sound of her voice is unusually loud to him, until he shuts the door and makes a point of ignoring it. he’s sure he doesn’t want to hear whatever stupid shit they’re talking about anyway.

it’s over an hour before her familiar heartbeat tap dances back into his ears. he’s just starting to get annoyed, waiting for her, when she opens the door and slips inside without knocking, her steps purposefully light. she doesn’t want anyone else to know she’s here.

he lifts his head from the pillows where he’d been laying in bed and smirks at her. “you sure took your time.”

“i was talking to nate about the case,” she answers, taking a few measured strides closer. “why, did you miss me?”

“i miss being inside of you,” he says, standing so he can have the physical advantage over her, using the full breadth of his body to back her into the wall, “or did you forget you left me with blue balls back there?”

kira tilts her head back against the wall, smiling at him. “i don’t think you’d ever let me forget that.”

he’s already unbuttoning her jeans, eager to get to her bare skin. “you’re right about that one. but there’s a few other things i’d be happy to make you forget.”

they only get undressed halfway; she’s seemingly just as eager as he is to get to the good part, and even after they’re done and she’s shifting her clothes back into place, her moans still rattle around inside his ears, the sound of her voice when she’d said his name echoing through his head.

mason reaches up to swipe his hair out of his eyes, grinning at the way kira wobbles a little unsteadily on her feet when he steps away. “need me to carry you back to your room, sweetheart?”

she’d been eyeing his bed, but turns back to him, then. her mouth twists into a frown that’s all wrong on her face. “i think i can manage.”

she straightens up and moves toward the door. something seems to have shifted in the air between them, the mood from before suddenly gone in favor of something colder. his brow furrows at her back, and he opens his mouth to call out to her before thinking better of it, only letting his gaze linger on the line of her spine.

kira hesitates, but when he doesn’t speak up, she opens the door and leaves.

so much for the afterglow. an annoyance he can’t place fills him abruptly, made worse by the fact that her room isn’t far enough away for him to tune out the sound of her -- he’s hyperaware of her as she gets changed, paces around in her room, does something on her phone and then ultimately gets into bed.

a cigarette would dull his senses. she’s not here now to complain, so he could have one, but then he’d miss out on the sound of her breathing as it slowly evens out and she eventually falls asleep.

and he doesn’t want that.

mason loses track of time once there’s complete silence surrounding him. late at night, there’s hardly any activity in this part of the warehouse, and knowing that kira is around -- hearing her heartbeat whenever he wants -- is comforting in some weird, unidentifiable way, despite how fucking loud it seems. 

except that at some point her even breathing turns ragged, quickening like she’s panicked. he slowly sits up in bed as he hears her gasp, squinting into the darkness of his room suspiciously. she still sounds like she’s alone, but she’s undeniably afraid, tossing and turning and whimpering --

it all stops abruptly, and he realizes what it is when her door opens and then slams shut. he stands, walking to the door and listening silently. he can picture her out there as her back hits the door and slides down, a shaky exhale trailing off into deep breaths that are a little calmer, now. 

he should leave her alone.

except his fingers twist the door knob before he can stop them, and he steps out into the hallway to look at her. she’s exactly where he’d imagined her, slumped on the floor against the door of her bedroom with her head in her hands, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath.

“hey.” her head jerks up and she startles, like she’s surprised to see him there. that’s fair. he’s surprised, too. mason leans against the doorjamb, folding his arms across his bare chest. “another nightmare?”

she swallows, averting her eyes. he watches her push her fingers through her long, dark hair, and then she nods, staring off down the hallway. “yeah.”

nate or felix would know the right thing to say to her. he does not. “haven’t you gotten used to those by now?”

kira turns her cheek and her eyes find his in the dim light of the hallway. he can tell instantly that he’s said something stupid, and frowns at her when he notices just how tired she looks. she scrambles to her feet and snaps, “forget it.”

the detective storms off down the hallway and disappears out of sight before he can say another word. annoyance spikes once he’s alone in the hallway, and he sighs heavily when the door to one of the common areas opens and then slams shut.

something within him feels drawn to following her. there’s an instinct he doesn’t recognize telling him to go to the lounge and sit with her until she feels as calm as he does when she sits with him. 

his fists clench as the door to nate’s room opens and he pokes his head out into the hallway, too. nate stares at him, and then quietly asks, “are you alright?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” he growls, quickly ducking back into his own room and slamming his door closed, too. 

he stares at the ceiling for hours waiting for the sound of her footsteps to come back down the hallway again. at dawn, he finally hears the hinges of her door creak, and something tight in his chest loosens slowly, letting him relax.

kira still looks exhausted when they all reconvene an hour later. she and felix are together on the couch again, though he’s sitting closer to her this time, concern in his eyes as they talk quietly, their heads bowed together. 

he sits on the arm of the sofa and pretends not to notice the way they stop talking as soon as he does so. “morning,” felix smiles at him, though he barely nods back, staring at the way kira’s gone tense where she’s sitting. 

she only waits a minute before getting up, crossing the room to get herself a cup of coffee. she stands there stirring it for a long time before slowly sitting down in one of the empty armchairs next to nate. 

mason stares at her from across the room. there’s an empty chair on the other side of her, but it’s not like he can get up now, without a reason. annoyance fills him as he watches her pretend not to notice the way he’s staring at her; kira sips her coffee and chats with nate and looks at her fingernails and her shoes. she acts like he isn’t even there.

adam and agent langford walk in together, but he misses most of what they say, inexplicable displeasure settling inside him. he only snaps back to attention when he hears the detective say, “adam, you’re with me,” and watches, in surprise, as they leave the lounge together, something unpleasant twisting in his stomach.

there’s a long stretch of silence before agent langford says, “the three of you should go question some of the high schoolers. the rest of the debate team was around when sarah was kidnapped. maybe one of them saw something.”

working with nate and felix should be easy. it’s familiar enough to him. 

except that he’s spent most of the last few months alone with kira, and it’s odd to know that adam’s with her, now, working the angle he’d usually occupy.

“stop sulking,” felix directs, nudging him with his shoulder, “just because we’re not as pretty as kira --”

“i’m not sulking,” he bites back, “i don’t give a shit who she investigates with.”

“uh huh,” felix says, his disbelief obvious, “right.”

“i don’t,” he insists, “so shut up before i --”

“please,” nate sighs, “can we save it for later? it’s taxing enough talking to high schoolers as it is.”

he falls silent, glowering at nothing. everything is heightened in an unwelcome way and even his irritation feels dialed up to a new level. he pulls a cigarette out as soon as they stop on the sidewalk outside of the school, and pointedly turns his back on nate and felix when they head inside without him.

mason leans against a street sign and stares out at nothing, scuffing the toes of his boots against the curb. no one’s checking up on him like kira would be if she were here, and the silence is strange. time drags on at a glacial pace without her to check out or whistle at or snipe back and forth with. 

he isn’t exactly great at reading her, but he’s pretty sure she’s pissed off at him. that’s not new -- he’s annoyed her plenty since they first met, and probably said a lot worse than whatever had made her so upset this time -- but the way it unsettles him is. if he had to explain it, something just doesn’t feel... right. 

shaking the odd feeling out of his head, he smokes the rest of the cigarettes in his pocket waiting for nate and felix to return. they don’t look particularly happy when they do.

“find anything?” he asks, because he’s probably supposed to care about that.

“sarah’s teammates recall seeing a blue light when she was kidnapped,” nate answers, frowning. “but the way they described it...”

felix shrugs. “wouldn’t make sense for it to be fae. so either the lab got something wrong, or we have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

“great.” his thoughts drift to adam and kira without conscious effort. 

“hopefully kira had better luck,” nate sighs. “we’ll wait for them at the warehouse.”

except that it takes hours for them to return. the minutes continue to tick by agonizingly slowly, until he’s pacing in the lounge, fidgety and tense. 

“seriously?” felix asks as he lights up yet another cigarette, pulled from the emergency stash under his bed, “i’m sure they’re fine.”

“what?” his voice is a growl, his eyes set into a glare. he’s not worried about them. he’s annoyed they’re wasting so much of his time. the sooner they debrief on their progress for the day, the sooner he can get out of here.

“leave him alone,” nate directs to felix over his shoulder, “they had some kind of fight.”

“we didn’t have a fight,” he snarls, his annoyance building further, “and i don’t know what you’re talking about. i’m not doing anything.”

they exchange a glance right in front of him. fortunately, the sound of footsteps reaches his ears before he can argue with them further, though he’s forced to frown when her heartbeat follows the squeak of her shoes on the tile, a little faster than it should be. he puts out his cigarette and tosses it into the trash.

she looks normal enough when they enter the room. that it’s not immediately identifiable why her pulse is racing deepens his scowl. his gaze shifts to adam uneasily.

he seems to misread why mason’s looking at him. “we didn’t get much of a lead. our victim doesn’t remember anything that happened to him.”

kira sits down in one of the chairs across the room from him again and actually pays attention to whatever nate and felix are saying, doubtlessly filling her in on what they’d found out at the school. he skulks silently in the dark corner of the room, tuning them all out in favor of waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.

it doesn’t, though, even when she stands to leave, grabbing her purse. he shifts to his feet in turn before he even realizes he’s doing it, and though kira looks surprised, she meets his eyes and asks, “walk me to my car?”

mason smirks at her, licking his lips. he nods, and doesn’t look at the rest of the team as they leave the warehouse, stepping outside. “it’s been a minute since we made use of that backseat,” he grins, the persistent, low-level hum of annoyance and unease he’d felt all day starting to fade away into nothing. 

he doesn’t even notice how quiet she’s being until they reach her car and she stops him when he moves to grab the door handle to the backseat, curling her fingers around his wrist. “actually --” he turns, and finds her staring out into the woods beyond his shoulder, looking at nothing. “about that.”

kira’s heartbeat is still too fast. her hand drops from his wrist and his falls back to his side, away from the car door. she finally turns and catches his eye. “when we started doing this you said it’d be fun for both of us. but it’s not fun for both of us anymore.”

mason stares at her in confusion as she rocks back on her heels, putting some space between them. “what?”

“i just --”

“it sure seemed like you were having fun yesterday.” what the fuck is she talking about?

“i was,” she agrees gently, “it’s not about that. of course i enjoy that. it’s everything else.”

“there isn’t anything else,” he bites out, voice filled with obvious frustration. 

“right. that’s what i’m saying.” she’s looking at him like he’s supposed to know what she’s talking about. he stares back at her in silence for a long time.

mason shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, dragging his tongue along his teeth. he sure hadn’t expected this when he’d followed her out here. “well, when you change your mind you know where to find me, sweetheart.” 

he walks back inside without looking at her, trying to put a name to the strange feeling swelling inside him. if he’s ever felt it before, he can’t recall when or why, but that it might be something new seems even more unsettling.

the rest of the team is waiting for him in the lounge when he returns. “what?” he demands, glaring at each of them in turn. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“i told you i didn’t want to have to clean up your mess,” adam sighs, his face pinched. mason bristles.

“there’s no mess. it’s not a big deal.”

nate glances at adam and then looks over at him. “it’s just that kira seemed -- upset. adam said she wasn’t like herself today.”

“well, we’re officially not fucking anymore, so i guess you don’t have to worry about it,” he bites out, reaching for his cigarettes where he’d left them on the table. it’s not like anyone’s around to tell him no.

“woah,” felix says, frowning over at him, “what? are you okay?”

he snorts. “like i care.” smoke billows in front of his face, obscuring the rest of the team from his view. when it clears, he sees that they’re all staring at him again. “what?”

