#cause it kinda seemed like he was helping Link remember in his own way

[quack-quack-snacks]

Flaming Hearts

My Navigation and Masterlist

Pairing(s): Void Stiles x Phoenix!Fem!Reader Summary: You were always treated like an outcast by the pack. When the nogitsune takes over Stiles's body, he shows you how good being the outcast can feel Warnings: smut, pwp, mean McCall pack, EXTREME OVERSTIMULATION, fingering, cunnilingus, praise kink (tehe), eye contact, vaginal penetration, masochistic Void (kinda for like half a scene), sweet Void, commentary during the deed which is lowkey cringe in some spots my bad y’all, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, reader is not on birth control, Void lowkey baby trapping reader, a lil manipulation but like not bad, updated to have no use of (y/n), I think that’s it lmk if there's more. MINORS CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU KNOW THE WARNINGS YOU’VE READ THEM A THOUSAND TIMES. Word Count: 10,086

This was a very self-indulgent fic and I’m not sorry.

Pt 2 will be linked here when done.

BRO IS BEAUTIFUL WHAT

(GIFs are by @scuddish thank you scuddish for your wonderful contribution)

Life was cruel, but it made up for it with gifts.

You were new in town, a transfer student, living in a single bedroom apartment that was provided for you by your mother as well as helped by the government of Beacon Hills. You’d felt a calling to be here for the longest time and you were relieved your mom let you go. All throughout the first two weeks of your time attending the new school, you were desperately searching for friends or somewhere to fit into with no luck. On one extremely anxious day, you escaped your class to go to the girl’s locker room and break down there.

Until you saw two boys in there. The shock of two boys being in the Female locker room was enough to shake you out of your panicked state and make you wipe the tears from your eyes. With your vision no longer blurred, you could see the claws on his hands and the intense sideburns and fangs.

When once brown eyes turned a bright glowing amber, your body decided that was too much.

And you fainted.

The pack took you in after that - almost as an apology for making you faint - and allowed you to join their group since you knew about the supernatural now. They let you sit with them, invited you to sleepovers - Allison and Lydia mostly but Scott and Isacc surprisingly asked once. You were so happy to finally find a place that you fit in.

Except they never really let you join completely. No trust other than friendly-non supernatural related matters trust was placed in you despite the continuous ways you proved yourself. Being human, you were outcasted in the group of outcasts. Stiles was human but he was the brains. He discovered things no one else could, he was the detective of the group.

You were more like an emotional support human that was only needed like 2% of the time.

Noah Stilinski, the sweetheart that he is and despite his son’s deepest complaints, took over your living situation and let you stay with them for the year while you attended school at Beacon Hills.

Perfect fucking precious Stiles. He was infinitely the worst one in the group. At first he just avoided you at all costs until his dad decided to room you in the same house as him. Ever since, he’d been sending you glares anytime you were in his visibility and would blame you for the simplest of things despite obviously being the cause of them. He was so hard to get along with. Seeing how he acted around everyone else besides you and how everyone else acted around each other made everything worse. You knew you couldn’t leave because of Noah’s insistence to stay here and your mother not paying for housing anymore since she knew of your improved situation.

You also didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave these people. The only friends you can remember having. Those who, despite how they cast you out, have treated you decently well, at the very least sometimes, and took you in at your most vulnerable moment.

Stiles just seemed to hate you for whatever reason.

You sighed as you walked through the front door to the Stilinski household. A sigh escaped your mouth as the door closed behind you.

You called out into the house to let anyone home know of your presence. “I’m back!”

The house was eerily quiet and no response hit your ears. You shrugged it off with the thought of all occupants just being out and were a bit relieved you could have the house to yourself for a bit. They barely let you off on your own. Even now when you spent your time out of the house, you were accompanied by Lydia.

You shrugged your rain coat off your shoulders and took off your muddied boots, not wanting to track it into the house and have an excuse for Stiles to hate you even more. Your bones ached from the long day, having been running around all day trying to do whatever you could to help find Stiles. He had been missing for a while and the group barely filled you in on what was happening, just giving you the quick and vague summary about a nogitsune and a missing Stilinski.

With a sigh, you plopped down onto the living room couch and leaned your head on the back cushion. Your eyes closed and you took a moment to just listen to the quiet around you, the only sound the pitter patter of the pouring rain on the roof and windows. It was calm, peaceful even. You couldn’t remember a time where your life wasn’t a chaotic mess since meeting the pack. You sunk more into the cushions and pulled your knees to your chest while grabbing the TV remote and switching it to your favorite channel.

It was all so dark. So dark yet so comforting. Calloused fingertips caressed your forehead and brushed the hair out of your face. You could feel yourself being brought out of the heavenly ignorant bliss the darkness gave you and groaned in complaint. The fingertips stilled on your hairline, slowly retracting and you let out another sound of complaint.

A soft chuckle that sounded familiar but just out of reach for your sleep hazed brain echoed through the room. You felt yourself slipping back into the darkness when the familiar voice spoke.

“They don’t treat you very well do they, dove?”

Your eyes opened almost hesitantly and when you saw the voice’s face you gasped.

There he was. Stiles Stilinski in the flesh, and yet he seemed so different. His skin was paler, his eye bags sunken in and were a light purple. He looked… hot.

You shook that thought away the moment it popped into your head.

His hand, now resting on your cheek with a gentle grip, was feverish, almost to the point of uncomfort, but not quite.

And then you realized.

It was Stiles.

“Oh my god! Stiles what the hell?” You shot up to sit straight but his hand holding your cheek quickly traveled to your throat and he forced you back down, not holding enough to restrict air flow or hurt, but enough for you to get the message not to move. That and the glare he gave you. A sound of surprise sounded from your mouth unwillingly. “Um.” your eyes traveled from his unnaturally dark eyes to the wrist of the hand wrapped around your neck. “Okay, haha, you’re really funny but you can let go now.” You tried to laugh it off and deescalate the situation despite your growing weariness.

“Now why would I do that, when you look so pretty wearing my hand as a necklace?” He tilted his head and his eyes ran over your body slowly, seeing you shift under his gaze and his smirk growing with each movement.

“Wha- huh?” That was about all the words you could say, nothing coherent coming out of your mouth as you weren’t sure if you were flustered, annoyed, or turned on.

Maybe it was all three.

“Stiles, stop messing around. Everyone has been worried sick about you, they’ve spent the last 2 days searching for you nonstop. We need to call Scott and let him know you’re here and okay.” Although ‘okay’ doesn’t seem like the correct term. Sure, Stiles seemed unharmed, despite the obvious lack of sleep showing on his face - although that was relatively normal for him and his insomnia - but his tone, posture, and manners were way different. It almost seemed as if he had become a different person overnight.

He chuckled again, even his voice seemed deeper. Darker. “Oh I’m sure Scott knows exactly how I’m doing, considering I was at school earlier today. Oh… wait, they didn’t tell you, did they?” His face shifted into a mocking pout. “Poor little dove, outcast even in a place surrounded by people of supernatural abilities. The outcast of the outcasts. A fitting title don’t you think?” His words stung a little but it was nothing you yourself hadn’t already thought of. Him saying it just confirmed your thoughts.

“I mean, they don’t trust you at all. Despite everything you have put yourself through to prove yourself to them, they’ve just pushed it all to the side just because you’re different.” You were getting sick of him taunting you, just approving everything you’ve been telling yourself for the past two months. You rolled your eyes in annoyance and, fed up, you raised your hands to his wrist and tried to pry it off your neck. As soon as your fingers touched the skin of his hand - with a speed you barely saw - he removed his hand from your neck, using both hands to grab your wrists and pin them above your head to the couch’s armrest. He smirked at your dumbfounded expression and shocked stutters.

“You see, I’ve been watching it for a while now, the faltered smiles when one of them would make a comment to the group and cast you out. When they talked about their plans at lunch when you weren’t sitting with them yet and immediately shutting up when you got into ear shot. The way when even you don’t know, they are always following you, always watching. Making sure you were being a good girl.” He smirked once again and shifted your hands to be held by only one of his. The, now freed, hand forced your curled up legs to straighten and then he moved to straddle above you. You were pretty sure your eyes could just pop out of their sockets by how wide they were. His face dipped down and he pressed his nose to your jugular, his lips just barely touching your skin and lightly brushing against it when he talked again.

“But you’ve always been a good girl, haven’t you?” Your breath caught as his teeth lightly skimmed over your neck, canines feeling more elongated and sharper than normal. A shiver went down your spine as his tongue peeked out and slid up your neck until he was right next to your ear.

“Will you be a good girl for me now, dove?”

A whimper almost escaped your bite swollen lips at the pet name, your cheeks heating up and a warmth swirling in your core. “S-Stiles, what’s gotten into you?”

He growled and bit down on your neck harshly, making you release a yelp before it transformed into a muffled moan as he smoothed his tongue over it. “Don’t. Call me that.”

“Call you what? Your name?” You asked, so confused by everything that was happening. Confused on why Stiles was acting this way, confused by why he wouldn’t call Scott, confused on why now of all times your attraction to Stiles had to come out.

You’ve always thought Stiles was attractive. The muscles he hid underneath his baggy flannels, the short glimpse you would see whenever he took his lacrosse jersey off after practice or a game before heading to the locker rooms, and that pretty face that haunted your dreams. Now, it seemed the attraction was even worse because of this new arrogant, cocky, full of himself, and confident attitude. He wasn’t pretty anymore, he was bewitchingly hot.

It also didn’t help that something unmistakable was poking your lower stomach.

“That’s not my name.” He said before quickly positioning himself to be kneeling on the couch in front of you between your legs, your thighs wrapped around his waist and his clothed erection so close to your heat a soft whimper escaped your mouth against your will. He grabbed your neck again, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he smirked and jutted his hips forward.

A gasp that quickly turned into a moan left you and you struggled against his grip on your hands as your cheeks heated, embarrassed by the sounds you were making. You didn’t necessarily want him to stop, you just wanted to cover your mouth so no sound would come out.

As if he could read your thoughts, he spoke. “Oh no no. You’re not going to hide those pretty little noises from me. In fact,” he leaned his face in close, your noses touching and lips inches apart. “I’ve decided I’m going to make you unable to stop making them.” His lips met yours as he thrust his clothed sex against yours again, swallowing the moan that left your mouth. He grinded against you, teasingly slow and you could feel his lips turning into a grin as you tried to quiet your whimpers and moans.

Just as his hand managed to unbuckle your pants, your phone rang from the kitchen counter. Stiles broke the kiss and stared at you with an outraged and lust filled look. He let you get up to go answer the phone with an eye roll.

It was Scott.

“Hey Sco-”

His frantic voice panically calling your name cut you off. “Where are you?”

“Uh, I’m… at home? Or- shit, not my home, the Stilinski home.”

A short sigh of relief was heard through the phone. “Okay, good. Stay there. Lock the doors and windows, do not let anyone in. Absolutely no one, do you understand me? No one! Not until we tell you it’s safe.”

“Scott, it's a bit late for that. Stiles came home a while ago, I’m not sure when bu-”

“Stiles is with you?” Scott’s voice yelled through the phone and you winced before replying.

“Yeah we’ve been… in the living room for the past 20 minutes or so.”

“Get the hell out of there,” Scott said sternly with a bit of fear and anxiety mixed in.

“What? Why?”

His voice broke a little as he spoke your name with a fearful tone. “That’s not Stiles.”

A hand landed over your mouth just as you were about to say something else while another gently took the phone from your grasp. The shock and slight fear of the situation took over both your flight and fight senses, leaving freeze as the only option. Stiles, or not-Stiles, brought the phone up to his ear as Scott shouted through it, his every word stated clearly despite being heard through the phone when not on speaker.

“Sorry, Scottie. Why don’t you call back later? Your girl's a little busy right now.” With that, he hung up.

You turned around slowly only to have Stiles, or not-Stiles, standing inches away from you with a massive evil grin shaping his face. You took a step back only to realize you had no room because of the kitchen counter. Not-Stiles took a single step forward and then grabbed the counter on either side of your body, trapping you. He stuck his face into your neck again, breathing deeply before speaking.

“And here I was wanting to drag it out for a while longer.” He leaned back and looked you straight in the eye with the most genuine smile you had seen from him all night, if not ever. “But alas, not today.” He raised his hand and swiftly brought it down to a pressure point on your neck, knocking you out instantly and catching you with a soft grip as you fell. “Until next time, dove.”

A violent shake and iron tight grips on your biceps violently woke you up, Allison standing above your lying position on the Stilinski couch and looking at you with frantic panicked eyes that calmed when she saw you awaken.

“Oh thank god. You had me worried for a moment there.” She grabbed your hand and lifted you more harshly than you would have liked and you rubbed your wrist when she turned away. “Something’s going on. We need to go to Scott’s house, everyone is already there waiting for us.”

You knew better than to ask any questions. They would tell you what they would tell you and nothing more.

Looking around for your phone, you noticed it was nowhere to be seen and you remembered the events of last night.

Last night…

It had been a whole night since you had seen him. Since Scott had called.

Did they really take a whole night to come see you? To make sure you were okay?

The car ride there was silent and you could feel your anxiety rising the more the silence dragged on. A breath of relief left you as you saw Scott’s house pull up. Allison rushed straight into the house, leaving you behind without a second thought and you rolled your eyes to hide the pain it caused you.

When you entered the house, the chattering from the pack in the kitchen stopped abruptly and they all looked at you. Scott hesitated before he took a few steps toward you and brought you into an awkward hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay. We were all worried.”

You looked around once he let you go and almost scoffed. Oh yeah, they all look really worried. Didn’t have enough time to send someone over to make sue I was alive but they’re so worried.

Over time, they casted you out more and more and became more distant. You were completely left in the dust. Not even just for supernatural matter. Lydia and Allison stopped inviting you for sleepovers; Scott and Isaac stopped having lunch with you outside underneath the apple tree near the lacrosse field; Stiles, funnily enough, was the only one who stayed the same, if not lessened up on the glaring.

You heard a soft speaking from behind you and whipped around to see a sight that made you gasp.

There was Stiles. He was sitting on the couch with a piece of black tape covering his mouth with Melissa sitting next to him, her head in her hands. His eyes shone brightly when he caught sight of you and he tilted his head slightly to the side in a way that made you shift. It was like yesterday’s events were playing on repeat in his eyes and you couldn’t look away.

“I think it’s time we filled you in.” Scott said from behind you and it brought you out of the trance like state Stiles/Not-Stiles had you in.

“Yeah, you’re goddamn right it is.” You said and crossed your arms over your chest. Scott looked slightly shocked at your behavior and scratched the back of his neck. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “Don’t even. I am getting so sick of how you all treat me. I have proven myself over and over again and you all just refuse to believe that I am on your side. What do I have to do for you to trust me? Do I need to sacrifice a lamb for you to trust me, oh my Lord Jesus Christ?” The last sentence was uttered with as much sarcasm as you could muster. Your outburst left everyone temporarily paralyzed in shock - as you had barely ever raised your voice at them - before a loud, albeit muffled, cackle interrupted the odd silence. You didn’t even have to turn around to know the Stiles imposter was looking at the show with mirth filled eyes.

“We- we never meant-” Scott started.

“Oh shut up, now is not the time for your excuses. Not to mention you practically left me for dead last night after you called, Scottie.” You spat his name out with a venom coated tongue as you interrupted him again and rolled your eyes. “Just fill me in on whatever the hell has happened to Stiles so we can all move on in our lives.”

He nodded and started to tell you everything about the nogitsune, how he had taken over Stiles, how he had stabbed Scott, how he almost killed Kira. By the end of the story you were surprisingly not even phased, whether that be because your mind was used to everything being crazy in your life while involved with the pack or how you just didn’t care. It’s not like they ever treated you that well, sure they were your friends but they were your friends by convenience and force, not choice.

And Void, that is what the nogitsune possessing Stiles’ body was called, well, he was just something else. The events yesterday may be shifting your bias but it was undeniable. You had felt an attraction like never before during those short and blissful moments. It didn’t even feel like Stiles. You know that even if Stiles had ever done something like that, he would never have had the confidence like Void did. And it was a feeling that made you squirm in your seat on the kitchen stool.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you risked a glimpse behind to see Void already glaring into your eyes, his eyes darkened by a feeling you could only describe as complete and utter desire.

He wanted you. And if the chance were to come, who were you to deny him?

After 10 minutes of trying to figure out a plan and speaking in hushed tones to avoid Void hearing, Lydia had given in and called someone, you didn’t know who but it seemed everyone else did.

Once again they left you out. Even after you lectured them about how much they did that.

More waiting happened until the bang of the front door being slammed open interrupted your increasingly anxious thoughts. With a too gleeful expression for the situation on his face, the one and only Peter Hale stood in the doorway with his arms opened in a grand gesture.

You all gave him a deadpan stare.

He rolled his eyes and walked up to all of you, more specifically, to you. He tilted his head as he noticed your eyes. You turned your head to control yourself. When you were anxious, or just feeling any strong emotion, your eyes seemed as if the irises caught on fire. They were frighteningly beautiful.

And you hated them.

As your heart steadied and you raised your head back to the group again, Peter’s interested gaze had shifted away from you and to Lydia with a knowing look before walking to Stiles. As he crouched in front of him and inspected his state of being, he spoke. “He doesn’t look like he would survive a slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf.” You assumed Lydia already filled him in on what the situation was and what the plan was.

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott asked anxiously as he picked at the skin around his fingers.

“This is more a war of the mind than the body.” Peter stood back up to his full height. “There are better methods to winning this battle.” The mischievous glimpse in his eyes made you worried about what these ‘better methods’ were.

“What methods are you thinking of?” the veterinarian, Deaton, asked, his expression also showing concern.

Peter turned to face the rest of you. “We’re going to get in his head.”

As soon as he said that, he walked toward Lydia and roughly grabbed her by the elbow. With her being right next to me, you instinctively reached out and grabbed the wrist attached to the hand holding her. Peter’s loud unbridled yelp of pain made you rip your hand off him and he cradled his wrist as you caught a glimpse of it.

It was completely scorched.

Your face morphed into one of horror as your eyes flicker between the burn marks on his wrist that were, thankfully, already healing and the ashes on your palm.

“Oh my god! What did you do?” Lydia screamed at you and panicked as she grabbed Peter's arm, careful not to touch the wound.

“I- I didn’t- I don’t-” You kept trying to speak but your mind was panicking and your body was overwhelmed with shock and fear. Fear of yourself.

“It’s quite alright Lydia.” Peter said after a second when his hand had healed for the most part, it seemed the wound looked much worse than it actually was and all that remained was a red handprint and some ashes.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what happened.” You held the hand you used to your chest as if to protect everyone else from it. Deaton walked up from behind you and put his hand on your shoulder before flinching away.

“Your skin is burning. Scott, get her some ice.” Scott rushed to the fridge and brought out an ice pack. He practically shoved it into your hands before pulling his hand away quickly. He tried to hide it but his eyes showed fear.

It hurt, seeing them all looking at you like that. They tried to hide it but they looked at you the same way they looked at Void. They looked at you like you were a monster.

