#this time ill use the Text feature n not just write it
Photo
also posting these two on their own :-)
based on This post by @outpastthemoat
#wanted to post it on its own as well#and also added text for fun#atla#avatar#Avatar The Last Airbender#sokka#katara#zuko#aang#suki#toph beifong#alta fanart#my art#fanart#me Everytime i add text to my art#this time ill use the Text feature n not just write it#3 seconds later Ew im to lazy for that it seems like to much work#asgdhjsagd
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hiii i was wondering if you would write a blurb about vamp h taking care of a drunk y/n lol i think it’d be awfully cute omg or a girls night out (+ one vampire) and he’s like trailing after her trying to keep her out of trouble
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—————
"Darling, are you certain you are not going to be cold?"
Twisting and turning in the mirror, her dress ruched over her body in tight folds, it took all of (Y/N)'s effort to keep her smile at bay. "I'm sure I'll be fine, H. It's not that cold out, and we won't be spending much time outside anyway."
It was clear he still wasn't pleased at her answer with the way he folded his arms across his chest and set his mouth in a grim line. (Y/N) had to bite back her smile lest he see her amusement from where he was leaning against the doorframe to her closet. He hadn't moved much from where he'd started the night watching her try on practically every outfit she had stuffed into both their wardrobe and closet.
She could feel his eyes on her as she smoothed her dress over her thighs, pulling down the hem another inch before ruching it back up. Counting down in her head, she had to keep herself from laughing when he followed the same pattern he'd curated for the past ten minutes.
"What if you fall ill? Or the weather changes while we're out? Y'could freeze before I have a chance to warm you."
This time, she couldn't stop the laugh from falling from her lips. She stopped her assessment in the mirror, turning to Harry with her amusement clear on her features and a cant of her head.
"H, c'mon."
His own expression tightened, his stubborn streak peeking out. "Come on, what?"
Stepping towards him on bare feet, (Y/N) peered up at him. "I know you think humans can't handle anything, but, honestly, do you really think it's that easy for me to get sick or freeze to death?"
They both knew well that Harry had done his share of research when it came to anything human. Especially after bonding and ensuring (Y/N) wanted to be at his side for their forever, he'd deep dived into anything and everything human to refresh his knowledge and become the most perfect beloved he could be—including knowing just how to take care of her. He knew better than to assume she would drop dead after a gust of wind.
Despite the stubborn line of his jaw, he relented, "No."
"Then, why are you so nervous about tonight?" she crooned, wrapping her arms around his middle with her chin set on his chest.
His palms ghosted down her back, leaving a chilled trail just barely felt through the fabric of her dress, until he stopped at the bottom of her spine. His touch was delicate. She could see the whole of him softening the longer she looked up at him.
"You know I worry about you," he murmured, "Anything is possible when it comes to humans. I dread testing the limits when it comes to you."
As much as she teased him and found his concern over something as simple as a breeze something to laugh over, the root of it all was something that had her softening. It was hard not to hear his words and grow tender.
"I promise I'm going to be okay, Harry," she told him, "I'm going to bring a jacket, and you're meeting us after dinner, anyway. If I feel like I need more than my jacket I can text you and let you know."
Though she knew he would never be one hundred percent pleased with her answer unless it was her layering up with all dangers padlocked away from her, this seemed to be enough for him as he sucked in an unnecessary breath.
"I suppose that will work," he sighed, overdramatic as always, "You are rather strong."
Stretching to the tips of her toes, (Y/N) pecked a quick kiss to the soft of Harry's lip. "I promise I'll be okay. Thank you for worrying about me, though."
He chased after her when she pulled away, craning his neck to steal one more kiss before she landed on the flat of her feet once more. "'S a privilege, m'love."
It was poetry like that that almost had her agreeing to wrap up in layers and layers complete with a shell of bubble wrap before she left the house.
—————
Harry couldn't keep the frown from his face as he parked across the street from the nightclub he was meeting (Y/N) and her friends at. He'd never been to an establishment like this before (minus blood clubs but that was an entirely different concept that appealed to his more baser needs, so it didn't count), and, judging by the specimens he could see pouring in and out, he would have liked to keep it that way.
But, this was where (Y/N) had asked him to meet her and there was no way he was going to let her down.
He was just going to have to hold his breath, he decided. Before setting foot inside, he was sure he would not be a fan of the scents perfuming the building.
It would only be a few hours, he reminded himself as he stepped out of his car. Hours like this were a minute compared to the eternity of his existence. He could handle tonight without a doubt.
The slight breeze in the air (he didn't even want to think about (Y/N)'s bare legs enduring this wind) pushed open the unbuttoned lapels of his shirt. He hadn't been sure what he should wear for the night, but he took some cues from (Y/N)'s dress and heels when he decided to pull a shimmering satin piece from the wardrobe and fitted black trousers. Looking at the young men walking in and stumbling out of the nightclub, he wondered if they were underdressed or if he was overdressed.
That concern didn't last long, though, pushed aside once he heard a familiar peal of laughter pouring out of the swinging door of the nightclub. What he was wearing was pushed to the back of his mind then, his priority shifting. He needed to get inside and ensure (Y/N) was alright just like she had promised.
Making it to the entrance of the nightclub, Harry was stopped by a man tucked away in a cubby by the door. He was dressed in all black, a bored expression on his face when Harry approached.
"Hey, how are you?" the man asked, barely looking at Harry as he spoke.
A furrow pinched Harry's brow. "I am well, thank you."
At his abrupt tone, the man finally chanced a look at Harry. He lingered for only a moment on his stern expression before seemingly shaking it off. "That's great, man. Can I see your ID?"
The man set his hand out, palm up in expectation. The knit in Harry's brows tightened that much more at the ask. This never happened at the blood clubs from what he could remember; why did it matter who he was before stepping inside?
Nonetheless, he pulled out the (forged) ID out of his wallet, passing it off to the man with a quick flash of his hand. The man barely glanced at the piece of plastic before he flicked his eyes back up to Harry with a slight smile curling his lips.
"So, you're Harry," the man pointed out, passing back Harry's ID.
Pocketing it, Harry wasn't sure what this man was trying to get at, but answered him nonetheless, "Yes. That's me. Why?"
The man shook his head, a small laugh falling from his lips before he stepped away from the door. "Nothing. Your girlfriend just made sure to let everyone know you were coming tonight. She'll be excited to see you."
Mumbling a thank you to the man, Harry stepped around him and entered the nightclub. While it was a sweet thought that (Y/N) had boasted about him to the nightclub staff, he wasn't sure why she would go through all of the trouble. It wasn't like her to bubble off to strangers.
The lights were off, leaving the bar lining the back of the space with only a dim glow for the tenders to work by. The main floor, full of people dancing (at least that's what he thought that was what they were doing. Harry couldn't be sure, and he truthfully didn't want to look close enough to find out) was the darkest space with only pumping strobes and multicolored spotlights to be the only guides. Here and there were tall tables stationed by the bar and rounded booths tucked into the walls, no seat left unclaimed despite the busy dance floor. Scanning his eyes over the packed bodies, Harry searched for a familiar dress or the peak of a familiar scent, hoping to find (Y/N) somewhere.
His hunt didn't take long, finding (Y/N) with a few other girls he was familiar with only through photos on the far edge of the dancing crowd. He was only able to catch a view of her profile, where she had a lazy smile on her lips and her lashes sitting half lidded over her eyes. There was a cup in her hand, the neon liquid almost empty between shards of ice, though she still managed to slosh it almost to the edge with every uncoordinated sway of her body.
Harry didn't waste any time before he was meandering his way through the throng of bodies, keeping his breath stilted so as to not bother his senses with the scent of so many others that were not his beloved. It was bad enough he felt the heat of their bodies and the unnecessary brushes against him, he didn't want anything more from him to invade his senses.
Just as he hit the edges of their little group, (Y/N) stumbled on her heels, her features falling. In a rush, Harry was at her side, saving her balance and settling her back on her feet. A bewildered expression crossed her face, one he was sure matched her friends who all had eyes on him as well. Though the second she recognized his chilled touch and the familiar hands wrapped around her arms, she loosened back into her oblivious state.
"Harry!" she cheered, completely forgetting about her almost finished drink when she twirled on her feet and threw her arms around his shoulders, "You're here!"
His bunched muscles finally relaxed, allowing him to reciprocate her hug. Dipping his head down, his cheek pressed to hers with his lips by her ear, he murmured, "'M here, love. Are y'alright?"
"Yeah, why?" she bubbled, seemingly having wiped the stumble right out of her mind already.
It didn't take Harry's extra senses to notice the vodka on her breath, though he was sure he was the only one that could notice the sharp edge added to her scent from the alcohol. With how saturated it was, she hadn't just started her night at the club. That would at least explain why she had made sure to alert the man out front that her boyfriend (a silly title, but cute nonetheless) was on his way.
"No reason," he smiled, dropping his hands to sit on her waist, "Are y'having fun?"
"I am! I'm so happy you're here now! I've been telling everyone that you were coming, and now you're here!"
The glaze over her eyes was enough to draw Harry in, his lips curling into an amused smile. He'd never seen her anything past a bit tipsy. Drunk (Y/N) was a person he'd never met before.
Before he had a chance to offer any kind of response, using a surprising amount of her strength given her state, she pulled him along before presenting him to her friends.
"Guys!" she bubbled, catching the attention of the rest of the women, "Look who's here!"
One of the women looked decidedly more sober than the rest, though Harry could smell a tint of alcohol on her as well. She was the first to step forward, giving a small smile.
"Harry, right?" she said, the ends of her short blonde hair dusting her collarbones, "(Y/N)'s been so excited to see you tonight."
"As I've learned," he laughed, offering a hand out for her to shake, "And you are?"
"Oh, I'm Charlotte! It's nice to meet you!"
At that, the surrounding group made their own introductions with (Y/N) clinging to his side. He dedicated each name to memory, hoping that would help him pass the test that he was surely going through that night. Meeting her friends had been foiled before with the changes in weather keeping him stuck inside, or his insistence that (Y/N) live her life outside of him lest she feel trapped in the manor at his side. Tonight had been the first time everything had fallen into place: a girls' night with an open invitation after dinner.
Shifting his arm around her shoulders, Harry pulled (Y/N) to his side as he guided her out of the way of those still dancing behind them. His features set pleasantly neutral, he looked towards Charlotte first.
"(Y/N) told me your significant others might also be joining us tonight," he drawled, his version of asking of their whereabouts as he seemed to be the only boyfriend having shown up so far.
"I'm not sure, actually," Charlotte mused, the evidence of her own drinking beginning to show. "I know my boyfriend will be here to pick me up later, but I haven't really heard anything about the other girls’. It might just be you, if that's okay."
Feeling eyes on him, Harry glanced down at his side to see (Y/N) still gazing up at him with a dreamy smile on her lips. He hoped he didn't come off as rude when the sight distracted him as Charlotte spoke, taking a beat to reciprocate her look and keep her snug to his side.
"I am okay with that. I hope 'm not intruding on your night then," Harry charmed, shooting his gaze around the room in search of a vacant booth or barstool, "Perhaps, I can find a free spot and let you all have fun without me interrupting."
"No," (Y/N) piped up, "You have to stay with us now! I don't want you to go."
Her words are slightly slurred but her passion was clear enough. He didn't bother to look at what the rest of the women had to say, only worrying about keeping the smile on his beloved face. "Okay, then I will stay, love. I will still try to find a table, though, so y'can sit with me for a little."
She was more than quelled by his answer, her body pliant against his own as if she were already ready for him to drag her wherever he wanted.
"I don't know if anything is going to be open," Charlotte interjected, having heard his proposal over the music, "I've been hoping someone would move, but they've all been taken since we got here."
"I'm sure I can make something work," Harry smiled, already spotting a booth he would prefer over the others, "We'll be right back."
As soon as Harry stepped out of the small circle formed by their group with (Y/N) on his arm, it was closed up once more, though he could feel eyes pasted to his back watching where they went. Aware of her stumbling steps at his side, Harry took it slow as he escorted her towards a booth situated in the back corner, just out of view of the others.
"I think people have—hic—they're already sitting there, H," (Y/N) murmured.
"'S alright," he answered, tightening his hold on her hand, "I think they're about to leave."
He didn't waste any time in reaching the group, a charming smile on his lips when he picked out the leader. An underdressed (in Harry's opinion) blonde man with a drink in hand seemed to be the center of attention, the first one to acknowledge Harry approaching.
Before he could utter any kind of greeting, Harry took over the situation. "Hello," he smiled, "M'girlfriend and her friends would like to sit here, please."
The man looked bewildered for a moment, unable to meet Harry's eyes. "Um—I'm sorry, but—"
"No need to be sorry," Harry cut him off, voice taking on a quality he didn't utilize very often, but this was a special occasion, "You can find another space. Right?"
As soon as the man met his eyes, Harry could tell the effects he wanted were taking place. It was all within the span of a heartbeat that this man took Harry's words as his own idea and nodded his head.
"Yeah, we can find another spot," he relented, a faux cheer to his voice as he beckoned his friends to follow him out, "C'mon, guys, let's try the bar."
There were a few questioning glances thrown to both the man as well as Harry, but no one questioned. Instead they only murmured amongst themselves as they followed their leader towards the bartop. As he led her into the now free vinyl seating, (Y/N) was one of the few that had a question in her eyes and pinch in her brows.
"How did you do that?" she asked, her voice low under the music but still audible to Harry's ears, "Is that a vampire thing?"
A breath of laughter fell from his lips at her words. "A little bit, yes. I don't like to do it often, but I want to make sure y'have somewhere to sit and relax while I get y'some water."
"You're getting me water?" she questioned, thoroughly distracted at his new offer as if she didn't have a cup of half melted ice in her hand.
"Mhm," he hummed, releasing her hand once she had tucked herself into the corner of the booth, "After I grab your friends, 'm getting y'some water before y'have any more fun."
With the way she was looking at him, he would have figured he had proposed and offered diamonds and jewels to her, and not just a glass of water from the bar. This night was already going better than he'd thought.
—————
"Did you guys know that Harry's a painter?! Like, he does huge murals and things all over the house! He's amazing."
Only Charlotte seemed to catch (Y/N) words—the same declaration she had cheered about only ten minutes prior. She and Harry exchanged a small glance while the rest of the table treated this as new information.
It'd been a long time since Harry had drank, and even longer since he'd been intoxicated to (Y/N)'s degree. Was short term memory something that was now lost when mixed with spirits, or was that just her?
"Do you really?!" one of (Y/N)'s friends (Cecilia, maybe?) bubbled, her cup of ice water cradled in her hands as she leant over the table with wide eyes, "What kind of stuff do you paint?"
"A little bit of everything," Harry answered, just as he had the last time a similar question was posed, "M'style has changed a lot over the last year or so. I can show you all some time if you'd like—'m sure (Y/N) would love to have you over to the manor."
Even Charlotte perked up at this offer, looking to (Y/N) for confirmation. "That would be so much fun, (Y/N)! We could do that the next time we get together!"
At that, Harry sat back while the chattering arose amongst the group. Under the table, his hand rested on (Y/N)'s thigh, the warmth of her skin anchoring him through the pumping music, strobing lights, and unfamiliar smells surrounding him. As much as he was aiming to leave a good first impression on her friends, he was still very much out of his element in the nightclub. He hoped (Y/N) would call for him to take her home sooner rather than later.
As if she knew he had her on his mind, (Y/N) leant into his side, looking up at him with a toothy grin and affectionate eyes. The chattering was going strong on the other side of the table, the conversation sounding as if the women were making plans for their next outing together—one that would take place at the manor with bottles of wine and movies.
"You'd really be alright with everyone coming over?" (Y/N) asked, moony eyes trained on his face.
"Of course," he answered, a smile landing on his face on instinct, "It is your home too, petal. Y'can have your friends over as well—'s not jus' Mitch and Niall that are allowed over."
She curled into his side, her thigh under the table practically draped over his own. "Do you think Sarah would want to hang out with us?"
The thought of Sarah playing around with a bunch of human girls was more amusing than he thought it would be. He wondered if that was how she and Mitch felt when they realized he was courting a human girl.
"She might," he told her, keeping his amusement to himself, "I can ask for you."
In an impossible feat, (Y/N) looked that much more in love with him at his offer. As much as he missed her regular scent without the sticky edge of alcohol, he did like just how tender she became—adoring his every and any move.
"That would be so nice, H. Thank you," she told him earnestly, her hand coming to rest on his middle with his shirt in her grip, "You're the best ever, you know that?"
"I have been told as much a few times." All by her, but that was a detail that he would leave out for the moment.
"Well," she pouted, "It's true. I'm so happy you came tonight. I think the girls really like you, too."
"Yeah?" he smiled, hoping it was more than just her drunken tongue making the claim.
"Mhm," she hummed, stretching to rest her head on his shoulder with a squeeze of her hand over his shoulder, "You're better than all of their boyfriends."
At that, Harry couldn't help but to release the laugh building in his chest. While he understood the sentiment, that wasn't quite the impact he was going for.
"You think so?" Harry questioned, unable to wipe his amusement from his voice.
(Y/N) didn't seem to notice—or, most likely, care—responding with a definitive nod. "I know so."
Another breathy laugh left his lips as he ducked his head, burying his nose in her hair. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Charlotte glancing their way; an adoring smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she saw the way her friend clung to him.
Taking in a lungful of (Y/N)'s scent, Harry decided that nightclubs weren't so bad.
At least when (Y/N) was there.
“Wait, (Y/N),” Cecilia babbled, a look of urgency on her face, “You said he cooks, right? You cook right?”
Her attention was splashed over Harry then, forcing him to draw away from (Y/N)’s hair. Clearing his throat under the music, he nodded his head. “I do, yes.”
A squeal fell from her lips with her companions being just as excited. “Would you make us food when we come over? (Y/N) says you’re so good!”
Just as (Y/N) perked up at his side, turning her wide eyes on him, Harry stifled his own laugh. God, how he wished he had been a fly on the wall while she apparently spouted off all these facts about him—the ones reserved for her.
“If you’d like.”
Just as he expected, more noise erupted from the table.
—————
thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any fun ideas or requests you have!!
#anon#writing#harry#harry styles#harry one shot#harry imagine#harry blurb#harry fluff#vampire harry#harry x reader#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#vampire harry styles#harry styles x reader#harrys house#pleasing#love on tour#as it was
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Vantage Point | Meet the Characters & Series Masterlist
Status: Begins tomorrow (January 20)!
Pair: Mingyu × f.reader
Summary: Pulling off the "No Strings Attached" arrangement with his best-friend-turned-best-friend-with-benefits was easy, but when a new condition is added onto the mix, Mingyu didn't realise just how much he held onto you when you finally let go.
Genre: College au. BFFs to FWB trope. Fluff, Humor, Angst, Smut [chapters with smut will be indicated and will contain the necessary warnings]
Author’s Note: Please take time to read this before starting the series ☺️
Hello, my darlings! Finally getting round to posting this after missing the commited date last time due to covid. But welcome!!! 🥳 This is the first story to my Snap Shoot universe! Before you get into it, let me just point a few things. This is the first time I'm ever creating a universe with interwoven stories, and while I've done SMAUs before, this is the first one I've done for SVT and the first time I'm also this adventurous about it. It's definitely very different from what I post on here but I'm having lots of fun putting it together. I know it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway, this is very much a work of fiction. This is an AU. While Korea may be the assumed setting for this series, it is not explicitly defined. I'm also trying to avoid using lots of Korean cultural references (maybe except for food) such as use of honorifics like "hyung". While many of my other works refrain from over-describing oc's physical features, you may find that in this series (and universe), oc's features will inevitably be defined. You'll find that the visuals of the characters and the aesthetic of the photos/social media posts will be Korean/ Asian. It's a SMAU, so i'll have to place photos and these photos must maintain consistent. I absolutely do not mean any ill intention of being non-inclusive (I don't even fit the same aesthetic as oc).
Again, it's a work of fiction, while I want you to relate to oc, kindly also allow me breathing space to build the character. If you feel uncomfortable at any point in the series, you are very much welcome to stop/unfollow. As mentioned, this is a SMAU, but it contains several chapters which are purely written narrations. All edits (texts, social media posts, etc.) were done by me, however some photos (esp those of Y/N) are from the web, if they are yours, please let me know so that I may credit you or remove the photo. The texts are all done on light mode. Deal with it. This follows a FWB trope, expect lots of smut and suggestive content— specific smut warnings will be available in chapters where they are present, along with other necessary warnings. This series will have lots of fluff and lots of crackhead nonsense humor. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Biggest shoutout to my dearest friend @wongyuseokie who has been nothing but supportive through all of this and through all my dramatic Mingy-induced meltdowns. I love you more than you’ll ever know ♥️
Meet the Characters
Mingyu: Sophomore, studying Film & Photography, yn/Camie's best friend since childhood
Yn: Sophomore, studying Film & Photography with Mingyu, Mingyu's best friend since childhood. Nicknamed "Camie" by her group of friends for her highly concerning camera collection/obsession.
Seokmin: Sophomore, studying Film & Photography, same friend group as mingyu and yn, Mingyu & Wonwoo's housemate
Soonyoung: technically a year older than the 3, but currently a Sophomore with Gyu, Cam and Seokmin after shifting into their major
Wonwoo: Junior, studying Film & Photography as well, Mingyu's guy best friend and housemate in The Man Cave, a brotherly figure to OC, Soonyoung's former classmate in highschool
The Man Cave: shared house near their university where Mingyu, Wonwoo and Seokmin live, and Soonyoung often crashes.
✨Other characters/members will come as the series progresses.
Series Masterlist
To be populated as each chapter is posted. There is no posting schedule. Chapters will just get uploaded as they come.
Teaser
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five 🔞
Chapter Six 🔞
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Tag List!
@strawberryya @idyllic-ghost @septemberskies @ladyblablabla
If you want to be tagged as each chapter comes out, do send me an ask or reply to this post so I could include you in the tag list 😊
#paula writes ✨#Vantage Point#Snap Shoot Universe#svthub#mingyu smau#mingyu fic#mingyu x oc#mingyu smut#mingyu fluff#svt smau#svt fic
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I'm Always Funny. You're Just Not Smart Enough To Keep Up. (Teaser!)
Max Verstappen X reader
Danny Ricciardo X reader platonic.
Not sure if anyone here is an F1 fan but I've recently gotten into F1 and I've started writing a small fanfiction of Max Verstappen Fake relationship Au! Please tell me if you like this and want the rest of it! Enjoy~
Max had just broken up with his long time girlfriend Kelly Piquet.
They had disagreed on their future plans and had decided it would be better to part ways. It was an amicable split and Max still visited Penelope. However, the media wasn’t kind to him, not that it usually was.
Fans were in a roar over the split calling him all sorts of names for the past seven months.
It wasn’t too bad until the sponsors started to look a bit concerned over the state of the media.
Y/N, being a small town girl from Perth Australia, knew Daniel Ricciardo from when she was younger. His sister Michelle would babysit Y/N from time to time and that's how she came to meet the ever enthusiastic personality that was Daniel.
Daniel, alongside Michelle, had been like an older sibling to Y/N. He would always visit her or text her to catch her up on his state of affairs.
After his ill-fated departure from Mclaren, to which Y/N was still fuming over. He had spent two months back in Australia, lounging around before Y/N and Michelle told him to get back into what he really loved.
Sure enough, Daniel returned to RedBull as a reserve driver alongside his old teammate Max Verstappeh and Sergio “Checo” Perez.
It was at this point Max had been receiving scalding comments and the Public Relations (PR) Manager had decided it would be a good idea for Max to date someone new with good media presence. Someone who the fans were bound to like.
That is exactly where Y/N came in. She had been featured on Daniel's social media before and made small cameo’s on RedBull and Mclaren videos, wishing Danny luck in his races or even supporting him in person.
~~~~~~
Max walked alongside Y/N at a brisk pace. They were wading through the crowd of press just before the paddock and after the car park. Y/N was slightly uncomfortable with the firm grip that Max had on her hand but refrained from speaking up. He, after all, was paying her salary, so to speak.
“Smile,” Max grunted out. Nodding at the press and giving half smiles in a seemingly out of character style.
Y/N, who was already smiling hissed through her teeth.
“The hell you think I'm doin’ mate?” She then turned slightly away to wave at the photographers,
“Morning! Hope you’re all well rested! Make sure to drink enough water too!” She called out to the mass of people. Y/N understood that these people had to make a living and if you were nicer to them, they were bound to return the favour, although that was easier said than done.
Verstappen kept a pleasant expression as he continued to walk past people, signing hats along the way.
“When can we stop this damn circus act?” He hissed into her ear, his voice sounding like the grind of gravel.
“Whenever your PR Manager lets us.” She replied, her smile unfaltering as she kept walking beside him.
“This is all a stupid waste of money and time.” He grumbled under his breath. “This whole relationship thing and the sponsors.” Y/N cocked her head knowingly and replied,
"You need those sponsors and so does RedBull. Anyways, don’t give me a hard time because of it, yeah? I’m just doing my job to the best of my ability.” It wasn't as if she didn't want the money, however she also did it to help out Danny. Apparently the situation had made Max a little crabby.
Max sighed, “You have no idea who many different people we have to play happy couple for to satisfy the sponsors.” to which Y/N smirked and retorted with.
“I dunno, maybe the whole world, Mr Formula 1 World Champion?” Max rolled his eyes dismissively, effectively losing his facade.
“Do you know how much the sponsors pay me to keep you around? Don’t smart mouth me man.” He spat out, scowling and crossing his arms defensively. He pointed at the camera’s who had now turned back to you at the suddenly escalating conversation as moths were drawn to light.
Luckily they hadn’t heard the conversation, only seen the wild gestures that Max had thrown out in exasperation.
Y/N, being the quick thinker she was, gently patted his shoulder and stepped closer to him,
“Calm down mate, they’re looking at us. Let’s just get inside the paddock yeah? Then we can argue when we get to the motor home.” She whispered slowly, hoping to ease his stress.
“Whatever, " Verstappen muttered, his voice ever harsh and monotonous.
He led her by the small of her back past the photographers and past the gates and into the paddock. He kept you firmly by his side while remaining silent. It seemed like he wasn’t going to talk until they were both tucked into a private building. Or as private as it would get.
As they briskly walked by, they passed some children who were staring in awe at Max. Y/N smiled at the children and tugged on his short sleeve gently.
“Max, give them an autograph! Look, they're so cute. This one’s wearing a mini version of your race suit!” She exclaimed, clearly taken by the children who were bubbling with energy.
Max, as a result of Y/N’s excitement, stopped walking and looked over at you with his signature grim expression before seeing the children. His eyes shifted and his expression became light hearted and almost charming.
“Yeah, alright I’ll sign a few things for you guys.” He grinned at the kids that had gathered around began thanking him incredulously in adoration as their favourite Formula one driver signed their shirts and caps.
Max suddenly turned to you with a small smile,
“Here,” he said, handing her a sharpie, “You should sign one too. They’ll like it.” Y/N shook her head, shy from the sudden attention.
“But I’m not famous like you. They don’t know me.” She turned to the children, sheepish, waiting for them to collectively agree. Yet, to her surprise one of the younger girls reached out to hug her and exclaimed,
“I know you! You’re Max’s girlfriend! My older brother says you’re pretty!” The little girl beamed up at her and pointed at an older male of similar facial structure who was blushing.
Y/N laughed in surprise and smiled brightly at the young girl.