“you know you can talk to us if you want to, right?” nate’s eyes look concerned. “we’re here for you no matter what.”

mason glances off with a shrug. “i know. but there’s nothing to talk about.” he pauses, inhaling deeply. smoke fills his lungs slowly, and that irritatingly unwelcome feeling starts to dissipate. “come get me if there’s any updates with the case.”

he goes up to the roof because his room still kind of smells like her, if he concentrates, and he doesn’t want to be tempted into concentrating. 

alone, he finally lets himself consider something he’s been putting off thinking about. the complicated parts.

she’d wanted those. and he said no.

that strange feeling starts to twist his stomach again. as he stares off into the sky, unseeing, it eventually starts to take a recognizable shape.

those two months they’d spent setting up the warehouse, when he hadn’t seen her at all -- he’d felt like this then. he remembers it and its strange ache with stunning clarity. 

he misses her. that’s what it is. he fucking misses her.

that’s never happened before.

he blinks, stunned by the revelation. “huh.”

slowly, it all starts to make sense. the way he feels better when they’re near each other -- how he’s always looking for her in any room, whenever he can -- 

unbelievable. he likes her. 

numbly, he finishes his cigarette and ducks back inside. his feet carry him back to the lounge like he’s sleep walking.

“oh, good,” nate says when he sees him, sounding pleased. mason can feel the way the expression on his face is still puzzled, his brows drawn together in complete confusion. “you figured it out.”

his head snaps up. “what?”

“the detective,” nate prompts, looking at him expectantly. “right?”

mason pushes a hand through his hair. it’s difficult to place -- almost impossible. he’s a hundred years old and he’s never felt like this before. “maybe there’s something else,” he admits begrudgingly, the words stilted. “besides the obvious.”

felix is practically vibrating from his position on the couch. “okay, you need to go over there,” he exclaims, his eyes wide, his smile stretching his face. “and tell her right away! seriously.”

he cringes. “just show up at her apartment?”

“yes,” felix insists emphatically, “you have to tell her right now.”

ugh. but he’s already told everyone here -- isn’t that enough? he looks at nate.

“i think she’d like that,” he says, which is the opposite of what mason was hoping for. he sighs, running his fingers through his hair again.

“are you sure?” 

felix opens his mouth, but nate leans in first. “only if you want to.”

well. he does miss her. he knows that now. 

still, he hesitates. there’s silence in the room until felix makes a strangled sound of impatience, and they all turn to glare at him again. “stop it,” nate scolds, “be patient with him, he’s having a crisis.”

“okay -- i’m going,” he announces decisively. from the couch, felix crows with victory, clutching his chest when he falls back against the cushions.

“love,” he sighs dramatically, “it’s so beautiful.”

mason looks at nate. “make sure he’s not doing that when i get back.”

“no promises,” nate answers, and he can hear them bickering distantly as he heads for the door and then kira’s apartment, as quickly as he can -- before he has time to change his mind.

he feels strange again when he knocks on her door and waits for her to open up. almost like he’s injured, somehow, a little weak and confused. well -- he is knocking. that on its own is strange.

she’s already in her pajamas when she opens the door and frowns at him. “mason?” she steps aside to let him in, seemingly unaware of how frantic and panicked he is. mostly it seems like she, too, is confused by the knocking. “what’re you doing here? is everything alright?”

“uhhhhh.” great. he’s a moron. how is he supposed to start? “well -- i was thinking.”

“dangerous, for you,” she quips, doing something funny to his stomach again. oh, holy fucking christ. he knows what that is. that’s fondness. he’s fond of her.

he turns his head and holds her gaze steady, ignoring, for the first time ever, the heat that forms between them. that’s not what he’s after. “i was thinking about the complicated parts.”

kira doesn’t say a word, but his eyes zero in on the straight line of her teeth where they bite at her full bottom lip. her body language is otherwise frustratingly difficult to read.

“maybe i want them -- out there. with you.”

anyone else wouldn’t be able to hear the tiny hitch in her breath when she inhales, but he does.

“do you?” 

he nods. there’s silence again, but just for a moment -- he only has a split second to figure he’s just fucked up in a major way before her face transforms with a beautiful smile.

“i want that, too.” the softness he used to turn away from is back in her eyes, again, but this time, he holds her gaze. “i care about you. a lot.”

there’s something about hearing her confirm, out loud, what he’d already sort of known. a million little things click into place at once, unlocking something inside of him. it feels like he’s had dozens of puzzle pieces waiting around for this moment -- pieces he’s only now able to put together. “yeah. me, too. i just didn’t know what it was. but now i do.”

her smile turns a little more private, and it’s all the more beautiful for that. “just like that?”

he shrugs. “you leaving today flipped a switch. i hated it.”

worse than that -- felix and nate were right. she’s obviously unbelievably pleased to have him in her apartment, saying shit like that to her. her whole face is lit up with joy.

“you could’ve just talked to me about it.” he arches an eyebrow at her and is rewarded with her laughter. “yeah -- i heard it as i was saying it. okay, fair enough.”

“look.” further delight blooms across her expression as he steps closer, closing the distance between them. “you’re going to have to get used to all of this, okay?”

“oh, yeah?” 

he loves the way she has to tilt her head all the way back to look at him when he gets too close. 

how could he ever think that any amount of time spent together would ever be enough?

“yeah,” he confirms, leaning down to close the distance their height difference creates between them, “because now -- i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

#the wayhaven chronicles #mason twc #twc mason #mason x detective #twc m #myfic #me: i'll write him again but not for awhile #me @ me: girl #i'm tired of looking at this lol i need it out of my drafts #the next one will have more sex promise #as per usual i have an aversion to recognizable plot and coherent endings #not choices

[junggoku]

open heart book 2 and its current plot threads

man, looking at it so far they’ve already set up a lot of drama and plot threads and it’s only been 5 chapters ajdhsjs i just complied all the plot points and threads that i’ve noticed while replaying below. this is a long one that no one asked for but i wanted to gather my thoughts since a lot is gonna be happening our second year it seems.

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS and shitty theories from yours truly

-the death of someone we apparently know and love: at this point, it’s too early to say decisively who it is. it could be anyone really (except the LI’s. i still don’t think they’re gonna kill off rafael he’s most likely just a red herring). they hit us with this one right off the bat and is a major plot thread.

-esme and dr. thorne: this is obviously gonna start rearing its head later. we don’t know much about thorne yet and what he’s capable of. we just know he’s got a grudge, he’s influential, and we’ve been warned about him (harper doesn’t like him. we do as harper does)

-the state of edenbrook and financial problems: this is another obvious huge one. this is definitely gonna be bleeding into a lot of the drama that unfolds in the story and between the characters. It will also be the overarching issue that they have to work towards solving. we’re already seeing how its affecting everyone and we just got a hint that mass kenmore is also suffering. which is the seed planted for another problem later.

-rafael and sora: if you’re romancing him, you get tha added drama of being in a love triangle yaaaay! he may or may not also be dying so this could go hand in hand with the first point. either way, it’s drama.

-bryce’s family and his little sister: we just got introduced to this one. this is a whole can of worms on its own with his parents being criminals (and wealthy ones at that) and now his younger sister is staying with him after running away from home for a reason that hasn’t been explained yet. this is gonna be a fun one to watch unfold. angsty, but fun! especially if you’re romancing him, you’re touching on the emotional aspects with him now more than the physical (keke)

-ethan: ...in general. yeah this guy gets a whole point on his own because my god this man has so much drama and angst surrounding him, it’s practically bleeding out of his pores. if you’re romancing him, you’re already subscribing into the forbidden relationship storyline. the whole “will they, won’t they” shebang. the writers have also laid the groundworks for what is possibly the overarching theme within his route this time: you and ethan’s disagreements on how the diagnostics team (and the hospital as a whole) should proceed forward. this one’s interesting since the writers foreshadowed it in chapter one with ethan’s diamond scene when he and mc talked about standing up to one’s superiors. looks like ethan himself will be a superior we need to stand up to. we also know we’re gonna be getting drama in the form of his absent mother who walked out on him 25 years ago. all in all, i’m not sure if ethan stans are winning or losing at this point.

-jackie’s financial troubles: not only is money a very, very big problem now at edenbrook, our salary’s are getting cut and they’re paying the residents an intern’s salary. jackie seems to be the one hit the hardest with this, since we saw her check get bounced, and she doesn’t want to ask her family for help (which could also play into more problems later).

-sienna’s exhaustion: i’m not sure if this is gonna end up being more significant later, but the writers consistently bring up how sienna appears very tired and i am Worried(tm). not much else to say on this right now, but @ mitch....if you’re picking on her and making her life harder..............watch yourself

-rivalry with mass kenmore: with the state budget being cut, and all the hospitals scrambling to stay afloat, edenbrook isn’t the only one panicking. like kyra said in chapter 5, mass kenmore is also a hospital that got hit hard and they’re looking for a method to keep themselves open. from the description for chapter 6, it appears that they’re also gonna be jumping on the bandwagon of chasing after wealthy, high-profile patients to fund them. also since people have posted the outfits spoilers weeks ago, mc’s “undercover” mass kenmore uniform makes sense if you operate with this happening.

-aurora and transferring to mass kenmore: i guess this could also go with the point above and play into the rivalry later since MK technically is stealing away one of edenbrook’s most talented doctors. i’m not sure what else could ensue from this, but i can’t imagine this won’t come up later as some dramatic point.

-declan nash and panacea labs: and of course, we can’t forget this one. with the way book 1 ended, i can’t imagine declan isn’t planning some form of revenge on mc and ethan here. the writers are already sprinkling this back in with those frequent appearances from declan at the hospital. he also said some concerning things about funding and money (that the mc noted too). too early to say what form this will take, but we should keep this one in the back of our heads. we haven’t seen the last of nash and he won’t let us forget it. (again, harper hates him. we do as harper does)

WHEEEW so that was long. i don’t think anyone cares enough to read all this but man, my blood pressure’s already rising, thinking about all this. AND IT’S ONLY FIVE CHAPTERS IN! remember when the oph team said a lot of things are gonna be happening our second year. they weren’t kidding.

#open heart #playchoices #choices oph #long post #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #jackie varma #rafael aveiro #sienna trinh #kyra santana #YEAH THIS IS LONG AND POINTLESS #BUT man we are in for a ride #they weren't kidding when they said we'd need to BREATHE #my blood pressure....it riSING #if anyone else have anything to add that they noticed #feel free #what was the point of this post tbh

[miss-tc-nova]

No Right - Xehanort x Eraqus

I’m still kind of testing out this writing style if you haven’t noticed. I think I’m gonna stick to 1st POV for self-inserts and do this 3rd POV for canon characters. It’s been testing my skills so far but I kinda like it. 