The ice pack in your hands was such a contrast to your burning skin that it forced your brain to focus on its contrasting temperature until you realized it was melting through your palms. You quickly hid your hands and the melted plastic of the ice pack in your pockets before anyone could see.

Anyone besides the boy sitting on the couch that is.

Peter reached for Lydia again, slowly this time and much gentler than before. You didn’t even look at them as they walked away, choosing instead to just stand there with your eyes focused on the hand you burned the man with.

After a while, they came back to the group and you all migrated to the couch where Stiles sat. You avoided his eyes like the plague, knowing they were zoned in on your every move and smiling in delight when he knew he’d gotten to you with just his mere presence.

Lydia was seated on one end of the couch, Void the other, with Scott standing behind the couch in the middle of them. Peter moved Scott’s fingers to align with the correct place to connect them all into Stiles’ mind palace.

“So what do we do if we do find him?” Scott asked.

“You’re going to have to guide him out somehow…” Peter replied vaguely which caused Scott and Lydia to both become increasingly annoyed and you rested your elbows on your knees before holding your head in your hands.

“Could you elaborate on ‘somehow?’ It’s not feeling very specific at the moment.” Lydia sighed with a slight roll of her eyes.

Peter shrugged, “Improvise.”

“Mm. Improvise he says.” you muttered under your breath but everyone ignored you.

Everyone except the murderous brown eyes burning a hole through your skull.

“What if this is just another trick?” Scott worried.

The grown wolf groaned in annoyance and exasperation. “When are you people going to start trusting me?”

You scoffed, thinking the exact same thing.

Scott’s eyes flickered between you and the hyena before he said, “I meant him.” And pointed to the possessed body on the couch. You finally raised your gaze to watch the scene unfold and felt your heart settle into your lower region when you saw Void. His head leaned against the back of the couch, tilted to the side as his eyes were focused on you, an enchanting and hungry look settling in his eyes as they gazed at you. He gave you a slow once over and everything around you tuned out as you felt your body heat up and pool in your panties. You could tell, if the black tape covering his lips was off, he would be sporting a very arrogant smirk.

A synchronized gasp from all three members near the couch broke your gaze with him as his eyes closed and his head fully fell against the back of the couch, face now facing the ceiling.

You almost stood up to go to him before a sigh from Peter faltered your movements and he spoke.

“Now we wait.”

And wait you did. It seemed like time was not in your favor when everything your life had become to know as normal was at stake. It couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes, but to you?

It felt like hours.

Blood dripped down Lydia’s nose and Peter ran up to her, shaking her as he screamed at her to concentrate and that she was stronger than this.

Personally, you couldn’t draw your eyes away from Void. His breathing was soft, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed and chest rising and falling with each inhale and outhale.

Meanwhile another Hale was pissing you off.

Just as you were about to call him out for being too loud, A collective gasp from the two non-possessed members near the couch once again interrupted you.

Melissa rushed toward Lydia to help her and Scott took a few deep breaths before focusing all his attention to the Stiles look-alike. “Did it work?” He asked frantically. You sighed and rested your head against your knees, arms wrapping around your shins to hug yourself in disappointment, the anticipation disintegrating into the thin air.

“What happened? Why didn’t it work?” Lydia stood up quickly and rushed to Peter, demanding answers he evidently couldn’t provide.

“Because it’s not science, Lydia, it’s supernatural.” Peter sighed before grabbing her arm and pulling her toward him menacingly and they spoke in hushed whispers before Void shot forward onto his knees to the floor.

Like a circus act, a seemingly unending length of fabric spit from Void’s mouth and he used both hands to pull it out. Unnerving moments went by as everyone watched before all the scarf-like material was out of his mouth and he scrambled back to sit on the couch again, panting with his head resting against the cushion and his eyes closed.

There was clattering and yells to the side but you just stood carefully and walked to where Stiles was sitting on the couch. You sighed in nervousness before touching his shoulder softly and attempting to comfort him since all the others of the pack were focused on the clump of fabric behind you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, everything will work out. Just calm down.” You went to pull your hand away as his breathing slowed but he reached up and grabbed it with a speed non-human. Your heartbeat started rising again as the realization dawned on you.

He opened his eyes and looked at you with a smirk and heavy lidded eyes. “You’re right dove.” He tugged on your hand and you fell forward into him, his free arm wrapping around your waist aggressively. Or was it possessively? “Everything will work out.”

You awoke in a cold concrete walled room, the only warmth over you being your clothes and a soft woven blanket that did a surprisingly good job at staving off the chill. A soft padded queen size mattress with no support laid underneath to separate you from the frigid floor. You couldn’t remember passing out but you knew exactly where you were.

Or rather, who you were with.

Getting a sense of deja vu, calloused fingertips traced over your forehead to your hairline before going back again in a figure 8 pattern.

Your heart beat rose and his fingers trailed from your forehead to your neck, right over your pulse. You opened your eyes and looked at him where he sat; he looked genuinely happy, in a sick, twisted way. Despite how comforting the smile was, it sent shivers down your back that you couldn’t tell were pleasant or not.

“Hi dove.”

His voice broke you out of the trance his hypnotizing eyes put you under every time. You sat up quickly and scooted away from him, falling off the bed - luckily not falling down far because of how low the mattress was to the ground - and looked at him with conflicted thoughts and emotions.

He looked faux surprised and hurt by your actions, standing up and walking toward you as you scrambled to your feet to get away from him. “What’s wrong? You were so enthusiastic about it earlier, what changed?” You gasped as your back hit the concrete of the wall and he cornered you, one hand going to rest against the wall next to your head and the other holding your waist under your shirt. His fingers against your skin felt incredibly hot compared to the cold seeping through your shirt from the wall. He leaned in to speak again and his breath hit your lips with every word. “I promise I won't bite.”

Liar.

He leaned into your neck but didn’t touch you, only letting you feel the heat emanating from his body but not the skin. He took a deep breath in and you had to bite your lip and clench your eyes shut to stop yourself from falling to his feet.

It hadn’t gone away. The undeniable urge to just jump his bones and feel more of that pleasure he seemed so willing to offer.

“But of course, it's no fun if you don’t consent…” he leaned back and the hand that was previously on the wall next to your head traveled to your neck which he tilted upwards to lengthen your neck and looked at you with a smirk and hungry eyes ready to devour you. “So why don’t you be a good girl and tell me how much you want this,” he leaned in and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, “I can practically hear you throbbing.”

A soft whimper left you when his hand on your waist drifted to tug your pants down the slightest bit but never went farther without you answering. A few moments of silence passed, only interrupted by your soft pants, and he sighed in disappointment, his grip on your neck and waist slowly being removed.

Your eyes shot open from their closed state, you didn’t stop to think about when they had closed, and you grabbed his hands before they could leave your body. He looked at you expectantly and you opened and closed your mouth like a fish a few times before answering him with a soft and whispered: “I want it.”

His grip returned to your skin but his hand tugging your pants traveled back to your waist to draw little shapes there, tickling you just the slightest bit. “Oh dove, I’m proud of you for trying, but that’s not what I want.” His hand around your throat tightened pleasantly. “I want you to beg.”

Your eyes widened and you forced your cheeks to cool and swallowed your pride.

“Please?” You tried, weakly.

“Oh I know you can do better than that. Try again.” He didn’t say it as a suggestion.

With a deep breath and your hand, still around the wrist grabbing your neck, tightening, you did what he wanted.

You begged.

“Please, please I want it. I do, please, just… just do something, please! Anything! Please… P-please.”

He had a pleased smirk on his face as he leaned in so you were only a few inches apart. You could feel his breath on your neck with every exhale.

“How much do you want?” He taunted.

“Everything. Whatever you'll give me.” You told him with a tone of desperation.

He smirked and looked at you approvingly before crushing his lips against yours in a brutal kiss that sent you to cloud 9. Your hands traveled to his hair and you pulled on it roughly as you kissed back with just as much fervor. You felt him groan into the kiss and you grinned, but it soon faded as a moan formed when he pressed his fingertips to your core through your pants.

“My, my. All this just from kissing? You flatter me.” He spoke against your lips in a low tone. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You were absolutely soaked. The moment he started walking toward you, you felt the warmth in your core building and it hadn’t stopped since. Your head fell back against the wall and Void kissed down your neck to your collarbone, leaving bruises and hickeys in his wake. Applying more pressure, he dragged his hand up your core, pausing momentarily to draw tiny intense circles to your clit before using his hand to skillfully undo the buttons and pull your pants down. He broke the kiss to kneel down before you and look you straight in the eyes as he dragged the pants down your legs excruciatingly slowly. You hadn’t noticed previously but now realized your shoes were gone.

Who would’ve thought Void wouldn’t want dirty shoes on the mattress. Huh.

He stood back up to his full height and looked down at you as he rubbed your heat over your panties. He studied every expression you made and committed them to memory. His expression soon changed to one of annoyance, angry at the lack of skin to skin contact between the two of you. He ripped the undergarment into pieces before taking a step back to strip off his shirt. He paused just as he was about to step to you again.

You squirmed under his gaze as he gave you a long once over and his eyes stopped on yours. Another emotion in his eyes, one you couldn’t quite recognize, clouded over his lust temporarily. “What?” You asked self consciously and moved your hands to cover yourself, thinking he didn’t like your body.

Before your hands could even reach past your hips, he reached out and grabbed each wrist, ignoring your shocked gasp and pinned them against the wall beside your head. “Don’t ever fucking do that again. You’re insecure? You don’t think you’re attractive?” He taunted angrily. He pressed his lower body into yours, his rather large, clothed, erection pressing to your bare clit as he grinded it into you. You moaned and he leaned into your neck again, being much rougher than he was a minute ago. “Ya feel that? That is all you dove. You fucking did that to me. You do that to me wearing baggy clothes and no makeup. You do that to me fresh out of bed in the morning with your hair in knots. You’re doing that to me right now, trapped between me and the wall, a silly shirt covering your divine breasts and nothing else.” He bit down on your shoulder hard enough to draw blood and you let out a loud moan. “You’ll take responsibility for it soon enough.” He arranged your hands to touch and he grabbed them both with one hand, the other sliding down, spending time to caress your breasts and pinch your nipples through the thin shirt fabric. He moved lower and lower until he reached your heat and thrust two fingers in with no warning. Without even letting you adjust, not that you really needed to with how wet you were, he started pounding his fingers into you. You started moaning uncontrollably and struggled to get out of his grip to hold onto something. He humored you and released your hands. Immediately they fell to his shoulders and then wrapped around his neck to pull his face into your neck where he started to leave his love bites. He grabbed the back of your right thigh and lifted it, wrapping it around his waist which allowed him to hit deeper. With every thrust, he curled his fingers and they hit you right in your pleasure spot.

Soon enough you could feel a knot forming in your stomach. It built and built and you warned Void about what was incoming.

“Oh that’s right, cum on my fingers dove. Let me know who makes you feel this good. Stiles could never fuck you like this. He could never bring you to such pleasure. To the point where your every bone quakes and sings in an overwhelming amount of pleasure that I alone am giving you.” His grip on your waist tightened to the line bordering between pain and pleasure just as his thrusts sped up to a pace faster than you believed even possible.

“Cum.”

And you did just that. Your bones really did quake and sing with pleasure. Your body writhed and you thrust yourself against Void’s fingers, grinding yourself through your orgasm despite him not slowing down and riding you through too.

Your orgasm slowed down to a stop and you took a deep breath before another loud and unrestricted moan released during your exhale and you noticed Void had yet to stop or even slow down.

“Ah, st-slow do-down-! It’s-ah-it’s too much!” You begged and yet he just smirked and increased his pace.

“Oh sweetheart, isn’t this what you wanted? You told me you wanted everything, you wanted all of it.” You swallowed in a lust filled fear as he smirked even wider. “So darling, you are going to take all of it.”

He led you on to another orgasm by his fingers alone. Your puffy clit was begging for attention after being neglected for so long. When you reached your high, he slowed down and pulled his fingers out. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from whining at the emptiness. He brought his fingers to his lips and stared you straight in the eyes as he brought them into his mouth and moaned at the taste.

You blushed and tried to look away until his free hand came up to grab your jaw roughly and force you to face him as he licked and sucked at his fingers, prolonging your embarrassment.

When he was satisfied with how much embarrassment he could feel radiating off you, he pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a pop before he grinned. His hands gently placed themselves on each of your hips and he leaned in until your lips barely grazed each other’s.

“That little taste just makes me want to have more. Which reminds me, I haven’t had my dinner yet. Do you mind?” You tried to lean forward and kiss him but he just leaned his head back until you gave an answer. You nodded your head no and he grinned.

“There’s my good girl.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, so softly it distracted you from the hands on your hips traveling to your butt and quickly lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Without moving his feet an inch, the wall behind you suddenly disappeared and he threw you down onto the queen bed mattress. You landed with a small bounce.

You looked at him in shock and confusion but he just grinned and winked.

Teleportation. Huh. Must be a nogitsune thing.

He kneeled down in front of the bed and ripped your shirt off before grabbing your thighs to bring you to the edge. You yelped and stared as he lifted your legs over his shoulders, the backs of your knees curving over them. He gave another little wink before diving in.

You moaned as his lips finally gave attention to your clit and a shock of pleasure swarmed through your veins. Your head fell against the mattress and your eyes clenched shut when the euphoria became too much to your, still sensitive, core.

A loud slap and the stinging on your outer thigh caused you to flick your eyes open and look at the man between your legs.

“The next time you look away from me I will edge you for three new moons.” He spoke right against your cunt and you could feel the vibrations surging through your clit. With a moan, you nodded and adjusted yourself to lean on your elbows and look at him. He brought his tongue out to lick a long stride up your cunt and collected your slick in his mouth before going straight back into his meal.

You had no doubt he would stay true to his word if you looked away, so you kept your eyes firmly on him, despite every protest in your veins to close your eyes when it became too much.

When the coil in your gut built up again, he could feel you approaching your orgasm and looked you right in the eyes. You blushed and were so tempted to look away but he tightened his grip on your thighs in a warning.

You came again for the third time. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him but they fluttered shut every few seconds as he kept licking and sucking at your overstimulated clit.

When he seemed satisfied two mind blowing orgasms later, he climbed up your body, one of your legs falling to surround his waist while the other he kept suspended over his shoulder.

“You did so well. You’re such a good girl, following orders with no questions.” He kissed you and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “They don’t deserve you, they never did.” He murmured against your lips before his head traveled to the curve of your neck and shoulder.

He took his pants and boxers off in no time, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick folds and over your clit.

Your mind was racing with too many conflicting emotions to comprehend: want, fear, lust, panic. You looked down and saw him.

He was big. Bigger than any guy you’ve ever seen, not that that was many considering you were a virgin.

“I am going to ruin you. No one else will ever be able to make you feel the way I do. Every time you cum from this point on will be from my body, no one else's.” He spoke menacingly while he watched in awe as your overstimulated clit twitched whenever he ran the head of his dick across it. The mushroom tip of his cock caught along your entrance through every glide up and down until he stopped and pushed it fully in.

“Wait, wai-ngh!” You tried but got interrupted by your own moan when he thrusted all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressed against your cervix in a mind blanking way. The sting of the stretch was there but was completely oversighted by the immense pleasure that came with it. You gasped at the feeling and wrapped your arms around his shoulder to scratch at his back. His back quickly covered in nail marks and marks of ash and burned skin.

You gasped in horror at the unwilled release of your fire until he moaned loudly - filled with both pleasure at the pain and entrance of your slick walls. Any sounds he had tried to hide completely spilled out. “Shit, keep doing that d-dove. Mark me all you want. Make me yours. F-feels so good; you’re so tight. Are you a virgin or something? You’re squeezing me to death, I don’t know how much longer I can take with you so tight around me.”

You froze at the accusation and turned your head the opposite of his, not answering his question.

A sigh escaped you when he started leaving kisses on your neck, slowly dragging out of your entrance before entering back just as slowly. An elongated moan left your mouth when he hit a certain spot on his way back in.

“Oh it’s alright my sweet girl. This just means I’m able to take another thing Stiles has been longing for. If only I was able to take your first kiss too.”

You almost missed what he said when he snapped his hips into yours harder and you sputtered unintelligible words at the movement.

“He-agh-he what?” You asked him as he left a soft bite on your clavicle.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think there was a corner of his mind that wasn’t filled with the idea of you. Poor little Stiles couldn’t stop imagining you like this.” He mocked. “He would’ve fucked you with your chest to the bed and you ass sticking up all nice and pretty but I don’t think you’d like that, would you sweet girl?”

Your heart skipped as he rose to look into your eyes. “No, I don't think you would.” He roughly snapped his hips to yours again before putting on a mock sympathetic look. “You want them to look at you as you’re getting pleasure you’ve never before received.” Another harsh thrust and you moaned loudly which he silenced by sticking two fingers in your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. Your lips immediately wrapped around his and you grazed your teeth along the sensitive skin. He tasted like salt and your cum along with a hint of blood. “You want that skin to skin contact as they bring you within an inch of your life and back.” Another thrust. “You want someone to make love to you, no fucking around.”

You moaned especially loud at that. You didn’t want to lose your virginity for something that wasn’t going to mean anything. You’ve known Void for less than two days and yet you feel more connected with him than all the McCall pack combined. It seems he feels the same way from how he’s talking.

“I'm the one who took your first time, and I will be the one to look into your eyes as you receive the pleasure I am giving you; I will be the skin you feel against your own as I move inside you;” He paused for a second as he leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, biting softly on the nub, and smiling as you whimpered in return. “I will be the one to make love to you.”

You grabbed the hand thats fingers were in your mouth and pulled them out before grabbing his cheeks between and pulling him into an aggressive kiss. You whimpered and moaned as he sped up, reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust. The hand that was once in your mouth traveled down your body slowly, smearing your saliva across your nipples as he played with them before settling against your clit. Just the slightest graze from his fingers made your spine arch up into his chest in anticipation and pleasure. He started rubbing figure eights into the pleasure bud, matching them with the pace of his thrusts.

Your lips opened in a moan and Void took the opportunity to shove his tongue against yours. He took control of the kiss instantly and rubbed his tongue along every inch of the inside of your mouth, exploring it like looking for treasure marked on a treasure map.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn’t drive his mouth away from yours, needing to breathe in through your nose every minute or so so you didn’t pass out. He pressed the fingers against your clit down harder as if to encourage you to cum and and you came beautifully. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve experienced tonight if not ever. Your body was shaking in exhaustion after the multiple orgasm you’d received within the last 30 minutes, or was it closer to 2 hours? You weren’t sure but honestly didn’t care. You could feel by the way Void broke the kiss and pushed his head into the crook of your neck along with the tensing of his back muscles that he was nearing his orgasm as well.

Then it occured to you, this whole time he was using no protection.

And you weren’t on birth control.

“N-no-agh-you gotta pull o-out. ‘Might get pre-ngh-pregnant. I’m not on birth c-control.” You focused all your energy on speaking despite the overwhelming overstimulating feeling of him driving his dick into your cervix and his thumb making you lose every thought that came to your head with his torturous but amazing touches.

He suddenly came to a complete stop inside of you. His dick twitched as the only sounds heard were your heavy breath and whines of complaint despite your better judgment.