“Hey love! Would you like me to sign your shirt?” She kneeled down to face the girl and all the younger kids. The children that were now surrounding you went crazy, screaming “Yes!” and “Please!”
They held out their belongings for her to sign, clearly overjoyed. She laughed in delight while Max looked on, while chatting to other young fans.
Y/N gave each of them a hug before signing their shirts.
“Oh and here!” She took out a large ziplock bag that was filled to the brim with friendship bracelets she had made for the fans.
“Take these! There’s enough for all of you.” She ruffled the closest childs hair. Max watched in amusement as the children who were absolutely beside themselves, trying on their new bracelets.
“You’re good with the fans,” he said, actually sounding genuine and kind for once. Y/N shook her head, smiling and waving at the children still as they walked away.
“Nah, I just love the kids. I want them to have good memories that build into hope and motivation.” She looked at Max and gave him a small smile.
“That’s very kind of you.” Verstappen replied, sounding surprisingly sincere. They both walked towards the motorhouse and as they reached the entrance Max opened the door for Y/N and signalled for her to enter.
Y/N walked through, thanking him on the way and waved hello while passing all the staff and volunteers of the Red Bull team.
The pair made their way, through all the greetings and then into Max’s room where Max closed the door behind them both and then turned to face Y/N.
“Alright, no more fake smiles or pleasantries. He sighed, “Do you know how long we’re stuck with this whole fake relationship thing?” He asked while plopping down onto his bed, unceremoniously to which Y/N shook her head. She herself was unsure.
“Nope. I was hired for a year-long contract but it wasn’t definitive,” She sighed and sat down on his chair and spun to face him.
“I think it wouldn’t be too bad for us to be friends Max.” She sat forward with her elbows on her knees.
“It’s not like we’re attracted to each other. It would make life easier if we got along, no?" Max stared at her, inquisitive.
“Friends.” He said slowly, almost as if tasting the word before he tilted his head to say,
“Friends don't usually get paid to be with one another.” Max raised his eyebrows.
“But, I guess being friends wouldn't be too bad. It’s not like anything would happen between us anyways.” Y/N nodded and chuckled,
“I mean, I get paid to pretend to be your girlfriend. We could totally do it from afar y’know?” she shrugged, smiling.
“That sounds like a great idea.” Max said sarcastically.
“I’ll just yell ‘I love you’ through a megaphone at you from a distance and we’ll keep it going that way.” He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms to which Y/N burst into laughter in sheer surprise.
“Right! That would get all the fans roaring.” She chuckled loudly, enjoying his dry humour. She gave him a genuine smile before asking,
“You’re really funny when you want to be huh?”
Verstappen rolled his eyes with a subtle upturn in lips at your amusement. Y/N had an instinct that he was proud of the reaction he got out of her.
“I’m funny all the time.” He retorted, “You’re just not smart enough to pick up on it.” He said with a cocky smile.
~~
AND THATS THE TEASER! please comment if you'd like the rest!? Thank You for reading!
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1#f1 fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#danny ric#daniel ricciardo#daniel riccardo x reader
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with the character asks lore maybe you could compile it all in a searchable text file of sorts? like google doc or word or something, copy the text of the ask and the answer, n then put some like searchable 'tags' above or below it
like:
'hey whats the casts jobs?' - anon
iggy web developer genzou bike repair shop etc. etc.
- careers professions
i use this system to organize my stuff usually ^0^ the tags are because i know ill forget what specific wording it had and would just search things generally around the topic that might not be in the base text itself. like if its a more in depth description of my characters appearance, ill write tags for synonyms for appearance, phrases like 'looks like', and certain features id probably mention like a mole on the foot or something. i also put the date on things sometimes, seperated so its searchable like 'october 7 2021'
it could also be sorted by categories of ask? like if its about something outside the game, a writing process or your own thoughts on a part, then another category for in-world facts and things, so on and so forth
this is just an idea of course, but i thought it might help maybe? >.>;
ohhhhhhhhh
something like that's not a bad idea
although it all really comes down to tags. like i just need more tags. even if i had more tags then it would be a lot more easily searchable here on tumblr too 💦 right now i only have ow: asks and char info asks that i added more recently specifically for char info. but i wonder if even just creating a better tag system for types of questions, char specific info, etc., would be helpful even as a first step for helping people look through old asks more easily...
THERE ARE OVER A YEAR'S WORTH OF ASKS THO SO IT MIGHT TAKE A WHILE LMAO (hence why i can never find anything anymore if i need to go back in and search 💦💦)
i will try maybe just coming up with better tags first. then i'll need to ofc spend all the time actually going through and adding the tags sob... and then decide if it's something i should eventually take off tumblr. but i kinda hate making ppl leave. it feels like it could be a hassle for ppl, unsure tho ahhhh
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obsession | chapter 6
pairing: reader x baekhyun
word count: 13k
genre: yandere au | this is heavily inspired by the show 'you'
tag list: @mayboy @vishary15 @greasywall @loversmantra @cityexos @kavvs @prettyboybaek @byunds
(let me know if you want to be tagged ^^)
warnings for this chapter: murder, mental illness(s), mention of death(s), implied violence, violence, manipulation, mature language, obsessiveness
do not read if: you are triggered by any of the warnings i listed prior. this fic will contain this theme throughout the chapters. if you are not comfortable with that; please skip this post. please remember this is a work of fiction.
viewer discretion is advised
playlist for this chapter:
space song - chanyeol's pov
ylang ylang - chanyeol's pov
heather - junmyeon's pov (this song fits perfectly for junmyeon in this im crying)
doin' time - baekhyun pov
blood // water - baekhyun pov
(a/n): this chapter is waaaay longer than i planned it to be. but nonetheless it was very fun to write. a little evil i won't lie lol. but THIS means i won't be ending it anytime soon, there's so much i need to unfold to you guys hehe. but i hope you guys enjoy this and don't hate me too much for it. love u guys. like always, replies are open. please send me messages, requests, your thoughts! always appreciated! reblog and like as it really helps me out. have fun reading!
Chanyeol POV
He didn't have any motivation to get up. He wanted to simply stay in bed, sulk and complain to himself that he put himself in the situation; there was no going back from any of it. But instead, on a well deserved day off, he was shaken from his dark thoughts with the sound of his phone going off. Chanyeol grunted as he moved his body to lay on his side, facing the bedside drawer next to his bed. He watched as his phone began to light up in the dark room, the only source of light coming from the windows, broadcasting beautiful Seoul within his sight. He could never complain about the view, the tall buildings never seeming to end, the way the horizon broke through the bland identical towers; furthermore proving just how successful he was, living in his own loft in one of the most expensive areas around.
So he grudgingly picked up his phone, his eyes squinting from the brightness. He lets his fingers trace some of the scratches that were on the screen, doing so while he read the multiple messages he was receiving.
(4 New Messages)
(7 New Messages)
(8 New Messages)-
"Fuck, I get it." He opened up his phone lockscreen, bringing him to the plethora of texts.
We need to talk.
I'm kind of freaked out man
Like
what the fuck
Jun is fucking pissed
did you know that?
i don't want to deal with his depressed ass
are u up
r u jacking off
Instead of just replying back, Chanyeol pressed the contact profile and brought his device to his ear. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs on his white bedsheets. This wasn't exactly anything new to him, in fact, he was honestly used to it at this point. Especially when it came to... well, him.
"Dude?"
"What, Sehun."
"Did you read my texts?"
"Do you think I'd be calling you on my day off if I didn't?" He scoffed.
Sehun laughs on his end, making Chanyeol break into a smile as well.
"We have to meet up. Like anywhere. I don't care. But we need to talk about-"
Chanyeol suddenly feels flushed, his heart drops, not wanting to even hear the name.
"No. I don't want to talk about him. I'm done with him."
He bundles a fistful of sheets in his grasp, his teeth already gritting together. The dull reminder of his last encounter with Baekhyun is still evident in his features. Chanyeol could talk about anything else; anyone else. But even so, in the back of his head, he knew that he could never really escape his best friend. Like he was dreading moments earlier, the truth, moreso, he could never go back. He bites his bottom lip, looking up angrily to his ceiling.
Sehun doesn't say anything, his breath coming out in ragged breaths.
Chanyeol's eyebrow raises, frustration building in his chest.
"What the fuck is it?"
"Well you said not to talk about him-"
"Yeah well, it seems like this matter won't be solved if I'm not involved so I don't think I have a fucking choice, huh?"
"It's about Y/N."
Chanyeol sits up abruptly as he grips the phone tighter.
"What about her?"
"Please... not on the phone. I'm too freaked out by him, dude. He could be listening or something."
"Sehun, he's not that fucking smart. Don't give him credit for something he can't even do."
"He might not be that smart, yeah. But he has connections, man. Why don't I just come over?"
And that's how Chanyeol ended up on his day off; sitting in his living room with his black robe on; drinking some coffee as Sehun poured out everything that had occured a couple days prior.
"Baekhyun... you have to stop him, Chanyeol. He changed Y/N. I don't even know how- but dude. She's not answering any of my texts- my calls. She always lets me know how she's doing. This is completely out of character."
Sehun ran his hand through his quiffed up hair, shaking his head slightly as his eyes tore into Chanyeol's. They were bloodshot, dark circles sprinkled underneath them. Sehun was young, just a fucking kid. He shouldn't have to be worrying about someone, he already has enough to deal with; a stressful job, debt, and now another thing to pile on top of that... Chanyeol was afraid he was going to break if he didn't do something.
He sighed to himself as he placed his coffee mug on the glass table in front of his couch. He notices how Sehun's was left untouched, the steam no longer pouring from the rim. He lets his body rest in the cushions, crossing his arms together as his eyebrows furrowed together.
"So you're telling me that Baekhyun killed someone- again. This isn't anything new, Sehun. What do you want me to do about a case that's already been reviewed and written off as a suicide?" His foot taps against the floorboards quickly.
Sehun shrugs, scratching his arm and looking around skittishly.
"I- I don't know. I feel like there's something different about it this time around. Y/N covered for him. She looked off, there was blood on her too."
This piqued his interest. He leaned into the conversation, his hands clasping together.
"She had blood on her? What, so... what are you trying to say? That Y/N killed her?"
The younger one licked his lips, diverting his attention to his abandoned coffee.
"I don't want to assume-"
Chanyeol grabbed his mug and threw it across the living room, the sound of it crashing against the wall echoing in the empty loft. Sehun squirmed in his seat, wincing as Chanyeol walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He turns his head to the side as his lips curl up, a quiet sob escaping from his throat. Chanyeol shook him, tightening his firm grasp on the other's shirt, making him look directly at him.
His own nose was flaring, his teeth grinding against another, the only emotion he felt was complete, and utter desperation. He needed to know what this could actually be about; if it was true, and God, he really hoped that it wouldn't be, so he could possibly save you. He wished someone could have saved him when he got interloped with Baekhyun.
"No games, Sehun. I'm being fucking serious. If you think that she was capable of doing that- you need to fucking tell me."
His words came out like bullets, firing each and every single one into Sehun's head. When he still doesn't say anything, Chanyeol yells at him, spit flying in multiple directions. He lets go of him, pushing him back on the chair he was sitting in before. He turns his back to him, bringing his hand to cover his mouth, holding onto his lips as he looks around in anger. Sehun's sobs were getting on his nerves, but not because it was annoying; because Chanyeol knew that they were a submission of guilt, the truth. Sehun knew that you were the one who did the heinous crime, he just didn't want to believe it. Chanyeol was used to the never ending cycle of Baekhyun's killings, fuck, he would be nervous if he wasn't calling him in the middle of the night to help him dispose of a body. But Sehun wasn't like him, he wasn't able to confront the truth like Chanyeol could. He was too innocent, he couldn't grasp the understanding of someone killing another just because.
"I- I don't want her to get in trouble, Chan. You have to understand-"
He spins around, rushing forward toward Sehun, getting down on his knees and holding the other's legs. The poor kid was a wreck, his lips formed into a pout, tears drenching his cheeks, his nose a shade of red. He tries to relax his features, his voice hitching as he speaks to him slowly.
"If she did this, we can't let her do it again. You have to understand Sehun."
He shook his head, putting his own hands over Chanyeol's, his knuckles a shade of white.
"No, please. She can't go to jail, she's just confused- he's fucking maniuplating her. We just need to kill him-"
Chanyeol lets his head dangle down, a broken chuckle leaving his lips.
Sehun shakes him a little, his frazzled state becoming overwhelmed at this point.
"Chanyeol- we- we can do this. We can get away with it. I've thought about it-"
Chanyeol doesn't bring his head up as he cuts him off.
"We'd be no better than him. Don't you get it?"
A beat.
He looks back up with a heartfelt smile, a single tear falling from his eye.
"In everything, he wins. He will always win."
Sehun gapes at him, his tears falling on Chanyeol's hands. He purses his lips together, shaking his head. He pushes himself off the chair, grabbing his phone that was left on the table, pausing to look down at Chanyeol. He was frozen in place still, his knees scraping across the floor, still staring at the empty space that once held another body.
"If you won't help me kill him, I'll do it myself."
He starts to walk out, freezing as his hand reaches the doorknob. Chanyeol turns his head then, staring at the back of his friend; his brother. His lip trembles as he blinks back more tears, his vision of him becoming blurry.
"Sehun. Please. Don't."
"You know. I always looked up to you. You were always so composed, so... unreachable. I always felt like I was close to you though. You're so admirable, Chan. I think that's why I liked you so much, why I wanted to be a part of your life. But now," He turns back to look at Chanyeol, his eyes red as he hesitates.
"You're nothing to me. I will never be what Baekhyun is to you. And in some, twisted way, you're worse than him. Because I know if I asked Baekhyun; if you, were the one fucking killing innocent women, he would do it without me convincing him. Do you know why? Because that's what friends do. And you're no fucking friend."
Chanyeol lets out a foreign, uncontrolled crack of his voice. He reaches his hand out to Sehun, crawling towards him as he begins to cry.
"Please, you have to understand-"
Sehun opens the door, standing in the doorframe, back once again turned to face Chanyeol.
"You can't even be loyal to something as small as your best friend."
And that hits Chanyeol right in the heart. He pauses his movements, his nose congested, his chest tight. The same words his own father distastefully instilled in him over and over again. It was back; the haunting feeling of being nothing but the shadow of his father. The same man who didn't care for his own family, his friends. He was truly, and utterly, exactly like him.
Everything he worked so hard for, it was all for nothing. He never wanted to be like the man who brought him into this world, but as he watched Sehun's silhouette disappear from his sight, he knew that it was over.
He starts to laugh now, the dreadful noise bouncing off the walls. His body hits the floor, and he brings his knees up to his chest, circling his arms around them. His tall frame shakes as his laughter shakes his entire being.
"Like father, like son." He whispers to himself.
Junmyeons' POV
"Hello?"
Junmyeon sat at his desk, plucking through some documents that were placed in front of him moments prior. He licks his indent finger, thumbing through a flurry of white papers, his eyes skimming the words quickly. He pauses his actions as he hears the recognizable voice on the other end of the line, relaxing in his chair and smiling.
"You okay? I can't talk for long, I'm swamped in a burglary case-"
"I really need to talk to you right now. In private."
He clicks his tongue, looking at the workload he was about to dive into. His fingers drum against the desk, he brings his left arm up to examine his watch. He was expected elsewhere on his lunch break, but the immediate worry in his friend's voice alarmed him.
"How important can it be, Sehun?"
"Too important. Can you meet me or not?"
Junmyeon frowns.
"I was actually planning on meeting Y/N at a cafe nearby the station. You could accompany us if you want?"
Sehun's voice hitched to a different octave, and Junmyeon sits up in his chair, absentmindedly looking off with a concerned expression.
"T-that's fine. It's better actually. Can you maybe go on your break now?"
Junmyeon lowers his voice to a whisper, his eyes flickering outside his office, watching his staff behind their own desks typing away.
"What is this about, Sehun?"
"I'm going to tell the truth."
Junmyeon covers his mouth, feeling both unsure and nervous.
"The truth?"
"I can't say anything else on the phone. Just trust me. You're going to want to hear this."
He doesn't say anything else to Sehun, bringing the phone away from his ear and clicking the end button. He sets his device face down on the desk, pushing himself away from the dilemma he knew was unfolding. His eyes go back to the sight of people working, his lips puckering as his mood soured. He got up from his seat, taking long strides to his window, bringing his hand to close the blinds.
Once the blinds were completely closed, he turned around to face the full length windows on the other side of the room, letting the warmth of the sun absorb into his skin. He sighs as he walks towards them, his eyes watching as cars zoomed by on the street, a couple walking hand in hand together. His lips tighten together to form a stubborn frown, his arms behind his back, hands clasped together. He starts to think about his encounter with Baekhyun. He ponders on him, remembering his scent, the small details of blood underneath his fingernails. He feels his lip twitch as he can almost smell the disgusting stench of death on him; and yet how another human being can simply dismiss it, be almost accustomed to it, could talk so carelessly.
He then remembers seeing you. A small hiccup of his heartbeat pounding against his chest startles him. He almost feels embarrassed, and he coughs to regain his thoughts. You were overflowing with anxiety that night, the strucken nerves you displayed filled to the brim and threatening to topple over. He could never forget that, most importantly since you have never been like that in front of him. You were always able to talk to him with the utmost confidence, and that was something he admired about you. Most of his employees were too nervous to even look him in the eye.
But you?
You got under his skin, interrupted his thoughts. You didn't care for his position of power, in fact you challenged it. He brushed it aside as being proud of you. You were another person who exchanged the same morals as him, the same mindset. You were a person who didn't let any obstacle stand in your way... you stood for what was right. And somehow along the way, he forgot you were his subordinate. That you weren't just someone he was able to chat and get some drinks with. The undeniable feeling that you were different from other women, you were yourself.
And your own self was captured by him.
He didn't know exactly when this exact feeling arose in him. He could probably pinpoint one memory, something that he replayed in his mind when work was beginning to become too much for him. He smiles at the sky, reminiscing.
After a long shift, the two of you decided to go get some drinks.
"I told you I would get them. And here you were, not believing in me. I'm hurt."
You sat next to him at the bar, three shot glasses in front of both of you. You had shoved him with your left arm softly, and Junmyeon could already feel his face warming up from the last shot he gulped down his throat. He shook his head, hissing from the bitter taste of vodka left on his taste buds. He chuckles to himself, raising his hand to the bartender, issuing another round of shots.
You tilted your head to look at him, and Junmyeon cocked his to match. Your cheeks were probably a brighter red than his, your skin glowing. Small lines crinkling next to your eyes appear, and you break out into a large smile.
"What? Not going to say anything to that? Come on, you have to fight back!"
He tossed his hands up, smirking.
"What can I say? You were right. I shouldn't have doubted you."
You nod, giggling to yourself. The small clear shot glasses are placed in front of them, and Junmyeon grabs it without hesitation. You followed suit, spinning your chair so you were facing him fully. You raise the disgusting poison that would fill your bodies up, waiting for him to do so as well. He gave in, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He suddenly feels your hand on his cheek, and that makes his eyes shoot up to meet yours. He freezes in that moment, fully taking in how the wind blew your hair to the right. You were shaking your head as you laughed, your eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky.
But Junmyeon thought they couldn't really compare to them anyways.
His clouded mind doesn't even register what you were saying, so he has to ask you again what you had said.
You blinked at him, not breaking the smile on your face.
"I said, thank you for being in my life. You're the best thing to come out of this job, I finally found someone that makes police work something to get out of bed for. I'm happy I can come in and see you in your office. What makes me even happier is knowing that I'll always be by your side."
He stutters a bit, blinking rapidly, becoming too self aware of his heart beating out of his chest.
"T-true that."
You give him a disgusted look then, bringing the shot to your lips and tilting your head back. A small yelp escapes your lips after you gulp down the liquid, closing your eyes as you shake from side to side.
"Don't ever say that again. You sound like my dad trying to be hip."
"Hey! Don't compare me to your dad. It's gross." He rolls his eyes as he copies you, feeling lightheaded as he slams the cup on the table.
There was an awkward silence for a couple of minutes before he mustered up the confidence to speak again.
"I'm happy too."
You look at him, your eyelids drooping down as you smack your lips together drunkley.
"Huh?"
He bites his tongue, almost doesn't want to finish what he wanted to say. But with the alcohol in his system, he shakes away the alarms ringing in his head and lets the truth flow from his dry lips.
"I mean... I'm happy you're in my life. You're quite possibly the best person I've met. I think you're great, you- you're amazing. I want to be the person you can talk to about anything, I want to be there for you when you feel like everyone is against you. I can be that guy that you can call in the middle of the night when you had a fucking nightmare, I- I don't know. You're different."
Your eyes widen at that, your expression that was onced filled with happiness was replaced with one of curiosity. The way you stared at him made him feel like a creep, and even though you wouldn't be able to notice it through his already red face, a blush sneakily creeped in. He waved his hands off, shaking his head as he laughed it off.
"Nevermind. I'm drunk. You should probably get home."
He grabbed his black jacket that was draped around the chair he sat on, reaching for your hand to usher you out with him. You take it gently, and Junmyeon doesn't miss how you had continued to stare at him, not even when you both stepped into the street and began to walk into the night.
He brings the both of you to a halt when you reach your car. You rubbed your hands over your arms, obviously cold from the chilly night. He raises his eyebrow at you, pursing his lips.
"Are you cold?"
You shake your head as you stumble in place, laughing.
"I'll be fine. I've got thick skin."
He shakes his head as well, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. You look at him as he adjusts it over your small frame, and he smiles as he takes a step back to get a good look at you. He lets out a snort, his teeth fully broadcasted to you. You squirm as you fit your arms into the sleeves, looking down as they fully sink in. Junmyeon laughs at the sight, the way your hands aren't even visible once the garment settles on your body.
"I knew you were small but not that small."
You stick out your tongue, flinging the extra fabric towards him, giggling as he dodges it.
"Well, I guess I should get going."
Junmyeon frowns.
"You're not driving."
Your eyebrows hitch up.
"How am I getting home then?"
He brings his finger up as he reaches in his pocket, bringing out his phone. He brings up the familiar number to a cab service he could almost memorize at this point; too used to calling them when he got too drunk himself.
With a quick explanation to where they were at, he slips it back into his slack's pocket. He then fishes out his wallet while you stare at him, still flinging the ends of the sleeves from side to side. He takes out a couple of bills, then walked towards you and stretched his hand out. You looked down at it, then back up at him.
"I could just call Kyungsoo to pick me up. I'd feel bad about taking your money."
You barely whisper out.
He shakes his head, his eyes resting on your lips for a mere second.
"Don't do that. I can take care of you."
He didn't mean for that to come out so sensually, it just felt normal in this moment to speak to you like that. Maybe it was because he was drunk, the way he simply didn't care. You didn't say a word as you took the money from his palm, and maybe Junmyeon imagined it, but your fingers stayed a second longer on his.
You took a step forward, looking up at him. Your features softened, a gentle smile delivered straight to his heart.
"Thank you, Myeonnie."
He could feel the warmth radiating off your body, the way the both of you were so close to one another. So he offers his own smile, nodding his head. He coughs to break the tension he was feeling, and your smile falters then. He turns around, dipping his head to look in both directions of the street. He waits until he spots a pair of headlights tumbling down the narrow road, and he waves his hand in the air.
He watches as you walk next to the vehicle, your hand reaching the handle. You suddenly pause, and Junmyeon looks at your stilled body in confusion. Before he could register anything else, he feels your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into your embrace. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, just keeps them at bay on either side of his torso. The man in the cab looks at him questiongly, then flashes him a toothy grin. He mimics hugging someone, then points at him to do the same.
"When someone hugs you... you hug 'em back." You slurred against his chest.
Your words vibrated against his skin, and he's worried that you would feel just how fast his heart was pumping. So he rashfully swings his arms around you as well, pulling you in tighter. He rests his head on top of yours, bringing his right hand to comb your hair. His nose catches the scent of lavender, and he closes his eyes, taking it in. He wasn't weird, not at all. Employees can hug. They could definitely enjoy the smell of their shampoo too; especially since it was probably a great brand. Yeah, that was it. He just was entranced by whatever product you used... not you. Couldn't be.
You pulled back from him, your arms disappearing from his waist. He almost wanted to pull you back in, but he knew anything more than that could be worse for him. So he doesn't say anything else when you finally get inside the car. He waves you off, watching your face brighten as you wave excidelty back. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the red tail lights staining his face, morphing the evidence of the reddish hue of a blush.
"I can't wait to see you tomorrow." He breathes out heavily into the night.
He replays you saying the nickname you gave him repeatedly in his head, smiling to himself as he sinks into his car. He remembers thumping his fingers tirelessly against the wheel, his head resting against the carseat. He fell asleep in his vehicle that night. It was the best sleep he had ever gotten in his entire life.
And he had a great fucking mattress at home.
But for some reason the stiff and uncomfortable leather wasn't that bad. He wouldn't mind a bad back if it meant that he was able to see you. Junmyeon-
"Junmyeon?"
He snaps back into reality, his eyes focusing on what was once a bright blue sky, now overcast with gray clouds, leaving the city to be shadowed by the rainy weather. He turns around, making sure to keep his composure; not letting his wandering thoughts display on his face. It was Jisoo, Y/N's assistant. She bowed, flattening down her navy blue skirt.
"Your phone has been going off, sir. Y/N left me a message to let you know she was trying to get in touch with you."
He nodded, then waved her off. She closes the door behind her, and Junmyeon rushes over to his desk, hurriedly picking up his phone. He opens up his text message inbox and clicks over your contact.
hey, sehun let me know he's coming. did you know that?
he also said we'd be meeting sooner than we planned. 2:30?
see you soon, :)
He sighs, letting his fingers roam through his hair. He brings his watch up again, 2:00.
"Fuck you, Sehun."
-
Junmyeon let everyone know that he'd most likely be back later, and to his approval, no one fought him on it. As he drove to the cafe, he thought about how you would have angrily combated him, probably stomping your feet as you whined about him being behind on his work. He missed having you in the office; and that was the main reason he asked you to meet him today. Sure, the station was well run on his watch, but he needed the stability for himself back. Which mainly came from you; keeping him on his toes and breathing down his back 24/7.
He wouldn't lie to himself. He was nervous texting you. The two of you hadn't spoken that much, especially when he had issued for you to go on an extended leave. Sure, he had seen you at the crime scene and chatted, but there was an obvious piece of shit glued right by your side. It didn't feel the same.
You didn't feel the same.
He parked his car, running over his appearance in the rearview mirror. He looked beat, but that was mostly because he hadn't been sleeping well. He hated to admit it, but most of his nights consisted of thinking about Baekhyun. The chilling looks he gave him... the way he spoke to him like he was beneath him. Obviously, it didn't faze him in the slightest, he was used to seeing deadbeat criminals on an everyday basis. Not that he was a criminal, but, the aura he radiated was one of them, most precisely. The man was off.
He wasn't like anyone he met before.
But there was something that Junmyeon recognized.
He could recognize it so well. It was like reading a book, the way Baekhyun was able to cover his emotions so delicately, so routinely. He did it himself. The mask of mystery was something he prided himself in, especially when it came to his own feelings towards you. He was able to contain his anger, fester it inside of him and let it diminish whenever he commanded it to. Except when it came to Baekhyun.
"Get him out of your head." He sternly told himself.
He was there to see you. Not Baekhyun.