TRIGGER WARNING: for suicide attempt

~~~~~

                “See you soon buddy. We’ll all be waiting for you.”

                The curious words replay in Xehanort’s head as he takes the first steps of his new journey. Surely Eraqus doesn’t know what awaits the seeker in the future—he can’t know the path that’s been laid before his friend. Yet his final goodbye holds an ominous knowing that Xehanort can’t seem to shake.

                It’s been a while since their friends met such terrible fates and were taken away. Despite Eraqus’s insistence, Xehanort harbors feelings of responsibility for what happened. They’ve hardly spent a moment apart after that as a result, having only each other to rely on. There’s no doubt that the two are close—sometimes, it’s unclear how close. There’s no denying the airy feeling Xehanort feels seeing Fleetfoot smile, even while napping. Just being in close proximity gives the silver-haired boy a sense of peace he can’t recreate alone. Simply put, everything is better with Eraqus around. That makes reminding himself that their paths will soon lead in very different directions a bitter notion.

                Ever since Xehanort announced his journey before the Mark of Mastery, Eraqus hasn’t quite been his sunshine self. He’s still trying be who he was, but the gloom can be felt seeping off him when he thinks his classmate isn’t looking. He’s probably just worried about his friend, but there’s so much he doesn’t know—this is something Xehanort has to do.

                Nevertheless, attempts were made to poke holes in Xehanort’s plans.

                “You don’t have to leave.”

                “You’ve already seen what’s out there.”

                “What are you looking for?”

                False answers were given to Eraqus while the boy kept the real answers for himself. Still, the way his classmate spoke and his final warning continue nagging at the back of his mind.  

                You’ll be waiting for me? With who? Master Odin? No…

                The scene plays again. They stand before the graves of their friends. Eraqus shows no sign of his bright self, no light in his eyes, and the smile on his lips is dead. It’s a dreary thing—parting with friends.

                “See you soon buddy. We’ll all be waiting for you.” There it is: at that moment, Eraqus had turned his gaze on the tombstones.

                Understanding shakes his core. Not another thought is wasted before Xehanort’s feet rush him back towards the cemetery. Droplets impede his vision but do nothing to persuade him to slow down; there can be no hesitation—not for a single second.

                No no no! Don’t be that kind of fool!

                The freezing air fueling his flight stings at his lungs. Panic tightens its grip in his throat, threatening to close off his airways. If Eraqus is gone, well, Xehanort doesn’t want to think what kind of person he’ll turn into.

                In a blinding flash, lightning strikes a lamppost barely meters ahead, halting the mad dash. Not wanting to waste time, Xehanort ignores the freak incident and prepares to bolt again. Then something catches his eye. There’s no saying for sure, but the rain falls so perfectly it looks like a group of people standing before him—some very familiar people.

                Why are you in the way?!

                Movement off to the side earns a quick glance and then a double-take. Ambling along the road to the docks is Eraqus, and the large stone in his arms does not bode well. A concoction of hope and terror spur Xehanort off his original path.

                The gap between them is closing but the boy with black hair gets ever close to the edge. Xehanort’s lungs are screaming to stop but Eraqus is just one step away from the water—there’s still too much space between them.

                “ERAQUS!” The anchor hits the water at the same time the name rings out. Granite eyes flash to Xehanort filled with horror. Fingers snag the hem of Eraqus’s sleeve but the boy in black isn’t prepared for the weight of the rock at all. A face full of icy water takes him by surprise, nearly causing his grip to falter; only sheer refusal lets him hang on.

                The pair falls through the sea like the sky—the waters of Scala are deeper than anyone imagined. It’s a fathomless depth; they could be sinking for eternity. An entire world’s weight presses on Xehanort’s chest, coaxing his lungs to spasm. Common sense fights the urge while the boy in white watches with pleading terror.

                Natural instincts gets the better of Xehanort and the ocean invades his body—ending the struggle to save the person most important to him. White fabric slips from his hand and he can only watch Eraqus slip farther away while his body writhes for air. Dark water grows darker, thrashing becomes too much effort, and Xehanort slips away in regret.

~~~~~

                It’s bad enough that Eraqus had been found out, but when he ends up dragging Xehanort into the water with him, he’s mortified. With all his heart, he prays for his friend to let go but, with a look of absolute determination, Xehanort holds on.

                There is no relief when Xehanort finally does lose his grip: he’s clearly drowning. Getting to the surface on his own will be impossible—he’s going to die and it’s Eraqus’s fault. Those are unbearable final thoughts.

                One swipe of the keyblade severs the rope pulling Eraqus down and an aero spell propels him higher towards the motionless body. His own lungs are crying out for air but he’ll be useless if he blacks out now. Clinging tightly to the boy, Eraqus uses every ounce of energy he has to fight for the surface.

                Air fills his lungs, signaling the half-won battle. He struggles not to panic while dragging both himself and the unresponsive Xehanort from the water.

                “Xehanort! Hey, say something!” he demands, shaking the victim. “Wake up! WAKE UP!”

                Nothing. Ignoring the fear that will only get in the way, Eraqus presses down on his chest. His own breath comes in drags, but for Xehanort, he ensures his chest rises.

                No! Not you too! We lost everyone else! Please not you too!