“You’re not on birth control?” He asked into your neck, skimming his lips along your carotid artery.

“No.” You whispered.

You felt him grin that same evil grin you’ve seen before against your neck before biting down hard on your neck and withdrawing his hips from yours. You cried out at the feelings of pain and emptiness overflowing your senses.

“You don’t wanna have my babies, is that it?” He whispered into your neck with a tone that sounded almost heartbroken. You knew it was fake yet something in you just wanted to comfort him.

“N-no that’s not-”

He sat up abruptly, his cock now only half an inch in your entrance. The leg that rested on his shoulder fell to surround his waist with the other one and he sat back on his heels while grabbing your hips. His face looked so sad as he gazed down at you and yet his eyes seemed to hold a completely different emotion.

“Why not, dove? I’d give you everything.” His grip on your hips tightened and he slowly pulled your hips into his using only the strength of his arms. He slid back into you easily and his tip settled against a spot that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head and mouth opening in a low moan. Void grinned as he saw your reaction before returning to the pitiful look as he drew his hips back out again. His lips quirked up the slightest bit as you whined out. Pulling your hips into his roughly, he kept you there as you moaned louder. “I mean, if you really want me to stop…” He slowly started retreating out of your warmth as he trailed off before your arms wrapped around his neck.

“No!” You yelled before whispering almost like an echo, “No.” You breathed heavily in his ear, sputtering as you tried to get the next sentence out with his tip prodding against your cervix ever so delightfully. “Please don’t stop, y-you just can’t c-cum inside.”

He thrusted roughly into you again and your arms lost all strength as the mind blowing pleasure took over your mind. He repeated that cycle. Slowly pull out, roughly snap back in. Over and over and over. It made you whimper and cry out every time, wishing he would just bring you to the ecstacy you’ve been nearing instead of leaving you teetering on the edge of relief.

“Oh you feel so good baby, gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” He repeated like a mantra as his hips fastened and he pushed into you even harder.

Your mind was fogging over as you finally got the pleasure you needed to reach your orgasm. You barely had the strength to move your tongue and speak out your protests that were weakening by the second, you actually wanted his cum. You want it to be spilling out as you stand up, soaking your underwear as you walk around. You just were so scared of being pregnant. Your sister got pregnant when she was around your age. Your mother completely freaked when she found out and banished - yes, banished - her from the house forever.

Would Void stay? You still weren’t exactly sure what his intentions with you were. Was he going to kill you after this? Was he going to make you pregnant and leave you alone to raise the child on your own?

Apparently, Void could sense the onslaught of fear and panic creeping into your mind because he shoved his face into your neck and dug the pads of his fingers into your hips even harder. There was surely going to be a bruise the next coming day.

“Oh you’re going to look so good pregnant with my kids. God it just makes me so hard thinking about it. I wonder what they’ll look like, will they have your eyes or mine? God I hope they have yours so I can stare into them all day no matter where I am. This is the one thing I need to do to make you mine. You gonna let me make you mine, Dove? You gonna let me cum inside?” His pace slowed to a comforting, intimate pace. It brought you even closer to the edge just thinking he liked you enough to stay, maybe even loved you from how he was thrusting into you now.

You took a few moments to think about it before your mouth outran your thoughts. “Yes! Yes, Void, please. Please fill me up.”

He kissed your neck softly as his pace fastened again but still kept the intimacy from before. He pushed back the hood of your clit and started rubbing harshly on the overstimulated puffy bud of pleasure, making you lose all coherent thoughts and abilities to do anything but moan out his name. With a stuttered thrust, he pushed in all the way and came inside you. The feeling was enough to make you fall over the edge right with him. You both laid there in each-others arms while you tried to catch your breathing.

Void caught his a lot faster.

With a chuckle, and his dick as hard as when you started, he grabbed both of your legs, raising them so they were resting on his shoulders and he had you in the mating press and pressed your thighs against your breasts as he thrust into you with no reprieve. He pulled out of you before pushing back in, a torturously slow pace that made your body writhing and squirming. You gasped at the feeling and squirmed in his hold from the overstimulation. This new position made it so he hit your g-spot on every thrust in with no effort. As he brought one hand down to your clit again and rubbed so deliciously hard and slow, just like the pace he had set for his thrusts into you, you couldn’t take it anymore and came yet again. He had brought you to another orgasm in less than 2 minutes.

“Oh, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you, Dove? We have to make sure it sticks, don’t we baby? Gotta get you nice and knocked up with my kids. We can’t just stop now.”

With each slow thrust and the overstimulation, it didn’t take long before you came again and Void had the biggest smirk on his face as he watched you.

“V-void! P-ple-I can-can’t take anymore. I can't, I can't, I can't!”

He just laughed at you and your protesting words, capturing your hands that were weakly trying to push him away and forcing them to stay above your head where they were restricted of all movement. He pressed down even harder on your clit and you let out a yelp of a moan as you could feel another knot forming. “Darling, you don’t get to decide what’s too much. I'm in charge here, Dove, and you’re done when I say you’re done. You’ll take as much as I give you.”

His words turned you on so much more which surprised you as you didn’t think you could be any more turned on. You came once more and could tell by how Void’s face scrunched up in pleasure that he was reaching his limit as well. His dick pulsed inside of you, each vein had a throbbing heartbeat that struck so painfully good against your walls.

“One more, just one more, Dove. Give me one more.” He groaned out as he held his own orgasm back and rubbed rigorously at your clit while his pace increased to an unfathomable level. Finally, as you came yet again, Void released inside of you again.

He collapsed on top of you, his head landing on your chest, pillowed by your breasts. He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth as his slick fingers resumed their torture of your extremely overstimmulated clit. They rubbed slowly but it felt so much more intense than all the previous times that he had brought you pleasure. It burned in the best way possible.

“One more, come on, I know you have one more in you.” He encouraged, again. It seemed like he would just never stop.

He was utterly insatiable.

You came once more for the final time of the night and Void rewarded you with kisses scattered all across your chest for all of your efforts.

With your eyes barely able to remain open. and your limbs drained of any energy, Void looked at you with a soft look and gathered you in his arms. He grabbed the blanket that had been kicked off during the time of your… activities, and covered the both of you with it.

With his cock still deep inside of you, keeping everything he spent trapped within you, he whispered, “Good night, Dove,” and pressed a kiss to your temple. That night, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling more safe and at home than you have ever been before.

#teen wolf #stiles #mieczyslaw stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #void stiles #void stiles x reader #teen wolf void stiles #cw overstimulation #cw extreme overstimulation #overstimulation #overstim #overstim smut #overstimulation smut #void stiles smut #void stiles overstim smut #stiles overstim smut #stiles overstimulation smut #smut #void stiles overstimulation smut #baby trapping

[chloecherrysip]

all the pain will change into a memory of when we were amazing (mario & luigi-centric post-movie fic, part 1!)

(My weekend got a little busier than I was expecting, but I was still DETERMINED to get this up today and hey, I succeeded!!! I will eventually post an AO3 version as well, so if you'd like to wait for that, you can (and I will of course link it here), but sharing on tumblr is just a little easier for me to start out with. :)

Remember that this is just the first part and there will be at least two or three more coming soon!! Like I've already said in other posts, this fic has become SO LONG that it needs to be split up a little just for ease of reading. The title comes from the song Casey by Darren Hayes, which for the record, is a song about siblings and really fits movie!verse Mario & Luigi's relationship, in my eyes. Also, just so you know, this part (and only this part) has some Mario/Peach moments as well! I hope you enjoy!)

+

It took roughly eleven hours to put Brooklyn back together. 

Not to how it was before, just to be clear. Not even close. Just enough that you could no longer tell right away that it had been subjected to a catastrophic tear between dimensions or alternate realities or whatever the two worlds were in relation to one another — who even knew? Instead, it looked more like it had suffered a few earthquakes in quick succession, or a hurricane closely followed by a tornado for good measure. Y’know, normal disasters.

It would no doubt require weeks of work to fix the cracked roads, replace all the crushed cars, reassemble the shopfronts enough to reopen and finally, finally get rid of all the black chunks of molten rock and huge mushroom stalks that were still being found in the strangest crevices and alleyways. But there was a lot to be extremely grateful for too. It was an outright miracle that Bowser’s airship had happened to crash down into the empty construction site mere minutes before the workers were scheduled to get started, somehow missing all occupied buildings. Everyone on the block was unhurt and accounted for, and they all still had a mostly-intact place to sleep that night. That, Mario reasoned, was more than good enough for now.

He’d jumped headfirst into helping with the emergency cleanup efforts as best he could, of course. It was the very least he could do after unintentionally causing the whole mess to begin with, and Luigi had jumped right in alongside him, ready to go. The star had worn off  — even if Mario was still seeing glimmering afterimages of rainbows in the corners of his eyes every time he blinked — but it seemed like there were some lingering aftereffects. They felt better than ever, every injury down to the slightest bruise or cut completely healed, an overflow of joyful energy humming pleasantly all through his core. Mario guessed it was some kinda mixture of leftover magic and his own adrenaline and relief, which probably could have kept him going strong for a long time all on its own. They’d actually made it home. They’d seen their parents and family again. His brother was back within arm's reach, smiling and solidly warm and safe. How could he not feel like he was on top of the world?

So they’d spent the rest of the day working with neighbors to clear debris and shattered glass, move cars safely out of the way that were too crushed to move on their own any longer, nail up boards to cover gaps where windows once were. There were various damaged water fixtures and pipes that desperately needed some TLC before they came entirely undone and caused more damage (thankfully, Mario knew two talented plumbers who were more than up to the task). And of course, there was the not-so-small matter of rounding up all of Bowser’s minions and stuffing them back through the pipe before they snuck further into the city and started causing mass chaos. Most of that went smoothly, thankfully (other than one notable incident of some Koopas messing around at a bowling alley and accidentally getting stuck in the ball return). The magician in the blue robe, the one with the wand, had vanished entirely, though. Luigi had been the first one to notice, nervously mentioning that he’d seemed important, like a second-in-command to Bowser. Mario didn’t like that one bit, but Peach reassured him that they would stay vigilant.

Speaking of Peach, she’d taken charge of the chaotic situation right away, her leadership skills shining bright in a way that left Mario quietly in awe. She’d personally overseen Bowser’s transfer and imprisonment back in the Mushroom Kingdom while also coordinating efforts on both sides of the warp pipe, DK and Toad providing support as they all passed back and forth between worlds several times throughout the day, transporting as much of Bowser’s broken-up airship back to where it came from as possible. Toad Town was still a mess from the invasion as well, and many of the Toads who’d evacuated needed to be helped back from the forests. Mario had only spent a little time there, but thinking about such a lively, cheerful place in abandoned disarray troubled him. He considered going back for a little while to help out there too, just to make sure everyone got home safe.

But the familiar warp pipe loomed before them, and Luigi’s smile strained. Mario, hand lightly pressed to his brother’s back, registered the sudden, new tenseness, the way his breathing became shallower, despite his best efforts to not let it show. And there was Mario’s answer. He wouldn’t put Luigi through that again, not so soon, and if Luigi wasn’t going, Mario wasn’t going — end of story. The thought of being an entire world away from him after everything they’d just struggled through, even briefly, was too much to handle. All day, that uneasiness had hung around him, the one wrinkle in his light-as-air happiness and boundless energy. He hadn’t even liked Luigi being out of his sight for too long as they worked on the cleanup, which he fully knew was silly and unreasonable. That was why he'd never breathed a word of the feeling outload, even when the discomfort settled in heavily like a bad stomachache.

It'll get better once a little more time goes by, Mario kept insisting to himself with a sure, stubborn forcefulness. What's there to be worried about? We made it, both of us. We're together. Everything's gonna be okay. It really is.

“Don’t worry! We’ve got it all under control,” Peach reassured him. “I promise. The Kongs are helping, and so are the penguins from the Ice Kingdom. We’re going to work with them to rebuild their castle as well. On the bright side, I think our alliances will be much, much stronger after this mess.” 

“Are ya sure?” Mario couldn’t help but press, interlacing his fingers tightly. “I dunno, I just feel like I need to do something. If it wasn’t for you, all of you, I wouldn’t have gotten to Luigi in time.”

“Oh, and like you didn’t do even more to help us?” She gave the brim of his cap a flick that was somehow both playful and graceful. “Mario, you and your brother stopped Bowser in his tracks. Both of our worlds are safe from him now because of you two. If anything, we owe you! Toad was already talking about organizing a parade, or giving you both a chest of gold coins!”

“What? No, no, who needs all that?” Mario insisted, his face flushing a little. “Besides, those coins won’t even fit in my wallet! There probably isn’t an exchange rate or anything here for ‘em. Just my luck.”

“I thought as much.” She placed a fingertip to her pursed lips, tapping lightly as she pondered. “What about a house?” 

“A whole house!?” Mario nearly choked on the air. “For free?”

Peach gave him an odd look and a shrug, as though it was perfectly reasonable in her world to offer someone she’d just met a few days ago real estate with absolutely no strings attached. “Why not? You and Luigi are always going to be known as heroes in the Mushroom Kingdom, you do realize. It's the least we could do. But…” She thought in silence for a moment longer and then smiled, the curve of it a little heavier, more subdued. “A house doesn’t do much if no one will be living in it, huh?”

Mario considered that. Across the sewer room, the black of the warp pipe’s insides spread out behind Peach, vast and unending. “That’s…yeah, that’s true,” he said, his shoulders sinking a bit. “For now, don’t worry about doing anything for us, all right?” He swallowed around a strange, new lump in his throat. “Before anything else happens, I just really need to make sure my family’s all right.”

Peach nodded. “And I need to make sure mine is too,” she said, voice warm with understanding.

She shot a meaningful glance over Mario’s head, and he followed her gaze to where Toad and Luigi were sitting off to the side. Toad was excitedly talking, making big, bombastic gestures with his pan as though he was reenacting something. Luigi, for his part, looked a little bewildered but interested, following along as best as he could manage with lots of nodding. The strain in Mario’s chest eased.

“But you’ll both visit before too long, right?” Peach brought his attention back to her, her tone pointed. “There’s still plenty of beautiful places to see in our world. We barely scratched the surface! But we can start with a nice cup of tea in the castle, of course.”

Mario couldn’t help but smile widely. “Definitely,” he said. “And besides, I already made a promise to DK before he headed back. Me and my “stupid overalls” have to give him a rematch at some point. C’mon, how can I pass up a chance to kick his furry butt all over again?”

“And I want to come back and visit this world again too!” She added excitedly. “I want to know more about the bowling we saw, and video games, and — what did you call that one thing? A calzone? — and well, everything!”

Mario laughed outright. “Sure, come back anytime! Luigi and me know allll the best spots in Brooklyn like the backs of our hands. With us, you’ll never have a bad time, guaranteed.”

Some bright, delighted mischief flashed in Peach’s eyes. “And besides,” she said, “your mom said she would show me some of your baby pictures next time. I have to see that because I can’t imagine you without a mustache, honestly. It just doesn’t seem possible.” 

Mario’s laughter got less boisterous and much more strained in a big hurry. “Right, right,” he said, voice cracking. “Gotta remember to, heh, burn some of those before then.”

“Don’t you dare!” 

With more than a little reluctance, she waved over at Toad, signaling that it was time for them to say goodbye. 

“I’ve got to get out of this wedding dress already,” she joked, holding up the skirt so Mario could clearly see all the tears and scorch-marks and dark staining, all intermingled with white and glittering pink. On the top, she was wearing a new, light pink “I LOVE NY” shirt from a cheap souvenir store; Luigi had actually been the one to get it for her, having noticed that she was spending a lot of time standing out in the sun with her shoulders uncovered. At some point along the way, she'd also tied up her blonde hair in a messy ponytail to keep it out of the way. “What a disaster, huh?”

Mario honestly thought that she looked beautiful. But there was no way he could say that, and he also didn’t want to agree because that sounded rude. Thankfully, he had only had a few more seconds of mounting internal panic left to go on that subject before Toad and Luigi came over.

“Your brother’s just as cool as you are, Mario!” Toad brightly announced out of the blue, which in turn made Luigi jolt and blush behind him. “But I should have guessed! You guys are the SUPER Mario Brothers, after all!” 

“Hey, I coulda told you that a lot sooner!” Mario grabbed Luigi around the middle with one arm and squeezed tight, enough to make his brother wriggle with a hoarse, surprised laugh. “He’s always got my back!”

“Hey, hey, I’m flattered, but there’s no way I’m as cool as Mario,” Luigi insisted, grabbing and squeezing Mario right back, playfully poking at his stomach. “Are ya kidding? This is the best guy in the world, c’mon! No contest!”

"You c'mon! Who came up with using a manhole cover as a shield out of the blue, huh?” 

Luigi blinked a few times and then ducked his head down with a big, bashful grin. “Okay, maybe that was me.”

“Exactly.” He smushed his brother’s cap, ruffling his hair underneath. “What were you guys talking about, anyway?”

“Ohohoho, wouldn’t you like to know,” Toad insisted right away with a thick air of secrecy. He mimed locking his mouth with a key and then tossing it away, winking in Luigi's direction. “No need to be jealous, Mario. I can have two best friends.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mario replied dryly.

“It was no big deal, r-really!” Luigi backed Toad up, a little too loudly. His eyes looked somewhat glassy, as though he was teetering on the verge of tears, but when Mario met his gaze full-on, worried all of a sudden, his brother smiled back, big and sincere and seemingly very happy. “We’re all good! Better than good! We’re great!”

Peach stepped forward, then. “You really made a difference when it counted most, Luigi,” she said warmly, taking one of his hands in her own and patting it. “Thank you again for that. I know you didn’t see the best our world has to offer, but I hope you’ll give us another chance soon enough.” 

Luigi, having stiffened a little at her touch out of sheer surprise, relaxed again. “Of course, Peach — I mean, Princess Peach. Your highness? Ma’am!” He gave her a salute with the other hand, for some reason. “I, uh, definitely appreciate it.” 

She let go of him and reached for Mario’s hand in turn. Out of the blue, he thought about kissing the back of it — she was a princess, right? Wasn’t that what people did in all the fairytale books? — but that was a silly idea, stupid enough to make the back of his neck burn from embarrassment. Instead, he simply held onto her tight for a long moment, reflecting her sweet smile back at her, his heart pleasantly fluttering.

Further down, Toad grabbed one of Mario’s legs and one of Luigi’s legs in both arms and hugged them fiercely at the same time, sniffling a little. They gave his head a few soft pats in return (and winced when he loudly blew his nose into their overalls). 

“See you around, Mustache,” Peach said softly. She took a small step backwards towards the pipe but didn’t let go of him, their arms stretching out further. “And don’t forget what we talked about,” she added after a beat, delicate, maybe even the tiniest bit hopeful. “What I offered…it’s always on the table, if you ever do decide you want it.” 

“I won’t forget,” he said in return, softer too. “Stay safe.” 

She squeezed his hand one last time, and then she and Toad were gone. The warp pipe’s signature sound bounced off the impossibly high walls of the room they were in until it was just a tiny echo. Mario took a deep breath. He turned to find Luigi beaming at him, eyebrows raised high and wiggling a little at the ends.