There wasn't any reason for him to think about your... boyfriend. Which- that was still getting some used to on Junmyeon's part. He didn't understand it, and couldn't accept it. The whole arrangement seemed too forced, even seemed too perfect. Two people who had the unfortunate burden of their significant others passing away. What a tragic way to tell people how you met.
He stepped out of his car, locking it behind him as he ventured towards the cafe he had recommended. He pulled the collar of his jacket out, the same jacket that he adorned on you the night you both had gotten drinks. Junmyeon turned the corner, his Hermès black loafers clacking against the pavement. His sight lands on the back of his friend; Sehun.
He stood outside the cafe, looking down at his phone. Junmyeon covers both sides of his mouth with his hands, yelling out his name. The younger man perks his head up, looking in the direction of his name being called. He immediately lets his shoulders drop, Junmyeon taking into account that his stress levels must be high. Once he's at arm's length, he pulls him into a tight hug. Sehun grabs onto him tightly, and Junmyeon has to question again just what this could be about.
They pull apart, and he notices that his friend's eyes are puffy.
"Are you okay? You look like you've been crying."
Sehun looks away, patting his eyes with his hands. His chuckle sounds strained,
"Yeah, yeah. Don't need to point it out."
Junmyeon puts his hand on his shoulder, rubbing small circles into it. He feels tense.
"It's okay. I'm here. We can talk about whatever you need to get off your chest, okay?"
Sehun looks at him, his eyes showing desperation.
"Once Y/N gets here. That's when I'll feel okay."
This raises flags in Junmyeon's head.
"Is she okay? What the fuck do you mean by that?"
Sehun seems struck with confusion, then he widens his eyes and shakes his head.
"N-No! I didn't mean anything was wrong with her. She's fine. She's alive."
"Why the hell would she not be?" He spits back.
The raven haired boy starts to speak, but a plop of rain suddenly drifts down from the sky, hitting him on the forehead. He looks up, and just like he flipped a switch, a downpour of rain spills down on them. They both start to cover their heads with their hands, and Junmyeon has to push their wet bodies inside the shop. He lets a breath of relief out as the small cafe warms up his bones. He eyes Sehun carefully, following behind him as he picks out a table in the back corner. They take a seat, being immediately approached by a waiter.
"I'll take an Americano," Junmyeon smiles at the young teen before he brings his attention to Sehun, "He'll take a black coffee-"
"N-no. Do you have anything sweet? Like uh... do you have boba?"
The waitress laughs nervously.
"We're a coffee shop. I can get you a Mocha. They're pretty sweet to begin with-"
Sehun nods, bringing his hand up to wave her off.
"Yeah. That. Whatever."
She gives him a disappointed frown as she walks off. Junmyeon scrunches his eyebrows together and extends his hands out in an 'What the fuck was that?' manner.
Sehun looks frantic, his words coming out so fast that Junmyeon has to ask him to slow down.
"Listen- I'm just really freaked right now, okay? I really have to be honest with how I'm feeling about some things and you're the person I know will fix them."
"Well that really puts more on my plate. I really want to know what you're talking about though. How about you stop running around in circles and just spit it out?"
The other takes a deep breath, but before he could let loose what was bothering him, his eyes face towards the cafe entrance. Junmyeon continues to stare at him, his mouth left open with his question still dangling in the air. Sehun starts to fumble on his words, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table, and that was when Junmyeon took it as his sign to turn around. But before he could, Sehun grabbed his hand and yanked him back.
"Don't. Look." He says dangerously low.
"Junmyeon!"
He smiles suddenly without thinking, your voice immediately calming his anxious thoughts. He watches as Sehun's face pales, and his hold on his hand is let go. Junmyeon finally turns around to wave at you, a smile smeared on his face- but the sudden excitement to see you is shadowed by the person with his hand around your waist.
"Jun! Good to see you again!"
Baekhyun smiles devilishly at Junmyeon as he stops the both of them in front of the table. He wore a black baggy long sleeved shirt, joined with light washed denim pants. A gold chain dangled from his neck, bright against his pale collarbones. He pushed his Ray Bans out of his eyes, pushing back his shabby dyed white hair. He looks at Sehun, cocking his head to the side and feigning fake astonishment as he points at the troubled man.
"Sehun! It's been so long since I've seen you. Y/N here said you wanted to talk about something important. And, well, since I'm her boyfriend and such a close friend with you- I knew that I had to come with. Do you mind if you sit next to Junmyeon? I just like to be next to her."
Baekhyun's eyes seemingly pierce through Sehun's shocked demeanor, his jaw left unhinged as the question lingers amongst them. When nothing is said, Junmyeon watches as Baekhyun tilts his head up quickly and uses his eyes to look at the empty seat next to himself. It was almost comical watching Sehun rush out of his chair and accompany Junmyeon on his side of the table.
You... well you looked like yourself. From what Sehun had framed earlier, Junmyeon was thinking the absolute worst. Maybe you got into an accident, or you tripped and broke a bone. But here you were; bare faced, flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes. You looked fine.
He watches as Baekhyun pulls out the seat for you, kissing your head as you smile back at him. He adjusts himself on the chair, bringing his hands onto the table rather loudly, the impact of his interlaced fingers thudding against it. He looks between Sehun and himself before he squints and lets a chuckle out.
"I think I know what this is about." He says matter-of-factly.
You don't say a word, Junmyeon notes. You instead look down at your lap, your lips still formed into a smile. In return for Baekhyun announcing his educated guess, Junmyeon leans in his chair and tilts back so the two back pegs are only on the floor. He brings a finger to his mouth and speaks diligently.
"I was only aware that Y/N would be coming. She never mentioned you coming, Baekhyun."
He watches as Baekhyun's expression doesn't falter, simply adjusts to the tone that Junmyeon laced with venom. He shifts his body to face him, using his right arm to drape around your shoulders, squeezing it. You're wearing a shirt that was unfamiliar to him, it was too baggy on your frame. He guessed it belonged to the unnerving cunt that sat across from him.
"Well like I stated before, Jun. I'm close friends with Oh Sehun. Right?" Baekhyun looks at Sehun, and the boy nods, not looking back at him. Junmyeon studies his body language; it was like he was a cornered animal, unable to escape. And Baekhyun was the hungry predator ready to pounce on him.
Junmyeon nods at this.
"Okay. So what are we here to talk about Sehun?" He places his hand on Sehun's shoulder, taken back when the other jumps a little.
"I- I. I actually forgot."
You reach forward across the table, your palm open in front of Sehun.
"Sehun, you could tell us anything. I'm here for you. You know that."
Sehun hesitatingly brings his own hand on the table, his fingers inches from yours, but he suddenly pulls back, closing it into a fist.
"I know, Y/N." He says weakly.
You look at Junmyeon pleadingly, so he rests his chair back normally on the ground. He starts to pat Sehun's back, then rubs it gently.
"She's right. You could tell us what's on your mind. You did say it was important."
He looks up, only to stare directly at Baekhyun. The two of them don't exchange any words- but Junmyeon takes into account how your boyfriend licks his lips and starts to smile.
What the fuck is happening? And why can't Sehun talk about what is obviously bothering him?
"I think you're nervous to talk about this in front of someone who wasn't invited," Junmyeon states blankly, and you give him a sad look before he continues, "But regardless. He's here, and he said that you're close as well. You agreed to it. Are you lying?"
Sehun shakes his head quickly. Junmyeon knows he's lying. But he doesn't show the discernment that he's feeling inside, and can't give Baekhyun any satisfaction that he's slipping up in his own emotions. They already had one of them crumbling right in front of their eyes. Before Sehun could say anything else, Baekhyun takes the lead.
"I know what it is."
You look at him confused.
"You do, Baek?"
Junmyeon sneers at that. But as much as that bothered him, his interest was settled on what Baekhyun would say next. He watched as Baekhyun nodded very surely, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the song that was playing in the cafe.
"Sehun has been having suicidal thoughts. I would know. He called me and told me about it."
And for once, Junmyeon was stunned. He was not expecting Baekhyun to say that, but even moreso, it seemed like Sehun didn't either. He gapes, spreading his hands out on the table, looking in a flurry between the three people seated with him at the table. The police officer watches as a bead of sweat travels down the side of his forehead, his lips beginning to tremble.
Baekhyun clears his throat, then leaned back into his chair, his arms folding behind his neck.
"Yeah. He told me he was contemplating suicide. He was too nervous to talk about it since he's never had those emotions before, but I get it. It's not easy to talk about wanting to slice your wrists when so many people have died recently," He eyes the paper menu on the right side of him, picking it up gingerly,
"But I insisted that he talk about it. Therapists are too expensive these days. I let him know that I'm his friend. He could trust me, you know? But he wanted to see you guys today so... I guess he built up enough confidence to say the truth. Right, Sehun? The truth?"
No one says anything. They stay silent until the waitress delivers the men's drinks, then quickly draws down your order and Baekhyun's. Junmyeon studies him, how he smiled at the young girl; how he was able to say such obscene things and happily order his coffee like normal. He couldn't understand him, couldn't dissect him at all. He was stronger than he looked but Junmyeon knew that he could crack him.
It wasn't like he didn't believe what he said, but if Sehun was feeling like that, truly, he knew that he could talk to his friend in private. This wasn't something that the younger would do, not at all. There had to be something else that was itching his brain, but he was obviously too scared to speak about it in front of Baekhyun.
He picks up his Americano, taking a small sip.
"How do you know Sehun, Baekhyun?"
You speak this time, which surprised Junmyeon.
"Baekhyun told me that they go way back. They used to do business together."
Junmyeon looks at Sehun, forming a tight knit line.
"Is that so?"
"We might have hung out a couple times." He mumbles out before he drinks his mocha.
He returned his sight to Baekhyun, who shrugged as his smile got wider.
"What can I say? I'm a people person. Everyone likes me."
"Even Chanyeol?"
Baekhyun's eyes dim. He leans into the table, the smile vanishing,
"Even Chanyeol, yes."
Junmyeon starts to smile this time.
"You know it's funny. Chanyeol just got into a fight a couple weeks back. Did you know about that? Looks pretty awful if I say so myself."
You look at your boyfriend in a dazed state, obviously not following the tension that was brewing.
"You didn't say anything about that. But Jun," You purse your lips together, "What does that have to do with anything? We're here for Sehun."
He looks off to the interior decorating the cafe, little potted plants hanging from the ceiling, strings of lights glowing brightly against the tan walls.
"Just making small talk. You don't have to get defensive, Y/N."
You push your tongue into the side of your cheek, looking back down at your lap.
"I'm not getting defensive. I'm just saying if Sehun is feeling... suicidal, we should be conversating about that. Not about how the Deputy got into a fucking fight."
"Well it's pretty fucking obvious that Sehun doesn't want to talk about it. Come on, Y/N. You know how to detect body language just as well as I do. It's because of him."
He jabs his finger toward Baekhyun. The accused man flutters his eyelashes bashfully, resting his chin on both of his hands.
"Me? What did I do?" He says tauntingly.
Junmyeon flared his nostrils, the familiar heat rising in his chest like the night he flung your underwear around his face. He wanted to slam him against the wall, yell in his face and realize that he was no match against Junmyeon's strength. He settles on slamming his fists on the table, spilling his drink, the hot liquid traveling on his skin. It burned, but it didn't compare to the fire that was ignited inside him now.
"You know exactly what I'm getting at here, Byun. You scare Sehun fucking shitless, and for whatever reason he can't even maintain eye contact with you. You're nothing but a weak joke. You cascade this macho persona, but I see right through it. You're nothing but an empty shell that draws on masks and puts it on to fit every single situation. I don't fucking like you."
He lets out an aggravated tsk as he finishes, looking down at the table. He knew he showed too much to Baekhyun, gave him too much information just by playing into his game. He knew now that he was easily triggered by his obliviousness. He wanted to slap himself in the face.
"Junmyeon. Can I talk to you outside?"
He looks up to meet your distressed state, and he nods in a flash, standing up and following you outside the cafe. Before you got up, you whispered something in Baekhyun's ear that made his facial features twitch. His eyelids drooped downwards, but he regained his once upbeat personality and laid a kiss on your cheek. He could feel Baekhyun's stare burning holes in the back of his head, but at this moment, Junmyeon didn't care.
He listened to the small chime of the bell go off as the door closed behind them, then turned to face you. The rain beat down on your head, your once dry hair dampened by the merciless weather. He has to break the silence, you hadn't spoken a single word and continued your stare directly into his soul.
"What? What do you want from me?" He spats out.
Your bottom lip juts out, your eyes furiously blinking away the rain.
"Why are you acting like this?"
He stands still, letting the rain blur his vision of you. He forms his hands into fists.
"Like what? Like a normal human being? I don't know you anymore, Y/N. You've changed."
You scoff at that, shifting your weight on your right leg. You bring up your hand and shake it angrily. "Me? I'm the same as I've ever been. You're the one who changed," You cross your arms over your chest, "You don't talk to me anymore. You stopped reaching out, you- you fucking made me leave work! You left me alone after Kyungsoo died, and you expect me to be my bubbly happy go-lucky self? Fuck you."
You shove him, and when he doesn't move from the impact of your soft blow, you strike him again on the chest. He doesn't change his position, just looks down at you while you pound your fists against his body, watching as you begin to cry. It broke his heart. Seeing you like this. The worst part for Junmyeon was knowing that he couldn't be the one to fix this for you, there would never be the same connection between the both of you unless Baekhyun was out of the equation.
The most sickening thought to Junmyeon was knowing that you would never leave Baekhyun.
Not for Sehun.
Not for Kyungsoo.
Not even him.
He sighs as he stops your actions in a heartbeat, grabbing your arms mid air. You hiccup as you look back up at him, your eyes filled with tears. Your eyes that stole his heart were nothing but a black hole now, and even if Junmyeon wanted to pull you back out, you wouldn't have accepted his hand. He fights his own sob trying to erupt from his throat, putting on a smile for you. You shake your head, your pink lips forming to say something. But you didn't.
"Are you cold?" He mutters out brokenly.
You scrunch your face up, your cheeks, a beautiful shade of pink. Your eyes shut closer together as you bite your lip to contain your whines, and shake your head.
"I... I've got thick skin."
He licks his lips, looking at the stained ground. He releases his grip on you, letting his arms fall back to his sides. "You should head back inside."
You shake your head more violently now, punching his arms.
"You're supposed to give me your jacket, you fucking prick."
It sounded desperate. Like you were hoping that the connection you had could somehow be fused back together with something as pathetic as a jacket. You continue to hit him, speaking in choked sobs, repeating for him to give you his jacket. But he doesn't listen anymore. He just stares at you, watching how devastatingly broken you were.
"That's enough, Y/N."
"No. You need me just as much as I need you." You snap back.
He shakes his head at you. He grabs the handle of the cafe door, turning his back on you.
"I don't need you at all. Don't bother coming back to work."
You start to scream a string of obscenities at him, but he silences the hurtful spikes you were throwing at him. He let the door close behind him, watching as some of the people inside gave him incredulous looks, the waitress peering outside while covering her mouth. He fashioned the cuffs of his jacket so they didn't look so disheveled, then cleared his throat as he approached the table in the corner.
Baekhyun doesn't say a word, but Junmyeon knows that he's holding back some type of resentment. The man's face distorted into pure anger, his hold on the coffee mug making his knuckles a bright red. Sehun huddled into his seat, not daring to look up at Junmyeon. He sighs at that, lazily looking between the two. He clicks his tongue, bringing his now cold drink up to his lips, gulping it down completely.
Once he finished, he placed it back gently on the table. He pulled out his wallet and pulled a few stray bills, confidently placing it on the table.
"I think that should cover everyone here. Sehun, are you coming?"
Baekhyun stands up, inching towards Junmyeon and stopping until he was only inches away from his face. His head bobs lightly, his tongue tracing his lips before he spoke.
"Sehun and I are going to spend some time together. Is that alright with you?"
Junmyeon is tired at this point. He's had enough of Baekhyun. Of you. So he chuckles darkly, making Baekhyun look at him with a quizzical expression.
"Do whatever the fuck you want. You might want to give Y/N a ride back to her house though. She's completely drenched. You should warm him up, make sure she doesn't catch a cold."
He turns his feet in the direction he came from, but Baekhyun's hand grabs his shoulder.
Junmyeon doesn't bother looking back, just stands in place as he looks out the window.
"I'll fuck her good for you."
And that was enough for him. He had it.
Junmyeon laughed, closing his eyes as he turned around slowly. He ducks his head down, bringing it up slightly so Baekhyun would only see his eyes. He smirked at him, opening his mouth to probably spit out some other lewd details, but Junmyeon doesn't give him the chance. He brings his fist to connect with Baekhyun's jaw, watching as the smaller man topples back on the table, his hands gripping onto the edges of it. Screams begin to echo in the once quiet shop, and Junmyeon can hear people scrambling out of the chairs, the squeaks of shoes running right out the door.
The waitress does nothing but look onto the fight unfold behind the counter, her phone shaking in her grasp as she tries to unlock it. Baekhyun spits on the floor, blood painting the washed out gray flooring. He looks back up, and Junmyeon hesitates as he watches Baekhyun's eyes turn into something almost demonic, his white teeth stained with the ruby color, smiling right at him. It almost felt like he wanted this to happen; but Junmyeon doesn't want to miss the opportunity to beat him to a pulp.
Baekhyun lands a pretty good punch to his chin, making Junmyeon twist his neck to the left. He shakes it off quickly, running back at him and grabbing him by his shirt, pushing him against the wall. He doesn't stop his fist from hitting his face, not giving him any mercy, just enjoying seeing the blood erupt from his mouth. It wasn't until Sehun pulled him off that he let him go. Baekhyun slides down the wall, his hands weakly spread on the floor, the smile on his face never leaving.
He wheezes, and Junmyeon just stares as Sehun restrains his arms behind his back, telling him, "It's okay, It's okay." He's in a delirious state now, looking down at his own shirt, the vermillion stains looking right back up at him. He watches as you somehow rush to Baekhyun's aid, looking at him and screaming. But it's all just static in his head. He pushes Sehun off of him, grunting as he winds his shoulder back. He stumbles as he walks away from the gore fest he created, cracking his knuckles.
"Sir! You cannot leave this premise, I already called the cops!"
The waitress was crying, her phone raised to her ear as she pointed at him. Junmyeon snickers, looking at her frazzled state. He continues to walk towards the door, stopping as he looks back at her, offering her a genuine side smile.
"I am the police. Go get him some napkins. He'll be fine."
He opens the door, looking up at the sky, watching the rain pour down. He smacks his lips together, then without a thought in his head, he takes off his jacket. He looks back inside, Sehun looking back at him with shock, and tosses it on one of the tables.
"Give it to Baekhyun. He needs it more than me."
Baekhyun's POV
"Get in the fucking car, Sehun."
Baekhyun didn't know what was exactly going to transpire today, but it sure as fuck wasn't this. He sits himself in his car, immediately looking at his face in the mirror. His nose was bleeding, one of his eyes was turning completely red- to which Baekhyun scoffed.
He looked down at his hand, the faint color of crimson staining it. Usually this would be fine, but in this scenario he was disgusted. There should never be a moment where he, Baekhyun, would be the one spitting up blood. He listens to the back passanger's door close harshly, and he looks at a spooked Sehun staring back at him. He's stark white, his legs crossed over one another, his body visibly shaking.
He licks his lips as he looks away, gripping the steering wheel.
"Did you know he was going to do that?" He says sourly.
Sehun shook his head, looking outside the window.
"No. I've never seen him like that before."
Baekhyun punches the wheel then, making Sehun audibly gasp. He turned around in a flash, teeth gritting together, aiming his next words towards the young boy.
"I'm going to take Y/N home, and if you-" He jabs his finger in the other's chest, "say a single thing? I'll make sure you regret it. You got me?"
He nods, tears brimming his eyes already. Baekhyun chuckles at that, pulling his hand away from him and sitting back in his seat completely. He clears his throat, blood still spewing from his lips. He grimaces, looking outside his own window this time, watching you walk up to his side with more napkins.
You tap the window, and Baekhyun nimbly pushes down the button to roll it down. You quickly shove the napkins towards his nose, you're forcing out too many words at once, making you stutter uncontrollably.
"I- I did- I can't believe he did that. Are you o-okay?" You take sharp breaths in between each word, like it hurt to inhale.
Baekhyun's heart swells at that, and he rests his hand over yours, stopping your frantic movements. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, trying to remain calm for you. He listens to your ragged breathing, then rests his gaze on yours. He smiles.
"I'll be fine. Let me take you home-"
"No. I- I have to talk to him."
And why did you want to talk to him? Baekhyun wondered. He was only one short circuit away from blowing up, but he reminds himself that it's you, that's he talking to. He couldn't have you thinking he was the controlling boyfriend that he knows he is. Baekhyun would be the composed, innocent man in this situation. And God, it really fucking sucked being good.
"If that's what you think you should do. Go for it." He narrows his eyes, watching as you didn't expect that response. You nod hestitangly, unsure of what to do with the remaining napkins in your hand. He shakes his head softly, taking them from you.
"Make sure you text me when you get home then. I'll come over." He says in a whisper.
You give him a sympathetic smile, "Of course."
You give him a kiss on his cheek, to which Baekhyun makes sure to record in his memories to fond over later. You turn around, but Baekhyun reaches out his window and latches his grasp on your wrist. You look back confused, but he doesn't even need to say it to you now; something that he pleasantly enjoyed.
"I- I love you."
He tilts his head cheekily to the side, letting you go.
"I love you too."
He watched until you were only a speck in his vision, and then he grudgingly turned back around again, latching his fangs into Sehun.
"Get in the front with me."
Sehun shook his head.
"I'm okay back here-"
"Get up here." Baekhyun deadpans.
So there they were, driving in Baekhyun's car, driving aimlessly. He hasn't said anything to the other, just kept quiet as he tapped his finger on the wheel, watching his windshield wipers dispose of the rain on the car. Sehun cleared his throat when they arrived at a red light, and Baekhyun flickered his eyes on him for a second, then continued to stare forward at the road.
"What?" He says in a sardonic tone.
"Where are we going? I actually have some work I have to go over-"
"Really? What is it about?" Baekhyun smirks, hitting the gas pedal.
Sehun fiddles with his hands, "Just some um, you know. Burglary case."
Baekhyun nods, his voice ringing in the silent car.
"Man, I hate people like that. They could be so annoying, huh?"
Sehun forces out a bitter laugh.
"Y-yeah. They're... annoying."
"Tell me Sehun. Because I'm really, really, into what you do for a living. How do you live with yourself when you know you have blood on your hands? Do you think you're better than me?"
Silence.
He turns a street, slowing down his speed in the empty neighborhood. He waits for him to say something, but just like he knew, Sehun didn't dare say a single syllable. He looks at the dim lit houses and apartments as he continues his drive, pointing at some and complimenting the exterior. He stops in front of one, moving his hand towards the Park shift. He faces Sehun now, observing how he stayed completely still, his shoulders hunched over, his face looking completely in his lap. Baekhyun snaps his fingers, making the other jump in his seat.
"You see that house?"
Sehun diverted his attention outside the window. It was an ugly house; seemingly abandoned from the looks of it. It was almost as if it was being held by strings, the paint chipping off the wood, the lawn a complete jungle. The roof was beaten in, some had already caved in, submitting itself over to the undeniable death. He looked back at Baekhyun, his eyebrow raised.
"What about it?"
Baekhyun winced, his eye throbbing in pain. He fixates on Sehun through his migraine.
"It's beautiful."
"Beautiful? I don't see how-"
He slaps his face then, immediately grabbing his cheek to look back at him.
"Isn't it beautiful seeing things struggle to stay alive? No matter how broken they are. They still manage to live. And do you know why us, as people, no matter how battered and bruised we get, we still get up?"
Sehun shook his head in Baekhyun's hand. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, digging his fingernails into his skin. "Because they think they have purpose. And where does purpose come from? It comes from the undeniable feeling that something or someone created you- that some being put you in existence because they believed you had something to grace this fucked up reality."
He lets go of Sehun's face, shoving him against the window. He unbuckles his seatbelt, crawling towards his body and pushing his head on the window. He savors seeing Sehun's breath clouding on the clear glass, his breathing short with each one he took. He locks his fingers in his hair, twisting and pulling it, slamming his face into the glass harder.
"But do you want to know the one thing that people don't know?"
He snickers to himself as he grins.
"I am the person who decides people's purposes. Me."
Sehun pushes him off, saliva dripping down his mouth, his eyes in a crazed state. Baekhyun raises his hands in the air as if he'd been caught, then relaxes as he leans against his seat.
"So, Sehun. Can you answer my question?"
Sehun grips the leather seat, tears staining his cheeks.
"What question?" He lashes out.
"Do you think you're better than me?"
"I- I don't know. Why does this matter, why me?" He spews angrily.
Baekhyun sighs, lazily draping his seatbelt on himself. He resumes his quaint car drive, not answering Sehun's question. He wracked his mind about this for a while; people who knew they were going to die not cooperating with their killer. It never made sense, Baekhyun enjoyed the manipulative mind games he would play with people, much like a kid playing with their food. Deciding which portion of their meal would enter their mouths... which portion would end up unscathed. If you were in the palm of a sadistic killer, would you rather play with him or fight him?
The choice was fairly obvious.
But obviously not.
The gloomy skies turned a shade of purple and black, the moon resurfacing from its slumber. Baekhyun didn't say anything as he parked in front of the apartment building he frequented often. He pushed back the pain that screamed at him, lifting his hand to grab his car keys. Sehun stayed put, glancing up towards the building. When he didn't react, Baekhyun waved his key in the air questiongly at him.
"You're not excited to be here?"
"Why would I be?"
"Because now you won't be alone with me."
Sehun uttered underneath his breath, "I'm not talking to him anymore."
Baekhyun jutted his bottom lip out, masking a look of concern.
"Not best friends with your best friend anymore? Wonder why."
"Like you fucking care."
Baekhyun shook his head, reaching over to the glove box. He opened it up, pulling the sharp object out. He grazed his indent finger over the gray blade, watching how prettily it shined in the darkness. Sehun held his breath, watching Baekhyun admire his toy. Baekhyun smiled brightly, his cheeks warming up.
"I'm offended by that. I care about my friends. And you're my friend."
Something in the air changed when Baekhyun stated that; and he took into account how Sehun's once scared shitless exterior softened. Obviously something happened between him and Chanyeol, it wasn't like he necessarily cared about what it was about, but if it could make this more entertaining for him, he'll use it.
"Get out. If you make a run for it, I'll kill you."
Baekhyun stood behind Sehun as he entered the apartment building, knife embedded in his lower back. An awkward ride in the elevator was fun for Baekhyun, enjoying how Sehun squirmed in discomfort. He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, and without his eyes leaving Sehun's back, he pulled it out. He squinted from the bright light coming from his phone, but that soon was replaced with a heartwarming grin.
i made it home. let me know when you're coming over. i'll order take out. :) love you.
He shoved it back into his pocket as the elevator notified them they arrived. He couldn't wait to come back home to you, being able to be overwhelmed with your scent, your body, your touch. He almost stumbled in his step while thinking about it, but he covered it up by pushing Sehun ahead of him, towards Chanyeol's door.
He brushed some hair out of his eyes, gazing at Sehun's closed fist knocking on the door of his life-long friend. He felt his heart race faster as Chanyeol opened the door in shock, wearing only a robe, his hair in complete disarray. Baekhyun brought his free hand up, waving cutely in his direction.