                Pretty soon, Eraqus has to rely on touch alone to continue, blinded by his tears.

~~~~~

                Against his will, his body convulses. Water forces its way up, spilling across the ground and leaving Xehanort hacking through the pain.

                “Oh my gods! You’re okay!” The gray sky above greets him just beyond Eraqus’s shoulder—they’re still here. There’s really no chance to process the fact though before the rescuer pulls away, glaring. “What the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve died!” The anger doesn’t faze Xehanort, only reaffirms the things he’d been trying to put aside for so-called destiny. “You were this close to-”

                “I love you.”

                Those three words wipe the frustration clean. “What?”

                Pushing off the ground, Xehanort sits up, his tears warmer than the rain. “I love you, you clown.” A fist wipes at his tears in an attempt keep together. “And you were just gonna disappear while I was gone? I was supposed to come back and find out you drowned yourself right after I left?” Behind his drenched hair, the guilty hides. “So instead of asking what the hell I was thinking, how about you ask yourself that?”

                The response is pitiful stuttering. “I-I-”

                “You what?” Xehanort knows what. “Think you’re not worth it? Think that nobody will miss you? What gives you the right to decide that for someone else?” The seeker reaches out, using a firm grip to force Eraqus to meet his gaze. There’s hardly a thing he wouldn’t give to wipe the grief and regret from those gray eyes, but for now, Xehanort means to get his point across. “You don’t get to decide what you mean to me.”

                The cold, the rain, the uncomfortable feeling of being soaked, none of it matters the moment Xehanort drops his mouth onto Eraqus’s. Sure, he’s always been eloquent in his words, but in this moment, nothing he could say could better express the things he wanted Eraqus to know. Everything is poured into this connection, from his love to the fear he’d just experienced—all of it needs to show.

                While drowning in affection is certainly better than drowning in water, Xehanort breaks the kiss. Puffs of hot air float away while they attempt to recover. The boy in black is first, leaning back and shoving the hair from the face of his beloved. His adrenaline is gone, now replaced with the relief of various things. Wearily, he smiles at the somber boy. “How dare you try to take that away from me.”

                Eraqus’s lips twist and tears well in his eyes—that’s all the apology Xehanort needs. Prepared to wait out the sobbing, he pulls his mess of a loved one in and holds him tightly.

                In the white noise of the rain, with intermittent sniffles from the boy in his arms, Xehanort re-evaluates all his choices. Maybe the worlds need him to leave—to summon Kingdom Hearts and break everything down to nothing—but Eraqus needs him here. He could logic with himself all day that destiny and the fate of all the worlds meant more than the relationship of two teenage boys, but it’ll be a long time before Xehanort forgets the sight of Eraqus sinking into the watery darkness. Just thinking about it makes it all so very clear: Xehanort would forsake everything if it meant he got to keep Eraqus in his life.

                The man in the black coat can find another scapegoat. 

#xehaqus #xehanort #young xehanort #young master xehanort #eraqus #young eraqus #young master eraqus #xehanort x eraqus

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Faespeak

CHAPTER TWO

[You can find Chapter One here...]

(A/N: Sorry for the delay, but here is chapter two! This series will have alternating POVs, between Draco and Harry, so this chapter now begins Harry’s POV into our story)

Harry's days were generally the same, with some variations thrown in. He woke up in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place with the sun peeking through the slit of curtains that don’t block the window, shining directly into his eyes and blinding him for three seconds as he curses and repeats that he'll eventually fix that, or move his bed two feet to the right, either way. He eats a quick breakfast of toast and puts on a clean pair of Auror robes if he can find one, going into work. The fifew hours are dull, consisting of multiple cups of black coffee and numerous case reports he has to fill out and send off. He and Ron then take a lunch break where they go to the Ministry's Atrium and pick one of the three different shops open to eat at. (Of course, the Ministry offers a free lunch to every employee, though Harry knows very few willing to eat the disgusting slop they serve.) After eating, they head back to work in the hopes of finding an active case they could grab and head out with. Otherwise, unfortunately, more paperwork. 

And of course, the variations. Harry doesn't work weekends, usually, so he'll do his grocery shopping and visit the friends he doesn't see throughout his week. On Fridays he has dinner at Ron and Hermione's, on Sundays he has dinner at the Burrow, and on Tuesdays he has dinner with Andromeda and Teddy. Harry hardly ever feels lonely when surrounded by so many he loves- until he's home alone, again, every night. 

Other variations might include walking into an elevator and seeing Draco Malfoy for the first time in half a year. Harry pauses, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes scan Draco hungrily. He seemed almost radiant in his attractiveness, his black robes hugging tightly in just the right places, yet his eyes seemed to beg Harry not to try anything. Harry finally breaks from his trance, glancing over to notice someone else in the elevator before stepping on completely, turning his back to both of them. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to calm his racing heart.

It didn’t mean anything, obviously. The racing heart, the sweaty palms, the slight lift in his pants- Harry tried to convince himself that none of it actually meant anything. He just hadn’t expected to see Draco Malfoy. He hadn’t seen him in so long, not since Luna’s birthday party. He was just surprised, that’s it. He repeats to himself in his mind that everything is fine, and no, he does not need to ask Draco how he’s been, because that would just be awkward. Especially in an elevator, where Draco can’t conveniently make excuses and escape if he gets uncomfortable. Which he would, of course. Because Harry and Draco always turned awkward and uncomfortable, no matter what Harry tried. There was too much shared past that they’ve never spoken about, aside from quick apologies after Draco’s trial five years ago. 

Harry’s pulled from his thoughts by a tinkling bell-like sound, and for a moment he wondered if it was coming from the elevator. He glanced around slowly, studying the panels of the elevator before a familiar voice sounds from behind him. “You can talk?” Harry turns quickly, his eyes roaming over Draco’s astonished face.

“What?”

Draco glances toward Harry before averting his eyes to stare at the other occupant. Harry’s eyes dart over to see them once more as Draco accusingly said, “Were you just tricking me before?” The fae- which Harry understood now, taking in the long pointed ears he somehow missed before- started hopping and waving their arms around, talking animatedly in faespeak. The jingles sounded excited, like a toddler finding a new toy that made a sweet sound so they just kept shaking the bell as quickly as they could.

“What are you talking about Malfoy?” Harry asked, looking wearily between the two. The fae didn’t seem upset, but he could never understand their kind before. It was all too new for him, and they acted so oddly. When he finally let his eyes rest on Draco, he took in the stiff posture and familiar stern expression and couldn’t help thinking about their past once again. Harry could feel his own face harden, and he mentally sighed before asking, “Are you trying to bully this fae?”

Draco’s answering panic was quickly hidden under his Malfoy-famous blank expression, though it caught Harry by surprise and he felt a surge of guilt rise in his stomach. He could hear the fae speaking in the background, an almost constant noise of pleasant wind chimes or the sound of a breeze rustling leaves, but his attention stayed firmly on Draco. He may appear to be unconcerned, but his eyes show a different story. Harry had never been this close to him before, had he? Had Draco’s eyes always been this expressive?

“What,” Draco began, and his voice was low and breathless, and Harry had to swallow hard, “Please tell me you can hear them speak, Potter.” Draco waved a hand out toward the fae, Harry’s eyes tracking the movement before he is finally able to tear his eyes away and look back toward the fae. They were facing him, their hands on their hips with a satisfied expression, and Harry lost all of the drive he had behind the idea that Draco was bullying again. This didn’t seem like bullying, not when the fae looked so pleased and Draco looked ready to disapparate. 

Harry shook his head, peering back toward Draco. “No, I just hear faespeak.” Seeing the panic flashing in Draco’s eyes awoke something in Harry, something fierce and protective. Harry knew he had to do something or reassure Draco in some way. But it wasn’t his place, was it? They hadn’t spoken in half a year, and their last conversation was about whether the appetisers were over- or under-cooked, and they ended up agreeing to disagree by the end of the discussion. Would Draco take it as pity, if he offered to help? 

But what else could he do, Harry wondered? After seeing him now, after so long, and feeling such a strong reaction in response to just locking eyes? Harry couldn’t drop this, he knew. He had always been curious about Draco, even back when he was ‘Malfoy’ in his mind. Now things were different, and Draco was a good person working for the Ministry. And Harry knew nothing about him anymore. In the end, it was Harry’s own selfish desires that had him reaching out a hand and opening his mouth to offer help. He was interrupted by the loud ‘ding’ of the elevator, and Harry glanced back quickly to see the floor number.

At the sight of a floor number he didn’t recognise, he would have continued with his planned spiel if Draco hadn’t pushed past him quickly with a mumbled, “This is me then.” Harry turned, reaching out a hand toward Draco’s back once more before being pushed out of the way again by the fae, who was hurrying to follow after Draco. Harry finally dropped his hand, watching Draco slow to a stop and turn, their eyes meeting before the elevator doors close between them.

][][][][][][

Harry can get over it. He could totally move on from the scene that happened in the elevator. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t have even mattered in the first place. It certainly wouldn’t be replaying in his head over and over with added commentary such as ‘Draco’s looking much healthier than last time,’ or ‘Had Draco’s eyes always seemed that shiny? Were they actually shiny while it was happening or is that something I’m adding to the memory on accident?’

“You’re not gonna be able to get over it,” Ron mumbled, throwing a chip slathered in vinegar in his mouth. He continues speaking as he shoves more in, his other hand pointing a nonthreatening, droopy chip at him. “You’ve always been obsessed with Malfoy; you won’t move past this.” He shoves the droopy chip in his mouth finally and continues chewing, exasperation leaking from his form. Harry huffs, sinking lower in the uncomfortable Ministry cafeteria chair. He feels the plastic catch on his shirt, but he doesn’t bother trying to fix it.

“Then what exactly am I supposed to do then?” Harry glares half-heartedly toward him, ignoring his own fish and chips basket sitting in front of him. He still feels the roiling guilt in his stomach from accusing Draco so easily before. Maybe that’s what he needed to do, just find Draco and apologise for the immediate gut reaction. That’s not an excuse to see him again at all- Harry just needs to apologise! It’s clearly the right thing to do.

“You’re supposed to get over it,” Ron mumbled, tearing a piece of fish and eating it quickly, staring longingly at Harry’s full basket. Harry throws his hands up immediately, scoffing loudly.

“You just said I’m not going to get over it!”

“I did. Because you won’t,” Ron replied easily, not even taking the time to look at the glare Harry is directing toward him, instead finishing off his lunch. “You asked what you were supposed to do. In a normal situation, you get over it.” Ron finally met Harry’s eyes, unphased by the glare, “But you and Malfoy were never normal.”

“Then-!” Harry huffed, his face screwing up into a pinched expression as he tried to figure out how to reword his question.

“Look, mate,” Ron began, hooking a finger around Harry’s basket and dragging it toward his side of the table, “I can’t answer the question you want to ask. Because I don’t know.” Harry’s shoulders slump, and he lets his eyes begin to roam across the cafeteria slowly. “You were always unpredictable when it came to Malfoy. So yes, you should probably just ignore it and move past it. But will you? No.” Ron said this with absolute certainty, raising his eyebrows toward Harry and shoving yet another chip in his mouth. “Because it’s Malfoy, and it’s you, and that has always been complicated.”

“Thanks for the help,” Harry mumbled sarcastically, sitting up to reach for a chip from his basket before being pulled back just as quickly by his shirt, which was still caught by his chair. Ron laughed, Harry turned around to unhook himself from a loose piece of plastic, and everything seemed reasonable again. “Give me back my chips you hoover,” Harry replied in mock-anger, grabbing his basket and sliding it back to his side as Ron quickly reaches in to grab two more chips, still laughing.

Ron changes the subject, talking about a case he was stuck on and asking for advice on how to handle it. They’re not technically supposed to discuss open cases together since they’re not partners in the auror force, but they’ve never kept each other out of the loop. It was harder when Hermione had to take the Unspeakable oath, and they could both tell how difficult it is for her not to be able to brainstorm with them anymore. So they kept off topics related to work around her, which left this sort of conversation to only be had during their lunch. Harry’s mind wanders, thinking back to Draco. He was an Unspeakable as well, as far as he knew. Did Hermione and Draco work together in any cases? Would Hermione be able to tell him how Draco’s been looking lately, or today? If he seemed upset or preoccupied? Though being preoccupied appeared to be a constant for most Unspeakables, so it wouldn’t do to ask that. And how was he supposed to bring it up casually to her if they don’t ever speak of work together? Would Hermione even be able to answer a simple question of whether she’d seen him in the halls of their workplace, with the oath she took? 

“And then the gorillas danced on the rainbow before pulling maracas out of their arses.” 

Harry blinked quickly, shaking his head and turning toward Ron. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you’re listening now, are you?” Ron asked, grinning as he shoved another of Harry’s chips into his mouth. “For a second there I thought you would never hear what I was saying.” Harry laughed loudly, wondering when Ron had managed to re-steal Harry’s basket.