"Shut up," he sighed.

“What!? I didn’t even say anything!” Luigi insisted, even as he continued to grin.

“Yes, you did. I can read your mind.” Even Mario’s sternest do NOT go there, I’m serious look could never do much when Luigi was ready to do some ruthless teasing, but he tried it anyway as they started to trudge towards the stairwell at a much slower pace then when they’d first come down it. When had he started to feel so tired? A big yawn fought its way up his throat before he could continue. “I just met her! We’re friends. That’s all there is to it, thank you and goodnight.”

“Look, you can't prove a thing, but if I was saying something, well, I'd start with the way she was looking at you.” Luigi whistled. Mario pulled down the brim of his cap, if only to hide the sudden warmth creeping into his face a little better.  “She certainly seems like a princess with good taste, y’know?”

“All right, all right. Ya done?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m not! She’s already got a dress too, which is really convenient. After all, weddings are expensive—”

“Stop, Lu. You better not breathe a word of this back home! Cause you’re gonna get Ma and Dad all riled up too and then I’ll never hear the end of it."

“Are ya serious!? Oh, my poor, sweet, naïve Mario. They already smelled the blood in the water at least five hours back. They were talking about little blonde grandkids when you were in the bathroom and everything.” 

At least the long trek ahead of them out of the sewers would give Mario time for his face to cool down to a normal temperature again. “Great, great, just what I need,” he grumbled. “Now I gotta find a princess for you to get the heat off me.”

“W-What!?” Luigi sputtered. “I mean, I wish. But a kingdom only has one princess, right? And you’re the lucky guy.” 

“There wasn’t just one kingdom,” Mario mused. He was climbing the stairs by then, metal clanging with each step. “I betcha all the money I have that if I went looking around long enough over there, I could find a real cute royal out there who has a thing for the color green.”

He reached behind him to give Luigi’s shoulder a playful shove, only for his hand to meet nothing but air. Turning fully, he saw that his brother was moving a lot slower than he’d expected. He was still at the bottom of the stairs, clinging to the railing and blinking furiously, his gaze focused on nothing in particular. 

“Luigi?” Mario asked hesitantly. “You good?”

Luigi perked up at that and gave a thumbs-up. “A-okay!” He chirped, starting to climb. “I just — whew. I’m a little, uh, dizzy. It feels like that crazy star hung around for a while, eh? Like, we weren’t super-powered anymore, but nothing hurt, and I still had tons of energy to do whatever I wanted. But now…”

“Yeah, I’m definitely feeling that too.” Mario realized it more clearly, his breathing already labored after only climbing one flight of stairs. The injuries weren’t back, thankfully, but he was aching all over, a new heaviness creeping into his bones more and more. Luigi was hurrying to catch up with him, moving unsteadily. 

“Just go slow,” Mario called. “We’re not in a hurry. Be careful.”

It didn’t seem like Luigi heard him, still trying to talk as he climbed, huffing and puffing. “I mean, wow! We were running all over the place! We were fixing things! We were saving Brooklyn! But…huh. Something’s kinda weird.” His voice had dropped down into a mumble, so quiet and fast that Mario almost couldn’t understand him. “I’m having that pins-and-needles feeling, like my legs are asleep, but I’m still walking just fine. Right? Do I look normal walking? Be honest. I…I can’t tell.” He looked sleepy, and then he suddenly looked frightened, unfocused, as though he wasn’t even sure where he was at all. “Wait. Am I upside down? Mario…”

It happened so fast. With one last shuddery breath, Luigi’s eyes rolled back into his head. He started to fall backwards, about to topple down a nearly full flight of stairs. 

Mario’s heart seized. “Luigi!”

He covered several steps in one desperate jump. Somehow, he managed to get one arm around his brother and pull him back with every last scrap of strength he had left, crushing their bodies together. The other arm, he wrenched over and around the railing blindly, worn metal scratching and squeaking against him painfully as he struggled to hold onto it. For a long, agonizing moment, the fight against gravity seemed like it was going to be too much to overcome, and Mario, teeth gritted, mentally prepared himself to turn them around in the air so he would take the brunt of the long fall. But miraculously, his shoes found enough purchase on the steps, and his aching grip lasted just long enough for Mario to pull their combined weight back in the other direction. The two collapsed in a heap against the ascending stairs instead. 

Mario’s gasping breaths seemed like the only sound in the world, the echoes bouncing wildly all around.

“Luigi,” he finally managed to wheeze — quiet at first, then again, much louder. As gently and carefully as he could manage, he scooted up into a sitting position and turned his brother over onto his back, cradling him. He was still out cold. Mario patted his face. “Hey, Luigi. Come on, Lu, wake up for me, all right? I’m here. I’ve gotcha.” He patted a little harder, steadfastly ignoring the way his hands were trembling at that point. Every second passing with no change stretched on, an eternity and then some. “You’re all right, everything’s all right. Come on, Luigi, snap out of it…” 

Up close, Luigi looked extremely pale, sweat beaded along the line of his cap. How had Mario not noticed that before? He’d been too caught up with all the cleanup efforts, too distracted by Peach and Toad and the thought of that hypothetical house. How could he not see that Luigi was starting to struggle? What kind of brother was he? 

The kind that does something really, REALLY stupid because of pride or "destiny" or whatever you wanna call it. The kind that not only drags his brother down with him to do the stupid thing, but almost gets him killed because of it. 

Mario's shoulders sagged. He gripped Luigi tighter, pressing his little brother's face close to the crook of his neck, if only to try and desperately ground himself in the knowledge that he could feel him breathing still, at least. Their injuries were gone, it was true, but for Mario, it was suddenly like the star had just shifted the pain around instead. He could feel it pressing up from under his skin, a deep well that was ready to split him open all the way through if he let it.

It no longer seemed like he'd just been in a magical world on a whirlwind adventure, or that he'd defeated a spiked turtle monster with anger issues and saved Brooklyn in a glorious, technicolor blur. Now, he was just a small, ordinary man in a dark sewer room underground, exhausted and terrified and unable to help the person he loved most.

All of a sudden, Luigi jolted under his hands. “Noooo more flambé for me, thankyouverymuch, I’m-a good!” He shouted, the words slurred together to the point of being nearly unintelligible. With a handful of slow, very confused blinks, he finally managed to focus on Mario’s extremely relieved face overhead. “Waaaaaaait. Whuh happen?”

Mario bundled up all those sharp, aching feelings behind a new wall and regathered himself. No matter what, he was going to stay strong, stay in control. He needed to do that for Luigi’s sake. There was no other choice. “You went down like a big sack of bricks, ya lug,” he tried to joke, even as his voice cracked badly on the last word. “Nearly gave me a heart attack! Are you okay?”

Luigi considered this information, eyes unclouding bit by bit. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, soft, a little embarrassed. “Y-Yeah, I think I’m good. I, uh, don’t really know what happened there! It was like…it all just hit me at once, I guess.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Mario worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “When’s the last time you slept, bro?”

Discomfort crept into Luigi’s expression at that. He looked away from Mario, not able to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. “Well, I dunno if I — I was wandering around for a while, and then I couldn’t really sleep in that cage, y’know? All that lava made the metal real hot, so I had to keep moving to not get burned, and you have no idea how hard it is to nod off when there’s a creepy star laughing its head — body? — head off in the next cage over, and, and...well, I’m sure I got an hour here and there,” he scoffed lightheartedly, waving off the thought with a wobbly sweep of his hand through the air. “Nothing worse than those all-nighters in high school!”

“You almost had a nervous breakdown because of those all-nighters,” Mario said. His grip on Luigi’s shoulder tightened, fingers winding snug in the green material. “And…what about food? Water? We’ve been go-go-go all day. I didn’t even think about…”

A brand-new sense of dawning horror came over Mario, sudden enough that he trailed off. He couldn't remember them ever taking a break, even sitting down in the shade for a few minutes. There'd just been so much to do, so many people in need of help, and the two of them had felt so good, laughing and joking and keeping up with no problems whatsoever. The time had flown by. But now...

“Pfft, who needs it?” Luigi said, extremely casually and extremely unconvincingly. He coughed, closing his eyes again for a long moment, resting his cheek sleepily against Mario’s chest. “Hmm. A guard gave me some sips a couple of times? And there was some weird bread. I think it was bread. Who even knows? It was stale like croutons. Not like the really good garlic ones Ma makes, though. These were like…like erasers or something. Blech.” 

A few sips of water and some "bread." A couple of hours of sleep, if that. Luigi was on his own, scared and struggling and eventually imprisoned in a maniac’s floating lava airship, for over two full days.

“Well, no wonder you passed out,” Mario sighed, rough and very quiet. He had to talk like that — any louder, and his voice was going to become too unwieldy. It already felt like someone had promptly stuffed his heart into a blender and cranked it up to the highest setting. “Speaking of Ma, she’s probably got a full spread out by now. I’m gonna get you home, you’re gonna eat until you pop, and,” he had to pause for a moment to swallow, his throat hurting, “and then you’re gonna sleep until you can’t anymore, okay? That’s what we’re doing.”

Luigi sighed too, his smile resurfacing. “Man, that sounds like heaven. What are we waiting for?” He started to sit up with newfound determination, only for the dizzying sight of the stairs descending down into the dark beneath them to make his motions distinctly more rubbery again in a hurry. He sunk back into Mario’s arms, breathing faster, eyes closed again.

“Just, uh, one more minute," he half-wheezed. "Nothing to worry about, I’m getting up right now, I swear, but…is it just me or is it really, really hot down here? Those burns I had, they’re all gone, which is great, but I can still kindaaaa feel them? Is that a medical thing? Or am I freaking out? Because, heh, it’s starting to feel like I might be freaking out, and not to toot my own horn but some might consider me an expert when it comes to the signs of freaking out—”

“Just breathe, Lu,” Mario interjected, gently but firmly, the way he always did when Luigi got lost in a thought process that wasn’t going to lead him anywhere good in a hurry. “We can wait as long as ya need. No rush at all.”

Mario pressed back the brim of Luigi’s cap so he could brush his hairline soothingly, wipe away the sweat. He leaned down, gathering Luigi close enough to bump their foreheads together so they could breathe in slow, deep unison. He’d done that little motion to Luigi their whole lives, an unspoken shorthand that only they understood. When his little brother was scared or anxious, touching foreheads was a way to make the world smaller, less overwhelming, if only for a few seconds. It was an easy way to say: who cares about any of that? Focus on me instead. It’s just the two of us. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.

(And he’d tried, hadn’t he? He tried, and he hadn’t been good enough this time, when it mattered most. Luigi had suffered because he couldn’t hold on tightly enough. Because he hadn’t fought harder, been smarter, pushed to move faster throughout every part of the trip. And at the end when he’d finally found his brother? It had just been dumb luck, really. He’d squinted up at all the cages at the right time through the haze of the lava heat, breathless from the climb and still half-focused on trying to stay in the air without plummeting, and he’d seen his brother fall, and his body had just reacted without any thought, desperation and adrenaline screaming in his veins, the only word in his head echoing out as faster, faster, FASTER. And if one little thing had gone differently — if he hadn’t found that specific powerup, if he hadn’t figured out how to use it properly, if he'd been looking anywhere else, if he’d misjudged the speed or simply missed his grab entirely — then that would have been it, and it would have been all his fault. The sight felt seared into Mario’s head, something he could see whether his eyes were open or closed. He saw Luigi tumbling in the air, terrified and yelling and out of control, hurtling towards the lava at full speed. Only this time, he couldn’t reach him, he couldn’t move at all, he could only watch helplessly and in horror as he—)

“Mario?” Luigi asked quietly. “Are you okay?”

Mario jolted back into the moment. He was breathing too hard, too fast; a tremor ran through him, bone-deep. Luigi was holding one of his arms, his eyes big and shining with newfound worry.

Mario smiled reassuringly for him, as easy and unthinking as a reflex. He took Luigi’s hand and wedged his fingers through his with a tight squeeze, resolving not to let go again until they were safely at home. That awful drowning feeling was rippling all through him, but he could keep his head above it if he focused hard enough, if he refused to let it sneak up on him again. He could do that. He would do that, no matter what it took.

With a slew of careful, slow-going movements, the two brothers finally stood up together on the stairs. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Mario said, and turned to lead the way. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here."

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario bros #mario and luigi #mareach #super mario bros movie #cherrysip fic #super mario bros movie spoilers #a succinct summary of this part: things are going great! and then things are going not so great :( #this feels very derivative of other people's fics but hey that's what happens when you take over a month to delve into your own #post-movie scenario - everyone's done most of the common things before lololol. I GOTTA JUST BE OKAY WITH THAT #anyway much MUCH more to come as soon as i can make it happen! thank you for reading - i appreciate you all! #(also i always hate having to say it but please do not tag this as ship!!! just don't!!!)

[sleepy-bunbun-ace]

i'm still disappointed by no femc in the p3 remake so i'm gonna do what i do with all of my blorbos, isekai her.

this time i'm not gonna use pla but twst instead mostly because there's more opportunities to use personas in twst than in pla where the only way i see her getting access to her persona is during the red sky thing. i'm also gonna rotate between names since i don't feel like choosing a name.

prologue + chapter 1 only

so since the femc's route isn't canon, she doesn't become the great seal because makoto/minato is already the great seal.

whatever brings yuu to the twst wonderland world sees her up for grabs and brings her to the before prologue area where she's then isekai'd to twst.

not without erasing her memories, of course.

minako wakes up in a coffin, grim opens it with his fire, yadda yadda, the whole beginning of the prologue is the same.

the dark mirror takes an interest in her because while she doesn't belong in any of the dorms, she has incredible potential and takes notice of the contract she's not aware she has.

grim escapes and causes arson and hamuko goes off to help kalim who's butt is on fire.

she feels a connection trying to be made with him but something is preventing it from happening (sorry kotone, no social links yet).

again, things go the same for the most part in all honesty throughout the prologue just with hamuko having more dialogue inputs.

a key difference is no ghost fight when she first gets to ramshackle dorm because she somehow manages to befriend the ghosts (which causes questions as to how she's not afraid of them because she's most definitely never seen ghosts before).

another key difference is during the mine battle where kotone actually helps fighting the monster using a stick she found near the cabin while also giving out orders.

there's social links desperately wanting to be made with grim, ace and deuce but the time hasn't come for that yet.

on the night of the last day of the prologue, at exactly the point where 11:59 changes to midnight, the sky turns green and people turn into coffins for an hour, but nobody is awake to notice.

chapter 1

first day of classes for hamuko and grim. also ace got collared for eating a slice of a tart and decided he's a ramshackle kid now.

things mostly go the same for the most part but there are a few changes.

kotone runs into ortho when chasing after grim and immediately feels melancholic and sad. he reminds her of... of... who does he remind her of?

the whole lunch thing is a bit different too with minako immediately noticing how there's something off with jamil and how kalim seems to be hiding emotions (like her. but she isn't hiding her emotions, is she?). this does not affect chapter 1 but does affect chapter 4.

when kotone first meets riddle, it's like all her attention is immediately on him and not in the 'tyrant housewarden' way but in a 'he's somehow like me' way. a blue butterfly only she seems to notice flutters between them.

before i forget, the dreams!! they still do show the particular scenes from alice in wonderland but alice acts strange. she looks the same as in the movie but with yellow eyes instead. she tells minako to "save the queen, he has yet to awaken" or something along those lines.

I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS IN THE PROLOGUE SECTIONS BUT SHE GOES BY YUU BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER HER NAME.

okay, back to chapter 1. for the most part, it goes rather the same seeing as hamuko is trying to make sure her friends stay alive.

the day before the unbirthday party, the boys find out she's a girl and freak out as if they've never interacted with a girl in their lives. minako can understand why they thought she was a boy with how she looks but is just kinda done with them as they freak out.

crewel figures out she's a girl because it's crewel. you don't question him.

now, the whole battle for housewarden aftermath is different with kotone having more impact. she essentially rewords what ace is conveying towards riddle with her own observations. she's trying to make sure the situation doesn't get worse while also making riddle realize that maybe how he's been handling punishments isn't really good housewarden behavior.

it doesn't work, riddle still overblots.

now, just because minako doesn't remember the events of p3, that doesn't mean the skills she learned doesn't exactly go away. it only takes a few minutes for her to realize that they had to target the phantom and not riddle. she tells ace and deuce to focus on the phantom while she finds a way to separate it from the overblotted boy.

turns out jumping out a tree that started to float while you were climbing onto strings made of ink hurts a lot. feels like death.

so the memory thing goes quite different (i'm basing the concept off of on the eight wishes of a resident therapist by adaven on ao3). both riddle and kotone wake up in a void where the only other things there are a desk with two papers on it and a very familiar looking boy.

he tells them the only way to keep going is to sign the contract that will bind them to all responsibility of their actions.

"i will chooseth this fate of mine own free will."

they sign the contracts and the boy disappears with a smile. impromptu therapy time as they go through riddle's memories.

he starts with denial in the beginning but nearing the end he just spills because he's so drained from everything that's been going on. he's tired and doesn't know what to do anymore.

hamuko promises to help him become better because "that's what friends are for" and riddle is so confused. "he wants to be my friend??? after everything i've done??"

they wake up after the promise (the social link isn't established yet) with riddle still looking like his overblot self but now in control of himself. the phantom is still alive, desperately trying to reconnect to riddle.

minako's pocket feels heavy and she pulls out something very similar to a gun. there's no time to think, she puts it up to her head while shielding riddle from the phantom.

orpheus makes her return from the sea of souls.

the battle is soon finished with riddle and kotone being the most injured (i think that attacks that use hp cause injuries on the users body). with only a few questions about orpheus before crowley shows back up, the chapter finishes as normal with only riddle and kotone being taken to the infirmary.

at the end of the chapter, hamuko tells riddle she remembers her name.

at the exact point where 11:59 changes to midnight, the sky turns green and people turn to coffins, only this time the two in the infirmary are awake to experience the hour.

#ace rambles about aus #dark wonderlands and twisted hours au #persona 3 #p3p #twisted wonderland #kotone shiomi #hamuko arisato #minato arisato #p3 femc #ace trappola #deuce spade #riddle rosehearts #twst grim #this started as a little what if then it evolved into an au #i do have another persona x twisted wonderland au but it also features project sekai: colorful stage feat. hatsune miku #and it has persona 5 (royal) instead of p3 #riddle was not meant to be a wildcard but here we are #also the dark hour returns! #but why? #we'll fuck around and find out together #also no romance between anyone #they might get crushed on femc but i say she's sapphic #also they're going through a lot of trauma #i can't wait for when she gets more of her memories back and realizes she's meant to be a third year and not a first year #that's gonna be funny

[skyward-children]

More headcanon time

(More headcanons)

While searching for your Crimson Loftwing, if you stop and talk to Orielle, she tells you how to look at your map. Then she says, “Knowing you, that’s the best way to avoid getting lost…again.”