"We haven't had a guy's night in a while."
Chanyeol had let them in, stubbornly, but still- let them in. Which was his biggest mistake in his life so far. Baekhyun had grabbed Sehun by his collar and led him towards the couch. He threw him down roughly, flipping the knife in his hand in the air before jokingly pretending to stab him.
"Quit it, Baek." Chanyeol shouted at him, taking his place on a chair beside the glass table.
Baekhyun giggled to himself, flashing the knife at Chanyeol. He grunted as he pushed the tip of the blade away, giving a snarling look. Crossing his arms, Chanyeol pierced his gaze at Sehun, the younger childishly looking away. He snorted at that, then watched as Baekhyun sat in his own chair.
Chanyeol quipped, "What the fuck happened to you? You almost look as bad as me."
"Your friend. Junmyeon." Baekhyun grunted out.
Chanyeol widens his eyes. Then erupts in boisterous laughter, hand clapping included. The two men aren't amused by it in the slightest, and after a couple more seconds of his annoying noise, he dwindles down, fully taking in the tension filled air. He licks his lips and brings his attention back to Baekhyun, but more importantly the blade that was adorned in his grip.
"What's the knife for, huh?" Chanyeol barks at him. He was nervous, Baekhyun could tell.
So he shimmies into his seat, ready to watch the show unfold in front of his very eyes; perfectly orchestrated by him. "I thought we'd play a game."
Sehun sits up in his seat, broadcasting for the first time a sense of confidence.
"A game?"
Baekhyun nods sweetly.
"A game. Rules are that you have to play. If you don't- well you know." He says in a singsong voice.
He watches Chanyeol stretch out his arms, sighing. He flashes a grim look towards Sehun.
"Thought you didn't want to see me anymore. Why'd you come?"
"Yeah, like I volunteered to be held at knife point by Baekhyun. I didn't want to come here."
Baekhyun stifles back laughter, crossing his legs together as he listens to the argument stirring up. He looked down at his knife; the same knife he used on Mina. If he squinted hard enough, he could still see the faint blood on the pristine gift Chanyeol gave him.
"Well I don't know, this could be an ambush for all I know. You and your stupid fucking choices that you make. You never learn, do you?" Chanyeol's veins popped out of his neck as he spoke to Sehun.
Sehun rolled his eyes, looking at Baekhyun.
"What do we have to do?"
"What, so you're ignoring me now? Prick." Chanyeol spits.
Baekhyun stands, interjecting as he raises his hands in the air.
"Now now. Let's not get too excited to play the game. Let me explain the rules, okay guys?"
They don't say anything so Baekhyun takes it that they're interested. He loved his friends.
"So, the whole premise is kind of silly," He chuckles as he walks over to the couch, wrapping his arm around Sehun's shoulders, "Basically, the two of you spill your guts about every horrible thing you've done for me. The one who takes responsibility wins. Pretty easy, right?"
Sehun puckers his lips and begins to open his mouth, but Baekhyun shushes him, grazing the knife on his cheek. "I'm not finished."
"The one who's too much of a self centered cunt, dies. By who? You're wondering? Well," He stands up, dragging the knife on the glass table, making the men in the room groan from the noise, "By the one who wins. I think it's pretty fair."
Chanyeol gives him the most stomach-turning frown, his lips trembling in distraught.
"No fucking way."
Baekhyun walks behind Chanyeol's chair, his hand bringing the knife to his neck. He inches towards the other's ear, his lips grazing his skin ever so slightly.
"Aren't we friends, Channie? Best friends, right?"
His friend's hand grips the chair's arm furiously, "Us being friends doesn't have anything to do with this, Baekhyun."
"Oh, but I think it does. You know why it does, Chanyeol? Because I have something on you. And if I tell the entire world what Park Chanyeol did- well, that wouldn't end well for you, right? But I'm your friend, so I'll give you a chance to not ruin your perfect cookie cutter reputation."
He slices Chanyeol's skin lightly, looking down to see the small beads of blood sprout from his neck. He immediately hushes his deep rooted snarls, his body settling into the situation that was being unfolded. Sehun gapes, but he slowly closes his own mouth, eyebrows furrowed together as he leans out of his seat.
Baekhyun smiles. "Okay then. Who wants to be honest?"
He sits back down in his chair. Of course, he had something up his sleeve. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, cleverly hiding it from view underneath his thigh. He rummaged through his miscellaneous apps, until he finally clicked on Voice Memos. And finally, the game would actually begin.
Sehun starts it off, which was little to no surprise to Baekhyun. He was the weaker one out of all of them after all.
"I- I disposed of the body of Baekhyun's girlfriend. I didn't like doing it though. I- I still have nightmares about it."
Baekhyun gives a light hearted clap, to which Sehun glares. He looks towards Chanyeol, and Baekhyun copies. He looks tired, his arms hanging off the arms of the chair, his eyes fixated on the ground.
"Chanyeol? What about you? What have you done?" Baekhyun questions.
Chanyeol licks his lips, pulled out of the trance he put himself in.
"I... I haven't done anything."
God, was he an idiot. He knew his friend was prideful, but did he really have to be when it came to his own life? He sighs, shaking his head.
"No... I don't think that's right. Come on, spill your guts. We don't judge here!"
His cheerfulness does nothing to the bland environment. Chanyeol covers his face with both of his hands, something of a sob tumbling from his throat. Baekhyun looks at Sehun, giving him a look that reads, "Can you believe this guy?"
"I didn't do anything. I haven't." Chanyeol repeats.
Sehun stands up, anger fusing into his features.
"I should have known you wouldn't fess up to anything. You're just like your fucking dad."
Baekhyun gasps, placing his hands over his mouth. He tries to fight off the incoming laughter from his chest, but it spills over maniacally. Of course, he knew Chanyeol's trouble with his own father, I mean he issued him to kill him for Christ's sake. But compared to Baekhyun, Chanyeol's sanity when it came to his dad was utterly gone. He knew not to talk about it; only when it mattered, when it was a reminder. Obviously Sehun didn't know about this. So Baekhyun continued his fit of giggles, his eyes latching onto Chanyeol's furious state.
"You know, I let it go earlier. I mean, you didn't even give me the chance to say anything before you left, you fucking asshole. But you- you don't know anything about my fucking father. He was a living fucking nightmare, he cheated, he lied, he hit me. I am nothing, like him," Chanyeol kicks his chair back, his body moving faster than he could have been thinking, stopping as he stands in Sehun's face, "So shut the fuck up if you know what's good for you."
Sehun clenches his fists, mustering up a confident face, but failing horribly.
"I killed Kyungsoo. I am the person who fucking helped. I disposed of a body. Come on, Chanyeol. Fucking take ownership. Don't fucking die because your pride!"
With a gurgled yell, Chanyeol punches Sehun in the face, his own face bright red with anger. Sehun fights back, grabbing Chanyeol by his shoulders and shoving him into the glass table, shards gliding on the hardwood floor, pieces stopping at Baekhyun's shoes. Baekhyun's adrenaline shoots up, his already widened eyes stretching out even more, his smile so big it's beginning to hurt. He picks up a shard of glass, flipping it around in his hand as he watches Sehun plummeting his fist into Chanyeol's face.
He stands up, walking behind Sehun and seeing his friend's face go in and out of consciousness. His lip is busted, blood is sprayed on his chin and exposed chest, his eyes are in a dazed, frenzied state. Sehun freezes his movements, taking a deep breath in before he pulls Chanyeol up, looking him straight in the eyes.
"Chanyeol. Please, say something."
He spits blood on the younger's face, yet Sehun stays stoic. He whispers this time,
"Choose me. Choose to live."
Baekhyun huffs annoyed, giving Sehun's ribs a hard kick, watching him cripple up and fall on the ground. He stands over Chanyeol now, both of his feet on either side of him, crouches down and smacks his lips together.
"What did you end up doing yourself, huh, Yeol?" He brushes some of Chanyeol's dark locks off his forehead, gagging as he touches some of the blood that was painted into his skin.
Chanyeol's voice is brittle as he speaks, "P-please. Help."
The words came out weakly, each syllable too painful for him to escape from his mouth. Baekhyun ponders for a moment, then nods his head. He picks up his battered friend, sitting him up and dragging him so he leans on the chair he had kicked back moments prior. He slaps him a little, trying to keep him conscious. When he finally lets up and keeps his eyes open, Baekhyun waves the knife in his face gleefully.
"You want me to help you, right?"
Chanyeol nods slowly, his eyes crossing repeatedly, trying to focus on him. Baekhyun let's a small, "uh-huh," out, then walked towards Sehun. He repeats his action, dragging his body and stopping to drop him right in front of Chanyeol's feet. He digs his foot into Sehun's neck, putting pressure steadily, watching him struggle to push him off. Baekhyun looks at Chanyeol with a straight face, eyes dark.
"What do you want me to do, Chanyeol?"
Chanyeol, becoming more and more aware of what's happening, gurgles on his own blood, sputtering out drops of the red on Sehun's face. He shakes his hands, getting on his knees and trying to remove Baekhyun's foot from the other's throat. Baekhyun sneers at that, disappointment settling into his features. He keeps his foot on the other's throat and takes a step in Chanyeol's direction, bringing the knife to the side of his neck.
"You can't save him. But you want to know what you can do?" Baekhyun lashes out in anger.
Chanyeol shakes, looking up defeated.
"W-what?" He says brokenly.
Baekhyun removes the knife from his throat, then points his finger and motions for Chanyeol to get on top of Sehun. It takes him a moment to register what he's asking, but nonetheless, he does it. And Baekhyun feels almost a little bit of pity for him; but it's quickly erased when he hears Sehun wheeze against his shoe. He takes his foot off of him, crouching behind Chanyeol, placing his hands on his shoulders, leaning his head against the crook of his neck as he peered down at Sehun.
"What do you want to say, Sehun?" Baekhyun asks.
There's fear in his eyes, and the all knowing feeling that his last words were coming soon. He knew the look all too well, loved seeing it. But in this moment, it felt different. Rather than the impending speech of love being tarnished, a future of marriage memorized and said endless amounts of times to potential lovers, this was Sehun. Sehun, who played the game right, Sehun who didn't let pride wash over him. It made Baekhyun feel... like a God. He was the one who wrote the script, who decided to change the rules if it didn't seem fit to his liking, he was- He Is- God.
"The answer- to your question." Sehun says shakily.
Baekhyun shapes his mouth into an, "O '' shape, nodding his head and biting his lip eagerly.
"Yes? And what is that?"
Sehun looks directly at Chanyeol as he speaks,
"I'm not better than you."
Baekhyun hears Chanyeol's voice hitch, his body trembling. Sehun continues.
"You win. You'll always win, Baekhyun."
"Exactly. Now, Chanyeol," Baekhyun slithers his hand down to Chanyeol's, placing the knife in his hand, "I'm going to give you something that you've always wanted."
Chanyeol replies in a monotone voice, "Which is?"
"To kill and rid of the obstacle in your life. I won't do it for you this time. Think of it as a gift."
He looks as Chanyeol slowly but surely wraps each finger around the hilt of the knife, until it is in his grasp most surely. Baekhyun gingerly brings his hand on Chanyeol's arm, pushing it towards Sehun's chest. He lets go once the blade is inches from Sehun's own flesh, pausing to watch what his friend would do next.
Sehun sobs, "We can still do it. We can still kill him, Chanyeol."
"Is that right, Chanyeol? You can still kill me? Well look, I'm right here. Do it." Baekhyun lets the last words drip with curiosity.
Chanyeol doesn't make any movements. He stays on top of Sehun, knife remaining inches from his chest. His troubled breathing is the only sound in the apartment, only until he speaks with the utmost confidence.
"I... I can be loyal to something as small as a best friend, Sehun."
Sehun's eyes glimmered with hope then, Baekhyun almost faltering in his own confidence.
"Yes- Yes, Chanyeol! I knew you would choose me-"
And Chanyeol followed his words as he plummeted the knife into his friend.
"Chan...chanyeol?"
Sehun's mouth was left agape as he looked down shakily at the knife sticking out of his chest, Chanyeol's body hunched over Sehun's in a ghostly manner. Baekhyun let out a nervous chuckle, putting a hand over his heart, closing his eyes in relief. He doubted- for a second, that Chanyeol would be persuaded by the meaningless words Sehun spouted out. But Baekhyun knew.
"I knew you would choose me." Baekhyun says sarcastically, mimicking Sehun.
Chanyeol says nothing as he takes the knife out of Sehun, throwing it away from his sight. He picked up the limp body now, his hand moving behind Sehun's head, pushing it up, shaking it.
"Sehun? Sehun, please. I- I didn't do it. I didn't-"
A string of sobs continued after, and Baekhyun walked quietly to retrieve his weapon, cleaning off the blood with his already ruined shirt. He made his way back to Chanyeol, who was attempting to revive Sehun's dead body, chest heaving as snot shot from his nose, his tears cascading on the corpse's face. Baekhyun snaps his finger, earning a devastated and desperate look from Chanyeol.
"And where's my thank you for saving your ass?" Baekhyun crossed his arms together.
Chanyeol blinked, his face morphing into one of shock.
"Thank You? What the fuck do I have to thank you for? You killed my-"
Baekhyun stamps his foot as he yells,
"You! You killed him, Chanyeol. Not me. Maybe I should have let Sehun kill you; you still can't play the game fucking right. Piece of shit. You can't even say thank you for the gift I gave you, some fucking stability in your life, jeez. Also," He snakes out his phone from his pocket, waving it in the air, then clicking the button to end the voice memo, "I have it all recorded. I'll just keep it as a reminder for you."
Chanyeol grips Sehun's body closer to his chest. His left eye was swollen shut now, the blood dried on his face and chest. Baekhyun didn't think Chanyeol looked any better than right now. So he sticks his phone back in his back pocket, slipping the knife in the other. He walks over to the door, but Chanyeol stops him with one last pleading question.
"Baekhyun. Why... why didn't you kill me?"
Baekhyun stills. He looks over his shoulder, smiling.
"Because. You're my friend."
"Goodbye, Chanyeol."
And as he closed the door behind him, he listened to Chanyeol unleash a blood curdling scream. He relished in it, humming a tune to himself as he walked down the hallway. He brought his phone out as he entered the elevator. He typed happily, his thoughts finally only becoming about you.
on my way back. i missed you so much. i'm so happy. :)
#baekhyun fic#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun ff#baekhyun#byun baekhyun#park chanyeol#kim junmyeon#oh sehun#yandere#kpop yandere fic#yandere fic#yandere ff#baekhyun fanfiction#baekhyun x you#you x baekhyun#baekhyun x oc#oc x baekhyun#luviebaekfics#baekhyun angst#kpop yandere#yandere kpop#chanyeol#suho#sehun
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And I hope I can be everything for a while yet
*MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR DOWNTON ABBEY: A NEW ERA”
Evidently, I have been haunted by THAT scene ever since I first saw it. This is my first attempt at writing Cobert fan fiction so any feedback is very welcome:)
There’s both original text by none other that our holy master Julian Fellowes and I wrote additionally what I imagined to be their thoughts and fears when they were faced with the possibility of losing each other.
“I know it’s late, but could we go for a walk?”
Although Cora had known for a long time that she would someday be obliged to discuss the matter with Robert, being confronted with that very situation made her feel nauseous. This was something she was used to by now, as it took her often all the willpower she had left to get down a few bites during dinner, but she knew that this time it was not predominantly the illness that made her feel this way. It was the thought of looking into Robert’s unknowing features that scared her the most.
The Marquis de Montmirail and Robert exchanged some final words, but Cora didn’t really understand much of any of it, as behind her still and smiling façade she was fighting an indecisive battle on how she should best deliver the words she was bound to pronounce.
Only after Robert had slipped his arms underneath her own did she once again notice the surroundings clearly. The villa was enlightened by the sparkling party that pulsated around the beautifully decorated walls and for a second, she caught a glimpse of Tom and Lucy swaying in each other’s arms. Another wave of grief suddenly struck her. Robert had also requested earlier that night to share a dance to the cheerful music, just like the two of them had done so many times.
Dancing together had always been one of their passions. Not only because Cora was convinced that she had earned Robert’s love during one of their most memorable dances, but because they would always forget everything and everyone surrounding them when the two of them whirled around the dance floor intertwined in each other’s arms.
However, this evening Cora had to decline. She knew all too well that her constant dizziness would never allow her to spin around. Her muscles, weak as they had become in the past months, could never muster the quick beats she would have to follow along.
Robert had glanced at her somewhat irritated, given the fact that it had not rarely been his wife who had urged him so desperately to share a dance with her. The decline did seem rather unusual.
Luckily, Robert slowly strayed away from the dazzling party, turning into a much calmer corner of the property. Only delicately could the two of them hear the band playing a slow and melancholic ballad.
Staring at the velvet fabric of her dress, Cora still had not made up her mind how she would deliver the news. She knew precisely that Robert was still so agitated due to the possibility that he may have never been the rightful heir to Downton that it felt harsh to confront him with another unsolvable problem. Because yes, it was indeed unsolvable.
Robert must have understood that Cora walked peculiarly silent next to him, as it felt odd to him that she didn’t carelessly start to talk. He had found himself often confused by the way Cora would always find a topic to discuss, no matter how irrelevant it may have appeared to him. Although their arms were tightly intertwined, Robert felt as if thousands of kilometers were in between his wife and himself. In order to break the uncomfortable silence, he asked the first question that came to his mind, even though he did not really care for the answer, as he was still so preoccupied with the unsuspected turn this journey down to the south of France had taken.
“Have you enjoyed our trip, dear?”
Oh, it was too much. The words instantly evoked a feeling of deep hopelessness and Cora felt the panic bubble up inside her chest. She felt as if all the blood inside her head had sacked down at once, leaving her with a strong lightheadedness. She could no longer rationally control her thoughts and so the words just spilled out surprisingly cold and unfiltered.
“I think I’ve got cancer, Robert”
She had stopped her steps and let go of his arm, just staring into the open night and the Mediterranean expanding into the unknown horizon in front of them.
There was a long and heavy silence.
Neither of them dared to breathe and it seemed as if the concept of time had been destroyed all together as they were standing still side by side.
“Cora, what are you saying? What do you mean?”
Robert knew very well what the concept of cancer signified but it was a sort of perplexed denial that tried to keep up his strength.
“I- I’ve had some…”
Cora’s voice cracked slightly as she tried to pronounce the words. She finally turned to face her husband, standing there with his fists tightly clenched together. His eyes sparkled dangerously, even though his mouth was pressed tightly together to keep up the image of a somewhat steady posture.
“I’ve had some- some symptoms for quite a while, you see, some very evident symptoms and there is no use in denying that”
Cora was once again surprised how rational she made all of this sound. Inside, she could barely keep herself from falling apart.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?!”
“I was going to and then suddenly we were coming here”
Robert’s heartbeat sped up and he as well fell victim of a panic rising inside him. To keep himself from succumbing to the overwhelming emotions, he chose a feeling he could handle much more easily. Anger.
“But you should never have come here! We have to get you to a proper doctor. And I don’t mean some cackling Marseilles!”
Now it was Cora’s turn to feel enraged. She didn’t particularly know why, but it made her feel safer and she liked the sensation of feeling more in control of her feelings, so she answered with a much steadier voice:
“Doctor Clarkson is more than capable of coming up with a diagnosis”
Robert on the other hand felt the panic leak through every fiber of his being. He felt hot and cold, his head throbbed and his hands started to sweat heavily. But didn’t he need to reassure his wife? He was the strong one, wasn’t he?
More to soothe himself than anything else, he said with a stutter:
“We’ll go to London. We’ll- We’ll go to America if we have to”
There was no question that he stumbled and fell down the slippery slope of a deep-rooted fear: He was going to lose Cora. The one person he could not live without.
Cora knew all too well that there was no use in all of this. The symptoms were evident. Gastric cancer. No doctor, whether in London or America, could alter that.
��We’ll discuss it when we know more”
Was there more to know, though? Beside an exact diagnosis, which didn’t leave much room for interpretation at this point, there was not much to discover. Nothing pleasant, anyway.
The tranquility in Cora’s voice triggered a sudden reaction in Robert and he could not help himself but shout.
“You should have told me!”
His face was bright read. The grass underneath his feet felt as if it had started to move and he could not recall having ever felt so lonely. His wife stood there opposite him, but it seemed as if he was trapped in an overwhelming loneliness.
Robert’s outburst started another reaction. This time it was Cora who lost control over her emotions.
“With the chance of a last treat before illness to cover our lives?!”
Her voice lost all of its strength and by the end of the sentence it had almost vanished completely.
“It can’t be as bad as that”
“Robert, I’ve run the hospital for years! Do you think I just sat there with my ears blocked?!”
Like a dam that had been opened abruptly, all that had been building up inside Robert’s chest suddenly burst out. He rarely was a man to openly display his emotions, but now no strength on earth could hold back his genuine fear.
Seeing him like that immediately made Cora feel guilty. This was exactly the reason why she had evaded the topic for so long. Nothing to her was more painful than to watch her loved ones suffer. To be herself the cause of such great sadness seemed unbearable and so she took on the role she had learned to play ever since her first daughter was born: The caring mother.
“Oh no, no no no. No. No”
She started towards her husband, embracing his shaking figure between her arms, trying to reassure him with her warmth and proximity. Although Robert was almost a head taller than his wife, he appeared to be much frailer beside her. Tears fell down the side of his cheeks and his head turned numerous directions in order to evade the face of his love. He could not bear to look at her.
“That’s not what I wanted at all”, she said. “We’re not sad people! My being ill now doesn’t make us sad!”
The words seemed completely ridiculous and she knew so as well, but she wanted to end this moment so desperately that she could not think of another way of reassuring her husband. While his head constantly turned away from her gaze, she tried to catch his glimpse. Looking into each other eyes had always been their biggest comfort after a disagreement and it appeared to her to be the most sensible thing to do now. How could she possibly ease his pain?
Robert chocked up some word fragments she could not quite understand as they were so heavily drenched with his sobs.
“To lose my mother, and my name. Must I lose you too?! I can’t bear it”
His fingers delicately traced her shoulders down her back. Never until know had it appeared to him how slender her frame had gotten. She always had been very slim, but know as he touched her, the narrow shoulders almost seemed to give in under the very subtle pressure of his hands.
Finally, their eyes met. Oh, his beautiful blue eyes. Him loosing her? She had never thought of it that way. She always felt as if she would be the one to lose him. It was her who had always wanted him. Always. So much so, that she had accepted the possibility to live in his company without reciprocated love when she married him. There was no one on this earth that she cared for more, ever since she had first laid eyes upon him in a stuffy London ballroom. If anyone had the harder burden to carry, it was her.
“If I can bear it, you can. Remember, I’ve loved you from the start! I loved you before you loved me!”
Those words hurt him deeply, but Robert knew they weren’t intended as an insult, but simply a mere stating of a fact.
How he hated himself for having been so blind. He had been fond of Cora from very early on, did recognize her kindness and her warm nature, but he was so caught up in the whole “Save-Downton-No-Matter-What-Business” that he didn’t pay enough attention to the actual soul behind the solution to his problem. The shameful feeling of having wasted almost an entire year beside the love of his life would haunt him to his grave.
“I’ve always been ashamed of that”
“Don’t be. I had money. You needed it”
There she was again, the pragmatic wife who, more often than not, had been the calming guide to Robert. Although society might have been convinced that an American heiress may never have control over her emotions, there was no doubt that the English Earl had been dependent on his wife’s matter-of-fact statements more than once.
Cora’s hand brushed over Robert shoulder, feeling his tensed muscles.
“And then love came. And we have been happy, haven’t we?”
In that moment, even though the sentence only lasted for a mere second, their whole life story flashed before their eyes.
The way Robert had awkwardly introduced himself the first time to her, while Cora couldn’t help but giggle.
The moment she had told him that she was pregnant for the first time and the way he didn’t let anyone get too close to her after that, in order to make sure she could not be hurt in any way.
The day Sybil spilled the whole pot of coffee in the library and although Carson had been furious, the two parents burst into laughter.
Their ups and downs. Their most cheerful memories and their most heart-wrenching moments. It was all there, hovering in between them.
“Oh Darling!”
In desperate need of each other they brought their faces together and exchanged a kiss. But it wasn’t just like any other goodnight kiss they had been sharing for more than thirty years of marriage. They clung onto each other as if it would mean they could never touch again were they to separate. Cora tasted the salt of Robert’s tears on her lips, which led her to initiate another kiss before the previous one came to an end. Even though their bodies were as close as they could possibly manage, Cora wanted to be even nearer to her husband, so she let her hands grasp the silvery strands of Robert’s hair and pulled herself even more into the passionate embrace.
After all, she didn’t know how many times life would allow her to feel her husband that way.
A slight sob escaped her lips as they separated once again.
Robert took in the beautiful features of his wife. The moonlight reflected on her pale skin, her eyes sparkling even more due to many tears that gathered on her long, dark lashes. How beautiful she was. How beautiful she always had been.
“You have been everything to me. Everything!”
Oh, and he was to her, indeed. He always had been. But Cora felt her heart relax at the statement. She knew her husband adored her, but it always brought a smile to her face when he reassured her with such a confirmation.
And so it did now, even though the two of them found themselves in such a desperate environment. Their life, laid out in front of them, in pieces. Nevertheless, her smile couldn’t have been more genuine.
“And I hope I can be everything for a while yet”
#cora crawley#robert crawley#downton abbey#downton abbey: a new era#elizabeth mcgovern#hugh bonneville#they are the death of me#cobert fanfiction#fanfiction
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Between the Lines- Ep. 3
A/N: This one is pretty long, partially to make up for just how short the next one will be. Episode 4 comes at you pretty rapid fire by design, so it's harder to stretch out and still make it make sense.
Usual warnings apply, some no no words, innuendo/bad flirting. This one also features a bit more insecurity around body image than usual and discussions of mental illness, so if that's not your thing please keep that in mind.
Index
Episode 2
I was cursing at my phone and muttering about stupid 20-somethings getting involved in shit they shouldn’t— and ignoring the irony— when I finally managed to get a grip on myself and start thinking a bit more clearly.
Should I text the others? The Hacker seemed pretty sure one of them was the culprit, and while I wasn’t totally positive, the timing of the threatening call seemed to support that. It had been early on in my communications with the group that it would have been surprising if my number had leaked beyond them by then.
But if the Hacker was monitoring their phones, could the culprit be as well? I know he’d said he was putting protections on my devices, but if he hadn’t done theirs it was entirely possible someone could have gotten my number that way.
Not to mention, Thomas claimed the message with my number in the first place had come from Hannah’s phone. We’d been working under the assumption all this time that she’d sent it, but her phone had disappeared with her, and Thomas said the call he’d made had been answered by breathing. Despite what Joyce had claimed in Stranger Things, there was no good way to identify breathing.
What if it had been the kidnapper who sent them my number? The issue of “why me” remained, but it did make more objective sense that he would have access to the phone and use it for something other than calling the police (or their hacker friend).
Hell, maybe my number has actually been a diversion. A random string of numbers sent to confuse them that happened to be my contact info? The coincidence was huge, but possible. In fact, was it even that big of a coincidence? Maybe for me, the person with the number, it felt that way. But on the outside looking in, most combinations of numbers with the right amount of digits would probably call someone.