“How long have you been talking like that?” He didn’t bother taking the basket back; he didn’t feel too hungry anyway.

“Long enough to have named the gorillas’ Lucy, Mike, and Kevin. I thought you would have liked that one.” Harry barked out a laugh, thinking about the bastards down in processing who refused to take their paperwork unless every line was filled out and legible. Harry knew it was a reasonable request, but also they could go fuck themselves.

“Don’t let that get spread around. You’ll be doing the entire department’s paperwork for a week with that one.” Casting a tempus, both men stood and began gathering their trash, Harry slinging on his Auror robes over his common clothes. “You think there are any active cases to Diagon today? I need to swing by and pick up a housewarming gift for Gin.”

“You still haven’t been by to see Gin’s new place?” Ron asked, incredulous. “I waited for two weeks and she sent me a howler with a personalised bat bogey hex attached.”

Harry winced in sympathy before shrugging, “Well, I was planning on just mailing the gift. It’s still rather awkward between us whenever we’re alone after I broke up with her saying ‘I see us as siblings’ and she replied ‘Then why did we have sex?’” Ron laughed, then shuddered, and Harry shrugged again. “And anyway, Pansy isn’t exactly my biggest fan.” His mind wandered to her, dressed up to the nines with red pointed nails that terrified him more than the idea of Ginny’s bat bogey hex because he knew Pansy wasn’t afraid of making Harry bleed.

“Pansy is-” Ron hesitates, a pained expression crossing his face, “She’s not as bad as I once thought.” Harry blinked, furrowing his brow at this. 

“Wait, you think that a Slytherin is… ‘not as bad’?” Harry waited a few moments before placing a hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Ron batted his hand away with a laugh, “Oi, fuck off. I said what I said. It’s like what mum preaches; we’re not in Hogwarts anymore, their houses don’t mean shite in the real world.” He huffed before glancing at Harry from the corner of his eye and shrugging, “And anyway, Pansy means a lot to Gin now, so I wanna be supportive.”

Harry could feel his posture slump slightly. The idea of someone being important in Ginny’s life wasn’t a bad thing, he felt happy for her actually, but he could also feel the curl of jealousy and he felt tired of it. “I’m glad,” Was his response, though he hoped Ron wouldn’t pick up the hint of resentment in his voice. It wasn’t that he wanted Ginny back; Harry just wanted someone of his own. “It’s good to be supportive of your siblings.”

Ron elbowed him with a grin as they entered the elevator to head back down to the auror department, “Then I guess you better get on that housewarming gift then.” Harry’s answering groan only cause Ron to laugh harder.

][][][][][][

What Harry was not expecting when returning to his desk from lunch was Draco Malfoy leaning against said desk with an annoyed expression. He blames that distraction as the reason why he jumped when Hermione placed a hand on his arm, and he finally noticed the fae from earlier standing behind her with a pleased expression not unlike the one they had before in the elevator. He also caught sight of the matching denim-coloured robes that both Hermione and Draco still had on, and he wondered if they were here on Unspeakable business.

“Harry, hey, great to see you. Did you eat enough during lunch?” Hermione asked, a pleasant expression on her face, and Harry could feel himself relax at the touch and sound of his best friend. He hadn’t realised how tense he had gotten so fast. Harry chuckled softly, shrugging.

“You know how Ron is.” Hermione just tutted in response before straightening her posture. 

“Alright, well, I hope I can pull you away from your work for a quick moment. I asked Head Auror Robards, and he said it’s fine.” She smiled innocently, and Hary narrowed his eyes in response.

“Well, if you asked the Head Auror than I can’t exactly say no, can I?”

“Oh Harry, you always have a choice!” He could hear a scoff coming from his left, where Draco still sat against Harry’s desk with his arms crossed, glaring at the carpeted floor, and Harry couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment in his head.

“Hermione, I never really have a choice when it comes to you.” Hermione huffs disapprovingly, narrowing her eyes before grabbing his elbow.

“Come, let’s talk.”

tag list: @gallifrey1sburning, @fandomfan315, (please let me know if you’d like to be added when Chapter Three goes up!)

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #harry pov #nonbinary original character #fae folk #mutual pining #slight obsession #chapter two #faespeak

[poisxnyouth]

Journal Entries (& 2 Love Letters)

8/1/20

I feel so free. I feel accepted, and loved, and trusted, and I feel as though everyone in my life has faith in me.

For the most part, I have my friends to thank for these feelings of fulfillment. They’ve transformed me in such a short amount of time, and supplied me with memories that reek of our youth.

But I should also thank God for these things. I should thank Him for placing these people into my life, and maybe I should thank Him for putting my most difficult times ahead of my greatest. I don't think I would have appreciated these cherished moments so greatly.

The best part? I know the best is yet to come. I’m so in love with life right now. Everyone deserves to feel this happy, and if I can have a hand in positively influencing ANYONE’S happiness — I will.

P.S. I pray that God puts [redacted] and I together. I would him with everything I have to offer, but God knows that, and so does [redacted].

8/9/20

I’ve never felt so sure about something before. It feels so surreal. I never thought this type of thing would happen to ME, AT ALL — not this type of unabashed, unafraid, wholly submerged emotions.

In the best way possible, I feel like I’m drowning in him. I feel like his smell is permanently ingrained in me and even when I don't have him immediately on hand, when his smell isn’t present...it still is. I can smell it. That sounds so strange, but it’s comforting. It makes me feel so safe.

He is so wonderful, and is everything I think I’ve ever dreamt of and more. He might be my ideal person. Sometimes, I tell myself that it’s too early to even be thinking about any of this, but...I have such a good feeling about it that I am not all too concerned.

I feel so consumed by it, in the best way possible. Things that aren't my firsts feel like they are; he makes me feel so electric and makes everything feel as though they’ve never been done before. Is this what Madonna was talking about when she wrote Like A Virgin?

And he’s texting me right now about how iconic the word simp is, and I’m sitting here currently hating that we didn't meet sooner.

[Redacted] doesn’t know it, and I’m not sure he ever will, but I feel like I’ve been praying for him for years now.

It feels so silly and juvenile to actually say that, like a little girl confiding in her diary as if it’s her only friend, but it’s very true. I have been praying for this, and maybe unknowingly praying for HIM this entire time.

I cannot believe I’ve only met him four weeks ago. I would follow him into the darkness, and I would give him everything I have, but the best part about [redacted], the part that makes me feel so comfortable and confident about this, is he doesn't want everything I have. He wants me, and he wants everything with me.

Every song is about him, every scene in every TV show or movie is about him, and it feels as though everything which I do now has pieces of him in it. He is wholly taking over my life, making my heart hurt with happiness and love, keeping me up all night, anything else remotely possible, and I wouldn't trade it off for anything in the world. I have never felt so complete, and I want to be able to supply [redacted] with the same sureness that he’s given me. It’s my duty.

8/16/20

[Redacted]...where do I even begin? He is so good for me, and so good to me. Even when I leave him, I can still feel his hands lingering, and the taste of him in my mouth, and the scent of him in my nose.

I said it before and I’ll say it again — he is consuming me. He is on my mind all day, every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never want him to leave my brain.

For a long time, and every time I talked to a guy, there were lingering doubts everywhere I looked. I feel none of those with [redacted].

8/19/20

I feel so encaptured and captivated.

It’s been two and a half hours since I’ve seen him, and I still cannot stop thinking about returning to his hold.

I just feel so irrevocably GRATEFUL for this boy. I want him so bad that it hurts. I can see the world turn in his eyes, and I can feel the blood rushing through his veins whenever I hold or kiss him.

I’ve never spent time with someone where I can pause for a moment and realize that I can feel the love radiating off of them. I can never notice whose heartbeat is who’s (even though it’s probably always his).

Everything about him seems to linger. He’s everywhere, and he’s taking up so much space in my brain. I don’t care, though. I like it this way.

I wish we’d met a year and a half ago, but perhaps things wouldn’t have happened this way if we had. God was waiting on us, I suppose.

There are over a hundred and fifty thousand words in the English language, and I still don’t think I could correctly, and perfectly, string together the most fitting words to describe how I feel about [redacted]. I don’t think I can. I think of [redacted], and a million things run through my brain.

There is so much that I want him to know, and so much that I want him to teach me. I don’t want anyone else to teach him, and I don’t want to be taught by anyone else. He’s my boy now, in my heart and in my soul.

Love Letter #1 (9/2/20)

[Redacted]—

I don’t know if I’m going to give this to you, but I’m writing this to get my shit figured out. Most of it IS figured out, I guess, but I need to organize it.

Nothing is ever guaranteed, and you can’t walk into things expecting them to be. I’m sure you know this. There is a plan for everything, almost always undisclosed, and you always have to respect the outcome. That’s my fundamental belief with anything and everything, so you can see why this is very confusing for me. I don’t WANT to respect this outcome; it hurts too much, and I disagree with it. There is not one part of me that believes our time is up. You were, slowly but surely, changing my perspective on things.

I’m writing this before I know your answer, obviously. I don’t know what it will be. I’m preparing myself for the worst. I don’t even know exactly what that entails.

You were right about potential being the wrong word. The word is future. The future holds nostalgia — it’s delicate, but potent. When I look back in a few decades on the most transformative period of my life, YOU’RE what I want to remember. I don’t want to think back on a break up with unbridled bitterness; I want to think back to your hold, and I want to think back to feeling your heart pound and feeling the blood rush through our veins whenever we kissed. THAT’S what will hold a spot in my heart.

Every time I kiss you, or you kiss me, whatever, it feels like coming home. You feel like home, and if I’m being honest, you have since we met. You feel like home, you taste like home, you smell like home, your laugh sounds like home, seeing you everyday is like home…You’re my home. I can't think of one thing I hate about you. Nothing. I go blank.

But the list of things I love about you is too long for me to list all of them. I won't even attempt to begin, because I wouldn't even know where to start.

I wish you knew what you mean to me. You do, but you don’t. You know that I love you, and you know that I’m yours (for now, I guess, I don’t know), but you don’t know that thinking about you forces my head to begin spinning, in the best way possible. You don’t know that I count the minutes until I can see you again, and you don’t know that it feels like every song is about you. Everything comes back to you. Now you know, I guess.

I’ve written a lot of things about you, and for a while, I kind of thought that I’d run out of things to say. I don’t think I’m ever going to run out of words when I talk about you. There’s always something new.

Everything else feels like background noise when I’m with you. You’re in everything, and you’re home.

I love you so much,

Hailey

Love Letter #2 (9/3/20)

[Redacted]—

I keep thinking about everything and I keep replaying everything in my head. Earlier today, I was lying on Angelina’s floor, face stuffed into her weird carpet, and my thoughts returned to you again. I started thinking about when things first began, and I instantly wanted to write about what I was feeling — just to get it out of my thought process. I couldn't, though, and I hate writing on my phone because it doesn't feel as tangible, so I was forced to let it linger. That fact doesn't bother me; nothing is tainted with anger over resentment. It more so brings thoughts of what I enjoyed and what made me feel alive. When I think of the beginning of things, I remember getting nervous when we ended up sitting next to each other in the car, and I remember my heart racing at our first moment of alone time. I remember my pulse momentarily speeding up when our knuckles brushed in the lamp section at Ikea…(Stupid, I know, but it was a big deal to me.)

#i'll add a read more tomorrow #it's 5am i'm really tired & i'm on mobile #my writing

[nev3rfound]

the swan - chp.5: who is she?

nurse, friend, lover, assassin. these are the titles you were known under in his head, something he never wished to share until rumours spread of the swan being out of retirement. 

overview / chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine / chapter ten / chapter eleven /  chapter twelve (final chapter)

* writing in italics is past tense *

- collection of writing so far -

Everyone sits down as Tony lets out a heavy sigh, all ready to tell the team about their latest mission concerning his least favourite person in the compound.

“You all know about the Swan by now,” Tony states as he looks around the room as everyone shares glances whilst Steve remains quiet. “or have at least heard of the rumours that they’re back.”

No one is quite sure how long the Swan has been around. Some speculate fifty years, some say ten. It’s unknown whether it’s an organisation or an individual. But whatever they are, they’re dangerous and refuse to stop until they have what they want. In all of their known cases, they’ve never failed.

“The stunt on the bridge was them, right?” Rhodey asks as Tony nods, flicking the screen to show a series of pictures and videos that overlap showing what wasn’t seen by the public.

Steve winces silently at the images; the close-ups of the blood oozing from the bodies and the terror immortalised in their expressions.

“Yeah, and we know now there’s a pattern, hence why Barnes isn’t here,” Tony states as he turns his head, looking straight to Steve who tenses. “because,” Letting out a dramatic sigh Tony reveals a series of pictures from the course of the past twenty years all similar scenes left behind by the Swan. “they want him.” 

Pictures of dead HYDRA agents appear on the screen, each left with a message for another person in the organisation. “So the Swan is killing off HYDRA?” Natasha asks as she leans forward, analysing the pictures as Tony nods. 