Now, she’s referring to the Statue of the Goddess. She’s telling Link to look at his map to find the giant statue visible across the entirety of Skyloft. And she tells him “the best way to avoid getting lost again.” Again? That seems to imply that Link has gotten lost trying to find the Statue of the Goddess. Or that he’s gotten lost on Skyloft, a tiny island that he grew up on and probably knows every nook and cranny of. That of course must mean that our favorite bean sprout has literally the absolute WORST sense of direction in the entire universe if he can’t even find his way around the island he has called home his entire life, if he can’t even find THE GIANT STATUE THAT IS VISIBLE FROM THE WHOLE SKY

Like…. Link is probably known on Skyloft as the one kid who will never be able to find his way ANYWHERE without assistance and who can barely read a map to save his life. People always take the time to draw him directions like “ok sweetie, you take a left turn here and go up these stairs and you’ll find an entrance to the bazaar” and somehow he still ends up by the waterfall or something. They will take him step by step to an area and leave him there and hours later go “where’s link?” and he’s somehow found a hole leading underground and doesn’t remember which way he came from and they have to dig him out. He’ll be flying and his Loftwing literally has to take control of where he’s going cause he has NO IDEA. Zelda will tell him to meet her at the Lumpy Pumpkin and he’s just like “😅🥲 o-okay Zelds,” and five hours later he somehow manages to arrive.

Then his quest begins and OH HYLIA Fi is confounded by his horrible sense of direction. “Master. Master, I told you to follow THIS TRAIL RIGHT HERE. THE ONE THAT WAS DIRECTLY BENEATH YOUR FEET. Master HOW did you end up in a tree” kinda thing. And GOSH temples are the worst, Fi repeatedly has to tell him which way to turn and where to go and etc. finally she has enough because “master if you cannot find your way through an empty room with a door at either end then I don’t think you’ll save Zelda” so she leaves him to find his own way so he can actually learn by himself. Eventually Link starts to get better at it, and soon he can go through temples with only a few expected questions (“Fi, there are seven doors and they all look the same and I have no clue where I just came from”) and Fi is patient with him and YAY her small green human is FINALLY learning how to read a map and follow trails and directions how on earth did he survive until now—

Anywho when Link and Zelda finally reunite they’re heading back to Skyloft and Zelda says “ok I’m going to brush my Loftwing down real quick, meet you at the academy in like ten minutes” and Link nods and Zelda hesitates. “Uh….you know where you’re going, right? Do you need help?”

“Nope! I got it,” Link says, confidently, which only makes Zelda more concerned. She watched him fly off with a shake of her head like “dear Hylia that boy is gonna end up in a volcano instead of the academy…” but sure enough when she flies to the academy Link is there! And she’s like “HOW DID YOU GET HERE” He just kinda chuckles. “Fi taught me direction and now I can find my way around places” he says and that is probably the most shocking news Zelda has ever heard in her life, probably even more shocking than when she found out she was Hylia reincarnate because sweet farore, her bean sprout has been horrible at direction since he was two years old and now he can find his way around?! a TERRIFYING prospect

Now whenever they go anywhere Zelda out of habit tells Link where to turn or what path to take, but he always surprises her like “Zel…I got this, okay? Don’t worry” and that’s something she will probably NEVER get used to. Link is amused every time

#also YES I realize that that line was so players could figure out how to open their map #don’t yell #stupid headcanon #headcanon #all of my headcanons are dumb lol #link #SkSw link #zelda #SkSw zelda #Orielle #skyward sword #legend of zelda #nintendo #skyward sword headcanon #zelda headcanon #loz headcanons

[trixstriforce]

i wanna wait till i finish totk to post about it a lot(bc im still not far in game) but im lowkey disappointed a bit story wise? i was rlly excited on the sky islands and i loved what was going on w/ the zonai and then...link fell...to the surface...

1 why is zelda reinstating the monarch and hyrule’s systems of power with no clear deviations to how the power structure was already ran ie she is the ultimate authority no counsel or advisors??? ik we r early into the rebuilding so tbh, so maybe shge has plans but needs to start off small like how making lookout landing so idk if my fears r unfounded, but for botw to show how clearly and detrimentally hyrule’s system of power could destroy the nation bc the king’s power and authority was left unchecked leading to zelda’s own royal duties completely crippling her potential to help her kingdom and her not being shown to be the best fit for the life of a monarch i am just slightly raising my brow rn, im not arguing she shouldnt be in charge bc she is clearly doing her best but i do find it strange we r just...going back to hyrule’s monarchy and not something like an oligarchy including the other rulers and leaders?? maybe as i go to the other regions and meet more characters this will be explained more how exactly hyrule’s new government is going???

2 why is link so...unknown? this was a problem in botw too where basically no one knew about or rlly cared about link’s status as the hero which was notably more important in past games, now hes literally just some guy who follows zelda around and waves a fancy sword(even tho hes the reason calamity is gone not zelda even tho ppl acted like her sealing power was the key there :///). even ppl who know him in game assume he is a stranger which at first i assumed was bc he went missing but like...even by new characters who know him he is just aid to be zelda’s swordsman and zelda’s protector??? ppl seemed much more concerned she disappeared than link even the lookout parties specifically say they r for her not link...and the ppl of hateno thought he was a tourist when he lived there BEFORE zelda did? she literally is living in his house not the other way around???? people like robbie and purah of course know him but like why dont the people of hateno or hell even some of the stable people remember him?? why is he again delegated to just the princess’s knight when in botw it clearly showed that BOTH link and zelda suffered under their destined mantles? link is still following her around and being known only because of her not even known as the people’s hero? like was this a continue choice on link’s part or even after dying for zelda and losing his memories of everything except zelda n the champions is he still genuinely wanting to be her servant and not friend and equal???

i think my ass is a bit too anti-authority for loz bc i thought botw was going to deconstruct the hyrule monarchy and the role of the hero and princess and show how them falling into such stereotypes of the dauntless knight and pure princess was what caused them to be unprepared and fail in the first place. i thought in totk it would show them not as princess and knight but as idk?? more so guardians of hyrule who help out when needed but r not active leaders, i didnt think they were just gonna force link back to being a knight and force the crown and its burdens back onto zelda’s head especially when botw hinted heavily neither of them??? particularly wanted to be that??? the scene in the rain i thought implied they both felt pressure to be what the kingdom needed them to be and post botw they would simply idk live their best life

am i tripping like i feel like i am bc this is jsut...rlly bumming me out and it kinda knocked my excitement down when no one in hateno recognized me even tho link lived there for years and barely anyone even knew who link was outside of his relationship to zelda? it also made me rlly confused why zelda would even want to be princess again? i get her being a leader dont get me wrong, but there are other ways for her to do that then reinstating the monarchy like being a spiritual leader for hyrule or her and link being travelers who help wherever they r needed(which is...lowkey what i assumed happened after botw and kinda was right but also very very wrong :()))

maybe i read one too many fics where they let their pasts stay in the past and carved out a new place for them in this new hyrule bc clearly totk isnt rlly...going to be focused on those theme and is instead very much leaning into the relearning one’s history thing

#god i hope i dont sound whiny like 'boo hoo totk isnt what i hced!!!' #its rlly not that at elast i think tis not #its jsut not the direction i wanted for either character ig??? #ehh ill still play im jsut temperign my expecdations #tears of the kingdom #loz #link #zelda #lore rambles #ig #trix posts #is this spoilers i geuinly do not know bc i am only mentiong very early game stuff #and kidna vaugly #ask to tag #ig that works

[l05t1nth3v01d]

JSE (3/?)

TW:mentions of Anti,Suicide

Henrik von Schneeplestein

(From Pinterest if I remember correctly

+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+×+

• optimistic,energetic,confident as his creator,more prideful at times,highly independent and adaptable,cares deeply about his friends(closest seem to be Jack and Chase)

》proves his knowledge into  treating them and teaching the viewers(even if hid knowledge is kinda flawed)

• It's rumored that he doesn't own a proper medical license,he himself mentioned that he got it from a cereal box

》he doesn't know basic anatomy

》claims he graduated from "doctor college"

• mentioned having a wife and kids

》it's implied that they dont don't a healthy relationship

-bitterly remarked that his wife would rather stay with her tennis instructor Rick and that Henrik wouldn't be able to see his kids if he didn't do his job well

• Claims that nobody loves him

• prefers to use unconventional tool and performs surgery in front of an audience because he does it better that way

• Talks to his patients like they were responding even though they don't

• Tends to get very cranky if he hasn't had his morning coffee yet

》without it he might start threatening his patients with purposely-induced coma or even death

• "Jacksepticeye Power hour-Dr.Schneeplestein"

[Link]

》operates on hid accountant Peter,motivated to do his job well so he doesn't have to pay his own taxes

》mentioned that me might not let Peter survive

》said he "lost another one" and that "they are really going to take away my[his] cereal box licence away this time"

》declares he's ruined

• Dec 24th 2016

》Jack tried to save an elf that had an Christmas accident,Jack failed and left the room.

》Henrik appears and takes over,fails as well at first but then succeeded.

-mentioned that he hates Christmas cause it reminds him of the fact that he has nobody who loves him

• States he found an new and better accountant,his current one allowed him to not pay his taxes half the time

• Says he's been to the graveyard as many times as his patients "live in the graveyard"

• Mentioned he studied in France and also operated on a patient with a bomb in their chest

• He avoids saying from which country he is,implying he isn't from Germany or that he doesn't know it

• Kills two patients,leaves video with "now I'm a true doctor,forever and always"

• KILL JACKSEPTICEYE

[Link]

》Jack chose to save hjmself(in-game) after saying he doesn't want to "kill himself",starts to look physically ill and runs out of the room

》Henrik comes in to save (in-Game)Jack

》says he once saved his very good friend Chase Brody

》continues to treat Jack,henrik begins to feel the effects of Jack's pain and becomes anxious and disoriented,tries to reassure Jack.

》The doctor starts to plead with the viewers:

"We need to save him,we need to save him- I need you help!Save him!Save jackseptic-"

》mentioned "ANTI-depressants",starts to glitch

》Henrik starts to morph with Anti,still crying out for his friend who died (in-game):"Jack!Jack no!MY friend!NO!"

-directly after this,Anti fully takes over the doctor's body,saying that Henrik was a fool to believe he could save Jack

-Anti asks the viewers"Who do you think you've been watching?"

-says that they(the egos) are his puppets

-so Anti possessed Dr.Schneeplestein then Jack after he 'died'

• "THE DOCTOR IS BACK|gastric bypass..."

(No need to watch)

》a 'Dr.Jacksepticeye' had performed two surgeries successfully,bragging about his skills as a competent doctor,he was interrupted by a muffled voice shouting:"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Dr.Jacksepticeye turned towards the door,Henrik busted in,declaring,"I am the good doctor!And that is my chair!"

• October 18th 2019|"Youre not ready for these scary games"

[Link]

{Timestamp:34:00-35:53}

》Schneeplestein is shown at his computer conducting research,frantically scribbling on a writing pad and ripping out paper in frustration,one of the monitors glitches and a whirlpool appeared on screen,drawing the viewer in.

I meant to post this yesterday but I hadn't had much time. I might post bout another ego today too so that I have two in a day.Also again if you have stuff to add/theories to iris and everything then please TELL ME bestie.

#dr. schneeplestein #henrik von schneeplestein #jacksepticeye #jse lore #jse #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #anti #antisepticeye #robbie the zombie #Youtube

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

(hi hi hi this is the-cat-and-the-birdie!!!!) AND UHHHH CAN I HEAR MORE ABOUT YOUR SONA cause their story could FIT PERFECTLY with Diane cause I was thinking Diane tries to stop Miguel from sending Gwen home but they trap her with some other people trying to talk out but she gets sent to the villains room and uses the Summer Song to short out all the cages and free everyone then CHAOS SO HER AND YOUR SONA COULD ESCAPE TOGETHER Mwah-ha-ha! They can radicalize the villains lol but please tell me more about them!! Do you have a post I can reblog?

OP PLS I DIDNT THINK U WOULD SEE THAT THANK U THANK U THANK U THANKS CJNCRNIRCNIRNIRVNIRIICINFRJIRFJIJFJIRJDRIDJIJCIRRICRJIRCJDIRIJICIRJIRJIRJIRJ😢😭💘💘💕💘💕💕💘💕💘💘💕💘💕💘💕💕💘💕💕💘💕💘💕💘💕💘💕💕💘

AND PLS DIANE INTERACTING WITH ANE I LOVE IT SM!!!!!! I just imagen both of them meeting in the middle of the chaos, Ane being surrounded by some the villians that escaped (those being some that ane has beaten far back and wanna get him cuz they petty like that) and she about to get jumped and Diane gets to one of them allowing Ane to counter attack and do team work!!! Diane using her spider sense and helping Ane to escape some of the spider dudes

If ur interested into looking for my sona just looking for spidersona tag on my blog should help! But I'll add the links after I finish this skkskskks

Spidersona post so far:

Ane's new suit

Lil fun facts

Tw: grammar error, depression, isolation, murder implication, violence mention, blood, ptds, its kinda dark AND LONG AF im sorry

INFO ABOUT ANE:

- Ane is from earth 1218, which accoring to marvel is where all superheroes are fictional (basically she lived in the same ground as you and I live). But for some reason it seemed that her world kinda started to reject her in a sense? Causing her to be sended to this white space sorta place to where she can see marvel's fiction world

- Its basically gwenpool its what I'm tryna say lol. She basically has access to go in and out other earths without glitching due to not belonging to her own earth anymore and makes it easier for fast escape, although if she's in high stress or cannot concentrate she can't won't be able to phase out to the white space.

- Like pool she has quite a handful knowledge of most of the character from both strenght and weakness. Which that knowledge has helped from tight situations (tends to end with a few broken bones there and there)

HOW IT STARTED:

-Before becoming a spider dude she was nothing but a homeless girl roaming around the streets, looking for her next piece of bread or some coin to get by. Mind you that she tried to tell officers of her situation the world she was in but ofc she just ended behind bars in the station cuz police is so......useful sometimes aint I right....

-She met the peter after a day of her escape and Peter being the sweetsoul he is helped her out by giving her a place to stay with his aunt may. She stayed quiet of her situation but she eventually opened up to him and told him everything. Surprisingly he belived her without considering her a physco (He was from COUGH hq COUGH)

-And life goes well, she gets a job, heped payed the bills and kinda started developing a crush on pete's and it life is good.....until it wasn't

-Remember endgame? Well, she is kinda the main reason the heroes lost, u see aunt May was suppose to die in that fight but Ane's intervening caused a butterfly effect, causing the destruction and downfall of the civilization (isnpired by a punisher comic where he becomes a galaxy ghost rider)

-the only things surviving were her and peter's web shooters, the same ones she used to protect Aunt May....from then on she starts doing these good deeds, helping other citizens from other universes, getting into fights with both heroes and villians, meeting & loosing at the same time.

-she's self taught in both strategy and combat, using her past experiences and copying moves from others has helped along the way. But also being the part that destroys her lil by lil both emotionaly and physically. Causing her to avoid attachements or interaction to ANYONE. The only source of comfort is the emptiness of her void and the feeling of dried blood in her finger tips. Nightmares being a daily dose of her guilt and self hatred. Sometimes leaving cuts bleed out or touch her wounds as a way of punishing herself for her failures.

HQ CAPTURE & ESCAPE:

-At this point she's nothing but a soul filled with anger and violence, somehow surprisingly managing to escape a few times leaving a few spiders bloodied and almost in deaths door

-They manage to get a hold on her after using her latest fight as an advantage, knocked out cold she gets taken to the HQ. Even in her weak state the spiders couldn't help but to notice just how LOUD their spider sense were being....something telling them that they should back off ASAP. She gets treated for her wounds and sended to the cells where they explaon her the situation she's in. Her face not changing, staring at miguel with a unreadable expression as the others can't turn off their senses...some of the taking a step back

-A few weeks pass by, the fresh memory of her loved one dying on her arms still fresh in her head. Suddenly hearing the door open and seeing Diane being dragged towards her. Ane doesn't budge or looks up at the noise of to Diane's demands and resistance. Mabey Diane sees Ane and tries to talk her to help her out? Since I feel like she would know her situation or some bits of it, mostly knowing Ane isn't a villian.

-A few hours later AND BAM everything is on flames. Most of the HQ trying to capture the escaped prisioners, she and Diane kinda bonding over battle as they both have lil bits of conversation between the fights (Ane loves her webs and how shiny she basically is, reminds her of diamons kskkskwksk)

-mabey he meets gwens group and slowly starts to open up to others, and mabey she and diane become besties and she teaches Ane to be a lil more social and all the goodie stuff 👉👈? If that ok?

BIT OF HER FUTURE & GROWTH AS HERO AND HERSELF:

-I was thinking that she meets logan (wolverine) in a certain future (few moths or a year after the HQ accident) and basically follows and annoys the living hell outta him so get him to train her. She know he isnt the type to just accept things like this so standing her ground being the only way to get through that metal skull of his

-Which not only elevates her fighting skills and combat agility but also basically gets adopted by him lmao (he will forever deny he has a soft spot for her, but will throws hands if he hears crap talked about her back). She replaces the web shooter to chain shooters those and most parts of her new suit made from the same metal that wolverine's claws are made off. (She keeps the webs shooters on box somewhere in her white space cuz they have an emotional meaning to her)

-She's now able to sneak up on spider people without being detected by their senses (it is canon in a comic that longan did that on peter due to being that good of a hunter). She still has some demons on her but she's slowly but surely getting better day by day thanks to logan's teaching.

-although she still goes onto killing if she needs to, some fights more gruesome than others, her gloves having extendable blades like logans and well...u seen how the fights go with him. All and all life becomes good, even after a few falls she always gets up again, just this time, she has a hand to pull her up <33

___________________________________________________________________________

A/N: ANYWAY THIS LONG AF BUT YEA I KINDA SAID MOST OF HER STORY HERE, THANK FOR READING AND REALLY LOVE UR STUFF FR U GIVE ME MORE INSPO EVERYDAY I CANNOT THANK U ENOUGH

#cherry answer #ohara- n- brown #spidersona #spider-man! ane #spider-man! author #self insert #across the spiderverse #marvel #long post #tw depression #tw isolation #tw murder mention #tw violence #SRSLY I LOVE UR STUFF KEEP IT GOING FR!!!! #ur basically the reason I developed my sona for the better REALLY THANK U FOR SHARING UR ESSAYS AND THOTS TO US #diane is a beloved btw #she SHINYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY 🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇

[anisecandy]

The dose makes the poison: Chapter 2

Work summary: After saving Flash Thompson from death by Red Goblin’s hands, the Venom Symbiote is bond to him again. Now it has to fight for both of their lifes, caught in a stelmate in a dying body. But Flash WILL get through this. Even if in order to save him, Peter will have to team up with his worst enemy…

…Alright, not really the worst anymore, but Eddie Brock is hardly pleasant to be around either way, plus he smells kinda funny, so it still counts.

Chapter summary: Peter thinks he came up with a solution that could heal Flash and makes a few phone calls to people who could help. However, as it turns out, nothing is as clear cut as he hoped it to be...

Rating: T

Words count: 6k

Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Parings: Peter Parker/Eddie Brock (aspirationally), Venom Symbiote/Eddie Brock, Venom Symbiote/Flash Thompson

link to the work on ao3

previous chapter

Liz Allan answered the phone when he was already out of the hospital. On only the sixth try - not bad for a businesswoman up to her neck in responsibilities. He cut down to the chase, skipping the pleasantries or even a basic greeting. There will be time later for those, maybe when they’ll all get some breathing space after the tragedies Norman again put them through. Right now, what mattered was acting fast.