I wasn’t an investigator or police. I occasionally dabbled in writing mystery and did some escape rooms. I listened to true crime podcasts. But being that I was the core, stereotypical demographic for most of those things, that didn’t exactly make me uniquely qualified for any of this.
My mind raced round and round, trying to piece together who I could trust, how I could help, and what my place in this whole clusterfuck really was. I actually had something of a reputation of being good under pressure (but collapsing as soon as it was gone— as shown by the time I’d giggled for like ten minutes straight after rushing around to put out Annie’s kitchen fire as she screamed and didn’t use the phone in her hand to call for help) but this time, maybe because there really wasn’t anything I could actually do, I found myself totally useless.
I’d worked myself up into such a fit that by the time Cleo texted, I was tense enough to yelp at the buzzing phone in my hand.
Thomas? I mouthed silently. The kid takes off after finding out about the body, gets weirdly aggressive at Dan to set up some sketchy deal he refused to mention by name, and then breaks into his girlfriend’s apartment?
Cleo was clearly uncomfortable with it too, sounding more stilted and awkward than I’d ever heard her, even when confronting her about her newfound love of trespassing. Was he looking at her phone? Had he said something to her?
It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility to think he had a key— Annie’s boyfriend had one to our place, much to my chagrin— and Cleo was just as guilty of going in as he was. But something about her reaction put me on edge, so I hoped she’d get somewhere she felt freer to talk soon.
Jessy’s rage provided a good distraction, though I really wasn’t surprised to see the way the paper had “reported” the body. It fit for a small town, whose identity partially stemmed from the idea of being safe and close. How many times in the past had I rolled my eyes at my grandma declaring that “this stuff didn’t happen in her town” when she watched the news for the city I’d grown up in? These were places where you never locked your doors, knew the mailman by name.
It became crucial to maintain that status quo at all costs, even if it meant relegating a murder to the back pages of a paper. Even if that meant the victim went unremembered.
Of course she was angry. Burying your head in the sand only felt good when it wasn’t your hurt being covered up.
Seeing her so upset brought back that feeling of helplessness I’d had with Cleo earlier. This time, there were things I could say, actions I could take. But nothing that would fix the situation or make her feel better at all. I could only let her vent. Even that felt so useless, it was only the tip of the iceberg.
Thomas’s return gave her something else to focus on, at least, even as I wondered whether it was planned or if his encounter with Cleo had forced his hand. I struggled to still see him as a devoted, grieving boyfriend after all this time.
The news that the body wasn’t Hannah’s perked everyone else up, but made me even more unsettled. As an outsider without any attachment to Hannah, a body appearing right after a kidnapping made things so much more complicated, and more dangerous.
One was unfortunate, two was a pattern.
There was no way I could say that to them, though, or even the Hacker, so I was left to stew on that on my own through the rest of Thomas’s return conversation.
Needing to process everything that had happened, I decided to go get some fresh air. I rarely took walks, I didn’t seem to get the cabin fever that others felt, and the pandemic had only made me even more comfortable hunkering down in one place. But suddenly I felt caged, like if I didn’t keep moving, I might collapse.
Something felt off to me, beyond the obvious. Why would the cops confirm anything to Thomas, who wasn’t Hannah’s husband and presumably had only a passing connection to the deceased woman? I knew that privacy in these cases wasn’t as strict as say, hospitals, and who knew what the laws in Germany looked like about that, but it still didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was a small town thing?
Googling “how much can the police release to non-family in a missing person’s case” got me nowhere even before I added in the jurisdictional aspect, and I started to get frustrated at how little I knew about any of this.
I’d had dealings with cops before, a rebellious youth plus some impulse control issues had seen to that. I’d dated some questionable men, no doubt about that, made some bad choices. I knew the basics of the law in some areas, but nothing significant.
All of the recent happenings had me getting really frustrated with my ineptitude and getting pulled into this. I couldn’t say why I’d stuck around so far, really. It just seemed like everyone expected me to, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.
But hell, how was I not going to disappoint them?
My life had begun revolving around this case, even when it probably shouldn’t. Outside of the movie day and going out with Annie, one of which involved Jessy and the other I still felt guilty over, I’d taken very little time away from this, and it was starting to wear me down.
Still, how did I tell these grieving friends that I needed a break? How would I leave them up to their own devices, considering even with my help they were breaking in to crime scenes, buying illegal items, and having breakdowns over found bodies? They were suffering worse than I was, and even knowing that I would crash, I felt responsible for that.
Hannah had been missing for weeks, and all I’d done was find a cat picture, pry into her medical information, and discovered some emo poetry. Poirot, I was not. I couldn’t help but think that the others blamed me for that fact.
As if hearing my doubts, the Hacker appeared. I hugged my sweater closer to myself despite the day actually being fairly warm, and considered putting him off. But I wasn’t going to make any progress without him, and the sooner we solved this mystery, the sooner I could nurse my ego and return to my life.
I wasn’t at all surprised to hear he was reading in on my chat with Cleo, though I was a bit that he was watching my video chats. The insecure, dysmorphic part of me tried to remember how many chins I had while on screen, even knowing that he probably hadn’t looked at me once during the call. I knew it was silly, but I’d have to start considering my appearance a little more before turning on my camera.
I’d meant to come off more teasing when I’d questioned whether my opinion mattered to him, but I knew I sounded desperate for his approval. Still, I was pretty surprised when he answered in the affirmative, seemingly genuine. My face burned when I admitted to the same, but it kind of felt like I owed it to him at that moment.
Of course, he quickly moved the conversation back to the matter at hand, and I tried not to let that sting. Once he admitted to his “flaw”, though, I couldn’t help but question myself even further. Did it extend to not realizing how he came off over chat? Had he not even noticed the times I was flirting?
It seemed like everything had me off kilter today, and I was desperate to hide under my blankets and let myself mope, at least a little. It was so like me, to get feelings for a guy on the other side of the world that I didn’t even know the name of who had no idea I’d spent weeks flirting with him. I felt like a teenager again, pining over a boy who told me that I’d have an easier time finding a boyfriend if I lost weight.
Really, I thought I’d grown past this.
Massaging my temples as I walked back into my apartment, I let myself flop into bed despite how early it was. Maybe if I crawled into my safe space while texting, things wouldn’t bother me as much. Or I’d at least be less of an asshole and stop focusing on my own bullshit at a time like this.
I felt like I had to push back on his assertion that Hannah couldn’t have hurt herself. I clearly had more experience with depression than he had, and considering how he’d reacted to the SSRIs already, I worried it could break him. Besides, not all methods of hurting yourself came in the form that most people expected. Pretty much my entire early twenties was a testament to all of the ways you could hurt yourself without causing a single bit of physical harm.
I decided not to push that part.
We discussed the cloud entry (I resisted the urge to joke about my own shitty poetry, since I wasn’t making this about myself anymore) and I was surprised to discover that he’d never met Hannah. He was maybe more invested in finding her than some of the group.
I wasn’t making this about myself, so I didn’t worry that maybe they were romantic penpals or something. She had Thomas.
I had to admit I felt pretty good about getting to tease him about the legends, and was glad to see it made him laugh. Not because I wanted his approval, but just because he was usually so serious. Of course.
Finally, after exhausting all of the leads and updates either of us had— there was no movement on Poke’s number yet— he logged off suddenly and I sighed, taking the opportunity to wiggle deeper into my nest and think about nothing for a while.
___
I hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but I was shocked when I opened my eyes next to find that twelve hours had passed, and I suddenly found myself the topic of the group chat. Maybe I’d grilled Thomas too hard yesterday.
Dan: We don’t know anything about her, why should we trust her?
Seriously Dan? After facilitating some weird deal between Thomas and Poke, you want to start throwing stones? Maybe guilt and deflection, but annoying nonetheless.
I let myself get truly frustrated with them for the first time, reminding them of their responsibility for the fact that they knew nothing about me. Not like I’d been nothing but a vehicle to find Hannah or something to all of them but Jessy, right?
MC: I mean
MC: You could ask
Thomas: What?
MC: I don’t have a whole lot of reasons to lie to you
MC: Not beyond like “oh yeah I definitely do floss every day”, at least
MC: So don’t ask that one
MC: I will lie about that
Dan: We can’t even know if you’re telling the truth!
MC: Right
MC: But if we’re talking stranger danger, it’s kind of 5 against 1 already.
Dan: Fine, so tell us about yourself
MC: Well that’s super unhelpful
MC: I at least ask you guys questions
Dan: You mean interrogate?
MC: Sure
MC: Ask away
Jessy: What color is your hair?
MC: Ha!
I hit send while snorting before realizing that my amusement wouldn’t make sense to anyone in the group.
MC: Sorry, inside joke… not a very good one.
MC: Brown normally
MC: But I get bored with that a lot.
MC: So like, less brown right now? I guess?
Jessy: Oooh! What colors has it been?
I smiled a little, of course Jessy would show something of an actual interest while simultaneously asking questions that helped nothing.
MC: Well, I’ve done red streaks. Not like yours, Jessy, they called it “fire-engine red”. Red fades so fast, so I only did that once.
MC: High school was when I did most of it. It was pink for a while.
MC: Kept it bleached for a while, but I’m not a good blonde.
MC: Blue in college.
Thomas: Stop
Thomas: Why are you doing this?
MC: Because she asked? And because if you guys keep not trusting me, we won’t get anywhere?
Thomas: No. I mean, why are you here?
MC: Because you added me to the group.
Thomas: You know what I’m asking
I groaned. I did, but where do you even start? How do I even explain, when I don’t really know myself? I knew I was on thin ice, though. Jessy liked me, and Cleo was open to me. But Thomas was, at best, neutral, Richy had barely spoken to me, Lilly was totally absent, and Dan… well, Dan was Dan.
What do you tell a group of strangers when they ask why you’re putting all of your energy into snooping around their personal lives?
The hope that Thomas seemed to be fueled by, that I’d have some unknown connection and solution to everything seemed to have vanished. And that had really been my only connection to these people.
“Sorry, I might want to bone the hacker you all hate, so I do what he tells me,” was pathetic on so many levels, and would do nothing to help me.
MC: Look
MC: I’m an asshole, okay? My jokes are bad, I suck at people, and I’m just generally something of an acquired taste at best
MC: But like, how do you walk away from people who want you to help find a missing person?
MC: I don’t know her. It’s crazy I care this much. But Thomas, you sent me all those pictures
MC: And you’ve all talked about her so much
MC: And I read the articles about it online and that made it so real too
MC: I don’t know if I’ll be useful. Frankly, I’m usually not even at the best of times
MC: But on the tiniest chance I can be, and I don’t try? I don’t think I’m prepared to be that much of a shit person.
The silence after I wrote all of that stretched on long enough to make me sweat. Being genuine wasn’t something I practiced much, and I was mostly just glad I hadn’t had to say all of that out loud because I would have stumbled over it and messed it up somehow. However un-charismatic I was online, it was nothing compared to how I was in person.
After what felt like several minutes of nothing, I began frantically thinking of ways to take it all back. Despite the miles and miles between us, something about my words made me feel like I was standing in front of them all naked, so the lack of reply had me fighting not to claw my eyes out.
Finally, around the time I’d hunted down the dusty bottle of vodka I’d gotten as a gift for last Christmas and poured myself a glass with little enough juice that it did more for color than taste, there was movement in the chat.
Dan is typing…
Dan: Fine
Dan: Stay
Dan is offline.
Cleo: Right, well… Welcome to the team.
I was a bit surprised to see the hesitation from Cleo, since she’d already called me at Hannah’s and admitted to several crimes, one of which I was complicit in. Maybe she’d only included me before since I was online and couldn’t stop her? Who knows.
Thomas is offline.
Cleo is offline.
Richy is offline.
Only Jessy and I remained, which I guess I could have predicted at that point. Considering her line of questioning, and our active personal chat, it made sense that she’d be the one least likely to need to mull over my outburst. Which is why, when I saw a notification pop up seconds later, I didn’t hesitate to press it without looking at the name.
As it turned out, It wasn’t from Jessy. Instead, the notification led me back to my chat with the Hacker.
???: You did surprisingly well.
Despite the fact that I’d normally bask a little bit in the compliment (however backhanded the qualifier made it feel), I only felt irritated. My frustration, insecurity and helplessness bubbled over, and even knowing how little he’d get those emotions from my words, he was the only one here to direct it at.
MC: Thanks? I think?
MC: Or are you just surprised they didn’t boot me out of the chat?
MC: Look, I want to help, but you saw how that just went.
MC: I don’t do this, okay? I don’t know how to get people to like me, or trust me, or want to talk to me. Everyone who puts up with me in real life are either people who met me when we were young enough that being edgy and bitchy seemed cool, liked my mom enough to feel like they have to make sure I’m alive, or are getting paid in one way or the other.
???: I believe it went well, MC. You were quite convincing.
MC: Pf. Hardly. For Hannah, you need to find someone else. I can still do the cloud stuff if you want, but there’s got to be someone better to talk to the group.
The moment I hit send, a notification from the person I’d been expecting earlier appeared at the top of my screen.
Jessy: MC! I’m so sorry they acted so mean
Jessy: They’re not usually like that, they’re scared. But that’s no excuse.
Jessy: You almost made me cry!
MC: I’m sorry!
Jessy: No no, it was so nice! 🥰
MC: Mmh, Jessy, I made everyone run away.
Jessy: Trust me, they just didn’t know what to say. They hate being wrong!
While I wracked my brain trying to formulate a response, another notification popped up that I didn’t even bother to click this time.
???: ;)
Smug bastard.
___
After that, things were a little less tense in the group chat. The majority still weren’t particularly friendly, but they’d at least seem to accept my presence. Dan was still kind of an asshole, but in a kind of way that I was used to, so I didn’t let it bother me. He seemed like the sort that people just kind of ignored most of the time, and I knew what that was like.
The chat wasn’t what I’d consider active, but they checked in on each other occasionally, tried to cheer each other up and touched base with platitudes and support.
Jessy: MC
Jessy: …
Jessy: You there?
Jessy: MCCCCC
Huh. It was strange for me to be addressed directly at the start of a conversation, but the fact that it was Jessy made it make a little more sense. I suspected she was trying to include me more and humanize me to the rest, a mission she’d kind of taken up recently.
MC: Hi! Sorry, I got a call.
Jessy: Aren’t you popular?
MC: No, no, never. Work. 😩
Jessy: Oh! You know, I don’t think we’ve ever talked about your job.
MC: Well, yeah, it’s not really been important.
Other than my chats with Jessy, and the time Thomas had grilled me about my intentions, discussing me had been pretty low priority. I’d chime in here and there when the group chat dipped into the easy flow that happened in messages between old friends. And I never missed a chance to make a sassy comment or comment, which they’d quickly learned to ignore or roll their eyes at.
But it was true that in their eyes, I was still just a stranger. Even as I slowly started forming pictures of their lives and getting pulled deeper into Hannah’s world, the group as a whole still didn’t even know my last name. I hadn’t offered it, but they didn’t ask either.
After my hidden meltdown when the body was discovered not to be Hannah’s, I’d probably put up some barriers trying not to totally lose myself in their lives. It was wearing on my mental health in a pretty serious way, so while Jessy and I were continuing to bond, and Cleo had started talking to me more, I felt a bit detached overall.
Jessy: Still!
Jessy: You’re always on your phone
Jessy: Every time I’m on
I snorted at that, mainly because it wasn’t totally true. I wasn’t a morning person, and she was bright and sunny enough to be way too much until I’d gotten at least two cups of coffee in me. But after that, I did give my phone nearly my full attention.
MC: That’s what my boss just said on our call, haha. 🙃
MC: I work remotely, so I’ve got some flexibility
MC: But I’ve been pushing that lately
MC: And unlike someone, I’m not cute enough to get away with it
Richy: 😳
For all Jessy tried to hide when she texted non-stop at work, it was actually the worst kept secret. Especially since Richy was on nearly as much during the day. They didn’t acknowledge each other over chat all that much, but there was no way they didn’t notice they were both on.
But since it was just as obvious that Richy wanted to date Jessy…
Jessy: 😤
Jessy: But what do you do?
Of course neither would acknowledge it. They both knew, even if they wanted to pretend they didn’t. I was surprised the group didn’t heckle them for it more. Yet another way they differed from mine, I guess. I’d never live it down with them.
MC: Nothing very exciting. I’m called a “Customer Communication Quality Assurance Analyst”
Jessy: Right…
Yep, that was the usual reaction alright.
MC: Told you 🤣
MC: You know how when you call customer service, that message plays?
MC: About your call being recorded?
MC: Some companies review those in-house, but others contract out to a firm
MC: So I work for one of those
Dan: You’re joking
He didn’t usually get involved when I was talking. He’d respond to the others, of course, but for the most part he preferred to ignore me completely. This would be interesting.
MC: No… why would I be?
Dan: You spend all day spying on people’s calls
Dan: Just to open your phone
Dan: And interrogate us
I actually was a little more offended than I should have been, which probably gave his point more credence. Still, it felt like there was a note of teasing to it that maybe could work in my favor if I played it right.
MC: Okay
MC: Well when you put it that way
MC: My life just sounds sad
MC: And kind of creepy 😒
Dan: I mean, isn’t it?
MC: Hey 😤
MC: But actually
MC: I wanted to be a teacher when I was younger
Jessy: Really?? That’s so cool
I hadn’t meant to prolong this conversation, but since Jessy had definitely become the one that both liked me best and I’d been most open with, maybe it would be useful to let them in a little.
And it was definitely for Hannah and not because I wanted the acceptance of these people. Of course.
MC: Mmh, no, not really.
MC: Could have saved myself a lot of time and money if I’d remembered I don’t like dealing with people that much
Jessy: What do you mean?
Jessy: You’re so friendly!
Friendly? Jessy, I’m a raging bitch, covering up for the self-esteem of a goldfish with sarcasm and fake arrogance, the mouth of a sailor, and the gutter-mind of a 16 year old boy. Was that friendly?
MC: Sure, to people I like
MC: But I made the mistake of being a TA in undergrad
MC: Turns out, people can be really dumb and I have no patience 🤓
Cleo: MC!
Yeah. That would be a bit far for Cleo. She was nice enough, of course, but probably the one that struggled the most with my more insulting quips. Well, Thomas and Lilly hadn’t been much involved with me either, so maybe they’d have been yelling at me even more. Who knows?
MC: Yes, yes. I’ll be nice
MC: I just get frustrated easily, I guess.
MC: Having to explain something over and over
Dan: Mmh, I’m trying to picture you as a teacher. It’s kind of funny.
I felt a surge of pride in realizing I’d kept Dan at least marginally engaged. Though actually, in other circumstances he might have actually been the one I was the most similar to. He seemed to also lack a filter and the capability to recognize when running his mouth was okay.
MC: Funny isn’t the word I’d have used
Jessy: Poor you 😫
MC: If I’m being honest, probably poor them
Jessy: Oh no
MC: 😉
MC: It was better for everyone that I got out of that line of work
MC: But it was too late to change my degree unless I wanted to spend way too much time backtracking
MC: So I just found a job that would take a degree, no matter what it was.
MC: So now, here I am
MC: Both professional and amatuer spy
MC: Apparently
Jessy: That suits you somehow
MC: I don’t know what to say to that
MC: Should I be insulted or…?
Again, realizing my role in this group was still barely above the Hacker’s as far as my motives made my heart sink. They were right. My job here was to investigate, spy and uncover. But since I hadn’t really made them aware of just how creepy I was being, I was surprised to see that they considered me a “spy”, or even investigator.
Jessy: No no! I just meant that you see things others miss
Jessy: So it works for you
MC: Oh okay
Dan: Yeah, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes
MC: Nah, he at least had cocaine to keep him awake.
MC: I’m probably more like Harriet the Spy, tbh. 😂
The conversation didn’t continue after that, but I almost felt like I’d earned Dan’s respect even just the tiniest bit with that one.
___
I was somewhat caught off-guard when Richy added me after discussing the Man Without a Face in the legends chat that Jessy had made for us. I agreed with him that Jessy seemed more eager to latch onto the legend than most people would, but it made sense that she’d want to seize any chance she saw to step back from the idea that the killer could be human.
For my part, the more I thought on the idea that someone would be masquerading as this mythical avenger, the more I saw it as a viable concept. Killers, especially ones that consider themselves righteous, love to glom onto characters that get across the message they want to embody.
My true crime podcasts taught me that much at least.
I teased him about Jessy more to get him off balance than to confirm he liked her— that much was already obvious. I wasn’t crazy about the power dynamics at play there, with him being her boss, but that seemed kind of like a thing that just happened in small towns. There were only so many people to start with.
I considered lightly flirting with him to see if that was a better tactic, but frankly I couldn’t bring myself to. Jessy was a friend, and she seemed to like him too. I didn’t think he’d ever get up the nerve to ask her, but there was only so much playing in their lives I could justify before it felt icky.
Besides that, there was the question of my shadow.
Ruminating on that led me back to decrypting, a habit I’d taken up while trying to avoid thinking too much on him, his motives, and how much he even noticed about me. Ironically, decryption was the thing that should remind me the most of him, but I could generally focus on Hannah while doing the most annoying parts, since it was to benefit her.
Sometimes I wondered how she would feel once she was safe. I couldn’t imagine she’d be interested in much to do with me— I was still pretty convinced she hadn’t sent my number— as I’d be mostly a reminder about this horrible time in her life. But would she resent me for the intrusions I’d made into her private life?
As if sensing my guilt, the next file I opened was clearly another diary entry, once again filled with emotional conflict. It as much more straightforward than the last, written with a bit more clarity and thought rather than vomiting words up as they appeared in her head.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I read over it a second time. I knew I had to send this to the Hacker, but Hannah’s distress had really been the only thing to faze him since that first, frantic call to her friends. I worried that this one, likely even direct enough for him to grasp the emotion behind, would cause him even more grief.
But he’d also be furious if he found out I kept something from him, even—or maybe especially— if it was out of a desire to protect him. Sighing guiltily, I sent it to him to discuss.
The conversation went a bit unexpectedly, though. Maybe he’d come to terms with our previous findings enough to prepare himself for this one, or maybe he was glad to have something a bit less hard to understand. He probably didn’t read much poetry with his flaw.
I wasn’t prepared for the fucking praise, though. Or really, my reaction to it was the problem. Instead of feeling patronized, it sent a bit of a jolt through me. So damn stupid, getting worked up over some guy telling you that you did a good job. I knew I had a bit of a submissive side but Jesus, really?
Wait. Could he have found that particular… interest… of mine when reading through my chats? Jessy and I got a bit detailed at times when discussing our preferences, after she got used to me it seemed like she enjoyed having someone to discuss things with.
What else had he seen on my phone and devices? He admitted to having full access but said he only looked at case-related things. Still, there was a lot of bullshit to wade through in order to find those case-related items. After he’d said not to worry about offending him, I’d mostly tried to forget he was there whenever I messaged people or screwed around on the internet.
But all it would take was one poorly timed screen-mirror and…
I scrambled to try to remember my recent activities and felt my face burn when I considered all of the possibilities. I wasn’t one to watch risqué videos, being more into reading and writing to alleviate my frustrations.
Cool. Great. Awesome. He probably knew everything about my kinks and I didn’t know his name.
As freaked out as I was, the fact that I still didn’t know his name was starting to bother me. Especially in light of this recent realization. I could do it, right? Just ask his name? I mean, we’d been talking a while, he said he trusted me. I got the feeling I’d never see his face or talk to him without the distortion, but his name was innocent enough.
Before I could chicken out, I typed it out, as a request rather than a question, and hit send.
Of course he’d ask why I cared. Of course it seemed ridiculous to him, I’d already suspected he had no idea what signals I’d tried to throw out.
Would it hurt to try to be more obvious? I wondered. I was cringing at my screen now, trying to both type and shut my eyes to what I was saying as I admitted to liking him. I tried to make a joke of it, using the damn smilies Jessy had gotten me addicted to, but even someone who couldn’t read had to be able to just smell the pheromones and insecurity dripping off of every word.
Jake.
The emotional high of learning that, of being able to greet him properly for the first time, dampened a bit from the clear regret he immediately expressed. Still, he hadn’t left yet, so I I tried to salvage things a little.
Are you dating someone?
How could I not have melted at that? It was the most overt he’d ever been by far. So even when he fled again, I couldn’t keep the stupid grin off of my face.
___
I was pretty ashamed to only realize that Cleo had never gotten back to me about the situation with Thomas until she reached out again, saying that she needed to clear her head before we talked. Still, I should have checked in about it long before now, so the guilt of making it about me, again, pushed away the good feelings from earlier.
Learning that Thomas and Hannah had been arguing, that he no longer had a key to her apartment despite clearly having a way to access it, just solidified my need to check further into him.
Goddamn it folks, stop being shady and stop not telling me things. How is it this fucking hard?
I pinched my nose, attempting to slow my breathing. But learning that he took something from the apartment just shot my blood pressure back up through the roof.
I’d drank as much during this investigation— even ignoring my night out with Annie at the start— as I normally did in a year but I still couldn’t escape the urge for a shot. It was barely mid-afternoon so I resisted the urge, but barely.
___
After getting the book number for Jessy, Jake (that still felt weird) let me know he’d found Poke’s number. I got nervous when he revealed I’d have to call rather than text— I was a millennial, that’s my actual nightmare— and a little frustrated when he seemed to minimize the risk to me again. At this point, he should know I’d stick around even when I’m scared. But it would be really nice to whine and be comforted for five minutes before handing my number over to a suspected criminal.
Still, I suspected that being comforting wasn’t particularly his style, and that even if he wanted to, he’d have very little reference for how to do it.
And there was no denying that of the two of us, I was the better choice for handling the people part. I mean, we were still screwed, but I kind of suspected I was the only person he’d managed to charm recently and I still wasn’t totally possible how he’s done that.
So I groaned, put on my big girl panties, and called.
___
A locksmith. All of this cloak and dagger bullshit over a locksmith. A clearly unethical one, but why the hell would they not just pretend like Thomas had lost his own key or something instead of acting like the sketchiest fucking losers alive?
I wasn’t proud of my past associations, but I’d seen drug deals discussed with more grace than these folks were handling an exchange with a perfectly legal business and an obvious cover story.
Not to mention, why the hell did Thomas not know where her spare key was if Cleo did? I wasn’t sure how long they’d been dating, but it was probably long enough for him to know where her spare key was.
For some reason, I started to suspect less that the culprit was either Dan or Thomas, mainly because they apparently made the stupidest damn criminals I’d ever met.
Hannah, your friends are going to be the death of me, I swear.
___
As the group chat exploded into drama over Phil, I groaned out loud. A fight was a long time coming, especially between Cleo and Jessy, but did it have to be now?
I was working when it started, trying to clear my inbox that I was sorely behind on dealing with. Several of the calls I’d reviewed today had serious violations and one of the clients took the negative feedback really poorly. I’d had enough yelling for this week, thank you.
Annie popped open a can of coke behind me and leaned over to look beyond my shoulder at my phone. I tried to casually block her from seeing, but she was tall enough to catch sight of it anyway.
“Hey is that Jessy? How is she?”
“Fine,” I muttered, locking my phone screen and trying to ignore the rapid-fire buzzing.
“What crawled up your ass?” She snarked, eying up my tense posture and tight expression.
“Nothing, Annie, I’m just trying to work and no one will leave me alone!” I snapped, pushing my keyboard away from me in frustration.