“But Bucky never wanted to be apart of HYDRA, he was brainwashed.” Steve comments and Tony sighs. “Are they killing off everyone to do with HYDRA or just those in power?” 

Tony pauses the screen as various pictures of HYDRA agents, operators and directors lay displayed, all marked deceased. “Anyone and everyone. They’ve gone through families, Royalty, villages and children. They don’t give up.” The sentence remains heavy in the air as Steve shifts in his seat. “But we have an identity, it’s a start.” 

“Probably should’ve led with that one,” Sam mutters as he glances over to Steve who keeps a straight face as the news report replays from earlier. 

Everyone watches closely, but as Tony turns to face everyone with blank expressions he lets out a harsh sigh. “Zoom in again for me FRIDAY?” He asks and everyone watches the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, a person in a hood who turns their face up. “And focus on that?” 

Leaning forward Steve crosses his arms. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He mutters under his breath, unheard by everyone else in the room as the girl in the file, the one who he had just read about who died because of Bucky was the Swan. 

“We don’t know anything else yet, but we know she’s involved and is most likely our Swan.” Tony continues to talk, but Steve zones out as his mind races back to everything he just read in that file. 

All of the torture you went through, the reason you’re supposedly dead is because of HYDRA and Bucky. You’re alive and Bucky has no idea. 

*

Walking down the corridor, Bucky cannot get you out of his head. After decades of being brainwashed all he wanted were his memories back, but he had no idea they’d be this taunting. 

You weren’t the same when you woke up, Bucky could tell from the second you opened your eyes. 

He reaches out to hold your hand, but you stare at in pure fear as you backed away from him, shaking violently as your eyes lifted to see his. “Hey, it’s me, you’re okay.” He whispers to you through the bars, but you’re not hearing him, only seeing his lips move. 

“What’s happening to me?” You ask as tears stream down your face as dried blood lines your hairline, crimson clinging to the baby hairs. “They, they put something inside of me.” Weakly you lift your arm up, screaming as you touch your head as a wave of electricity surges through you. 

Clinging to the bars, Bucky yells your name as you lie on the ground in fits, shaking until you remain motionless. “They’ve done it,” Rick calls out as Bucky rises to his feet, turning his gaze from you to the man in the small window opposite. “not so tough and undefeatable now, Soldat. They got themselves a new weapon.” 

Since that day you were never the same person, not completely. More often Bucky found himself talking to a shadow of the woman he was falling for, and it was all his fault. 

He watched as you were taken away from the cell, dragged as you were unconscious and remained missing for days on end. You were no longer his Nurse or his toy, you were their new soldier. 

When you were returned to the cell, Bucky could see himself in you. The tired expression that was void of life, the bruises and cuts you didn’t even notice and the silence in your eyes. You sat there as Bucky tried to talk to you, remind you of who you were like you did countless times. He wanted to be there for you in the way he was thankful for. 

On rare occasions you came back, you were able to return for a short while because they wanted you to. It was all part of their plan to unravel their soldat, replace the harsh winter with an elegant swan. 

“I’m scared, Bucky.” Your legs remain close to your chest as you sit alongside his cell, his hand resting on your knees as his thumb rubs your skin softly. “I, I don’t know what they’re making me do when I’m, I’m her.” 

Bucky sighs softly as he lifts his hand up, resting it on your cheek as you turn your face, resting your cheek against the cool bars as Bucky faces you. “I promised you I’d get us out.” He whispers into your lips, his eyes darting from them to your eyes as any hope is vacant. “We’ll get out, Y/n. I can’t let you die in here.” 

“Aren’t you two romantic.” Rick comments with a loud laugh as you hide your face away in your lap whilst Bucky rises to his feet. “Oh come on, like you can do anything in there, Soldat.” He sarcastically remarks as Bucky tightens his fists. 

“Bucky, it’s not worth it.” You mutter and he turns back, seeing you as you smile softly to him before you blink rapidly, your expression changing as your face becomes pale. “Buck, something, somethings wrong.” 

“Happening isn’t it, kid?” Rick asks as a twisted smile crosses his face as you lift your hand up to your nose, blood dripping down as you wipe it, crimson covering your fingertips. 

“What’s happening to her?” Bucky asks as he slams his metal arm against the bars, one bending as Rick remains still, unphased by the action. 

“She’s dying.” He bluntly states as Bucky turns back, seeing the life leaving your eyes. 

Rushing over Bucky holds his arms through the bars, calling your name repeatedly. He knows they’re watching, but he can’t lose you, not like this, not yet. “Come on, Y/n. Please, please can you hear me?” He yells as you stumble on your feet, reaching up to your head as you cry. 

“It hurts, oh my god it hurts. Make it stop, make it stop!” You scream as you collapse to your knees close to Bucky, reaching out but he seems miles away, his voice a distant echo. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I, I’m sorry.” You mutter as you feel your heart stop, the device in your head sparks out as you hit the ground. 

“Y/n?” Bucky quietly calls out as you stare at him, wide-eyed before him. Shaking his head he falls into the bars. “No, no Y/n, you can’t. I promised.” He whispers to himself as he forces himself to turn away, he can’t stare at you, he can’t. 

“It’s all your fault, Barnes.” Rick chimes in as Bucky turns to see him smiling over at him. “We all know it. She’d be alive if it weren’t for you.” 

When Bucky was permanently changed to the Winter Soldier it was almost a relief to stop feeling. He didn’t have to picture you in his mind, the way you quietly laughed at his jokes or how soft you were in his grip. But importantly he didn’t have to hear the words that never fully left his memory. It’s all your fault, Barnes. Because he knew it was, he allowed himself to get close to you, humanise himself with you. If he hadn’t fallen in love, maybe you could’ve been freed. 

Hitting his fist into the wall, Bucky yells out knowing no one can hear him. 

The wall dents from his fist as he pulls it from the plaster, watching it crumble by his feet as he walks faster toward the gym, out of sight and mind from everyone else once more. 

“Is she still in New York?” Natasha asks as Tony shrugs his shoulders. 

“We don’t know, but I think someone is withholding some info, huh Cap?” Lifting his head up Steve stares at Tony who raises an eyebrow back, watching as Steve tenses in his seat. “You know something, don’t you?” 

Stuttering, Steve stands up. “The Swan is called Y/n, she, she was captured by HYDRA not long after Bucky was.” He sighs as he removes the file from inside of his jacket, letting it slide across the desk as pictures and documents cover the table. “Bucky thinks she’s dead, but like him, she was controlled to become another weapon.” 

Tony picks up her photograph, realising it’s the same girl. “Shit.” Tony mutters as he places the photo down onto the table, glancing back to see the cold-hearted woman on the screen compared to the bright smiled girl photographed. “Barnes doesn’t know, does he?” 

Steve shakes his head in response. “So how do we tell him?” Natasha asks as she reads over some of the pages before closing the file, the memories being all too familiar for her liking. 

“Sooner the better.” Tony states. “FRIDAY, where’s Barnes?” 

A moment of silence follows before FRIDAY answers. “Sargent Barnes is currently heading towards the gym, but I’ve had an intruder alert, in three different locations.” 

Steve glances over to Natasha who runs out of the room whilst Steve heads out to get his shield. “Where exactly, FRIDAY are these intruders?” 

“I’ve only found one, right near Sargent Barnes.” 

Bucky pauses as he reaches the gym, hearing the sound of broken glass. “Steve? That you?” He calls out, but no one responds. 

Automatically Bucky grabs a hold of his knife that he keeps a hold of at all times as it spins in his fingers. 

The sound of broken glass increases from around the corner, and slowly Bucky steps forward before a force hits him across the back forcing him to the ground. “Shit, FRIDAY, alert everyone there’s an intruder!” Bucky yells as he forces the weight off of his back, rising to his feet before holding the knife out in front of him. 

Lifting his head up, he stumbles backwards. “No,” He mutters as he lowers his knife. “that, that’s not possible.” 

Analysing the person before him all Bucky can see is the eyes, the eyes of the woman who he witnessed die before him. “Y/n?” He softly asks as he remains perfectly still whilst you tilt your head, keeping your gun and knife close as you take a step forward. 

“Who the hell is Y/n?” 

taglist (thank you for the endless support on this series)

@callie-bear15 @vgirl10123 @markusstraya @krystallynx @toxic-pineapple @not-jarred-padaleki @tearsforhan@worldofchoices  @hungrymango @puppetofyourdreams @alisa-m-a @musingsofafangirlblog @alecswcrlock @mywinterwolf 

#oh shits going down #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #the swan #the swan series #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #avengers au #avengers writing #avengers x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel writing #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel angst #avengers angst #avengers fluff

[your-turn-to-role]

~guess who's thinking about caleb again~

i haven't watched the latest ep yet, waiting for it to go up on youtube, but i've seen a couple scenes around and i know i'm gonna have a whole other post to write when i get context on those, so might as well put this up now

bc i was going back and watching the confrontation with the scourger in episode 70, and i'm really fascinated by the line "she is me if i had turned out to be me"?

bc like... liam does a really good job of playing this character dealing with incredible trauma and the after effects of abuse and radicalization, but the other narrative that caleb thoroughly embodies is that of the prodigy, the gifted child. and that's one thing that doesn't even need a great evil to cause, just a few genuinely well meaning people who think they know the kind of person you'll turn out to be

kids like that, aren't raised to believe skill is something you work at. they're raised to believe skill is something you are. either you're innately talented, or you're not, it's not something you control. but if you are talented (and i use that word specifically here to mean "showing signs of being good at the things society values"), then that's something you're praised for, typically the only thing you're praised for, and you know, kids like being praised, they like feeling special and important and valued. and sooner or later it kind of becomes your whole identity, because that's all you've ever been told you are. and as you grow you're continually held to that standard and not really given any room to make a mistake, because once you do it means you've failed, and you can't fail, so you must not be you anymore. and if you're not you, you're not anyone, so how can you expect to have value?

it shouldn't really be a surprise therefore, that kids like that become incredibly easy to manipulate, and in the case of caleb and the other vollstreckers, to radicalize. you've been held to arbitrary standards your whole life, adding more means nothing to you. you've been raised to believe that your worth is based on how well you achieve, specifically how well you achieve compared to others, and that's a measure decided by your teacher. you have an innate sense of superiority for being better than everyone else, because this is the place you've been raised to believe you deserve, but it's also the place that one misstep will have it taken from you.

those kids wouldn't have complained, because that would make them failures, secretly unworthy. abuse gets by without a word because it's now a competition to see who can put up with the most shit without breaking, to see who's stronger. being hurt is a point of pride, having residuum shoved into your arms is a good thing, because it makes you special, and important, and it reminds you you're not a failure. it makes you stronger. as long as you keep enduring it, you still have value.

and then it goes deeper still, because this makes kids who at their core are scared. scared of messing up. scared that one step out of line will be the end of everything they've ever known. scared of their own emotions, ashamed of having them. scared of being anything but what they're told to be. absolute trust in their teacher, not because he's worthy of it, but because they have no choice. at this point, they believe all this too. so why wouldn't they trust him? he's the one making them stronger, he's the one keeping them perfect.

he's also the one with the ability to take all that away, but that wouldn't happen to them, that's for the other people, the failures. the failures deserve it.

and if he gives them a list of people he says are traitors to the empire and deserve to die, they believe it. and they need some kind of control in their life, some outlet for every emotion they're not allowed to feel, and anger and pain make pretty good ones in a pinch.

which brings us to caleb. and the way he talks about who he used to be.

because on one hand, caleb has detatched himself a little from that line of thinking. it's been a long time since he was truly immersed in it. he realised ikithon had faked his memories and all of it was a lie, and he lost his trust in ikithon, in the cerberus assembly, in the empire.

he actually lost his trust in everything, because he didn't have trust in anything else. jester asks him if he still believes in what trent was preaching and he tells her he doesn't believe in anything anymore. he knows enough to know it all was wrong, but there was nothing left to fill in the gap, so he's just getting by the best he can and trying to figure it out.

but his identity, his sense of self, is still tied up with that boy who was on the fast track to becoming one of the assembly one day. look at how he talks about what happened, he doesn't say he got away from it, he says "i failed". caleb doesn't want to go back to the assembly, but his ideal self is still there. who he believes he is, is still there.

"if i had turned out to be me"

he does not in any way identify with the person he is right now. he doesn't even really see it as a person, because identity was always linked with achievement, with the empire. he's surviving, but he's not real.

and i think that's one of the reasons he has such a hard time detaching himself from who he was back then, what he did. why he believes without a doubt he is a bad person. why he's always the first to put himself down when nott says he's on his way to being something great. the main reason is of course that it was a hugely terrible and deeply traumatizing thing, but aside from that, all of this, everything he's done since he killed his parents, it's an afterthought. bren aldric ermendrud was a prodigy, caleb widogast is a failure and worth nothing.