But he couldn’t tell if the reason for that was an actual threat to Flash’s life or his own need to do something, instead of sitting useless and helpless. He wished the Symbiote was trustworthy enough for him to assume the former as the cause.

“We need the anti-venom.”

“What?”

Through the speaker the noises of the traffic could be heard. Judging by them and the hour at which he called, she was probably getting home from work. Not ideal, he much rather would have her still be at the Alchemax, where she could execute his idea hands on. This had to do, though. She was already handling a whole corporate empire mostly remotely, so in reality he didn’t have much reason to worry. He did anyway.

“Looks like the Venom Symbiote can’t heal Flash by itself,” he explained, going down the stairs two steps at time. “But the anti-venom could. That thing had enough juice to cure whole New York from a spider-virus, remember? If we had it, then I’m sure he’d be up in seconds.”

Liz’s voice was always firm, with a steel lacing to it. But when she responded, it lacked the usual aloof tone. She sounded almost as tired as he felt.

“In case you didn’t notice, Peter, we’ve lost all of it. Norman made sure of that. So unless you think I had some secret samples hidden, when this madman came for my family-”

“No, no, of course not. But you’ve been studying it, haven’t you? I mean, you were able to replicate enough of it to fill whole vats. So now, when the time isn’t as much of essence… you could tell your science team to produce more of it.”

“We can’t do that.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to scream at her, yell, that she can’t just let his friend, their friend, for god’s sake, lay like a torn up rag doll in the hospital. Still, he breathed and he reminded himself. It wasn’t that simple, this wasn’t just asking Liz to help an old friend. It was telling a mother to divide the forces she was using to save her child from being turned into a monster for life.

“Liz,” he tried again. His voice was so soft that it got mostly muffled down by the hustle and bustle of the street he took to get to the metro. “I know, that you’re pouring all your resources into reversing what happened to Normie, but-”

“That’s not what I meant.” She gave out a frustrated sigh and he curled up in himself. Just a little. “Really Peter, sometimes it’s infuriating how you seem to think that you’re the only living person with a brain. Synthesizing the anti-venom was the first path of action we considered, but it turned out to be impossible.”

“But you must have been creating it at one point-”

“We were growing it,” she corrected him. “We had samples to start with. The only ‘Anti-venom’ we’ve ever really created was when Spider-man made a mess out of one of our laboratories and poured a whole batch of symbiote anti-bodies onto Flash. And while we could try that method again-”

“-It would be for the best if we didn’t, point taken,” he mumbled, massaging his temple. The roars of engines and chatter of pedestrians around him started to give him a headache. “Still, you must have some notes left, right? You were studying it. Its chemical structure… the equation of its antibodies…”

“We’ve had it for less than a month, Peter. Did you expect us to have its DNA scan just laying around in the office, ready to be used as a matrix for cloning?”

He didn’t reply. Each of her words felt like a blow and if he wasn’t in the middle of the street, he might have sat down to recollect himself. The newfound hope with which he left the hospital dried down, leaving behind ugly damp patches. Some of that must have carried over through the silence, because when Liz spoke again, it was with an amount of earnest gentleness that made him feel bad for acting like she didn’t care. How could she? If you love somebody once, you never can truly get rid of it.

“I’ll have my scientist leave no stones unturned, until they are both safe again. We’ll figure it out, Peter, I promise.”

“I know.”

I love you, was what he suddenly wanted to say. When he was fighting Osborn, he aimed at his heart with each blow and it was as if one of them reached the target. For the last few days he was bleeding and hurting, with feelings spilling out of his chest like a waterfall of pain. He wanted to gather all of his family close and never let them out of sight again. I love you, thank god you’re alive. Thank god.

“...You should get some rest.”

In a way that also was an “I love you” and he didn’t have it in himself to argue. He bid Liz goodbye and hung up. He stood for a few seconds, unsure what to do with himself now. His grip on the phone was so loose that it started to slip from under his fingers and he had to catch it, before it hit the ground. The small, crescent shaped wounds on his palms mostly closed in the hours that passed since Flash’s operation. Web-slinging back home could open them up back and he was just a walk away from the metro station, which he intended to take anyway. Yet, he hesitated in directing his steps there.

Right now, his whole body was buzzing for some kind of release. Thoughts rattled in his head like a spilled bag of pushpins. He had to flush them out with a swig of cleansing adrenaline. His legs moved him toward a narrow alley between buildings before his mind managed to catch up, but he didn’t mind. The worries already began to blur, clouded by the anticipation of action. He needed to do something. To be of use, to solve a problem that had a clear cut solution, toward which he could just punch his way through. Because god, he really needed to punch something. Right now. It didn’t matter much what. He would take a pickpocketer or a common purse snatcher, all they had to do was fight back enough that he could pack a few solid blows. Enough to feel his knuckles crack with force and enough to work off the anger that has been burning his insides.

And that was exactly why he took the metro.

He didn’t run there, but he reached the station with an energetic trot, not letting himself look up from the pavement toward any alley that he was passing by. A few young men were talking loudly at the back of the subway car he entered. They seemed rather tipsy, despite the early hour of the night. Although there were quite a few standing passengers, all seats around them were free. Most people tried to not look their way.

Peter hated himself for hoping that they would start a commotion.

They left the car before his station and the rest of the ride was uneventful, save maybe for a homeless man who got in halfway there and quickly fell asleep in the seat furthest to the back, filling the train with loud snoring. Some older lady left a couple of bucks on the windowsill near him, before getting off.

When he arrived at his house, the sun was but a red slice, hardly visible between the skyscrapers and tenements. The shadows stretched over the streets to their fullest high, painting New York in navy blue strips. If he took just a little more time to get there, first lanterns would probably start to light up as well. It was still bright enough that he didn’t have to turn on the staircase light. Besides, the washed down gray of its walls covered in evening felt right at the moment. That’s why he didn’t turn on the lights in his flat as well. The yellow glare of the lamp made it look even more small and cluttered than it was anyway.

He climbed his bed without a shower - something that he knew will make him feel disgusting tomorrow. Which was honestly appropriate. Also, he was pretty certain that if he stayed up even for a moment longer, the fury smoldering at the bottom of his stomach would burn his guts out. He needed to calm down. So he curled up under his blanket and tried to not think about everything and everyone he was mad at. About Norman Osborn, whose only goal in life was breaking beautiful things. About the Symbiote, which could turn on them at any moment. About Eddie, who was just a jerk, plain and simple. Even about Flash, who had to play the hero with no regards for his own safety and Liz, who couldn’t find medics who would save him. But most importantly, about himself.

Any of this wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t so goddamn stupid. How could he not predict that Norman would go for Harry and his (his) family?  Weak and stupid. If he didn’t let Red Goblin break his leg, not only wouldn’t their offense be lowered without him on the playing field, but Flash would still have the anti-venom when Norman attacked him. He should have kept track of Norman better. He should have kept track of Carnage symbiote better. He should have burn that thing the first chance he got, he should have gotten rid of the Symbiote before it had a chance of spawning, he should have never take it with himself in the first place, or at least do more tests on it, or take it to Reed Richards sooner, anything to-

The downcast spiral in his head came to an abrupt halt.

Reed.

Alchemax’s scientists only worked with samples of symbiotes for a couple of weeks. But Reed… Reed was a genius who had the Symbiote under constant surveillance for months. And not only that. He worked with the anti-venom specifically as well. The hope, that his talk with Liz quelled, started to timidly kindle once more in his chest.

Before Peter could realize what he was doing, he was out of the bed, digging his phone out, eager to call Fantastic Four. Only at the sight of the clock at his lock screen he stopped himself. As it turns out, his thoughts kept him up way past midnight and into the pale hours of the morning. Now that they finally brought anything more than purulent self-hatred, Reed and his family were definitely asleep. He groaned, running hands through his hair with frustration. He had to wait at least four hours before it would be anywhere near the appropriate time for phone calls. For a minute or two he considered reaching out to them anyway, calling the situation an emergency that needed to be resolved immediately… But that would be a lie, and Reed would realize that right after checking Flash's body. And while he might understand anyway, Peter just felt like this wouldn’t be right.

He paced around his room for a while, bobbing his head a little, trying to walk off the impatience. Eventually, he threw the phone on his bed, turning toward the bathroom. He might as well freshen up before tomorrow. And then, since there was no way he would be falling asleep anytime tonight, head back to the hospital. He only trusted the Symbiote so far, after all. A little check in when it would be suspecting it the least couldn’t hurt.

Its whole body hurt.

Well, no. Not really. Flash’s body hurt. There were areas throbbing in dull pain and others set ablaze in a seemingly unending firestorm of ache. The Symbiote wanted to disconnect itself from it, or maybe even turn off the pain receptors in his brain, but it wasn’t willing to risk it. It had to monitor everything carefully, without missing the tiniest signals. So it forced Flash’s lung to labor, even though every breath was like inhaling acid, despite being able to sustain his oxygen needs on its own. It tugged at his heart and filled his veins, doing just enough to support his organs and not a step more. When it was younger, less experienced, it wouldn’t bother itself with all those nuances. It would gladly overtake every function Flash required for survival, cutting him off from any and all discomfort, penetrating every tissue and cell with spreaded thin threads. It would give him all of itself without as much as one thought and it would relish in the delight of being needed.

But the Symbiote knew better now. Flash had to heal. He had to be able to carry the weight of his body on his own. What it wanted to do wouldn’t help, not in the long run. It would just make him dependable on it. He had to breathe, because if he stopped, who knows if he could ever start again. His heart had to beat. His brain had to work as it always did, tingling with electricity that jumped through synapses, keeping the connections fresh and alive, ready to pick up as soon as he woke up.

It wasn’t so bad with Eddie around. After Peter ran off to somewhere, he spent a solid dozen of minutes ranting, huffing and shaking his head in outrage at his treatment of the Symbiote. It was quite sweet, in a distinctively “Eddie” way. It conwayed as much through the bond, before catching itself and remembering that at the moment it has to communicate with him outwardly. It wondered what Flash would have thought of the sentiment that it reflexively sent through his systems, was he not unconscious. He wasn’t too fond of Eddie. But to be fair, not many people were. And last time they talked, he seemed to start warming up to him a little. Maybe they could eventually get along. That’s what it hoped for, anyway.

For the next half an hour, before he was sternly asked to leave by two nurses who sent him away with a cagey looks, Eddie had been sitting on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t been talking much, but it was grateful for his presence nonetheless. When the door closed behind him, for a moment it was slipping off the surface of Flash’s consciousness, overwhelmed by his pain. Being alone was such an unnatural state for it. Because even within him, right now it was alone. It was held captive many times, locked in glass enclosures that left it stripped of any protection, bare for the eyes of its imprisoners. And now, with his mind blacked out, Flash felt a lot like an unfeeling glass container. If he dreamt - then it could  hold onto his thoughts and even unable to reach him, warm itself by them. But at the moment he was too far gone, barely drifting over the level of a coma, and it shivered in the vastness of his mind.

It wished Eddie didn’t have to leave.

It wasn’t able to perceive the passage of time very well and through meticulous managing of Flash’s vital functions it was pulled into a mindless rhythm of repetition. That’s why it couldn’t tell when it felt vibrations coming from the wall with a window on the right side of the bed. Something hit it, enough to make the glass tremble in the frame. It extended a thin thread, coated in camouflage to look at the shadow perched on the other side. Well. Apparently it wasn’t alone anymore.

Even in the grayish blues of the night changing into morning painting his fiercely red suit a desaturated shadow of purple, Peter’s silhouette was unmistakable for anyone’s else. Crouching low, with his fingers spreaded out delicately over the stone, he looked animalistic, dangerous and beautiful. His arrival stirred up conflicting emotions within it. He came here as a protector, it could tell so from his stance. However, it wasn’t the one who he was looking after. It could never be. No, even after all this time, it was still a threat. And yet, it couldn’t help loving him for coming here for Flash. Even if his intentions were misguided.

It yearned for companionship, but the thought of him somehow opening  the window and sneaking in made it curl into itself. He stayed still though, and after a while it relaxed a bit, again directing almost all of its attention toward curating its host. As it was gluing the torn tissues back together, those that weren’t the top priority when it was still fighting for his life, it started considering letting Peter in. All it would have to do, would be extending one tentacle and pushing at the handle. But it didn’t dare. If it started to rain, or it would see him shiver, then it would have enough of an excuse. But the night was especially warm for this time of the year, with only a few clouds shining silver in the moon’s light. So he stayed outside until the glass surfaces of skyscrapers were lit with burning oranges by the rising sun. He melted into the sunrise, as he swung away, leaving it alone again, once more unsure if it was grateful for his departure or if it wished he’d stayed longer. Somehow though, once he disappeared from the view, it felt less lonely than it was with him there.

It wondered if maybe Flash would wake up today. When it first arrived at Earth, sunrises filled it with dread, too similar to raging flames. But over the years it grew used to them, calm with the certainty that they could bring it no harm. They were a good sight to wake up to. It wished Flash could watch the sky change colors together with it. At the very least, the pinkish, golden gleam that came after reds and oranges reminded it of Eddie’s hair. Maybe when Flash would wake up, they could all sit and look at the sky together someday. Maybe.

Only when the first sounds of day-shift personnel settling in at their posts began filling the hospital did it sink back into Flash’s body, careful not to get noticed by anyone. Up until then though, it stayed curled around his hand. Imagining that he ran his fingers through it, like so many times before. Maybe today was going to be a good day. Maybe he would open his eyes. The only thing that it could be certain of, was the warmth of the flesh underneath and around it and the weary rhythm of the heart it was cradling. And for the moment it had to pretend that was enough.

In his mind, Peter was quietly thanking his regenerative powers, as he rushed through a roof before springing upward to yank himself up. He was closing the distance to the hospital at neck breaking speed, covering roofs in large leaps, jumping from thread to thread with enough force to make the web feel like a wire in his hands at times and yet, his injuries weren’t opening. The world was already a smudged rainbow around him, but didn’t slow down at all, if anything, only taking up the pace, only stopping when he landed on a bus, where he crouched for a moment, catching a breath and letting it drive him a little closer to his goal.

He was late.

Richards agreed to visit Flash at 4 pm. He even intended to bring some of his lab equipment to start doing the base tests, once he noticed Peter’s anxiousness. It was 5.15 when he last checked, which happened after the Vulture slammed him into the park’s clock. He caught old Toomes red handed, robbing a high tech store and he really didn’t appreciate his charming quips. Well, maybe shouting “Sorry for flipping a bird!” while knocking Toomes down wasn’t the crème de la crème of his material, still though, he deserved to be cut some slack today. The article for the science column he was supervising got rejected from publishing and he had to basically redo the thing from the grounds up. To get it done before the deadline he already was cutting it dangerously close to failing as much as to see Reed before he would wrap all the tests he needed up. And then, as if this wasn’t enough for his famed luck to relish in another easy victory over him, he obviously had to run into one of his rogues looking to finance another of his little science projects.

When he swung onto the stairs leading to the entrance, he had to run for a few steps, before he managed to catch his balance. Bare inches away from the door too and he coughed awkwardly, as a guest who was leaving stiffened at his sight.

“Hi there, don’t mind me, just visiting a friend!”, he blabbed, after which he saluted off and slipped through the door, before embarrassment could catch up to him.

He knew that he should have come an hour or more ago. He expected Richards to be almost done with everything, especially since on his way to Flash’s room he was stopped by the personnel, who were quite reluctant when it came to allowing him in. To put it simply, he messed up. Again. There surely were consequences to be awaited, and he was prepared to face them. But well, maybe not that particular consequence.

“Who let this lunatic in?!”

Apparently being late varanted a divine punishment to reach him, because aside from Reed and a nurse the room also contained one very grumpily looking Eddie Brock. As if his life wasn’t hard enough. Said Eddie Brock didn’t even grace him with a glance. He did though sigh dramatically with exasperation and promptly turned away from the door. Peter suspected that if there weren’t other people around, he would stick his tongue out at him.

Reed looked up from the blood sample he just took from Flash and was about to place among a small gathering of Petri dishes.

“Mr. Brock had been in the room when I arrived and asked if he could stay.  He seemed pretty worried about the Symbiote’s condition and I saw no reason to say no.”

“Wait, let me just check if I got it clear-” Peter pointed out to the corner in which Eddie sat, appearing comically large on a flimsy folding chair. “You saw no reason for not having your back wide open to Venom, when you’re cutting up his cronenbergian buddy?”

The doors opened, letting in a nurse carrying a paper folder. She approached Reed, who took the documents from her hands with a small nod, before he started flipping through the pages.

“Thank you, ms. Now, Spider-man, he’s hardly a threat at the moment,” he replied in a distracted manner, quickly scribbling down some notes on the stickers he had readied on the table with medical accessories, before slapping them down on the samples. “Most of the time I wasn’t even noticing he’s here. Especially, that I'm not ‘cutting up’ anyone, as you’ve put it.”

“Good.”

Peter wasn’t sure if Eddie could feel the coldness of his glance, with his eyes hidden by the mask, but he sure hoped so. Not letting him of his sight, he went toward Reed, to examine on his own the collection of notes and test dishes he had on one of the two metal table-carts standing on the side of Flash’s bed, opposite to where his drip and vital signs monitor were.

“I hope that you’ve at least checked Fl- Thompson’s adrenalina levels, like I asked you to?”

The way Eddie rolled his eyes was almost audible.

“Yes, I did.” Richards handed him two sheets clipped together. “Everything is normal. To tell the truth, Mr. Thompson’s statistics look shockingly good for someone who has been delivered here, well…” he cleared his throat, looking for a delicate way of describing Flash’s state before the medical intervention.

“Minced up like a ground chop?” Peter prompted helpfully.

“...More or less, yes.”

He analyzed the papers given to him by Reed and then reached out for the rest of the notes scattered around as well. He didn’t have a medical training specifically, but as far as he was concerned, the numbers on them did appear to mostly fit within the typical range. All the deviations could be easily explained away by blood loss, trauma and comatose state as well, but he put the documents down unsatisfied.

“Well, if that’s the case, wouldn’t it mean that the Symbiote lied?” he pressed on. “Shouldn’t he be on his way to recovery?”

Reed sighed. He lined up four slides on the side of the dish with Flash’s blood, about half of which he then sucked with a pipette.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, putting a few droplets of blood on each of the glass plates and reaching for some container on the lower shelf of the cart. “Although we didn’t take new x-rays yet, I’m suspecting that his current stability would collapse the moment you’d try to extract the Symbiote.” He applied the substance onto the sample furthest to the right, before sealing it, as well as the one next to it. “There is some probability that it is misleading us as to how much of Thompson’s organism it’s supporting, but at the moment nothing really points to this.”

While he was speaking, the sample with the added component in began changing colors. The glass on top of it raised almost unnoticeably, pried by the forming white chunks. Peter watched carefully over Richards’ shoulder, stealing glances at his focused expression. He put both slides under a microscope, side by side and leaned in to adjust the sharpness.