She threw her hands up in surrender. “Jeez, sorry, I was just trying to help.” She turned away from me, toward her room, and took a loud slurp of her coke as she walked. “Let me know when you’re less of a bitch.”
“Right,” I mumbled to myself, getting myself more settled into my chair. “Focus.”
The incessant vibration wouldn’t let me, though, and I realized that I wasn’t going to get anything done until it stopped. Sighing louder than necessary, I once again got involved in something that had no good reason to be my business.
I felt bad for being relieved when Jessy stormed off and things cooled down relatively quickly after that. I reminded myself to reach out to her later, even though I knew she wasn’t the sort who liked to be left alone while she was emotional.
The information about Phil was interesting, though. It wasn’t particularly a side of Hannah I’d heard anything about. But then, I’d only heard about her from people who loved her, and it already seemed like no one knew about her depression.
And boy didn’t I know the kind of questionable decisions depression could lead to. Not to mention, having learned that Thomas returned his key during a fight made me wonder exactly what their relationship was at the time of her disappearance. If they were broken up, maybe she’d been acting out her heartbreak in a way that would raise eyebrows in a small town.
I suppose she could have been taken by a partner after all. Just not the one we knew about.
At the same time, Phil’s comments bordered on the Nice Guy style bullshit I and my friends had heard so often after turning a guy down. Men love to call women sluts for not sleeping with them.
No, I was supposed to be focusing on work. Work. It was bad enough to put off responsibilities for a kidnapping case, it was another to instead speculate on a woman’s sex life when I’d never met her.
Yet I was glad Richy was going to talk to Phil.
I managed to get through about half a day’s work before my phone started again. Spy mode was getting old fast, I have no idea why Jake liked this shit. I just don’t care about other people’s crap this much. I don’t even want to deal with my own social life!
Though it did catch my eye to see that Jessy and Dan were going on a date. Hadn’t seen that one coming, she’d never shown much of a soft spot for him and Dan didn’t strike me as particularly romantic.
But maybe I was just bitter considering “are you single” was the hottest my current relationship had gotten so far.
So much for doing work, I griped and started logging out for the day. Once I started brooding over things with Jake, I was never going to get back on track. I’d learned that the hard way.
Pretending it wasn’t at all to talk to him, I made my way out to the garden and curled up next to a bush to start decrypting in the sun.
___
The sun had set by the time I managed to get anything, but for the first time the picture made me pause.
A Raven.
To be honest, a large part of me figured it was stupid kids. If this legend was as well known in the city as Jessy and Richy had implied, then it made sense for jagoff teenagers to run around marking things up with it. It was at least more creative than just doing penises like most of the graffiti I saw.
But it wouldn’t do to just dismiss it outright either.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more intriguing it was. Because it didn’t matter if it was just graffiti. The how or why of it being there might be totally irrelevant.
But what made it important was that Hannah thought it was important.
I suppose she could have just thought it was cool, or maybe she was interested in the legend or wanted to show Jessy, who clearly had a strong interest in the macabre. But not long after she’d taken it, she’d supposedly been dragged into the woods by the man this symbol was meant to represent.
Had she been pursuing him rather than the other way round?
Trying to get around explaining to Richy and Jessy where I’d gotten the picture was a bit awkward. They seemed to know I was investigating on some level, and they knew I was in touch with Jake. But they hadn’t really put those things together or realized how deep I was digging, and I was pretty grateful for that. They would have to be offended on her behalf. I was offended on her behalf sometimes.
But like, the police would be doing it too, right? Going through her personal life and putting it under a microscope, analyzing every word she said and who she said it to. At least I wasn’t her neighbor, her pastor, or anyone she had to deal with regularly. That had to be a comfort, I hoped.
But I appreciated Jessy keeping Richy from asking more, either way. Her trust touched me, and made things much simpler for now. And processing this with someone other than Jake was strangely nice, despite how much I enjoyed talking to him.
Of course, then Richy had to get in a parting shot about where I got the picture. And the worst part is, he wasn’t even wrong.
|___
The guilt of all— the hiding, the lying, the half-ignored responsibilities— it started weighing on me after that. Too much was at stake to back down now, but I could feel the suspicion pointed at me, and it was deserved.
I wasn’t above half-truths or even the occasional lie, really. Sometimes it was just easier and better for everyone if the truth went unsaid. But this was snowballing out of control and I didn’t know how to stop it.
So I confessed the only thing I could think of that might not ruin everything.
MC: Jake?
Jake is online.
Jake: Hello, MC.
Jake: Is everything alright?
MC: I lied before.
MC: And cheated.
I paused, trying to think of how to say it. Which I knew I should have considered before I even started the conversation, but planning wasn’t my strong suit when my emotions got the better of me.
Jake is typing…
Jake: To what are you referring?
Right. I’d gotten so used to him reading things and knowing what I meant before I said it that I just kind of assumed he knew what was going on in my head.
MC: The bet.
MC: I’m sending your credits back.
After hitting enter, I quickly opened the app he’d sent me my winnings through and sent them all back. I hadn’t done anything with them, it felt kind of gross.
Jake: I appreciate your honesty, but I’m not sure I understand. You found the information more quickly than I could.
MC: Right, well. That’s because I already knew what SSRIs were for. I’ve been on them for years.
MC: I’ve been depressed since I was a teenager. I don’t even know why I pretended.
MC: I was just surprised you didn’t know already and then you were SO shocked and uncomfortable about Hannah and I got worried you’d think differently of me too so I just went with it.
He typed and erased several times, and my mind became a whirlwind of regret. Why was I doing this? He didn’t ask to hear all about my problems. It wasn’t like I’d conned him out of a huge prize. But I was so tired of lying, and lying to him felt especially wrong after he’d been letting me in.
Jake: MC, I never thought less of Hannah for her depression. I was upset to find out that she was suffering.
MC: It seemed like you were, I don’t know, struggling with your perception of her.
Jake: Not in a negative way, not toward her. And I am sorry that it made you feel like you had to hide or be ashamed in any way.
MC: I’m usually not like this with it, you know? I mean in high school I was, but that went super poorly so I made myself talk about it.
Jake: You do not have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.
MC: No, I want you to know. It’s a part of my life. And really so much about me makes way more sense when you realize my brain doesn’t really do what it’s supposed to.
MC: Sorry, dark humor is my main coping mechanism.
Jake: I had noticed.
MC: Yeah, it’s not particularly subtle.
MC: And just so you know, I’m stable. The meds help, and I do therapy as needed. There are still bad days and stuff but that’s always going to be true.
MC: That’s part of why I kept pushing about you realizing it was possible that Hannah had hurt herself, too.
MC: Like you said, that’s not the case here since you saw it. But it does happen. And I know my friends and family were even more upset when something would happen because it caught them off guard.
Jake: Is that something
Jake is typing…
MC: Let’s save that conversation for another day, maybe?
Jake: Of course.
MC: But the good news is that maybe it means I can provide some different perspectives on things, right? Like that first cloud entry.
MC: Really, I just have to hope that if I get kidnapped no one gives enough of a shit to sort through my stuff like this because there’s nothing good to be found in my sad folder.
Jake: “Sad folder”?
MC: Don’t even try, it’s super old and on a flash drive somewhere that hopefully fell out of whatever box I put it in when I moved here and got crushed by several cars.
Jake: How oddly specific.
MC: Fantasies are what keep a girl going, right?
MC: Jake?
MC: Thank you for listening.
Jake: :)
Jake: Thank you for your trust.
Jake is offline.
Later, after the third or so time that I re-read our conversation, I tried to work out exactly what it was that made trust so important to him. In our particular situation, we did need to trust each other to a point, but somehow it seemed bigger than that. It was like my trust was some precious trinket to him that he was grateful for each reminder of.
Admittedly, at times that trust felt a little bit more like blind faith, even toeing the line on being foolish. But my instincts told me that he was involved for the right reasons, even if sometimes his methods were at times a bit cold.
___
Somehow, maybe the drink I’d mixed while getting ready for my date with Jessy, it hadn’t occurred to me to think that Jake might have been reading along. I’d gotten used to it by that point, hell, sometimes it even felt reassuring. But it wasn’t until it had started winding down and he messaged me that I realized.
Jake: Hello, MC.
MC: Hello, Jake
He always greeted me so formally, it made me think of a handshake and firm eye contact. I chuckled, picturing us meeting for the first time with a handshake.
Shaking my head at myself, I looked down at my phone.
Jake is typing…
Here, he erased, paused, and started again.
Jake is typing…
After a few minutes of waiting, I started to get concerned.
MC: Is everything okay?
Jake: Did you enjoy your evening?
MC: So you were reading along again 😆
Jake: Yes, it seemed interesting that she chose to cancel her date to speak to you. I wanted to see if there was any information that could be useful to us.
MC: Well, did you see anything interesting?
Jake: Why do you believe that she made the decision to stay home and speak to you?
I wondered for a second if it bothered him. We’d never explicitly discussed my sexuality, and Jessy and my rapport sometimes played hopscotch with the line between bubbly and flirty in that way that every bisexual woman has been confused by at some point in their lives.
MC: Because I’m great 😎
MC: But also Dan kind of sucks
Jake: Regardless, I imagine she would have had a more enjoyable time going out rather than making small talk over orange juice.
MC: Depends on the company I guess 🤷🏻♀️
Jake is typing…
Jake is typing…
MC: Did I make it weird again?
Jake: No.
Jake: Of course not.
Jake: A virtual date was simply a concept I was previously unaware of.
Jake never really spoke informally, but at least lately he’d seemed a little less… stiff. I groaned, suspecting that, despite his denial, I’d made it weird.
MC: Well
MC: I think the voice distortion and hidden face might make it a bit more difficult for you
MC: My mom did tell me not to talk to strange men online 😂
Jake is offline.
And there it is. Not surprising, that could easily have been viewed as an insult. Especially after we’d been seemingly getting closer lately. But my life had totally been taken over by strange men on the internet lately, so I considered it somewhat fair to at least acknowledge that it was weird.
MC: Look, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. My mom WOULD be rather annoyed if she saw me now. But it’s not like this is even the worst thing I’ve done.
MC: Really I think I’m mostly surprised that you haven’t had a virtual date before.
MC: It seems like that’d be right up your alley. Computers and girls at the same time.
His status didn’t change after my messages, so after a few minutes I let myself bonelessly sprawl across the couch and sigh. I read through a few bullshit articles online, shared some memes on Facebook, and waited to see if he’d log back on. That had happened a few times, after he’d done whatever he needed to in order to get over the embarrassment, annoyance, or brain breaking I’d subjected him to. He did need me, to a degree, and as inconvenient as my personality was for him, it was more to his benefit to keep me sweet.
Which probably made me a bad person for taking advantage of that for my own amusement just a little. But he could well be using me to find his friend so at least we both got something out of it.
It took longer than usual for him to come back this time, maybe I’d really pissed him off. But around the time I’d started scrolling through some cat pictures on Reddit, he came back.
Jake is online.
Jake: My apologies, something needed my immediate attention.
Jake: I don’t know how my small talk abilities didn’t make it abundantly clear, but I haven’t had the time or opportunity for many dates in the recent past, virtual or not.
My eyes widened a tiny bit. Personal information AND multiple contractions? The language was still very stiff, of course, but there was a tiny bit less formality than earlier. Maybe he wasn’t reading as closely before he hit send. Trying not to chicken out?
Pure speculation, but I liked the thought.
MC: Shame. They can be fun, even without the orange juice.
MC: What with the pandemic and all, it was that or nothing, so I tried my hand at it a few times.
MC: Nothing came of it but you know. It passes the time.
Jake: Is that where your ability to connect with the group without meeting came from?
Interesting question, even feeling a bit loaded. I’d already confirmed I was single, of course, and I’d said I liked him more than once by now. But that still left a lot of room between “hermit” and “almost having a partner”, and I wondered if he was trying to suss that out.
MC: Not entirely. Most of my friendships are online ever since I moved a few years ago. I’m not the greatest at initiating conversation so I’ve mostly stuck with keeping in touch with them.
MC: Keeping and forming connections aren’t the exact same, but since this lot seems to keep me close because Hannah sent my number, it helps.
Jake: I refuse to believe that you aren’t good at initiating.
Jake: Conversation.
Oh, that made me laugh. I wanted desperately to push a little harder on that one, but he’d already logged off once and I was really enjoying talking to him. I got up and poured myself another glass to help me relax a bit further, since the one from my date with Jessy had started to wear off.
MC: I’m actually very shy at first, believe it or not. It’s only once I get comfortable with someone that I become the giant pain in the ass you see before you.
Jake: Does that mean you feel comfortable with me?
MC: Clearly. That’s how transitive property works, right?
Jake: Are you sure that’s the transitive property?
MC: Nope, but it is now.
Jake: Haha.
Jake: You are quite intriguing.
MC: Boy, you know how to charm a girl. I guess “intriguing” certainly isn’t the worst I’ve been called though.
Jake is typing…
He stopped. I again waited for him to log off, but after several long beats, he hadn’t. I decided to put him out of his misery a little.
MC: So how much were you able to dig up on me? I’ve been curious.
MC: I can only assume by this point that you know more about me than I do.
If he was surprised or unnerved by the change in topic, he didn’t show it.
Jake: I looked, of course, before I gave you access to Hannah’s information and the spy mode.
Jake: It was possible that the reason she had your number was because you were the culprit.
MC: Guess being across the world helped reassure you.
Jake: That was part of it.
Jake: Additionally, everything I saw pointed towards you being a perfectly normal woman.
MC: Normal? You must be bad at your job, sir.
MC: But you didn’t actually answer what you dug up.
Jake: No, I did not.
Jake: But I suppose you deserve to know.
Jake: As you’ve mentioned, I have access to your phone. That allowed me to find your social media profiles and email very quickly.
Jake: You don’t list your job on social media, interestingly. Nor the last several.
MC: No way I’m making it easier for them to find the shit I say.
MC: I’m not sure I’d get fired faster for the nerdy bullshit or the liberal rants.
Jake: It’s a good idea to keep those separate, of course.
Jake: It still would not be impossible to find.
Jake: But you also use a nickname on social media and your legal name for work.
Jake: And separate emails.
Jake: That helps as well.
MC: My, are you this thorough with everything you do?
MC: But the analysis is good. Though I’m sure you still found more.
I grinned into my glass a little. There was a chance he wouldn’t pick up on the suggestion behind my comment, but I wouldn’t mind letting him stew on it just the tiniest bit if he managed to.
Jake: Of course. Being thorough is required in my line of work, so it’s part of my nature.
Damn. Just enough that he could still be talking about hacking. Or he could be volleying it back. And in order to know, I’d have to be more obvious. But I couldn’t let him win like that, so I decided to let it go for now.
MC: I’m not that easily deterred. If you found my work email, you found my LinkedIn.
Jake: Yes, of course.
MC: And knowing my email means you know the username for just about everything.
Jake: Yes.
MC: So, anything interesting?
Jake: Well, to be honest, once I’d found your socials and work information, I had enough to determine you were safe to contact.
MC: And I totally believe that someone we’ve established as being painstakingly thorough stopped there.
Jake: After some of our conversations where I revealed more details to you, I did look a bit further. I connected you to an old username it doesn’t seem you use any longer.
Oh, damn. I should have expected that, but suddenly realized just how many old profiles I had under that name. Everything from dating profiles, to forums, to fanfiction. It went back as far as middle school.
Jake: I stopped after finding an old Xanga and LiveJournal. At that point, it no longer felt appropriate.
Okay, maybe he didn’t find my RPG posts. I hoped.
MC: I would have thought you’d find those entertaining. I was pretty angsty and faux-deep. Almost as bad as my sad folder.
MC: Loved me some sparkly HTML backgrounds.
MC: I got them all from a source of course, we can’t all be geniuses, and I considered myself something of a writer at the time. Coding was never my thing.
Hopefully, leaning into the embarrassment would get rid of the blush on my face. Plus, the second glass of wine was certainly helping to loosen my lips, er, fingers.
Jake: To be totally honest, I was far too busy remembering my own teenage angst to focus too heavily on yours.
Jake: I scrubbed my own profiles years ago.
I smirked.
MC: Hm, now I’m curious what you used.
MC: You can’t be too much younger than me if Xanga and LJ brought you back.
MC: But I guess you could still be a late MySpace, early Facebook user and still remember those.
MC: I’d bet good money you got your hands on a computer young, and probably had even less oversight than I did.
Jake: Mmh, but I thought your mom told you to be afraid of internet strangers.
MC: But she also believed I’d listen. It’s like she didn’t even know me. 🤭
MC: You’re probably not even the worst stranger danger I’ve let myself get involved with.
Another pause, but this one felt a little more comfortable. Maybe he was curious and wondering if he should ask. Or maybe he was pondering the meaning of “get involved with”. Maybe he just didn’t know how to reply.
Still, this time felt rather friendly, like the last hour or so had relaxed something in us both. I had no idea if he was flirting back or just clueless, but I didn’t sense any discomfort beyond maybe uncertainty.
Jake: MC, I have to go.
Jake: But thank you, I enjoyed this time.
MC: Hopefully it made good practice for your next virtual date. 😝
Why would I say that? And why did that thought bother me that badly? Of him taking our conversation and using it to charm someone else?
That’s not good.
Jake: We shall see.
Jake: :)
Well, fuck.
Honestly, I probably could have dwelled on that for the rest of the night. But nothing sobers a girl up and jerks her out of daydreaming about men quite like a rapid fire confession of lawbreaking from someone who you thought hated you, discovery of a lead on a kidnapping case, and realizing that the initials on that same lead may well match the initials of the guy you were just daydreaming about.
After a nearly sleepless night, I would come to realize that nothing cleared up exhaustion quite like a threatening call and learning that someone you knew was barely clinging to life, either.
NEXT
#duskwood fanfic#duskwood mc#duskwood fanfiction#duskwood fandom#duskwood#mc x jake#jake x mc#duskwood jake#duskwood jake x mc
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X Reader Writing Practice
I’m here with another robot x reader. This one is for my friend, they commissioned it and gave me permission to post it. It’s a very personal issue for them, and maybe for some of you as well. It deals with self-image and dermatillomania.
Female reader, male bot.
Set in a loose college system
The day was young. That's what people say, Y/N mused.
The day was young.
Everything around her felt old.
University has a way of doing that. It wasn't a bad start to a day. It was sunny, and it was young. Her dorm gave her a nice view, and everyone outside was young, too, including herself. Fresh twenty, the kind of age where people say you look your best, the best you'll ever be, and your beauty is at its peak. Your body is at its peak. For Y/N, she'd been waiting for her twenties her whole life. Now, half a year ago, it showed up just as planned, only the plan ended there. The day after she'd turned twenty, Y/N had done what she'd been trying to break since the middle of her high school life.
Y/N had reached a hand up till her fingers found skin on cheeks and chin, then those fingers searched, exploring for any bump, rough patch or mark. And then those fingers had begun to itch, and did not stop. So there she was after her twentieth birthday, numb and unaware to what she was doing till the skin was peeled off and the gentlest of washing felt like rivers of lava punishing her for her illness. She woke the next morning with red patches surrounding her face, and, by miracle, she had no classes and no plans while her roommates did, so she stayed in all day. She saw her features in the mirror and sighed, and went to make breakfast. Oatmeal, oatmeal raisin cookies, eaten in pajamas, washed down with sweet tea.
Half a year later, Y/N woke up, and as she'd thought an hour before, the day was still young. With nothing going on, accompanied by precious time alone (the most difficult thing to find she'd discovered since moving into a dorm), Y/N began scrolling through her phone. Brilliant sun shone through the open windows. The beams bounced off a flickering, glittering thing on the corner of a desk. Y/N glanced over and squinted. It was the dress of her roommate Monique. The sight clutched up an old memory of Monique shoving armfuls of clothes into different places as Y/N entered the room. Monique looked up, a mad sparkle in her eyes, and vehemently declared "I'm making a give-away pile for my clothes! I have so many after all, I hardly use some of them," and at that, the mad sparkle twinkled down to allow the shimmer of sadness to push through, but Monique was not deterred in her task. "Here, you can look through it if you want," she declared. Y/N had politely declined. Most of Monique's stuff was dresses, short and sleeveless, but Y/N had never worn a dress in her life. It would be odd to start now she'd thought, but she was alone in the dorm, and new things weren't looking so bad. Not when others can't see you trying them anyway.
Y/N searched for Monique's number. She shot a simple text, to the point. Monique quickly responded with a wave and a smile, ecstatic in emojis as well as voice. With that, Y/N loped over to the pile of clothes and ran her hand along one of the dresses. The material was rough, and when she held it up it was full of what she assumed to be stylish wrinkles. Y/N slung it onto her arm and walked to the bathroom. Her pajamas dropped to the floor and she studied looked over her body in the mirror. It wasn't a bad body. It was small-breasted, but had a good ass and was slimmer-framed. It had a substantial amount of armpit and leg hair because shaving, and general care, was often just too much for her tired soul to bother doing. She showered and made sure not to smell, but the little things along the way was too taxing most nights. Her hips, thighs and knees were covered in stretch marks. She traced over their textured dips, marveling at their change of color depending on the angle. Years ago she would have watched in shame, as her skin did what was normal in bodies but distasteful to the eyes. Now, she smiles at their appearance. She held up the dress, turning it around to see its back, then promptly struggled for several minutes trying to get it on. It was strapless and short, barely covering the end of her butt, and a ruffle ran down the left side of its front. It clung to her curves, but the lack of straps or hold above left her feeling like it would slip down any minute. Y/N had to admit, though, that it looked quite nice on her. She turned, analyzing her different angles. Y/N figured she'd definitely have to finally shave if she wore it out, but that was unlikely. It wasn't as though she were going to parties every week, or at all honestly. She was more prone to chill clubs and city walkings, it was a lovely kind of community she'd gathered. She ran fingers through her long, silken hair. It fell around her shoulders, so darkly brown it was nearly black.
She slipped off the dress and went to grab another. The next had a large hoop on the front, right under the boobs, which strips of fabric hung on. The top was textured in glitter. As soon as she managed to get it on, however, she pried it off in hate. Whatever type it was -or maybe it was the hoop- did not work on her. The third one was the best so far. It was more a very fancy, slightly longer than average, tank top. A collar of fake gems spanned a pattern across the top. It was a favorite so far. The first one would be a favorite if it wasn't so itchy in places. The fancy tank top she felt like she could chill in her dorm with. Y/N retrieved her phone and held it up to the mirror, twisting, angling, vaguely hopeful. The series of pictures she took only proved her nicely-shaped body, but all of them except for two, managed to hide her face. Whether it be the camera hiding it, or only taking pictures from the neck down, either way. She clicked out of the camera and wavered over Monique's chat. Y/N picked through the photos with a slow, critical eye, her fingers tapping rappid-fire against the back of phone's case till she settled on a few -none of the face, none of the face- to send. She then moved to her partner's number. Her glorious, gorgeous, new, partner. They'd only been dating a mere four months or so. Not long at all for a relationship. Was it too new to send more...? They'd never had sex, and so far neither had sent any lewd photos. Y/N's fingers hovered over the camera icon while she moved into different positions with jerky movements. In the end she took no other photos, but rather ended up sending him one of the two photos that didn't hide her face, and one that did.
A message notification blipped up. It was Monique. They look so cute on you, where are u gon wear them?
Y/N responded Not sure, I don't think I have anywhere to wear them rlly
Why are u trying them on if u aren't gon use them
Y/N's hand reached up.
It was rather stupid to try them on, she realized. Y/N could feel her heart pick up the pace, could feel the down-turn of her face. She registered, vaguely, her nails scratching, her skin peeling. The simple joy of seeing yourself in a more special look sank, replaced quickly, quick as a trigger, by a deep thumping in her chest. Every thump gave waves of overlapping, overbearing, pain. Y/N wasn't going anywhere she could use this kind of clothing, she felt foolish for even bothering to try, even worse for thinking she'd just take some of the day to feel nice in new outfits. It was a childish attempt, and she hated herself for feeling like a child at its end. Another message blipped. Y/N glanced to the floor, barely registering it was her partner's name. Revve, with two dots above the v's, so that it looked like a smiley face. A jagged, cute pumpkin-ey smiley face. Y/N reads it from the notification rather than the app.
That dress looks very cute on you. Then, When did you get it?
Y/N's hand is finally brought down to type. It's monique's. They let me try it out! Her hand hovered over the screen. I'm glad u like it. I think it looks nice :D. Next, even though she wished to stop, I guess it was stupid to put it on huh, dresses aren't my thing.
Revve's side took a moment of silence, leaving Y/N the chance to start scraping again. She just couldn't stop no matter how badly she wanted.
I didn't think they were, you never showed any interest in dresses. Even so, I think they suit you. You look amazing. Do you know if you'd be comfortable wearing it in public?
Y/N snorts. Alone in a bathroom is one thing, but public a whole other that comes with anxiety, doubt and lack of privacy. I don't have anywhere to wear it, she responds. They went on dates sometimes, but wearing something more revealing could be an offer. She sighed, chest loosening. Revve wouldn't do that. He'd ask, but he wouldn't pressure, that's who she knows him as. Y/N sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. It wasn't sex itself Y/N was afraid of. She'd had that before, twice with a girl in her junior year of high school, but it had proved utterly disappointing. Granted, they were both virgins who didn't have a clue how to touch other's bodies. Still, it had left her with an utter lack of care towards sex, and she felt not the need to seek it till a Robotic had offered when she was a freshman in college. He'd been great, and the friends with benefits had actually ended well both times, that's how she liked it. The part that gave her weird tingles, and a clench in her chest, the part that gave aversion, is the new angle sex would have. With a romantic partner, it would have to mean more. It would have to mean more than she thought she was ready to admit.
Do you have any other pictures?
There's a couple of other dresses I haven't tried.
You should. My class starts very soon, I have to go. I'll miss talking to you.
The students (including Y/N) loved Revve, they had nothing to say about him but "great teacher" and "fair grader". With the contact over, Y/N took another look at herself. Her eyes flicked across her shoulders, her chest, unable to stay still as guilt bloated her stomach. Lifting her eyes to her face was a salmon swimming upstream, always trying, but always accompanied by a huge weight forcing them back.
Sure enough, Y/N's skin was splotched an angry, tomato red. It gleamed only because of the exposure of too new, raw skin. Flakes fell to the floor, drifting past her vision like snow when she moved her head. Her body, though, was nice. She went to get another dress.
In a half hour she'd tried on several outfits, and taken pictures of all of them. She sent a few pictures to Revve, moving to put the phone down before a beep surprised her.
My students are not feeling very student-y right now. I'm giving them a short break. Y/N smiled, shaking her head, but her mouth despondently down-turned at Revve's next message. Why are you hiding your face in them?? Two question marks, not a good sign. Worry isn't what he needs with a class in session.
Just trying a new photography style, it adds mystery.
Do you need me to come over? I can, it's alright.
No, u have class! Panicked tears threatened to spill from frightened eyes. Why didn't she add emojis? A text without emojis from Y/N is a sure-fire way to tell a wrong day, Revve knew that bright as day, had figured it out really rather quickly. Using emojis in these thralls of emotions just didn't feel right, however, and she'd forgotten to put them in. Her nails dug into her nose bridge, she blinked back blurry vision and wrangled, wrangled with a need. It would be selfish asking for help during his work time. Selfish, selfish, to even need help for this, only that isn't true she tells herself. It isn't true, but it feels true and that, forever, trumps her responses to everybody.