bren aldric ermendrud was an evil person who murdered his entire family. caleb widogast can't forgive that, because caleb widogast has no value compared to the person he could have been. caleb widogast is a nice lie you tell people to make them feel better about a situation they can't fix. caleb widogast is a fairytale.

but caleb widogast is starting to be things. caleb widogast is a fighter, was a pirate, is a protector, is a revolutionary. caleb widogast has friends, and they're all traitors to the empire but he finds he doesn't care as much anymore, not like bren would.

bren's still in there, still disappointed over everything caleb's doing, still horrifically ashamed. still replaying the moment everything changed over and over in his head. but it's been a while since it paralysed him. it's gonna take caleb a while yet before he even realises he's still holding himself to those standards, and a hell of a lot longer to forgive himself, but i think when he does come to the realisation that he has worth as caleb, that'll be the first step

(and he'll always have scars, mental and physical, those are unavoidable, he's been through too much and done too much. but hopefully his friends can help him heal)

(and fuck i'm excited to see this further confrontation with the person who is a mirror of caleb's past future in all the worst ways)

#critical role #cr2 #caleb widogast #cr meta #trent ikithon #text #meta #cr thoughts #c2e70

[lunar-ribbon-mmx]

Please read my first ever Zerox fanfic~

Over the edge

This started as a simple headcannon and then the damn story just wrote itself. The first draft of a possible fanfic I want to write, I’d like your feedback!!!! Maybe I’ll publish on Archive of Our Own? OwO

Summary: Zero enters a Dr. Light capsule during X5 and has a special request for Dr. Light.

Prompt: Zero being emotionally vulnerable      # Hurt and comfort      # It hurts so GOOD      # Contemplating my life and crying over gay robots      # Everyday

Headcannons to keep in mind • In X5 while you play as Zero collecting the armor parts from Dr. Light’s capsule in Slash Grizzly’s stage: Zero was asking Dr. Light “I keep having strange dreams about an old scientist, do you know him?” And looking apprehensive, Dr. Light told Zero “sorry, I don’t…..” • Dr. Light doesn’t want Zero knowing who Dr. Wily was (would bring up bad memories and give Zero knowledge about his original programming, which was really destructive). Plus, X would be absolutely devastated to find this out. Dr. Light wants his son to live in peace, so he lies to Zero. • Dr. Light trusts Zero to give the armor parts to X, he knows it’s a very secure process. The fact that Zero even asks Dr. Light about his dreams shows that he trusts him • Dr. Light is a cyber ELF. I mean think about it; he is able to create an android with the ability to think, worry, and have free will and even have a Turing test inside a capsule for 100 years. Don’tcha think a man like that could also upload his consciousness into a hard-drive before he died to interact and help his creation navigate the world? How else do you think he knows X’s location EVERYWHERE and knows about Zero and Alia?          o MMX 4 wiki: “In some games like Mega Man X7, Dr. Light's messages appear to be recorded reproductions, while in Mega Man X5 and Mega Man X6 it appears he is sentient and aware of his surroundings, interacting with the person that found the capsule and talking about recent events.” • X’s room is well-organized and only Zero is allowed in there • X and Zero sleep together to stop Zero’s nightmares • X never getting to process what’s actually happening. No wonder he behaves the way he does in X7. Zero feels bad for the way he’s been treating X….

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

Scene 1: The fated meeting

-At Grizzly Slash’s stage in X5; Zero arrived at a Light capsule and entered. He seemed so confused and eyes heavy with questioning. Dr. Light’s hologram illuminated the inside of the capsule, atoms integrating.-

Zero: “I keep having strange dreams about an old scientist, do you know him?”

-Dr. Light knew EXACTLY who Zero was talking about, his old colleague; Dr. Wily, who reprogrammed all the original robot masters into doing his evil bidding. This ruined the integration of robots into human society and made humanity even more afraid of technology. That was never what Dr. Light wanted. Dr. Light hated lying but decided this would be for the best. He had no idea how to answer that question without hurting Zero and possibly helping Zero remember about his original destructive nature.

Dr. Light: “It pains me to see you suffer….but I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.”

Zero: “It’s ok, I wasn’t expecting an answer…..I’ll give X the armor program then….”

–Zero looks over dejectedly and his frown grew deeper but he hid it or at least he thought he did but Dr. Light caught on. If anyone knew the answer, it should have been Dr. Light. Zero’s past was shrouded in so much pain and mystery, he wishes he could find out who his creator was and what his purpose is.

-He also wishes deep within his core for the ability to understand something deep inside of himself and that he can’t put into words, but that he feels only around X.-

-Maybe, just maybe X’s creator would know….- -Zero glances around hopefully before leaving the capsule.-

Zero: “Dr. Light; I understand that you don’t have the answers I’m looking for and you can’t give me any armor upgrades because you don’t know my internal schematics and construction. And that’s ok, I’ll keep downloading the armor parts for X because I care about him. But I have one specific request.”

–He looked over at the hologram of Dr. Light tentatively. The red ripper’s thoughts swirled in his head, words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.-

Zero: “Can you program me with the ability to feel deeply and cry? I want to be able to f...feel the same way X does so I can understand him better.”

-Zero looks away hesitantly, feeling vulnerable and wondering if he should dash out of the capsule. Is this what humans call embarrassment? The crimson hunter felt his face heat up, but he wasn’t even sure if he had the ability to blush. But all the embarrassment in the world was worth it if he had the opportunity to understand the sweet azure hunter that always fought alongside him.-

-Dr. Light looks surprised and contemplates; then he smiles brightly at Zero, a secret only the 2 of them share.-

Dr. Light: “I’m glad both you and X found each-other, it truly is miraculous. Of course I can fulfill your request Zero, I am honored! This is the very reason I entrust you with X, I know you’ll take great care of him. I know you understand that downloading the armor parts and then uploading it into X is a very secure process and not everyone can be trusted to do it. As we both know, X is very innocent and naïve and I’m glad he found someone like you to guide him.”

Zero: “T…thank you Dr. Light…X means the world to me and I would do anything to keep him safe, including sharing his sorrow.”

Dr. Light: “It is safe to step into the capsule. Zero, just close your eyes, relax, and let the data flow through you.”

–Zero felt his core thrumming, filled with energy and warmth. He felt safe being bathed in the light of X’s creator. Dr. Light’s cybernetic hands reached into the deepest parts of his mind, new lines of code being etched and woven into his very existence. His body felt like he was floating into a different dimension, ethereal and at the same time, very comforting. As soon as the process finished, Zero stepped out of the Light capsule with a subtle smile on his face.-

Zero: “I’ll make sure to deliver the armor parts to X, and thanks for everything.”

Dr. Light: “I wish for your journey to be in peace, farewell Zero.”

-The mere bonds of these 2 reploids were iron-clad, the biggest irony was that his rival’s masterpiece ended up being the best friend of his creation, Megaman X.

“That’s the biggest fuck you to Dr. Wily if I’ve ever seen one!” Dr. Light chuckled to himself.

With these 2 together side by side, nothing could stop them and the world could finally achieve peace by having reploids and humans being together in harmony.

–And with that, the molecules of data that made up Dr. Light’s body dissipated back into cyberspace.-

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

Scene 2: Sync and share

-Zero and X go back to Hunter HQ after a long mission, into X’s room to rest and recharge. It’s more spacious and comfy and feels more like a home than Zero’s room. X is into human culture; so his room is well-organized with furniture, books, and a bed. It’s their own private space, and Zero is the only one allowed into X’s room.-

Zero: -lightly jabbing X’s side- “So X, I found your dad on my mission. He gave me some more armor parts for ya.”

X: -giggled as he was ticklish- Thanks Zero, you’re the best! –his bright emerald eyes and shy laughter made Zero’s pulse quicken. The crimson hunter lived for moments of peace like this, seeing X smiling and relaxed. They both sat on X’s bed, removing other parts of their armor, but leaving their helmets on. Their intricate circuitry was filled with tactile sensors, muscles taut from all the battles they’ve endured together.-

-They both leaned into each-other, receptors coming alive; hands melding into each other for warmth and closeness-

-As X and Zero’s forehead gems pressed together, deep pools of azure blue gazed into verdant emerald green. This was an intimate way that reploids connected. It was a trusting gesture used to interface thoughts, memories, data, and share ideas.

-They both felt their cores thrum gently; a pleasant pulse of heat enveloping both of them. Usually, this was their ritual almost every night to either help X download his armor parts or help Zero fall asleep because of his constant nightmares, but today felt different.-

-An intense wave of emotions suddenly washed over Zero’s body, making him dizzy. He was swept into X’s unconscious mind, which was usually blocked off. All the memories that replayed flowed deeply within X and himself; he felt them at every atom of his being, ingrained into soul. Guilt, sadness, pain, anguish, regret, memories of Zero smiling, laughing, dying, all the Maverick wars, Sigma, Vile, broken reploid bodies, the virus, all of X’s friends that he used to work with turning into Mavericks and him having to retire them, everything.-

-Zero was shocked, beneath the kind-hearted smile of X was…..all of this darkness. The crimson hunter felt absolutely overwhelmed; he felt so much concern for X, that this was the true extent and nature of X’s emotions and suffering. He felt ashamed for getting mad at X for not wanting to battle anymore, he wished he could be more supportive.-

-X was exhausted, he didn’t realize the mindlink they were establishing was letting Zero into the innermost parts of him, parts that he buried and repressed, as he knew no one else would understand. He trusted Zero so much that he subconsciously let his guard down around him.-

-That was the difficult part about being the father of all reploids…he had no one to talk to about his feelings or else he would get ridiculed. He had to be strong for everyone, fighting in so much wars he never got a chance to process his feelings, as well as losing Zero multiple times. That would break any human, but it was considered normal for reploids…..A sad but true fact X had to accept in order to keep fighting for the utopia he wanted.-

-The most painful of X’s memories were of Zero’s death; he saw X fighting tirelessly to reclaim his body parts from the X-hunters who tried to defile Zero’s body and revive him as a Maverick. And after the Eurasia incident, he saw X clenching on to his z-saber every night, crying himself to sleep until his tear ducts ran completely dry and his voice synthesizer was hoarse from screaming. He refused to be near anyone. He lay in his room as a lifeless shell of his former being.-

-And coming to a huge realization, Zero thought to himself “is this what Dr. Light enabled me to feel?” The revelation came to him with such shock that his breath hitched in his throat. He clenched at his chest, never realizing how much of an impact his absence had on X. He always thought the world would be better without him, since he was the original carrier of the Maverick virus and he hated himself for that. All the bloodshed, wars, engaging in pointless conflict; for what? He just wanted all of it to be over, by sacrificing himself for the greater good of the planet.-

-X could feel all of that in his soul as well.-

-Zero gasped and pulled apart.-

“…X, I h….had no idea…that you’ve been going through all of this. I’m s..sorry for e…everything. I’m s..so sorry.”

X: -getting closer to Zero- “It’s ok Z, I’ll be alright~” –The gentle azure android looked up at Zero with a pain filled smile; his emerald eyes glistening with torment.-

- And in that moment, Zero lost his composure. Something inside of him broke.-

- He felt something raw and foreign overtake him, a sudden wave of sadness that threatened to spill over and consume his very being. He felt powerless and didn’t know how to stop it.-

-Zero panicked when he felt something warm and wet at the corner of his eyes. Small tears pricked at his eyes and he couldn’t even react in time to hide from X.-

-Zero started sobbing.-

- X’s emerald green eyes opened wide; he never in a million years would have imagined this was possible for the crimson warbot. What X saw broke his heart and amazed him at the same time.-

-X immediately wrapped his strong arms around Zero, trying to calm him down. Zero struggled in his grasp, trying to break free at first and then relaxing in X’s hold. He slumped against him and buried his face into X’s neck, holding on to him for dear life. X tried his best to comfort his friend by rubbing circles against his back. He gently held the sides of Zero’s helmet so that Zero could look up at him, wiping away the tears from his sapphire eyes with his thumb. X was surprised at how soft Zero’s synth skin was.-

X: “Z…Zero, I’ve always wanted you to know, it’s not your fault, you’re not that same person, so please don’t hate yourself. You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it to me. You’ve always done your best to protect me and everyone else on this Earth. And for that, I truly appreciate everything you’ve done.”

-Zero continued to cry, his voice slightly quivering.-

X: “Together, we can do anything. Just stay by my side, p..please don’t go again, I missed you so much. Everyday, I thought of you and wanted you back more than anything else in this world. I don't want to be alone Zero….I don’t want to be in a world without you. I’d do anything, even go to the depths of hell itself to find you and I mean that.”

-X cradled Zero’s body closer to himself, trying to absorb as much of the crimson hunter’s existence as he could. His emerald green eyes were dull. His voice cracked and he started crying as well. He couldn’t even process how Zero came back and that he was alive and in his arms at this very moment.-

Zero: “X….X, I didn’t know you felt that way about me; I also care about you too. I’ll do anything it takes to keep you smiling. I’ll fight by your side to make that utopia a reality.”