“I’m not sure what you are doing, but is it working?”

Instead of replying to him, the other man clicked his tongue and gave him one of the slides to see for himself. Between the glass was now an oily, yellow mucus. Peter put it back on the table with an involuntary wince.

“I’ll take this as a ‘no’.”

Reed lifted it back, to then lay down on the other table. Only now Peter took a good look at what it was filled with. Unlike the first cart, littered with notes and pristine equipment waiting to be used, it contained dozens of slides and tubes of rotten colors. Although the oily yellow was the one most prevalent, he could see some dots of black drifting suspended in the slimy samples. Only two out of the whole bunch had as much as a spec of white. There was one furthest to the right, filled with clotted blood, that was covered by white, mold-like foam. In the one in the middle of the table the blood began to stratify. The plasma was a corpse shade of green, but there were a few white threads tethered throughout the liquid. All the tubes smelled like a festering wound.

“I’ve been trying to synthesize the symbiote anti-bodies,” Richards said with a tired grimace, leaning on the cart and gesturing at the dishes. “However, the samples decay almost instantly. My theory is that the symbiote’s body is so exhausted by keeping its current host alive, that it cannot maintain integrity when disconnected from the nutritions source.”

There was a sound of metal hitting the ground and they both jumped to look where it came from.

Eddie was standing over a collapsed chair, his eyes wide, before he quickly looked down. He opened his mouth, but said nothing and leaned down to pick up the chair that he knocked by getting up too fast. Only when there was no eyes on him again he asked, in a low, hoarse voice,

“How bad is its condition?”

This was disgusting. To think that he didn’t gave a care about a human being fighting for his life and yet a single mention of the same happening to a violent space slushy had him on needles. Such thought should make anyone feel sick and Peter clinged to it, as an explanation for why he suddenly was so uncomfortable.

“I haven’t run any check ups on it specifically.” Reed answered as he browsed through a portion of documents. “And well, I have to admit, that even if I did, I probably wouldn’t be able to exactly pinpoint what is a sign of health or lack of therefore for it.” He paused, to turn back and look at Eddie. “I’m sorry for not having anything more reassuring to say.”

The other man shook his head slowly.

“No, that’s… But it should be fine as long as it’s… As it doesn’t leave Thompson’s body, right?”

“As far as I can tell.”

Those words didn’t seem to ease his mind. On the contrary, he furrowed his brows and crossed arms. The stare he was directing at Flash’s bed could only be described as murderous. Peter puffed up his chest, standing right in front of it, exactly in line of his sight.

“I dunno what you're scheming, but I don’t like this look of yours.” He held his gaze, before placing every syllable like a brick. “I’m watching you, Brock.”

“I’m not ‘scheming’ anything, you paranoid arachnid,” Eddie snarled. “I’m simply pissed off that my Other is risking its life for some toy-box soldier.”

He almost choked hearing this. Highlighting each word with a gesture, he began approaching him, feeling anger heating up his body.

“Now listen here, brainless buffoon,” he seethed in Eddie’s face, who now stood up again and glared down on him. “This man is a hero and-”

“I,” Richard’s composed voice cut through the strained atmosphere like a knife, “would really prefer to work without any commotion. So behave, please, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Peter shot Brock a triumphant look. He shrugged, hunching up and leaning with his back on the wall, like a giant sulking child. He wasn’t meeting Peter’s eyes, maybe refusing to acknowledge his small “victory”.

“Thanks, doc, I couldn’t put it better myself,” Peter said, returning to the cart and giving Reed a pat on the back. “Well, alright, I probably could, but still. Credit where it’s due.”

“Actually, I was referring to you as well.” He glanced at him from up the tubes. His expression was a mix of soft and critical. “I know you’ve been having a hard time, but you should control your temper a little better. Don’t let him get to you.”

Peter ignored the self-satisfied huff that came from the wall’s side.

“More importantly,” he said loudly, not letting the smile that appeared on Reed's face at that, get to him, “what I’m getting, is that you can’t do anything with the symbiote we have, right? But, what if we tried with some other one? I dunno where most of them is hanging out, we have Carnage kinda stuck to Normie tho, maybe it could-”

But Richards stopped him with a head shake. 

“I wouldn’t count on that working.” He gestured toward the bed with a slightly frustrated expression. The nervous tapping of his fingers on the cart still showed the irritation he attempted to hide from Peter. “Venom Symbiote is the only, for the lack of better word, genetically clean specimen. All the other ones were born on Earth, a huge portion under forced circumstances. A lot of them possess qualities suggesting drastic mutations, the Carnage Symbiote especially.”

Biting his lips, Peter forced down a curse that was about to tear off from his throat. Richards was right, obviously and infuriatingly and to confirm as much he had to look no further than to his own memories of clashing with both the symbiotes native to outer space and those spawned by Venom Symbiote.

“It’s mostly due to the genetic memory,” he rasped. “They retain the abilities of parental hosts… I think. I’m not sure how it works precisely, but…”

“But they all can go unnoticed by your spider sense.”

“Yeah. Among other things. And many of them had meta-humans as hosts. Like me. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if Earth’s atmosphere… gravity and all that also had some influence. Either way…” he sighed, giving the failed samples a long glare. “I guess this leads nowhere, huh?”

“What about Mania?”

“What?”

When he turned his head, Peter saw that Eddie left his spot by the wall. He was now standing fully upright, with hands perched on hips. There was a sparkle to his otherwise darkened eyes, one that usually meant Peter won’t like the next thing coming toward him.

“Mania Symbiote, the one Lee Price right now has.” He faced Richards, pointing his thumb at Flash. “It’s a clone of my Other. Does that sound like something you could work with?”

The other man’s mouth opened in a voiceless surprise. He glanced from Eddie to Peter, as if wanting to confirm his words. He couldn’t see his face, gleaming with overtaking hope and yet, he must have noticed how his breath got stuck in his throat, with his body stiffening, shaken with the sudden realization of a solution. One that not only existed, but was well within their grasp.

“Well, I’ll be…” Reed crooked an eyebrow. “A clone, huh? It’s always clones with you, isn’t it, Spider-man?”

Peter let out a breathy laugh. It quickly filled his chest and boomed heartly.

“I guess it is, but you won’t see me complain about that!”

It was as if his whole body was overtaken by tingling. Not the kind you get when it falls asleep, but rather a sparkling, urgent sensation, like being just a second away from a leap in the air. He had to express it somehow, or he would burst. In a moment too short for any second thoughts to catch up, he fell to the bed’s edge, clutching it tightly as he bent down.

“You’ve heard that, buddy?” The cheerful question sounded way more wet and shaky than he intended it to be, but he paid it no mind. “You’re gonna be up before you know it!”

For the first time in days, he was looking at Flash’s face again. He looked awfully sloppy, with hair ruffled beyond imagination, patchy stubble and some dried droll in the corner of his mouth. He was pale, there were dark circles underneath his eyes. But it wasn’t the face of a dying man. And it won’t be.

He heard Richards and Eddie talk about where Price was currently - something about Ryker’s Island and organizing transport - but he paid it no mind. After unending hours of tension stretching his nerves to the limits, at the very last, the end of the nightmare was a visible point of light in front of him. There might be some issues in the future with this idea as well. For now though? He wanted to capture this feeling and hold it close to his heart, like a patch on the hole Norman tore open.

With a shaky breath and even shakier hand, slowly gaining stability, he reached for Flash’s hair, smoothing a little the unruly mess spilled onto the pillows. Maybe it was the relief of finding a solution, or maybe it was the discomfort of Richards’ words regarding the Symbiote’s condition. Or perhaps something else entirely. Whatever the reason, when he retrieved his hand and leaned away, he spoke again. This time so quiet that the only way to know what he said would have been reading from his lips.

“...thank you.”

Flash’s body stayed unmoving. There was no sign of tentacles or inky threads, anything that would indicate that his words reached it.

Probably for the best. There was no reason to make this any more complicated than it already was.

Author’s note: I've only ever read about ten or less issues of the early Fantastic Four comics, so if any of you feel like shouting "hey! Reed wouldn't [the thing that is ooc]" I will humble myself and correct my misdeeds.

By the way, you can leave a comment even if you're not burning with the righteous anger over Reed's (potentially) awful, awful characterization. Just saying.

#spidervenom #symbrock #symflash #spider-man #venom #venom symbiote #eddie brock #peter parker #flash thompson #venom comics #my writing #fanfiction

[bookwyrminspiration]

Ok so in that "Alden is a traitor???" Post, it mentions in Keefe pov that he seemed more cold and calculating and such, or more in a way that made it clear that he knew what he was doing. Do you have any thoughts on this? I don't know how the scene what down or what it was even referencing, but it does seem very interesting. I love the character trope of "Seemingly an oblivious idiot but actually an evil mastermind", and I would especially love it in Alden's case. I feel that he' d be an exceptional villain, calculating and manipulative and knows what he's doing all of the time and an exceptional fashion sense. Like, Fintan but calmer and less deranged. Fintan is all over the place and is probably mad, but Alden is sane and smart which is just as dangerous

Also fun: Imagining Alden in the neverseen Stripper outfit and still being very oblivious to his own gayness, he just believes that like how the other men look in the outfits is completely heterosexual. Also Alden in cat eyeliner

-Heathen

I do not remember which post you're referring to so if I miss something that is why. As for the scene, if you're interested in it here's a link where you can read it to see more about it!

I mentioned this in an earlier post, but I think the primary motivation for Alden's actions in this scene were to create drama. A lot of the fandom ships sokeefe and having direct interference in it creates tension and gets a reaction, and he's the most fitting to create that disruption. But that's motivations outside of canon, that's real life Shannon motivations.

(I'm putting the rest under a cut)

Canonically, I think he did know what he was doing, in a sense. But I also think he didn't realize the full repercussions of his actions or how unfair and unneeded it was for him to get in the middle of everything. Sophie has described him as a master of well-intentioned meddling (I don't remember when but I do remember the phrase). He wants everyone to be as happy as possible, and he thinks he can help and kinda nudge everyone towards that. With Sophie's very obvious crush on Fitz and Fitz's clear crush on her combined with them being two of the most important people in their generation (the top Vacker and the most powerful elf of their generation), everyone thought it to be a natural pairing. And leaving it unaddressed was causing some distress to all parties involved, so Alden tried to solve that gently from the background so everything could fall into place. Ro says he brought up Keefe's daddy issues as like a form of manipulation, but I think he meant it as a sort of "you matter to me, so please trust me and that I have your best interests at heart." Not that that's how it came across, but I think it's what he was going for.

However, as well-intentioned as he was, it wasn't his place to be interfering in their relationships. Teenagers have feelings and they should be given the space to figure out how to deal with them and communicate with each other to grow as people on their own. It's between them, even if other people know what's going on. I think Alden might also have a hard time letting go of the structure and "right way of doing things" that he's so used to. He's the top of the top and he thinks that his methods of doing things will work if you just give them time, but that's been proven false time and time again. He wouldn't have found Sophie, and Sophie wouldn't have made nearly as much progress or as many changes if she'd stuck with Alden's way of doing things. So I don't think he realizes how ineffective what he's trying to do is, or how hurtful and disrespectful it is to interfere in their relationships like that. There are ways he could've been involved but this was not one of the good ones.

So I think he knew what his intentions were, but not the full ramifications (Keefe's reaction, everyone's discomfort, etc.)

I don't currently think that Alden has any evil mastermind plans in place, but those are fun villains!! The sort of person where you think you know them but then it's only what they want you to know and suddenly you're ten steps behind struggling to figure out who this person is. If he had a sense of the negative impacts of his words and how he could use them against him others, it would make him great at mind games. Fintan's dangerous because he never stops pushing forwards and is willing to pay prices no one else will and Alden would be dangerous because he knows exactly what everyone is capable of and can arrange the world like pieces on a chessboard to play at his whim.

Can't say anything for his fashion sense except that it would probably canonically be expensive, but you know a stripper outfit works too I guess. Alden in the stripper outfit with cat eyeliner being gay is very much fanon Alden, but he can still be a lot of fun! I'm more of the canon blog (although somehow chaos keeps slipping in) so I don't really interact with the chaos Alden concept much, but he's interesting to see from time to time.

But anyway those are just my thoughts!! I do have another ask about Alden rn, so I'll talk about him more there. Thanks for the topic!

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #quil's queries #heathen nonsie #alden vacker #the chaos of fanon alden does seem like something you'd enjoy ngl #i see those kinds of things from time to time on my dash #I just don't really engage #but fun to observe from afar!!

[xoteajays]

I have mixed feelings about the Red Rain and DTC movies. I really do love Amamiya brothers, and how the boys found their brothers, even though he dies at the end. So I actually do like the Red Rain movie for the happy reasons for the brothers. And, for H&L most fans, I have no possible thing against the actors.. But I also don't character about the characters enough to want spinoffs for those characters. I was mainly into the movie for my Rascals and Daruma boys, rather than Sannoh.

~

Okay! I don't know if there might be anymore links. But, if I do find so many other links, then I will wait until after you watched those videos. Because I sent a lot of links. But there's quite a few deleted scenes for the show, so those are definitely some interesting scenes for me.

~

Depends on what I'm watching. The first couple times I'm watching a show, I try watching and reading at the same time until I get the hang of reading while watching. But if the shows or movies I'm watching is something I'll rewatch multiple times because I enjoy watching, then I can say that I'd really be able to mostly pay attention to the show with minimal subtitles just because I would remember everything by heart in those moments. So yeah. That. That always happens a lot for me.

Another issue with reading is during the faster intense moments that, y'know, are happening in those situations.. You're trying to watch very dramatic scenes with these characters, but while also trying to read a lot of the subtitles. Kind of takes away from the scene. Kinda, sorta.

~

Don't know about Murayama. But Cobra has always been interested in sports like wrestling and mixed martial arts, which is why he learns to fight. And that is how he got the nickname Cobra from his fighting style. Because he uses a lot of chokeholds and serpentine maneuvers whenever he fights someone. But Murayama's a deranged monkey.

~

Yeah.. Because the timeline of Rocky's life between him running away and him starting his gang and businesses. Obviously based on details of his life, Doubt has been around longer than Rascals which was why created the Rascals gang to begin with. But I do not know how longer they were around then other gangs though. So who knows with that.

And Rocky seems like he can fight very well without his cane, but the man seems to enjoy caning people to death. So no complaints here.

Based on the second movie, End Of Sky, they make it seem that they - the Rascals - have been fighting Doubt for a very long time. And the leader of Doubt, Ranmaru, believes they can continue their work (like kidnapping women and using them for prostitution, and who knows a lot other things they make women do) is by killing Rocky. Literally. He was willing to kill Rocky, to completely get rid of him, just so he could go back into kidnapping and selling women for nefarious reasons.

But, yeah.. I am curious on how he met the other members of Rascals in his life. Did he find them, how was their interactions between them when they first met, everything like that. Same reason about his own, y'know, possible connections with the Mugen gang for knowing him.

Exactly! Background characters are fair game now. If you don't really develop these characters enough to be their own people, then people will give them their own backstories then. So.. Rascals, Daruma, and I don't know who else needs their own backstories. No promises. But if I can get into writing this story, maybe I'll attempt to find a way for so many of these characters to have more depth to them then. We'll see.

~

Takeshi seems like the bitchy type in the sense of sassy teenager boy.

~

Exactly! That's why I was conflicted about the Rude Boys. Smoky and the others, for years, were mining those crystals for the Kuryu groups for money. The same toxic crystals that have been causing lots of the people to die in Nameless City. Lara (or Lala) was a pawn. She was an in between person, a pawn, she was helping but never knew anything beyond that. Shion was the one involved in running the drug labs in a huge portion of Nameless City, it's a shame you never saw him in the movies though. But back to Lara.. That was definitely one thing I was curious to know about. Lara never knew who Rocky was, the Rascals, or anyone of those gangs in that area. Or so she says. But it really did seem like she went there frequently to do this black market job often.



And for Hyuga.. So fuck that. Breaking an arm or a leg is weak crimes for him. One of the videos I sent was Hyuga fighting someone, he just bit a guy's thigh so hard that he tore skin off with his teeth. Literally.



How petty is it that, for some reason, I want to add this scene in parts to my story. Just so my characters can tell them they're stupid. Like... They're stupid. I'm tempted to add this into the story for this reason.

~

Okay! So many not completely the same idea. But a lot of the similar concepts involved may or may not be changed, depending on what is happening in that scene. Because changing canon character's action, reaction, to introducing someone to them may be complicated to do.

I don't know if any of my H&L characters are fighters. And, if there are characters who can fight, I really don't know which characters yet.

So far.. I don't think any of them are couriers, or deliverymen, or those jobs. Not that I know of. I haven't figured out any careers yet, if any of them are working. I might be blank on that detail too. So there's that.

Maybe I should clarify on what I originally intended? That might help.

Rocky's always polite to women. He seems to be the type of man that compliments women, flirts with them (only flirts with women who are comfortable with flirting). I can not see that changing now. Especially if he is legitimately attract to this woman - who would actually be one of my characters. Not sure which character yet, but only one of them.

And like you, I'd like to incorporate more depth to a lot of background characters. Like the Rascals. Especially Kizzy and Kaito. But I feel like I'm stealing that idea, even if I'm not. I don't mind Koo as a character.. But he's also very strict. Kizzy seems like the type to be teasing every other person she comes across. And even though Koo is also Rocky's second in command, Kizzy and Kaito are much closer to Rocky. So I'll never know what to do about that then. I'm completely stuck on that.



So.. what I was thinking about for my concept to this story... Could be that the main character is American. And another character, Red, just might have a dual citizenship between America and Japan. MOC was invited to come along to meet Red's family and friends in Japan, then that is how those two characters are introduced. Red is close friends with Blue and Orange, the SWORD gangs, just about everyone else in the story. Obviously color coded characters are somehow affiliated to their own groups respectfully, in some way I don't know yet. I'm really trying to piece this together. But I don't know. I'm really overthinking.

Since Blue and Orange are the same age, they're childhood friends in the sense of sisters. Red's like a sister to them too, but these two may be even closer in some ways. Same class in school. Orange being one of the characters connected to Sannoh, the main character meet that gang through her. Blue, who could be apart of Oya somehow, will just meet them through her. Red's probably Daruma, which is another one of many scenes I'm stuck on too. I've thought about White and Green characters too. And I've even thought about characters for the Kuryu, Mighty Warriors and even Doubt. Well.. Maybe not Doubt, But, to me, that seems like way too many characters. I don't know. I'm thinking.



Relationships:

Cobra&OC (Most likely Orange.)

Rocky&OC (Not sure which character.)

Don't know about my other two characters yet, I'm figuring out their relationships with characters too. But.. I don't know...



That's all I got so far.

~

That's fine. I was just curious if you did those personality types with your characters, not everyone does. But I do have those personalities for mine. If you wanted to hear them? It's fine if you don't. Because I'll always care about trivial details that most people don't care about.

~

Watch Bloodhounds when you get the chance! I'm trying to keep any crushes I have to a minimum because I know you're not attracted to a lot of people in the way I am, so I try to contain those feelings if I can..