Her hands itched, her face hurt, and her fingers twitched. Y/N wanted nothing more than to tear all her skin off. Tear it off and throw it in the garbage.
Fingers knocked clumsily against her phone, trying a hurried I just don't like my face in photos, u know that.
Your face looks nice, too!
Tears slipped down her cheeks. Alright.
I mean it :). I'll come over in ten minutes, I won't be long. My class is rowdy today, it's okay.
Y/N slipped to the floor, cursing herself for the relief sprung from those words. She sat down, tears her only companion, but she got up and wet a towel, wet her face with the wet towel, hissing at the burn. Y/N got out of the dress and stood with hands gripping the sill, breathing in and out, deep like a yoga session. She grabbed a black shirt, a pair of smooth black pants, and waited, occasionally trying to fix up the damage to her face. It wasn't eight minutes till a knock pulled panic towards the surface of already-stirred waters. Y/N rubbed her hands and closed her eyes, drawing her hair over her ears to hide what little she could. The knock sounded again. "Is Y/N in here?" Revve's deep voice reverberated clear into the room, despite the door in his way.
Y/N's vocal cords, all they could manage under everything, was a stifled "I'm here."
"Can I be there?" He asked, voice low and sweet, almost teasing, if you looked past the skitter when he spoke. It was near indecipherable, but it was there. Y/N shook her head, got up, and walked to the door. She rested her head against the frame. The hands of a clock in someone's room ticked on, and on, and on.
"I don't want you to see me," Y/N whispered.
"I can turn my optics off."
Y/N's eyes stared sorrowfully at nothing. "No, you don't have to do that." Her hand reached for the knob, slowed by the screaming in her body, mind, her soul, screaming to run. "But thanks." The knob turned little by little, till the door clicked open and Y/N turned to walk anywhere but towards him. She wrapped her arms around herself while he followed steadily after.
"Did someone upset you?" His volume lowers, careful of an animal ready to flee.
Y/N shakes her head. "Not... It's..." She laughed, a bitter thing to hear. After several stumbled starts and stops, she simply motioned him to follow and went into her room. She'd been lucky enough to procure single-room dorms. In there, they sat upon the bed, but he did not touch her. It made her heart ache, but she did not know how to ask for it, even after all these months, so she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Immediately a warmth permeated the air. It made her skin tingle, and that tingling spread till it gently ghosted over every inch of skin, a pleasant, invisible blanket. Y/N tilted her neck and smiled into Revve's armor. The hum of his fans filled the air, sweeter than a lullaby. His large body shifted to allow her more ease against him. Though he had no visible eyes, she knew he was looking down at her, and the thought was the most comfort she'd felt all day, yet it still made her want to shrink, because right now is the least time she wants to be looked at. "Do you want to tell me anything, web?" His hand came up, metallic fingers resting against Y/N's jawline. She flinched and he pulled away.
He took to massaging her shoulders instead, to which she gladly leaned in, and like that they sat for near ten minutes, encompassed by the sound of his engines. She swallowed, took a breath, and said in a strained timbre, "I'm so tired."
"Y/N, I don't know what happened today, if something did happen, but I want to know. Please," he urged, "I want to help." His thumbs rubbed circles into the back of her neck. "I want to help, but I don't know how. You need to meet me halfway, even if only to tell me to shut up and stay here," he pleaded. His pistons whined and clanked, and his voice was soft and despaired.
Y/N's hand moved to Revve's, thumbing over the metal, but she couldn't help the call woven into her bones. Into her skin. It drew her fingers up and she began to subtly, lightly scratch at her skin, drawing with it a deep, looming sense of self-hatred. Revve's fingers quickly curled around Y/N's hand, engulfing it entirely. "You look beautiful," he breathed, voice glitching slightly, "you shouldn't be harming your skin, or any part of your body."
Y/N snorted. "I know that," she snapped. Her voice was suddenly too loud for the room, and too quickly brought to heat. Embarrassment swam in her stomach. "I know," she started again, quieter this time. "I know. I've tried to stop." She took a shuddering breath. "I've tried to stop so many times, but it never sticks." She closed her eyes, turned her head deeper into Revve's body. "I'm so tired. I want to tear all my skin off and throw it in the trash."
Revve traced his cool fingers against her jaw, running up and down, cupping her face so comfort clashed with her current hate. "I...I didn't..." Y/N blinked as a couple tears ran down silently. "I knew your skin was damaged occasionally, but I didn't realize it was this bad," Revve said. "How long has it been happening?"
"A long time," Y/N laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound, more like if a rain cloud trying laughing. It came out more like thunder. "Since...Damn, since I was a mid teenager I think."
"Have you been to anyone?"
"No." The idea of a therapist, because there are for such conditions she'd learned years ago, never appealed as an option. To her teenage mind it seemed so frivolous, to be so distraught as to go for help for her appearance, and when she'd learned to go beyond that more, she'd been too grown and stuck with other responsibilities to bother setting time to go.
Revve made a sound, then stopped. He idled for a few minutes, then said "It's amazing. Even with what's happened to your skin, you still look gorgeous." More tears ran down. Y/N shook her head. "It's too true for you to deny, you know." His voice took on a happy, fluffy tone. "You still look amazing to me. You jaw," his fingers kept moving along her jawbone, "your nose," and here they moved up, one finger gently scratching the bridge of Y/N's nose, and so on, till he'd named every part of her face and so cradled each part. A warm hum sung across Y/N's chest. For a minute, she let herself believe him. Believe that she looked, truly, beautiful to someone. Perhaps she could even look beautiful to herself. But then the feeling began to sink, and all that was left was the painful ache of her face. "I know you don't believe it," Revve stated. "I can see it even on our dates, and when mirrors catch you on some days. Not always," a thoughtful hum entered his voice. "Sometimes you look into mirrors you pass and you smile. It truly makes me feel great to see you prideful of yourself. It gives me this warmth and great joy, because I know it isn't easy for you, even though you deserve self-love enough to fill the moon." His head bent down, rubbed against Y/N's hair. "I know you deserve more than what you give yourself. I think you know that, too."
Y/N's sniffled. It was true. Part of the self-hate was borne from the fact she knows she deserves better than what she gives herself. She was better, she could smile into mirrors now. She was fine with flaws she used to hate. She'd gotten better, but she still had days like this. Y/N stared at nothing, eyes wet and puffy. She'd gotten better, and she'd still get better, she reasoned. With Revve, it somehow felt more possible than it'd ever felt before. Maybe, just maybe, he could help her get through.
He wrapped his arms around her slim body. "Whether you have a bad day like this, or the best day of your life, you'll always be radiant to me. You're as radiant as light, refracted against dew clinging to webs in the morning air. I'm going to help you see that," he declared. "You're going to get help, Y/N.”
Y/N smiled, an odd, rushing feeling suddenly lifting her tears to true laughter for the first time that day. It might have been the dedication in his voice, the poetry of his words, the hands calming her body or the heart in his actions, or the trust built between them, that somehow, somehow made it all seem possible. Y/N had gotten better on her own, but now she didn't have to. Revve would be there. Someone would truly, really be there.
She'd get better. She'd learn to love herself. With him beside her, it felt more than possible. It felt like a certainty.
#Robophilia#robosexual#x reader#exophilia#robot bf#dermatillomania#skin picking disorder#robot boyfriend#terato#sfw
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I know, and I don’t really care
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia
Character(s): Keigo Takami | Hawks
Other tag(s): Angst? Idk for sure
Word count: 1,378
A/N: Well this was my first time ever writing Hawks... Wanted to give it a shot and found a prompt that sparked some inspiration here: “You were my greatest failure. I hope you know that."
Sitting perched on the corner of a building in the early morning sunrise, Keigo stared uninterested at the message he had just received. Apparently, his old man was dying and had requested the chance to talk to him one last time and the HPSC was oh so graciously allowing him to step away from his duties for a whole fifteen minutes to do so. Oooh, wasn't he special. He figured it wouldn't be a good visit regardless, he held no hope that his father was going to apologize for how he treated him or the life he put him through. But hey, fifteen minutes was fifteen minutes. Might as well entertain his dying father, if only to have a minuscule break. Besides, it might be nice to see the old man bothered by how unbothered he was about his opinions. He taps out a confirmation to taking the time to visit his dear old dad to say goodbye, using as few words as possible to 'thank' his handler for the chance. He then sweeps through to a different text channel and instructs one of his sidekicks to watch over his patrol area for the short time he had to step away.
He finds himself taking to the air, heading towards the jail where his father was being held. Of course, he wouldn't be released or provide comfort in his last hours but Keigo couldn't find it in himself to care. He didn't have the energy to waste on someone who didn't matter in his life anymore. He was sure it was off-putting for him to show up with a carefree smile on his face and cheerfully inform them of his reasons for visiting. Sure the jail knew that he was coming, but he didn't know what they were expecting, but a happy camper wasn't one of them. It amused him which made it worth it at the very least. He was all charming smiles and light-hearted comments as he was led back to a private visitor's room until they reached the doors. As he entered the room, his expression changed dramatically; expertly closing himself off and leaving only a slight, smug smile on his face as he sauntered over to the table to sit across from his father. He definitely looked worse for wear, with pale ashy skin, and sagging features evident of someone who was deathly ill and at the end of their rope. He looked exhausted and just as cranky as he had been in Keigo’s childhood. Ever a scowl on his face and judgmental eyes.
“Hey, pops. I was told you wanted to talk, eh?” He takes the initiative, not wanting to waste any more time than he needed, and wanting to just get to the meat of the visit. Let his father say his nasty words and move on from this. He was greeted with a cold stare and those annoyed pursed lips, apparently showing his father’s reluctance to talk at the moment.
“Well, I’m here despite everything, so aren’t you lucky? Really just wanted to see how you were fairing, you were my father after all. As awful of a one you were anyway. Still, I figured I owed you a chance to see my face one last time before you passed. So what is so important that you had to wait till your deathbed to share with me? Surely it wasn’t just to have the chance to glare holes through me for fifteen minutes. That’d be kinda disappointing, to say the least.”
They stare at each other for what feels like years until his dad finally coughs and clears his throat- a disgusting wet noise that makes Keigo cringe inward despite his carefully masked ease.
"You were my greatest failure. I hope you know that." His father finally rasped out, disdain and malice oozing with every word. Keigo supposed he meant to be hurt by those words, but all he could do was grin freely.
“Oh yeah, I’m well aware. Was that all?” He asks jovially, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. His father seemed confused, and Keigo knew that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, which just made it worth the visit. He was pleased to show this man that he didn’t have any effect on him anymore.
“It’s touching that even in your last moments, you’re still thinking of me, Dad. I’m sure it burns ya up, huh? Did you hear the news? Just last week, I was made the number two hero, ain't that just peachy?” Keigo hummed, leaning against the table and resting his chin in his hand in doing so. That seemed to rile up his father’s spirit, making the man scowl and sneer at him.
“Of course, you went off an became one of those filthy attention-seekin’ government dogs.” He spits, coughing as he expresses more emotion than he had just seconds ago.
“Yep. Someones gotta catch the yuck of society like you, after all. Otherwise, the streets would be uninhabitable.” It seemed that with every word that came out of his mouth, his father was more and more irritated. It was cathartic, seeing the old man getting so upset over how unbothered Keigo seemed to be with his attempts to cut him down.
’How self-centered did he have to be to think that the child he abused for years before his arrest would still be sparing him any thought? Did he really expect me to be hung up over what he had to say?’ He snorts mentally at the idea. He didn’t have time to dwell on his past that much, with how much work he was doing, his thoughts were always firmly stuck in the present and future- Had to stay one step ahead of the game after all, there were a lot of people in the world who needed saving and he felt like he was the only one really capable of doing it well enough. As much as he didn’t care for his rankings, it was an honor bestowed upon him because of the public. He made them feel safe and protected, even though there was still so much going on in the world and behind the scenes of normal society. If they knew the kind of crap he had to take care of or deal with, the world would be sent spiraling through chaos. He wishes things were as peaceful and kind as it was made to look. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to bend over backwards all the time doing what he felt was needed, and what he was made to do by the HPSC.
When it seemed like his father wasn’t going to say anything more, shaking up with so much anger and resentment to even form words, Keigo stood up and casually stretched.
“If that was all you wanted to say, then I guess we’re done here, huh?” He glances at the clock. “And not even a minute to spare. I’d say it’s been great seeing you again, pops, but we both know that’s a lie.” He doesn’t really know how to say goodbye to this man, so he just gives him a lazy salute and turns to leave. He doesn’t hear his father say anything or try to do anything in reaction, outside of falling into a coughing fit which saw a nurse rushing into the room after he left. Keigo assumed he should feel something over all this, but nothing was really coming up. He didn’t feel relief or joy, nor sad or depressed. Was he numb? He couldn’t tell. What was he really feeling? Was he trying to trick himself or was this it? It was times like these that Keigo lamented his habit of fabricating certain emotions to fit the situations he found himself in, constantly questioning if he really felt one way or another, or if it was just an elaborate ruse that even he was falling for now. Who knows really… Such was the life of a double agent hero. He went from one tiny cage to a larger, nicer cage, but still a cage nonetheless… He did find the irony in the fact that he just wants to be free like his father did all those years ago.
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Wishbringer (PC)
Developed/Published by: Infocom
Released: 1/5/1985
Completed: 20/07/2022
Completion: Finished it, 100/100.
Trophies / Achievements: n/a
Brian Moriarty has a couple of sad Infocom milestones in his career (which I should note have nothing to do with him directly) Wishbringer, released in mid-1985, was the first game the company would release after dooming the company with the ill-concieved Cornerstone project and would be (as noted by the Digital Anitquarian) “one of the company’s last genuine hits” and his next project, 1986’s Trinity, would be (according to Wikipedia) “the last game released by the company when it was solvent.”
Oof.
I hadn’t originally planned to play Wishbringer–I was going to skip ahead to A Mind Forever Voyaging–but Wishbringer is particularly mentioned as a bit of a hidden gem in the Infocom catalogue and being intentionally designed as an “introductory” text adventure I was interested to see how Infocom’s design continued to evolve since the willfully obtuse Hitchiker’s Guide.
Well, the answer is… I think the answer I’m coming to is that I don’t think Infocom actually had a particularly consistent design philosophy. I suppose it’s early days in game development, but it really feels like each “implementor” was treated as an author not just in terms of content and writing but also design (and, in fact, if you read Stu Galley’s “Implementor’s Creed” written in 1985, as much as it hedges, it seems to imply such a thing.)
This means that, well, advances weren’t necessarily consistently brought forward, and even for an “introductory” adventures, a lot of decisions are made here that represent, well, bad, unwelcoming design. And often, it’s the little things. By this point, you’d think, inventory limits would be a thing of the past, and even Hitchiker’s Guide has the sense to make you drop something randomly when you pick up too much and offer a bag of holding (admittedly only if you can work that out*) Here, you struggle with what feels like a very strict inventory limit and a wide-open map with a roaming enemy, making it risky to drop something you might need.
*I thought maybe the wizard’s hat here might be a bag of holding, but it just seems to… destroy items. And you will almost certainly use it immediately in one of the more obvious puzzles, so…
Of course, it actually is “educational” for a new infocom player to deal with a lot of frustration, even if I think it’s pretty unintentional. Take the opening: you’re given a nice clear goal and then quickly bump into your first puzzle that locks you into a small area and has a fairly obvious solution. That’s good! But once that’s out of the way, you basically unlock the entire map and have a strict (and honestly unnecessary) time-limit to complete your first task, at which point the map–while keeping the same layout–changes significantly, rendering some items totally inaccessible for the rest of the game.
What’s even weirder about that is some of those items are necessary to use the titular wishbringer, which was explicitly designed to be a pressure-release for new adventure gamers allowing themselves to “wish” their way through puzzles! So very quickly Wishbringer hits that problem (or perhaps intentional feature, such as in Hitchhiker’s Guide) that you’ll have to restart or restore earlier saves in order to even really get the sense of the game. I’m not sure it’s as bad as Hitchhiker’s Guide–I think as far as items go, if you miss one that’s needed to wish, you can solve the puzzle, and vice versa–but at least once I locked myself out of an area completely with something I still needed to do in there, forcing a restore.
I suppose you could say I’m being a little hard on this for, basically, having all the usual problems, and probably especially because I can’t help but compare it to my high watermark for Infocom (so far) Planetfall, designed by the more established Steven Meretsky. But I was definitely struck by the fact that–as is often the case–the prose only served to obfuscate rather than help a new player. Indeed, sometimes the text used to try and help a new player only made things worse! That area I got myself locked out of? I got myself locked out after the game told me I “didn’t need to refer to the switches to in this story” when what I actually needed to do was specifically refer to the FIRST switch and the SECOND switch.
(That one ended up in a trip to the invisiclues, unfortunately.)
So I don’t think is particularly successful as an introductory adventure–certainly no more than Planetfall, even accepting that that one has loads of empty rooms–but it doesn’t mean that I actually had a bad time with this. It is honestly rather charming. You play a day-dreaming postal worker who ends up in an evil, mirror-version of his seaside town on a quest to rescue a black cat (my favourite!) and as much as I’m not crazy about the map, I kind of get it–I think I’m just “spoiled” by Hitchhiker’s Guide’s self-contained vignettes (anyway, it’s not particularly big and it does have a central fountain hub). The puzzles are not hard if you follow the rule I always forget (examine, look behind, in, under and around EVERYTHING) and have a few restores under your belt. The story is no great shakes (outside of a weirdly dark story in the manual which doesn’t really relate to much) but, and I might be presumptuous here, there’s a Loom-like whimsy that implies Moriarty is more about giving the player a sense of place and feeling rather than a particularly deep narrative. And a few of the twists and turns are clever enough that I chuckled.
It’s a game I found myself a little more frustrated by than I hoped to be while playing it, but it’s a game I already think about warmly in retrospect. It doesn’t have anything about it that really blows your socks off–no Deadline chases, no Planetfall narrative thrills, no Hitchhiker’s meta gags–it’s just sort of sweet, like a kids’ fantasy novel that you read in an afternoon while feeling poorly because it just takes you somewhere pleasant for a while.
Will I ever play it again? It feels like one I’d return to, and it’s made me think that I should return to the many Infocom adventures from the pre-Cornerstone golden era I’ve skipped one day.
Final Thought: Actually, speaking of kids’ fantasy novels, there actually was one for Wishbringer! And there were other Infocom books too! But my understanding is none of them were particularly good (though perhaps Wishbringer is the highlight.) As a huge fan of Nintendo’s Worlds of Power books–I read the hell out of Blaster Master and Castlevania II–I have to admit I’m interested in seeking them out anyway..
Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month.
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Amarillo
Pairing: neighbor! Joaquin Torres x female reader
Word Count: 1714 words
Outline: Your second date with Joaquin goes a little bit different from what you were both expecting.
Warnings: Fluff with smut!, heavy nipple play, hand job, spit as lube, lingerie fetishization, body worship, grammar mistakes, if I missed anything or tagged something wrong please let me know!
Author’s Note: first time writing anything for Joaquin and so far the longest thing I've written, and this is also my submission for the @late-to-the-party-81 and @yarnforbrains all-new challenge, I used these two prompts (I think we found a new kink…, do you like my new...) and I hope I did this story and this character some justice, not beta 'ed, all mistakes are my own!
P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics
🌟 Please reblog and comment, all feedback is appreciated and warmly encouraged and allows me to learn what to work on 🌟
Main Masterlist ・❥・Joaquin Torres Masterlist
NSFW BELOW THE CUT. MINORS PLEASE DNI.
In the quiet of your room listening to some uplifting music while you were dressed up for your second date with the cute guy from across the street. New neighbor Joaquin Torres. He had moved to your neighborhood a couple of weeks back and immediately you caught each other’s eyes. Although dating a neighbor is always awkward at first, you kept your distance.
However, after a night out at the local cinema with your best friend, you happened to run into him as you were getting your snacks from the bar. Nachos with extra cheese just as he liked it, he noted, with a bright smile greatly illuminated by his white t-shirt. As soon as your friend saw you two talking, she faked a sudden illness and left you all alone. Gotta love smart friends.
That night out together transcended pure magic and was like the start of something new. He drove you back home and held your hand till you reached your house and with a soft kiss goodbye, he promised a much better date next time. Even better?
And so that was you today, picking through dresses and tossing around clothes wondering what's his favorite color? What is your best feature to accentuate? You remember him telling you that his favorite color is yellow as you pick your lingerie first. Cotton feels with a pretty overlay lace pattern. Hasn’t been long since you bought them but you haven't worn them more than once.
Over it, you chose to wear a semi-maxi dark green floral dress, a new purchase, and your favorite pair of beige faux leather sandals. 'Perfect' you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror and then proceeded to fix your hair.
Picking up your bag, you proceed to leave your room with a final text to him, letting him know that you are ready. Only to get greeted by him a minute later standing at your front door with a bouquet of roses in his hands. What a gentleman. You place your bag on the table and you open the door for him.
Greeting him with your best-worn smile, accepting the flowers and asking him to come inside to search for a vase to place them in. As you moved around the living room, bouquet in your arms, you twirled around in your dress and give him a cute pose.
"Do you like my new dress?"
"Is very pretty, you look even prettier in it, you’re beautiful, Y/N."
Joaquin smiled nodding his head, sitting close by to the door. Finding the vase and carefully placing the flowers inside, you shoot him another bright smile. However, you noticed his eyes wandering to the slightly exposed strap of your dress. You felt his gaze fixating on it as you run your fingers through the strap to hide it back.
Yellow. Your bra was yellow. His favorite color. Just like you had planned. Naughty ideas begin to form in your head and you decide to let the strap fall down again over your shoulder.
You notice how his breath hitches, probably thinking about your bra and wondering what else you might be wearing. Letting out a deep chuckle as you notice the first droplets of sweat forming in his forehead. He's unable to speak for a few moments and you're only giggling, shaking your head.
Your plan is very much working, what you didn’t know is how much he actually liked yellow. That's when you finally notice it as he brings his hands to cover his crotch. He's getting hard at just the sight of you. A shock overwhelms him and he profusely apologizes and tries to leave.
"I'm sorry, I'm really, I’m sorry, your strap, the yellow, Dios, is driving me insane, I'm sorry, I should leave, this is not okay"
"No, please stay, Joaquin, is okay, I'm flattered, honestly you don't have to leave. You can…"
A wave of confidence washes over you as you take a step closer to him.
"Would you like to see all of it?"
His face is only a mix of shock and want as he nods his head and parts his lips.
"Please, I, I would love to but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
With a smirk you slowly take both of your dress straps down, exposing all of your bra and your breasts. You take a look at him as you shift in your movement jiggling them for him. All things are better in motion.
“Holy shit, you’re gorgeous, y/n!”
He says in a hitched breath and you can tell he’s getting harder by the way his face looks concentrated and scrunched together.
“Go ahead, baby, touch yourself for me.”
Your commanding tone and your confidence lead him to palm himself at your sight. Pressing his lips together at his touch, a sense of pride overcomes you. He lets out a very small moan and is enough to make you clench your thighs together.
"Could I please, y/n, could I please touch them?"
His voice is close to a plea as he takes in your beautiful sight. Joaquin is licking his lips together just at the thought of touching them. Oh, you were about to make him a very happy man.
You motion with your two fingers for him to come closer. So he does not let a moment go to waste. Immediately grabbing both of your breasts feeling the weight of them in his hands, his breath hitching again and you look at him with a grin.
"Anything you want, baby boy, you can ask for."
"This color looks divine on you, cariño "
He barely manages to say as your next phrase makes his heart beat faster.
"All yours, baby, all for you, you can have them."
With a puppy look on his face, he leaned forward to kiss all over them tenderly but needily, alternating between softly squeezing them and kissing them. His kisses and his incredibly needy nature increase your desire.
Until he stops for a brief moment and looks up at you asking for permission with his beautiful brown eyes tugging at your bra with a pleading face. With a nod you allow him to push your bra down and so he does, taking a moment to marvel at the sight of them complimenting you.
“You look like a Goddess, Y/N. Real Aphrodite coming to life.”
With his delicate fingers, he begins to circle both of your breasts with large strokes, reaching for the areola and easing into a gentle breast massage. After a few moments, he gives them a little squeeze.
Then he goes on to trace your areola without touching your nipples, the sensation leading you to shut your eyes and your breathing pattern to change.
Joaquin moves his fingers to your nipples which are now very erect and hard, rubbing them slowly, increasing speed and pressure as you are reacting to his touch. You were very hot and bothered, your one hand going to wrap behind his neck for support.
That’s when he pinches your nipples, a rush of sensation flowing through you. He goes soft at first but then he pinches your nipples harder making you moan out his name in pleasure. Oh, you were very foregone now.
Switching his movements again he alternates between pulling your nipples and twisting them with his fingers, a very eager expression on his face as you react positively to all of his micro touches. You’re arching your back as you try to press yourself against the bookcase.
His next move is to take his fingers away and start breathing over them, blowing hot air on your now very sensitive nipples. Your mind goes crazy with all of the stimulation.
With a swift move, he takes a nipple between his lips and hungrily licks it in circles with the tip of his tongue. Shutting his eyes as he moans at the taste. Your own panties are now long drenching in your wetness. Your breasts were always the most sensitive part of your body. How on earth did he know? A very lucky coincidence to share.
Doesn't take him long to start sucking on the nipple, utterly desperate at the feel of your breast squeezing the other with the palm on his hand. Then, your hands are going to unbuckle his pants and palm his clothed cock, making him let go of your nipple for a second.
You reach for his cock, pushing his underwear down which only makes him suck harder on your nipple. Joaquin, then he flicks your nipple with the tip of his tongue moving on to cover it with the flat of his tongue.
You spit on your hand, the pure sound of it making him moan again once he realizes what you are doing. You spread it all over his cock and start pumping him slowly up and down. His pure fixation on your breast, his tongue working his magic on all of your sensitive nerves, is making your insides tighten and you’re finding it hard to sit still.
Going back to sucking on your nipple and squeezing the other breast, Joaquin is grinding his hips and cock to your hand, sounds of pleasure escaping both your mouths. Thankfully the windows are closed.
Your orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel explosions everywhere, the sensation spreading throughout your body as the pleasure has been building slowly and gradually. Your climax is powerful and is coming in waves as you are trying hard to grab on to him when you feel your whole body falling apart on him.
Your loud cry of his name, and the way your body trembles are enough for him to cum all over your hand shooting ropes of cum on you and your new dress. His orgasm was muffled by the way he nibbled on your nipple as he felt the wave of pleasure washing him over.
That's how you both finish in your living room, right behind the main door, his cock in your hands, the nipple overstimulation making you finish, which was never something you expected you could do. Oh, he was way too good with his tongue. Looks like he is a man to keep around.
"Guess what, cariño. ”
His voice was soft echoing through the room, after a few moments when you both caught your breaths.
“ I think we found a new kink for the both of us."