-They both held on to each-other through the stormy ocean of turbulent emotions, feeling all the grief they’ve held on to for too long, all the unspoken words, all the trauma, all the anger. Everything just came out into a spiraling whirlpool. But they had each-other, so they wouldn’t get lost at sea.-

-Even though they were both crying, Zero wholeheartedly felt happy. Truly, genuinely happy for the first time in his life since he was created. He didn't even know it was possible for a warbot like him to have these types of feelings. The whole world could have ended today, but that was all right as long as he had X by his side. Smiling, laughing, holding him softly, comforting him, willing to fight through anything.-

-Zero pulled X into his lap without a second thought; gaining a startled response from him. X’s face was flushed; shimmering, expressive green eyes trickling with tears and mouth slightly open. He gently wiped away X’s tears, smiling at him; face leaning in closer, breath making their synth skin tingle. All their circuitry was tuned in to each-other, their cores synching, warmth filling every mechanical fiber of their being. Eyes half-lidded, Zero tilted X’s chin up, rubbing the bottom of his lip with his finger, tracing how supple it was. 

-Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss; a moment feeling more right than anything else in their existence.-

#mmx #megaman x #zero #zerox hard #zerox everyday #fanfiction #i cried writing this #sobbing over gay robots #i love them so much #hurt and comfort #angst #they love eachother more than anything else in this world

[sky-scribbles]

It’s time for Chargestep angst! Inspired by a conversation on the discord about what might happen if Sidestep overheard Ortega saying some... less than encouraging things. m!Ortega x nb!Sidestep, ~2500 words, massive Retribution spoilers.

It’s frightening, how easy it is to do the unforgiveable.

You’re leaning against the counter in the Rangers’ break room, tired and drained after a day in the field, listening to Chen talk about Re-Genes. Murmuring your disbelief when he talks about the things he saw in the army, the destruction unleashed by tattooed creatures with blank eyes. And you’ve forgotten that Wren is there. A quiet presence in the corner, buried in a book but listening to every word you say.

So when Chen finishes telling you about the time a Re-Gene torched an entire unit and picked off the wounded, you do it. You make your mistake.

Something inside you is seething as you think about what Chen had to see. About the nightmares he must still have. Your mods are aching – a reminder of your government’s heartlessness, carved into your flesh in pain and metal. You’re sick of them and sick of their damn experiments. And if Wren has stopped reading and gone still, you don’t see it.

‘They should never have made the Re-Genes,’ you say. ‘It would be better if they’d never existed.’

Wren’s coffee mug slips from their hand and smashes.

You throw yourself upright and take a couple of steps towards them. ‘Are you OK?’

They give the tiniest nod and crouch down, pushing the broken pieces into a pile. ‘Sorry. I was… holding too many things, I guess. I…’

‘Don’t do that with your bare hands.’ You can’t hide your smile – they’re remarkably helpful for someone who insists their hero persona’s dead. And when they don’t look at you, but keep scooping up china fragments, you reach out to catch their hands in yours before they can cut themselves –

Wren lurches back as if you’d swung a knife at them.

For a moment, the three of you are frozen. Chen sitting up straight, frowning. You, crouching with your hands extended. Wren standing, their body taut and poised. Like a bird that goes still when it sees a threat, before exploding into flight.

You meet their eyes. And you know with a terrible certainty that the threat is you.

And it’s like the eye contact snaps a tripwire inside them, because they spring into motion, snatching up their book and whirling around. Out of the door in a moment, no explanation, no turning back when you call their name, or when Chen shouts that they can’t get out without clearance. Just the thump as the door shuts, and they’re gone.

There’s a pause. Then Chen gets to his feet, his frown deepening. ‘I’ll let them out. Any idea what just happened?’

Numbly, you shake your head.

Chen leaves, and you stare at the broken mug, at the spilled coffee creeping across the floor. You should probably clear it up. But it’s hard to think about that, when your mind’s full of the memory of how Wren looked at you. The soft brown eyes that you fell in love with, widened in fear, hardened with fury. With hate.

You sink into their empty seat, watching the coffee’s oozing progress. Only once before have you seen them freeze and run like this: when you slipped your fingers under their shirt in that alley. This has to be the same. Another stupid misstep, a boundary crossed.

Closing your eyes, you play the scene again in your mind: you and Chen, talking. Wren, dropping the mug. What did you say that hurt them? You were talking about Re-Genes, you said something like, they should never have existed. Why would that hurt Wren? Why would that hurt anyone, unless –

Unless they were –

No.

The coffee touches the tip of your shoe, but you don’t move. Just replay the scene one more time. Re-Genes. The shattering mug. The pain and rage in Wren’s eyes.

No. No, no, no. They can’t be.

And yet. All those layers, even on the hottest days. The way they froze when you touched their skin in the alley. The demand they made that night: keep the lights off.

Oh. Oh, god.

The door swings open, and you’re on your feet in a heartbeat. Pushing past Chen as he re-enters the room, racing down the corridor towards the exit. He shouts after you, of course – ‘Couldn’t you have gone after them before I walked to the door and back?’ – but you don’t stop. You just keep running, because you have to. You don’t know what’s going through your head and maybe you don’t want to, but you need to reach Wren, and soon, because if you don’t, you will probably never see them again.

(You’re reaching out for them as the window fractures, their name tearing from your lips, your fingers closing on air as they fall –)

You need to know. You need an answer. You need to be sure.

And you can’t watch them fall away from you again.

You’ve been to Wren’s apartment once before. They were in a bad place, and they needed someone – needed you – to stay with them until it passed. So you curled up on the couch with them and binged movies until past midnight. As the evening grew darker, they slipped their hand over yours and traced lines on the back, weaving lines between mods and scars.

Such a human gesture. Surely only a human would make it. Surely Wren can’t be –

They’re already there by the time you arrive; you can hear them moving on the other side of the door. You stand there for a while, listening to their footsteps, trying to gather the nerve to knock. If you didn’t feel so incredibly nauseous, you’d laugh at yourself. All those villains faced down, and this is what paralyses you. Knocking on a door.

Of course, it’s more than that. Knocking means facing what Wren maybe is, and what you definitely said.

You knock, static sparking between your hand and the doorknob as you reach out. The sounds of movement stops. Ten seconds slip by, then thirty, then sixty.

‘Wren. I know you’re there.’ Your throat is dry; you swallow and try to keep your words from cracking. ‘Can we… can we talk?’

Another minute trickles by, sluggish as coffee over the break room floor. And then there are quiet footsteps, and the door opens. Just the barest of cracks. Enough for Wren to fit part of their face through, and definitely not enough for you to get inside.

‘Why are you here?’

They don’t look at you as they speak – which is a relief, because you’re not ready to see that look in their eyes again. All the same, you stare at them. Stare at the face you know, the face you’ve smiled at and touched and kissed, a face with moles and scars in patterns you’ve memorised by heart. Human marks, human flaws.

They can’t be –

(What if they are? What if everything was some kind of trap, a lie? But they cried when you said you loved them, cried and smiled and held you like you were something precious, and no one could lie that well, god, please let no one lie that well –)

‘I need to talk to you.’ Shit, you sound even more hoarse than Wren does. ‘I… you ran off earlier, and I –’

‘I’m fine.’

‘No. You’re not. And I – I think I know what I said.’

Wren’s eyes snap up towards you. And there’s that look again, hard and angry and wary, making your insides twist into knots. But they step back, and let the door swing open, waiting with one foot wedged into the door so it can’t close behind you.

‘You didn’t say anything,’ they say, once you’re over the threshold. ‘I just… I had to go.’

‘No. It was because of what I said, wasn’t it? Chen and I were talking about the Re-Genes.’ You study their face, looking for a sign, a reaction, a clue. Nothing. ‘And you…’

‘And I left. Because I’ve got things to do.’

Their gaze flits around the room and you follow it, taking in the clothes flung into piles, books placed in stacks. An open bag in a corner. Panic flares in your gut, sickening and electric.

‘You’re packing, aren’t you? Wren, you – you can’t run. Not again.’

Wren’s jaw is tightly clenched. It’s also trembling. ‘Why do you care?’

Something clicks inside you. Why Wren doesn’t expect you to care, why they’ve always found it so hard to believe that you care.  And as soon as that clicks, something else snaps, because you care so much you think it might break you and you need everything in the open, you need to be sure.

‘Just answer one thing for me. Please. If the answer’s no, this is going to sound crazy, but… I have to know.’ You take a step towards them, hands held up. Wait for them to meet your eyes. ‘Wren. Are you a Re-Gene?’

Silence as the words fade out. Wren stares at you. Eyes huge.

Then they run.

They run, again, out of the open door before you can move to stop them. And you run after them. You run because if they make it along the corridor and down the stairs and out the front door, you know they will never come back.

Wren was always fast. But you have your mods, and you’re a foot taller, and while they could always beat you for climbing or stealth they could never outpace you. They’re rounding the corner when you reach out to grasp them. And you were prepared for them to struggle, but not for the sheer ferocity with which they do it. They don’t just try to squirm away – they twist in your grip and launch themselves at you, fists jamming into the places where your old wounds still hurt.

It takes everything you have just to hold on, so it’s a moment before you realise that they’re screaming out words. ‘I’m not going back! I won’t let you, let me go, I won’t let you take me back –’

You don’t know how many times their fists rain down on you, and you don’t know how long you stay there, numb to the blows as they writhe in your arms. All you know is that the entire world depends on you clinging to them with every scrap of strength you have left, because if you let go, they will run and run and you will never get to hold them again.

(And for a moment, the world seems to blur, like your stunned mind has given way and thrown you back in time. You’re in a different apartment block, seven years and a funeral ago. Balancing on the edge of the window with Wren in your grip - because this time, you were fast enough to catch them. Your arms are the only thing between them and the abyss and you cannot, must not let go.)

It’s only when they stop struggling that reality asserts itself again. They’ve gone still in your grasp, though their chest is heaving for breath. Yours is, too.

‘Ricardo,’ they say, and oh god, you’ve never heard your name become a snarl before. ‘Let me go.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘I know you won’t believe me when I say this. But I’ve –’ A sound escapes them, quiet and shuddering and desperate. ‘I have cared for you more than anything, for nearly all my life. Cared with every inch of this useless synthetic heart. But if you try to take me back, I swear I will fight you to the last drop of my blood.’

Even through their layers, that synthetic heart is pounding hard enough for you to feel the impact against your arms. It feels real. It is real.

Synthetic. Grown in a tank. You should be pushing them away, but you’re holding on anyway. You don’t know where they think you’re going to send them, but you can feel the terror of it in every inch of their body. And even though you’ve always been told that Re-Genes are incapable of fearing, incapable of caring –

‘I believe you.’

Silence again, because for a moment, their breathing stops.

‘I can’t let you go. I made you a promise, I told you I wouldn't leave again.’ They were in your arms, your bed, sobbing into your shoulder and you held them close and promised.  ‘And that… that includes letting you leave, letting you be on your own again, with people hunting you down. I won't let you go, Wren. I let you go once, I let you fall, and I won't do it again, I'm not letting you go.’

Are you crying? Maybe. You don’t care.

‘Why would it matter to you? You’re right. We shouldn’t exist. I shouldn’t.’

‘I was wrong.’ You’re definitely crying now, but you force the words out all the same. ‘I didn’t know… they told me you didn’t have feelings. People like you, I mean. And I believed them. But either the government’s lied to me about –’ Say it, say the word, make them know you’re not afraid of it – ‘about Re-Genes, or you lied to me about yourself. And I don’t trust them, Wren. I trust you. What I said was wrong. It was cruel, and it was awful, and I am so, so sorry.’

For a few seconds, you can’t speak. And when you can, your words are half sobs.  ‘I’m not going to let them have you. They’re not taking you again. Just… don’t run. Please don’t run.’

Wren’s hands close over your arms. It’s not exactly a tender gesture, because their grip is hard, and yet something about it is comforting.

‘If I believe you,’ they say, very slowly, ‘and you’re lying, and you take me back, they will do worse than kill me.’

‘Then give me an hour. There’s a lot that I don’t understand, and I want to. Will you tell me everything you can? Because I was wrong, and I need to be set right. And at the end of an hour, if I haven’t said the things you need to hear, if you don’t feel safe around me anymore… then you can run as far as you need to, and I swear I won’t follow.’

They breathe in, deep and slow. ‘You’ll let me go?’

And it kills you to do it, but you nod. Because if you can’t make them feel safe and loved, you don’t deserve them.

Wren releases the breath. ‘One hour.’

So you do it. Like releasing a bird. You’ve clung to them since you found them again in that diner, but now you need to do the most painful thing you can think of, because it’s the only way you can ever make this right. The only way you can ever have a future together.

You’re already overbalancing on the edge; you were always going to fall. All you can do is make sure you fall together.

You open your arms. You let go.

And, one hour later, they don’t run.

#fallen hero #fallen hero fanfic #fallen hero: retribution #chargestep #ricardo ortega #nb!sidestep #oc: wren serrano #otp: let myself be seen #blame the discord #non-canon of course but i couldn't resist the angst #sky's writing #fallen hero spoilers