#allnew22#joaquin torres x reader#joaquín torres x reader#joaquin torres#joaquín torres smut#joaquin torres x you#joaquín torres x you#joaquin torres blurb#joaquin torres fic#joaquín torres fic#joaquín torres blurb#marvel x reader#joaquín torres fluff#joaquín torres x y/n#joaquín torres reader insert#joaquín torres headcanon#joaquín torres imagine#selenewrites#marvel#mcu
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A Xiao x fem reader where he's completely inexperienced s3xually so when he starts to get urges he has no idea what they are. He tries to keep them to himself until something in him snaps...you can decide where to go with that (consensual ofc!)
featuring: xiao x fem!reader
warnings: nsfw: 18+ only, masturbation, slight voyeurism, afab reader, she/her pronouns, typos
published: june 17, 2021
form: headcanons/imagine
a/n: hi anon! officially finished my first year of uni so im super glad i can dedicate more time to writing this summer~ hope you enjoy :)
xiao doesn’t quite grasp the concept of sexual pleasure. he’s never had a need for it, considering the past few thousand years of his life have been dedicated to exterminating evil and coping with the subsequent karmic debt from having taken so many lives
he has never had the urge, nor ever considered the idea, of being intimate with someone. xiao wasn’t completely unaware of the existence of sexual intercourse, but it never seemed to be something for someone like him.
that is, until you came crashing into his life.
at first, his thoughts towards you were purely of admiration.
the way you carried yourself, confident about every inch of physical matter you carry, and every piece of knowledge you possess. the way you talked to xiao as an equal, despite your magnificence, never condescending and always interested in what he had to say. he realized, this is what it feels like to be cared about.
over time, those feelings turned more intense, something xiao couldnt quite explain because he had never felt it before. the giddiness that made his voice tremble and eyes dart whenever you looked at him, your gaze penetrating into his soul. the constant urge to know what you were doing and where you were, so he could find a way to somehow make himself useful to you.
it was all very odd to xiao. for a while he thought he had fallen ill, or perhaps was falling into a bout of hysteria. caught at a dead end, xiao decided to consult liyue’s large collection of ancient and contemporary texts, hoping to find an answer.
perusing through rows upon rows of books, xiao stumbled upon a section of “forbidden” texts. his curiosity getting the best of him, xiao made sure to check that nobody was in his surroundings, and flipped open one of the books.
xiao was met with pages upon pages of lewd illustrations, men copulating with women in various, unsightly positions, details more explicit by the page. this quenched some horrid sense of curiosity in xiao... so this is what intercourse is like, he thought to himself.
flipping further, he stumbled upon an image of a man, half-disrobed, his hand appearing to be gripping his penis in what be some sort of slef-pleasuring act. was this... what xiao was looking for? perhaps the remedy to his uneasy mind was to touch himself in this way.
making his way back to his living quarters, xiao ruminated on what he had just learned. there must be something to this act called “masturbation”, he supposed. the way he had been thinking about you lately was interfering with his duties, and he wanted to be rid of such impure thoughts. he couldn’t afford to be thinking about the way you leaned in to him, breasts brushing against his shoulder as you whispered a joke into his ear. xiao had more pressing matters to be concerned with, instead of daydreaming about what it must be like to feel your body against his, his cock grinding against your most private parts, the two of you drowning in each other’s scents. no, that would not do.
reaching the entrance of the commune he shared with you and various other adepti, xiao noticed you in the courtyard, doing some work in the garden. you had on a light colored, silken robe, sleeves rolled up as you were pruning the bushes by the pond. the way you were bent over made the hem of your dress ride up along your leg, revealing the supple skin of your untouched inner thigh. xiao’s throat felt awfully dry.
noticing his presence, you stood up to greet him, flashing him a gentle smile, basket tucked under your arm. to xiao’s further dismay, when you stood up, the collar of your working dress hung so low over your chest that much of your cleavage was revealed and left little to the imagination. he couldn’t take it anymore—xiao could already sense a heavy sensation growing between his legs. without further acknowledgment, xiao sped across the courtyard and directly into his quarters, where he lived, slept, and ate. panting against the door, xiao loosened the buckled on his trousers. it was getting much too hot for comfort.
without much ceremony, he laid himself upon his modest bed, and pulled his pants further down. xiao could feel his hard cock straining against his underwear, unlike any sensation he had ever experienced before. as he freed himself from the constraints of his pants, xiao’s mind was only on you—the way your breasts sat so lovely on your chest, how delicate and meldable your thighs looked. oh how he longed to feel simply your lips against his, your ass in his hands, as you rode his cock as if the world were going to end.
taking his cock in one hand, xiao gulped, and began stroking himself. he started lightly, with a loose fist around the base of his straining, pink cock. even the light touch caused him to shiver violently with pleasure. gripping himself tighter, he imagined his fist to be your pretty, tight little cunt enveloping his cock, desperate for you to take him in and take care of him the way you always did.
faster and faster he pumped, abundant precome now leaking out of his flushed slit. little whimpers and moans began to slip past xiao’s blushing lips, sounds that sounded awfully like your name. his dripping cock made his hand rub against himself even faster and wetter, just like how he imagined your soft cunny would have felt like.
so good to him, you were, so good that xiao wanted more. more than just kindness and compassion, he wanted your lust. he wanted his cock buried so deep inside you that your liquids would mix together as one as he released himself inside if you. hotter and hotter, xiao became, and the pressure in his groin grew even more tight that he wondered if he was going to pass out. he couldn’t even hear how loud his moans were growing, the wails of “[y/n]...[y/n]!” bouncing off the walls of xiao’s bedroom. he wondered if the tightness would ever go away—all he could seem to feel was the phantom tightness of your pussy on his poor little cock. impatiently pumping harder and faster, desperate for release, xiao moaned your name unabashedly louder than ever. he needed you—he needed to be in you so badly, or he might die. archons, he needed you so-
“xiao?”, a little voice spoke. you were standing there in his doorway, looking at him strewn over the bed. you must have heard his calls for your name from the courtyard through the thin paper doors and come looking.
xiao was frozen. he jumped up from where he was, trying to salvage what was clearly an incriminating scene. “wait, i can explain,” he stumbled, pulling up his pants, unable to meet your gaze. it was all over now, wasn’t it. you would never want to associate with him again, the pervert, jacking off with little to no care for who would hear, crying out your name of all things—
“no wait, xiao!” you interrupted his thoughts. your eyes looked at the yaksha with sincerity, and something else. intrigue, perhaps. “well... it looks like you might need a hand.”
#genshin impact#genshin headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin imagines#genshin impact fanfiction#genshin x reader#xiao#xiao thirst#xiao smut#xiao fanfic#xiao headcanons#xiao x y/n#xiao x reader#xiao imagine#xiao genshin impact
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Let Me In
EZ Reyes x F!Reader
Request by Anon: Can I request an Ez drabble where his relatively new girlfriend slips into an episode for the first time while they've been together? Like one day she just stops responding to his texts and calls, Letty notices she hasn't posted on social media, no one has seen her around town or at the club. He goes to her house to check on her, and she explains that this is something that just happens and people trying to cheer her up just makes her feel guilty. So he offers to be a silent character in her home during her episode, basically moving into her guest room. Like he'll just help out by going grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., so that he can make sure she's nourished, well stocked, and clean. I understand if this is too uncomfortable because it involves mental illness, but if you felt comfortable enough to write it, I would really like that 💜
Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness, language, EZ being a sweetie
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: EZ being a mindful partner and caretaker is my jam. Hope you enjoy! xo
Join my group-chat here: (X)
EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @louisianalady @gemini0410 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 (If you want to be added let me know!)
Your phone buzzed again. When you looked down and saw EZ’s name lighting up the screen, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek before turning it back over and setting it face down on the couch next to you. For three days you had been dodging his text and his calls. As much as you hated ignoring him, what you would hate more was dragging him into the mess you felt like you were currently trapped it.
The two of you hadn’t been dating for very long. Things had been going well, and even outside of your new-found relationship with EZ, you had been doing well in general. Until one day when you woke up and started to feel yourself slipping. It’d been a while since you felt yourself spiraling downwards, and part of you figured that you were a little overdue for it, as fucked up as it sounded. You knew what you were in for, what to expect, but you didn’t want to put that on Ezekiel. Things were still so new, and so good—you didn’t want to stain that with the darkness that was swirling around inside your head. Besides, it was better for you to get through your depressive episodes alone. You couldn’t handle other people’s guilt on top of your own depression.
EZ was sat at the bar in the clubhouse, staring intently at his phone. He felt like if he looked at it long enough, your contact photo would light up the screen with a phone call. But he had no such luck. The anxious part of him worried that you had just woken up and decided to drop him and move on, but that just didn’t seem right—things had been going so well. He knew that things were still fresh with the two of you, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable just showing up and kicking your door in, especially when you had been making a point to not talk to him.
“You alright?” Letty approached him, instantly noticing the worried look on his face.
He looked up at her from the screen of his phone, “You heard from Y/N?”
She shook her head, “Not the past few days, why? She okay?”
He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. Just starting to get worried.”
Letty was already scrolling on her phone to see if she had seen any posts from you the past few days on social media. But there was nothing. She looked over at EZ, “Nothing. Maybe you should go check on her. Can’t hurt.”
He nervously twisted his hands in his lap, “I don’t want to just show up like that. I don’t think we’re really there yet.”
Angel scoffed from the stool next to him, “Don’t be like that, ‘mano. If you’re worried go check on her. She hasn’t been around lately.”
EZ knew that he would never win an argument against the both of them. So with a heavy sigh he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door of the clubhouse. He texted you to tell you that he was on his way, but in his gut, he knew that the text was most likely going to go unanswered.
When he pulled into your driveway, he saw that your car was there. That at least gave him reassurance that you were home, not stranded or lost somewhere. He hung his helmet off the handlebar and made his way up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on your door.
You’d heard EZ’s bike long before you heard the knock at the door. You contemplated, for a fleeting moment, not answering the door. But you knew that wasn’t fair to him—none of this really was.
You unlocked and opened the door and you could instantly see the relief on his face when he saw that you were alive and in one piece. That relief, however, was brief as his features twisted into a look of concern. He saw the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollowness in them.
“Hey,” you offered up as you stood in the doorway.
“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, “sorry to just turn up like this. I just…I got worried.”
“Sorry,” it was hard to meet his eyes.
There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Can I come in?”
You glanced back over your shoulder for a second. Your house wasn’t a mess or anything, but usually you took extra care to straighten up when you knew that people, especially EZ, were coming over. There was no point in hiding it now, though. It was too late to pretend that everything was normal.
You opened the door and stepped aside so that he could come in. With a deep sigh you shut and locked it behind the both of you. You stayed put by the front door, not quiet sure what EZ was going to say or do. You were surprised that he didn’t seem angrier or upset about you completely blowing him off the last few days.
“Can I ask what’s been going on?” you could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully.
You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a second before walking towards the couch, motioning for him to follow you. You sat down next to him and pulled your legs up underneath you. He watched your every move, and you could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what was wrong but he already wanted to fix it.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been blowing you off,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face, “I just, I sort of shut down sometimes. I’m used to how I operate, but I probably should’ve mentioned something about it to you.”
“About what?” he was a smart man, but he still wanted you to be able to tell him in your own words what was going on.
You fussed with the hem of your hoodie, “About my depression. There’s just, you know, never a good time to bring it up,” you let out a hollow chuckle, “Not necessarily the best ice breaker on a first date,” you shook your head, “But anyway. Some days it’s worse than others. It’s always pretty manageable, but when it gets bad I usually just shut down and stay in. I know how to handle myself and it’s easier to just get through it alone.”
“I can help,” his tone was so sincere.
You nodded, “I know you would. But people trying to cheer me up or get me to do shit just…makes it worse. I just gotta ride it out. Things always end up leveling off and going back to normal. I just don’t really have the capacity to handle human interaction.”
“I can help and also not talk to you,” he wasn’t trying to make light of your situation, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he made his offer.
It got you to give a small smile in return, “I’m not going to ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking,” he scooted a little closer to you, “I’ll stay out of your way. I can crash on the couch, or in the spare room. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be like your Alfred. Only better-looking.”
“Ezekiel,” you shook your head, “you really don’t have to—”
“But I want to,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “If you really can’t stand me after a couple days then I’ll pack my shit and leave you alone until you’re feeling better. Promise.”
You sighed, not having the energy to really fight him on it. You gave a slight nod, “Okay.”
“Yea?”
You nodded, “Yea.”
You felt like there was something more that you should say but you couldn’t. Your brain felt like it was coated in a fog. Without another word about it, EZ stood up and gave you a light kiss on the top of your head before heading back out the way he came so he could go pack some clothes and things to keep at your place.
When he got back to your place, you were curled up on the couch underneath your blanket. The television was on despite the fact that you weren’t really listening to it—it just was better than complete silence. EZ toed off his boots by the door, his footsteps surprisingly soft as he made his way through your house to set his things in your spare bedroom.
You looked over at him when he came back down the hall. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled but didn’t say anything as he made his way over into the kitchen. A few seconds later you heard the sink turn on. Propping yourself up on your elbows you peeked to see what he was doing. His back was completely to you as he started to work through the dishes that had been accumulating in your sink. You watched him for a minute, and if you listened hard enough you could hear him quietly humming to himself as he did. You laid back down on the couch, letting your eyes drift shut to the sound of the television and the water running in the next room over.
Ezekiel was true to his word—he didn’t push you to do anything or speak with him. Over the course of the next few days, he kept himself busy. He went to the store, trying his best to figure out what you needed without having to ask you. He cooked for you, silently setting the plate down either on the coffee table or on your nightstand depending on where you were. Occasionally he would press his lips to the top of your head in a light kiss, but he tried never to linger.
Truthfully your house had never been so clean. You were a fairly tidy person when you were in a good space, but EZ’s dedication to cleaning your place far exceeded yours even on your best days. He refused to let himself sit idly by if there was something that he could be doing. You’d grown accustomed to the sounds of him walking through your house, going up and down your stairs to and from the basement as he did your laundry as well as his own. You knew when he was really into his tasks because he would absentmindedly hum little tunes while he busied himself.
The smell of dinner had been filling the house for what seemed like ages. You had strolled through the kitchen a couple times, disguising your curiosity by making it seem like you just wanted to get yourself a bottle of water. EZ was so engrossed in his cooking process that he didn’t even notice. Before this point, you never really thought about if he could cook, but apparently, he could and he was very good at it.
You were sat on the couch, scrolling trying to find something to put on the TV that piqued your interest. EZ came over and set a plate down in front of you. You looked up at him, offering up a quiet thank you. He nodded in response and turned around to go to his room.
“EZ,” you called after him. You waited for him to stop and turn to you, “There something you wanna watch?” you held the controller out to him
He raised his eyebrows, unable to pretend that he wasn’t a little surprised at the gesture, “Yea?”
You nodded, “All the titles are starting to look the same to me.”
He chuckled as he sat down, taking the controller from you, “I get it.”
You watched him as he scrolled through the titles in front of him. His brows furrowed as he read through one show synopsis after another. Despite how heavy everything had felt lately, there was something reassuring about the position you currently found yourself in. Even though you hadn’t wanted him to stay, to see you like this, you had to admit that it was nice to finally have someone around who knew how to have your back when you were going through it. He knew how to be there and not suffocate you.
“Thank you,” you said as you started to pick away at your dinner.
He chuckled, “Picking a show isn’t that hard. Don’t need to thank me.”
You smiled and shook your head, “Thank you for staying with me. I know it’s not exactly exciting but it’s…I kind of like you being here.”
“Kind of?” he playfully nudged your knee with his own.
“Keeping you humble. I’m not that out of it.”
He laughed for a moment before his expression grew a little more serious, “Thank you for letting me stay. I know that wasn’t easy.”
You nodded slowly, “Yea. But, y’know, it was nice for the guest room to finally get some use.”
One end of his mouth curled up in a smirk, “I might show up and stay there uninvited all the time.”
You shook your head, biting back a smile. It’d been a long few days, and it wasn’t over yet. But for a few minutes you got to feel a little lighter and that was a feeling you wanted to hold onto while you had it. You watched EZ out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the television. You weren’t much for company but there was something comforting about his presence. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that he’d shown up on your doorstep.
#mayans mc#mayansmc#mayans fx#mayans mc imagine#ez reyes#ezekiel reyes#ez reyes x you#ez reyes x reader#ezekiel reyes imagine#ezekiel reyes x reader#ezekiel reyes fanfic#my writing#fanfiction#drabblesmc
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hi you can make a tate langdon alphabet fluff with the shy reader please
Tate Langdon x Shy Reader: Alphabet Fluff
(prompt made by @magical-warlock )
A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?
Tate adores listening to music. Whether it be cradling them in his arms while they play with his hair, or kissing, he loves doing everything with music in the background.
B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?
Every feature. He adores every feature of his S.O., but he especially is fond of his lovers eyes and lips.
C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?
Gently, he would try and coax them out of it. Rubbing their back, petting their hair, trying to get them to talk. Eventually, if they began to cry, he would cry with them, and hold them close.
D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?
If he hadn’t been stuck in the murder house, he would wish to run away with them after high school. Where to, it didn't matter, but to be with them forever, away from the pain of the town they lived.
E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?
Tate tends to be more domineering. In arguments or fights, he likes to take control, to combat the childhood he had.
F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?
Tate dislikes fighting, but he can be very stubborn. He hates to disagree, but doesn’t necessarily prevent it. After a while of him cooling down, eventually, he apologizes and wants to be with his S.O again.
G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?
He greatly appreciates his S.O’s kindness towards him. Even though they’re shy, and more quiet, he still takes their gentle kindness gigantically. He loves it.
H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?
At the beginning of the relationship, he doesn’t tell them anything. He’s just the next door neighbor who’s kind to the new person. But after they become close, he tells them everything. If they accept him, he will never keep a single secret.
I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?
Greatly! Tate, before his lover, was rude, self-centered, and generally violent. After finding love, he slowly changed to be more tender and passionate, and overcame his own mental illness and trauma.
J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?
Tate gets jealous extremely easily. Whether it be other ghosts in the house, or new house owners, he tends to get possessive. He would naturally handle it by fighting, but his lover coaxed him out of it, so he just pouts.
K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?
Though Tate isn’t experienced, he tends to be fairly decent at kissing. He tends to be passionate and tender, he wants his lovers touch.
L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?
I feel he is poetic, and would get them a flower. Maybe a bouquet of uniquely colored flowers? He would try and make it beautiful, just like his lover.
M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?
Since he’s dead, he has no interest in getting married. But if his S.O wanted, he would get them a promise ring to match the ring he has. It may have a small skull, or a raven on the head.
N icknames - What do they call their s/o?
Tate would be interested in using many nicknames for his S.O. He would most likely use the classics, “babe, baby, my girl”, or if you were a boy, “my boy”. But he’d also call them names like “kitten” or “darling”. If it flustered them, he’d use it so often.
O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?
The most noticeable difference is him being kinder, and more warm to be around. His S,O’s warmth is contagious for him, and he slowly becomes a better person, and lets go of his pain he’s been dealing with.
P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?
The bragging he does is mostly to assert himself to anyone who talks to you. He can do a lot of PDA, to make others see he’s their partner.
Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.
He plans the BEST Halloween dates.
R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?
He is extremely creative with his romantic gestures. He tries to make things different, and unique, for example Violets black flower.
S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?
It’s a bit hard for him to help, but with little goals, like schoolwork, or a talent, he’d support the, the whole way through.
T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?
Tate certainly does like to spice things up, but not too much. Too much change is exciting being a ghost, but he still wants the same old you. He loves you for who you are, and as long as you don’t change, he’ll be okay.
U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?
He struggled with empathy in the beginning of the relationship, but after some time, learning and growing, he slowly became kind, and wanted to learn everything about his S.O. Now, he knows almost everything, and remembers every detail.
V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?
Even if Tate had the world going on, you’d still be the most important thing to him. He values you above all, and he loves you more than anything.
W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.
He writes little poetry for you. He thinks it’s stupid, but it’s actually kinda cute. It’s normally about the darkness of the world, and the brightness of you.
X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?
Tate tries to seem avoidant, to seem tough, but melts into any touch. And if he barely heard the word leave his partners mouth, he’d end up holding them and playing with their hair. So, yes, he loves it.
Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?
He misses them even if they’re just out of the house. He’ll call, and text, and if they don’t reply, he’ll get a bit pouty. When you get home, he holds onto you and tells you that you’re his. He can be a bit possessive.
Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?
He would kill for his lover, he loves them extraordinarily.
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愛してる: 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏.
— we invite you to celebrate the brewery’s first valentines’ day, with freshly brewed sweet drinks, to honor the day dedicated to love. click for valentines’ day special menu!
↳ 青葉城西高校 — seijoh.
presenting: oikawa tōru, iwaizumi hajime, mattsukawa issei.
credits for image @ roarzoro on twitter.
oikawa tōru
oikawa tōru is the sun. he is the center of all beings, and he feels as if the world revolves around him. the fangirls are the planets, circling him whenever they see him. the whole school knows oikawa, because he is the core of attention at any given time.
but you? you don't seem interested in the sun one bit. you like the ocean instead—finding the vast depths of the sea more intriguing than the deep, blue sky.
and what does oikawa want? the one thing he can't have. you.
you start noticing him more. he greets you every morning(the fangirls stare at you creepily, but you just ignore them), talks to you during lunch, and even sometimes asks you to come watch his volleyball practice.
but his expression just becomes distasteful when you decline him. why was oikawa interested in you? he had hoards of boys and girls who yearned for him more than anything else, so why you?
you notice him more—honestly, you don't mind him flying around you mindlessly like a bee. it just annoys you at how attractive he is. you don't know what his intentions are(after all, they can be ill), and you're scared.
but he doesn't give you a reason to be today.
+
"oikawa," you huff, "stop following me, you creep."
"b-but [y/n]-chan!!" he pouts, shoving his hands inside his pockets as he catches up to you. you roll your eyes, grunting as you say, "that was the fakest stutter ever. why do all those people in our school like your dumbass, anyway, trashykawa?"
"you sound just like iwa-chan," he murmurs under his breath as you turn a sharp right, walking into a coffee shop to do your homework. he smiles victoriously when you choose a two-seat table instead of the barstool that was free, sitting in front of you almost immediately.
"well, iwa and i share a very mutual hate for you," you joke as you give your order to the waiter who comes by. oikawa winks at the girl, giving her his order as well, "one milk-bread and chocolate milkshake please."
"and may i ask why you followed me into a coffee shop you've never been to before?" you questioned, pulling out your physics textbook as he smiles at you saying, "i like being around you, [y/n]-chan. you just never talk to me about anything."
"fine, what do you want to talk about?"
"you," he smirks, "tell me about yourself, for real this time. no jokes."
you sigh, placing your pencil down to look at his face for the first time today. this time, you actually pay attention to his features. his soft chocolate brown eyes, his slender long nose, and those pink lips. you shook yourself off when he said, "hobbies, [y/n]-chan?"
"reading," you mumble, "i like reading."
the waiter comes back with your coffee and his drink and snack, placing it in front of you as oikawa thanks her. he turns back to you, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"remind me to write down 'library date' the next time we go out," he says, leaning his elbow on the table and placing his knuckles on his cheek. you scoff, "you follow me around and call it a date. you're basically a stalker, trashykawa."
"okay, okay, fine! what if i ask you out on an actual date? we can talk about books, maybe get coffee, and- ooh! what about the movies? we can even go to tokyo if you'd like! it's not that far by train, you know," he daydreams. you scoff for the second time in that coffee shop, your eyes narrowed as you ask, "and what makes you think you can ask me out on an actual date?"
"if you haven't noticed, [y/n]-chan," oikawa shrugs, taking a sip of his chocolate milk, "i like you very much. and not as friends, god no, i wanna take you out and make you happy."
iwaizumi hajime
iwaizumi is closed off—according to oikawa, but you don't believe that one bit.
"oh come on, [y/n]-chan, he likes you, i swear!"
but you know better than to assume things about hajime, so you shrug oikawa off, leaving the gym to go home. you see hajime waiting for you, and you wave at him happily. he smiles, bringing a hand up awkwardly, but he puts it down as soon as he hears oikawa's voice behind you.
"iwa-chan!! guess what, [y/n]-chan's walking home with us tonight!"
hajime sighs, looking away(because this boy is as clueless as you). he shrugs, telling you two that he has something to attend to. but you know that he's probably going to overthink when he's by himself.
you and oikawa share a knowing look, as he says, "tell me everything through text when you reach home."
+
"haji!" you yell, running up to the boy walking ahead. his hands are stuffed into his track pants, and he turns back half-way. he gives you a half-smile, slowing his pace(but not stopping).
"haji, stop!" you grab his wrist, turning him around. he's raising an eyebrow at you, looking at you impatiently as you say, "why're you going home alone, iwa? do you not want to come with me and stupidkawa?"
"i told you to go with him, didn't i? why are you followin' me around?" he scoffs, looking away and continuing walking at his normal pace. you furrow your eyebrows, your lips slightly parted as you say, "hey, what is that supposed to mean?"
"you're always circling around him. can't you go home with him too?" he grunts. you blink rapidly, the information processing in your head as you begin to laugh.
iwaizumi looks back, his eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a scowl, "why are you laughing like a maniac?"
"because, you dumbass, you think i like that loser," you huff, walking up to him as you pant(your stomach is hurting from laughing at this point). you ruffle the ace's hair, chuckling, "i can't believe you haven't figured it out already. everyone thought i was being obvious."
"if you're implying what i think you are, i feel the same way, you know."
"is that why you were jealous of trashykawa?"
"aight, we're never talking about that ever again."
mattsukawa issei
mattsun isn't really that... interested in things. he picks something up, fiddles with it for sometime, and then throws it away.
but with his love life, everything is different. he rarely ever dates. and it's never too serious. so when his feelings for you start waltzing in, it's a first.
he hasn't felt this kind of high before. it's scary, because mattsukawa issei has never yearned for someone as much as he yearns for you. his eyes are always looking for you. and when they do land on you, an instant smile creeps onto his face.
oikawa and hanamaki always tease him, but he's learned to push past that at this point. he's brushing them off constantly, learning to ignore the "eyy" that makki lets out whenever you walk into the room.
mattsun learns to love you bit by bit. his love is the awkward stares, the panic rising in his throat as he feels that he's been smiling for way too long, the shaking his thoughts off when you snap your fingers in front of his face, or the coincidental nightly trips that he always finds himself looking forward to.
the same thing happens tonight as well.
+
"why do i always find you outside this convenience store at 10 pm on a saturday night?" mattsukawa chuckles, sitting down next to you on the curb. you take a spoonful of the ice-cream you're eating, and you throw him a smile, "i have a routine. you show up around the same time too, so you can't exactly ask me that question, issei."
"i know," he sits down, opening the soda bottle and gulping down its contents rather quickly.
"woah, calm down or you'll choke," you chuckle, throwing your small ice-cream cup into the trash a couple feet away. you triumphantly smile when the cup falls into the can, and turn back to face issei.
issei, who's only a couple of inches away from your face. issei, who's been in love with you ever since he can recall. issei, whom you love back with just as much intensity—if not, more.
"issei, i'm gonna do something. please don't hate me, okay?" you whisper. he nods, smiling, as he begins, "i could never hate you, baby."
you lean in, pressing your lips on his softly as he kisses you back. he's scared too, that's why he isn't holding onto you tightly or is placing too much pressure into it.
and just like that, the night of february thirteenth forever becomes embedded into your lives.
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#oikawa tōru#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa tōru x reader#oikawa toru x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu oikawa#haikyuu!!#haikyu#haikyū!!#haikyu oikawa#mattsukawa issei#matsukawa issei x reader#mattsun x reader#iwaizumi haijme x reader#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi headcanons#iwaizumi fluff#hq#hq!!#hq matsukawa#hq mattsun#hq oikawa#hq iwaizumi
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