But yes. Do-hwan Woo and Sang-Yi Le are my new crushes husbands now.. They are men ideal men. Literally. Although I do not know them personally, realistically and fictionally, that are my ideal men. They are gorgeous. Tall, muscular. Those muscles. 🤤 Everything about them.

What can I say.. I'm just a midget with a major size kink toward pretty men. Blame them for that.

I can say when I write my story for this fandom.. The relationships will be a poly relationship. Mostly because I don't want to share my boys.

See? Entirely self indulgent for me.

All of that aside.. You'll enjoy the show. I don't know if there would be more to the show or not (without spoiling anything), but I would love to see these boys in more works together. Especially the action genre too. Because they did a wonderful as their characters in the show.

And they have such a bromance between them that's so adorable.

I love my boys.

i’d probably watch red rain again but not dtc. once was enough im good. but i’d definitely watch the other main movies again, even if only to see my boys and get a feel for how to write them.

~

trying to watch a dramatic fast-paced moments while also reading subtitles is such a struggle. like im definitely gonna have to go back and rewatch the scene again to get everything that was going on because i definitely missed something. it happens a lot to me because i watch a lot of horror movies.

~

cobra was actively interested in fighting styles, meanwhile murayama was just constantly full of energy and needed to fight to get it out. my boy’s probably got like. at least a lil ‘classic boy adhd’ in him.

~

we got so much detail about the sannoh crew, i wish we had the same for the other gangs. gimme more of the rocky backstory, with koo and him fighting doubt and opening his first club. i wanna see punk ass rebel teen hyuga while his brothers were still part of kuryu and he was stuck being babysat by kato. i wanna see the rude boys developing their pakour skills and how they grew up in nameless city. i know there was a lot of oya high stuff, but more please. gimme details about back when murayama was a full-time student and his rise to being one of the best fighters at oya and more of his cocky attitude before he got humbled by cobra.

background characters are there for me to go ‘yoink!’ and then make them my own. im gonna make them kiss. can’t say it’s not canon, the writers didn’t do any development for them and also they’re mine now!

~

takeshi is sassy. he’s got attitude. i think, like how smokey was kind to nameless city people but could be brutal to anyone who hurt his ‘family’, that takeshi’s got his nice side that is mostly reserved for nameless city folks, and then he’s got thinly veiled attitude for everyone else. look at his face in the first gif, attitude-havin’ ass (affectionate 🩵).

i also think it’s pretty clear he enjoys a good fight like the other sword guys, he’s frequently got a bit of a smirk when he’s winning fights. im curious to see how he’s match up against the other leaders since he’s fighting style is so different. how u gonna beat this flurry of breakdancing kicks?

~

and they didnt even know the crystals were dangerous! they just thought there was a chance they were worth money and thus it could help smokey! they were risking their own lives being around that stuff! lala running those jobs and shion selling drugs even though he knew it was wrong. god they all loved smokey so much, im so sad (and mad) about it!

hyuga is, ngl, a lil insane. he’s my guy, i like him. he’s also almost completely off his rocker. love when a man is just. unhinged and a lil off-putting ahdjdkdls

just go around the, like, five of them and whack their foreheads with a rolled-up newspaper. get better taste! what kinda man are you looking for if you complained about literally every option available?!

~

to me, it looks like you’ve thought a lot about it all. i think you’d be fine writing it how you want. there’s a lot of ways to do similar scenes and not make them copies. isn’t there some quote about how every stories already been told and we just have to write it again with different words?

i’m definitely loving what i’m seeing. it looks like you’ve put a whole lot of thought into it! maybe the kuryu, mighty warriors and doubt characters are a bit much to be more than bg characters, but i think the main four are good! i’m excited to read it if you do end up writing and posting it!!

~

i’m absolutely interested! i can’t figure it out myself but i’m always curious to see how people develop and identify their own ocs.

~

i’ve seen a few scenes and watched the trailer a couple of times and the main boys are very pretty. it looks very much my style, i’ll have to move it up my watchlist once i’m finished with ‘6 from h&l’ and ‘the worst cross’! finally found the ‘6’ episodes with eng subs but it’s broken up into a bunch of 2-minute long parts on youtube eugh.

#tj answers #long post // #long post anon

[wintersandthebeast]

44. Almost Dinner

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

The group responding to Ethan’s strange, sudden blackout now sat around the sun-bleached floor of the large old room.  They naturally made a circle, worried glances exchanging as Ethan sat up on his own, assuring Karl with several vicarious head nods that he was, in fact, fine.  

Zoe manifested a crystal this time, seeming to do so effortlessly.  Ethan continued to catch his breath.  Now Eva joined the group, but she took the crystal and held it, pacing outside of the circle.  

“I’m soaked,” Ethan said, half in shock and half in confusion.  “What the actual hell happened?”

“You just…passed out,” Heisenberg said in an uncharacteristically quiet, even tone.  “Fell forward.  Caught you.”

“He yelled so loud ever’body heard him,” Joe corrected with no trace of sarcasm.  “Figured if it was mold business, it’d best be me an’ Zoe.”  

Ethan’s eyes trailed over the group.  He liked the way Joe said Zoe-- Zoehh .  He realized it reminded him of Heisenberg’s Ee thun .  The blond sighed, plucking the damp shirt away from his body, and he scooted toward the large spot of sunlight in the room, his fingers combing through wet hair.  

“Sounded like you was chokin’,” Zoe continued, “An’ then we got you down an’ saw that your body was black.” 

“Has that ever happened to you?” Ethan asked pointedly, remembering what happened when he absorbed the other crystals.  

She canted her head.  “Only once, when Chris gave me some kinda’ medicine.  Supposed to help the symptoms of the mold…you know…the whole…powder in your hands sometimes, the bad dreams, even…makin’ crystals.  They didn’t like that I could do that.” 

“You never had problems with…the liminal space…spaces?”

“I don’t think so, I think the mold has to be around you for that, and I can’t create it how Eveline did.” 

Ethan groaned, feeling as if he needed to go house shopping.  Didn’t Karl say the mold mycelial network end was on this property?  He could buy a tent.  Or just a sleeping bag.  No, that wasn’t far enough, he was going house shopping in Paris.  

Now he rubbed his forehead.  

“But I stopped the medicine, and it went away,” she finished.  

Karl had an almost-glare when he asked in the same dangerously even tone, “The BSAA was tryin’ compounds on you that would inhibit the mold?”

“Not after that,” Joe said in disgust.  “I told ‘em to shove their medicines up their hairy white--”

“Anyway, yours happened so fast, an’ then you did start chokin’! An’ Ethan, you just started drippin’ water.  It was so strange.  What did you see?”

Ethan looked toward Eva.  She paused, rolling the crystal between her palms.  “One of Miranda’s…places.  I’m not sure why you appeared there, underwater, but it’s lucky that you did.  She was trying to find you.  I believe, trying to make you appear in front of her.”

“Why now?  Why me?”

“I believe she has made a connection to you from the other night, when you were on the field.  Your fight with the creatures…that would have all been imprinted.  Once that’s done, she could sense you more.  Especially if you have heightened emotions.  Were you feeling anything like that today?”

Ethan thought back to his near-argument with Heisenberg.  Then previously, to the conversation with Maricara when he almost panicked.  Then he thought about how his heart threatened to burst when he’d seen Heisenberg playing the organ.  Finally, he remembered the moments before the party officially began, when Heisenberg had entered his room and …AHEMMMMMM….

Now his gaze darted toward Karl, who was looking at him with a knowing expression.  They were practically telepathic when thinking of… that . Ethan’s response was spoken through a near wheeze.  

“You could say that.” 

“And the moment that it happened.  When you entered the water.  What do you remember?  Something must have caused her to be able to pull you from your body, so quickly.”

He ran a hand through damp hair.  “Uhhh…I was talking to Karl…he was closing his workbench drawers.” 

“With his hands? Or did he use……?”

“Ah, fuck,” Karl responded, and Eva pointed a finger at him triumphantly.  He shook his head as if he felt stupid.  “I wasn’t even…it wasn’t even…”

“So you’re telling me,” Ethan said, staring between them, “That with just THAT much of an added electrical current, literally enough to magnetize a metal drawer for seconds , she was able to…what, use it?  Find me?  Or move me?”

“The mold is just as a human brain,” Eva said defensively.  “Neurons and hyphae, tubular cells that rely on electrical impulses to send information.  And while basic electricity may run some small amount of interference…” she gestured to Heisenberg.  “I would say Miranda knows your signal by now.  It is unique.  She felt it, moved toward it, and likely used it to move Ethan.  He is mold, after all…that would have been far easier than attempting to do anything with a…sorry Ethan, a human.”

Heisenberg made a noise of disgust.  

Eva’s next sentence was resolute.  “You should call off this ceremony.  If you do anything as complex as creating an entity, creating crystallization, especially if Heisenberg uses his magnetic fields as before…it will draw her toward you.  She may be able to move one of you,” she gestured at Ethan and Zoe, “again.” 

“Fuck that,” Karl said, before anyone else could answer.  “Fuck her.”

“If I wasn’t so caught off-guard, I probably could have pulled myself back on my own.  I’ve had enough practice by now.  And we still have Eveline’s power in her crystal.  We’re not afraid of her,” Ethan said with conviction, but then he glanced over at Zoe, realizing he might have spoken the last part too soon.  “Zoe, if you don’t want--”

“I’m in all the way.  I’m here, ain’t I?” Zoe said with a scoff.  

“I may not have powers,” Joe supplied with a nod, and held up a rather large, battered fist.  Ethan smirked.  “But I’d be happy to bash some skulls.” 

Eva stared, a bit incredulous, at the group.  Finally she smiled, and Ethan saw the glint of a tear on her cheek.  

“Dinner in ten! An’ the Duke is finally here!”  

Zoe rushed past Ethan’s bedroom without entering.  The blond had changed clothes after being given a fresh white linen shirt.  Heisenberg 

entered the room only moments before Zoe, and now he raised an eyebrow as the other zoomed away, not wanting to interrupt. 

His wavy-curled head turned back to Ethan, who was shrugging into the shirt.  

“Boy, this looks familiar,” Karl said with a wolfish smile.  Ethan scoffed.  

“Don’t.  I can’t have any intense emotion, remember.”  Now he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking a pair of clean shoes toward himself.  

“Bullshit,” Karl said with a growl, leaning in and placing his forehead against Ethan’s, his arms nearly pinning the other.  His beard traced down the pale neck and he licked a spot where Ethan’s artery beat close to the surface of the skin.  Another lick, and then a gentle nip, and Heisenberg pulled back slightly.  He was smirking.  

“You’re mad.”  

“I’m not,” Ethan countered with a sigh.  “I’m…I don’t know what I am.”

Karl gave a sigh of his own and plopped down beside Ethan, slouching as the other’s posture stayed upright.  Now Ethan moved to put on his shoes.  

“Scared?” Heisenberg ventured, almost sarcastically.

“Not about Miranda,” the blond admitted, and now he turned to face the relaxed brunette.  “Scared about you.” 

Heisenberg’s eyebrow arched again, but his smirk never left.  Ethan rolled his eyes and went back to the shoelaces.  

“I have so many things I want to talk to you about.  Ask you about.  You know Miranda probably better than anyone except Eva.  I know you don’t like talking about her.  But there are things we need to know.  If we’re going to….” 

And now he trailed off and shook his head.  He was a fucking idiot. 

“I don’t just want to know about Miranda.”  One shoe down.  Other shoe to go.  Good thing he had somewhere else to look, because even saying this aloud was terrifying and he hated it.  Ethan’s eyes were wide as he felt Karl’s gaze on him.  He fumbled with his fingers, taking his time.  

“I want to know about you.  I want you to talk to me about things the way you do other people.  It feels like everybody knows you better than me.  Maricara’s got what, almost a hundred years of stories? The Duke has traded with you for decades.  I’ve heard Eva call you brother.  Joe turns up and you have never been more social.”  

Well, he couldn’t use the shoes as an excuse anymore.  Ethan planted both feet on the ground and stared at literally anything.  His hands.  The dust on the floor.  “Even when we were together before.  In the mold… all you did was listen to me talk about my life.  You stayed mysterious about yours.  When we met, you couldn't STOP talking about how you hated her.  But now, I don't even think you say that most days.” 

Karl stroked his beard and moved his golden eyes from Ethan and toward the window, where the view of the village awaited them.    

“If I hadn’t been pulled into whatever sick reality that Miranda lives in, where would we be?  You would have ran away again.”

“No,” Karl said simply, and Ethan looked up, confusion laced into his frown.  

“I was about to tell you why I don’t talk to you about some things.  Then you…” He gestured with a hand.  “Scared the shit outta me.” 

Ethan’s lip twisted into a semblance of a smile.  

“So.”  Heisenberg sat up, though the gesture felt reluctant.  “First thing is, the key has nothin’ to do with my factory.  It was a key before that factory was even built.” 

This stunned Ethan, but he found himself hanging on every word the engineer said.  “As to what…the reason I didn’t tell you THAT, Ethan, is because…” he squinted.  “I told you I don’t dream about her.  Which is true.  But, she used to…turn herself into people.  She got good at bein’ anybody she wanted to be.  It’s not that she…does it out of necessity.  Not to get information, like a spy.  She enjoyed it.  She liked the…power of it.”

Despite the warm day, and his own inductive heat, Heisenberg seemed to shiver, and Ethan now turned toward him, putting his pale hand over the darkened, calloused one.  Heisenberg almost grasped it too hard and suddenly.  

His next words carried an undertone of desperation, anxiety.  So unlike Heisenberg.  “If I slip up…just one time.  All it takes is one time, to tell her anything , any single thing that I’ve been planning for years.  Any cards I’ve got on her… well…that’s…all that, gone.”

“Didn’t the metal army of corpses qualify?”

Karl chuckled and then shook his head.  “I miss that big bastard.”  Ethan knew he was referring to Sturm.  Heisenberg ignored Ethan’s death glare.   “But no…that wasn’t the only plan.  It was a part of it.” 

His eyes slid toward Ethan, and he lifted his other hand to trace around the blond’s jaw.  “I found Eva, or she found me, years ago.  Been workin’ with her on….other things.  I didn’t even want you to know she was around,” Karl said in a rather saddened tone.  “I didn’t think…..”

“Didn’t think I could keep secrets from Miranda, thought she’d get it out of me?” Ethan guessed, and the other sighed.  

“I guess I’m stronger than you think,” the blond said, with a hint of defensiveness.  Ethan was very loyal.  He could endure torture and still not tell what he knew.  He was so stubborn that he could even block off his thoughts of Eva, if that’s what it would take.  Karl shook his head at this, however.  

“Strong has nothin’ to do with it.  Never thought you weren’t strong.  I didn’t think…..”

He hesitated on this last part for so long that someone else yelled in their direction to get to the dining room.  Ethan blinked rapidly, wondering what caused the man to stumble after speaking for so long. 

“...Didn’t think you’d wanna help,” Heisenberg finished, flaring his nostrils.  “Nobody else did.  All turned their backs on me."  He scoffed, his next words laced with venom.  "Siblings.  Villagers.  Anybody.”  

A quiet pause.  

“Been on my own for a long time, Winters.”

“Not by choice?”

“No,” Karl said honestly and simply.  “Just had to do that to make sure she wasn’t gonna hurt anybody.  Because if you had ‘em, she would.” 

Ethan thought to the other Lords; Alcina and her daughters.  Donna and whatever the fuck Angie was.  Moreau, with no one.  Heisenberg with no one.  Either the family bonds were dependent, isolated…twisted…or they did not exist.  He exhaled, feeling something akin to pity.  And disgust.  

“Sometimes I look at you, an’ I think you're her.  Same with Rose.  Have to tell myself every moment that it’s not true.   Not hide.”  Karl’s eyebrows rose slowly.  “Thought I was doin’ a decent job.”

“You are,” Ethan said quickly, and he waved a hand at Heisenberg’s very skeptical expression.  “I…didn’t think about that.  I can’t imagine what it was like to be…to feel, like every person you’re close to is Miranda in disguise.  I’ve felt hints of that and it’s disgusting.”

An actual dinner bell rang, and Ethan paused.  “We have a dinner bell?”

“Duke does,” Heisenberg said with a hint of humor in his tone, and he stood, holding out a hand for Ethan.  

When the taller man took Heisenberg’s hand, the brunette pulled him up into a kiss that then turned into a dip.  The blond wrapped one leg around the other, melting into the kiss.  Heisenberg straightened them both and Ethan giggled, pressing his forehead against the engineer’s.   

“You called her your mother-in-law,” Heisenberg said, smirking.  

Ethan didn’t break eye contact for once.  “So I did, I guess.���

“I told you, Winters…I haven’t said yes yet.” 

#winters and the beast #zoe baker #joe baker #karl heisenberg #ethan winters

[gensnix]

What I hope the second DLC wave will have

Me: It would be super cool if they added Kass mainly since this wave is called guardian of remembrance and in the main game Kass has all this cryptic knowledge from his teacher that we don’t even see in this game. Plus adding him could give us some more story. And maybe since this one comes out in November they’ll add some cutscenes! 

What Nintendo will most likely do 

Nintendo: Fuck you, here's more weapons for Link and Zelda only. Also you get to play as a Lynel. No additional cutscenes only dialog. Welp! See you in 2022! Me:... ok

#botw #age of calamity #Hyrule Warriors Age of Calamity #breath of the wild #I like the first wave and yes I was disappointed we couldn't play our favorite mad scientist #It's still fun #ALSO THE NEW WEAPONS ARE AMAZING #I'm also kinda hoping it's Kass next dlc cause I just want more interactions w #with the new champions #I'm biased cause they're my favs #But yeah when I saw the tittle #guardian of remembrance #I instantly thought of Kass #cause it kinda seemed like he was helping Link remember in his own way #Oh tell me your secrets blue bird #Kass #Kass botw

[thebluelemontree]

Do you think Brienne and Sansa will meet?

I don't see how or why they wouldn't. It's probably going to be toward the end of TWOW after their current respective story arcs are wrapped up. I talked a bit about this here, but basically, Septon Meribald and Elder Brother will probably be the point of contact that brings "Team Sansa" and Team Brienne together. There are many threads tying different characters together leading back to the Quiet Isle, so getting them all together would kill multiple birds with one stone.

Meribald knows that Team Brienne killed the men who were actually responsible for the Saltpans massacre. Remember Rorge was impersonating the Hound which got Sandor blamed for horrendous crimes he did not commit and will be hanged on the spot if found. EB feels responsible for this because he left the Hound's helm on a cairn for Rorge to find. EB tried to clear Sandor's name through letters, claiming he was already dead, but that hasn't gotten any traction as far as the long arm of the law is concerned. This is real proof that may one day be used to help clear Sandor's name.

Brienne was taken captive by LSH at the inn at the crossroads. EB is a friend of the Heddles and the inn is currently run by Masha Heddle's nieces, Willow and Jeyne. I'm very sure Meribald is on his way back to the Quiet Isle to report that Saltpans outlaws also tried to do the same thing to the orphans sheltering there. They have Team Brienne to thank for preventing another massacre, but they are also facing hanging by LSH. I would think that Willow and Jeyne being associates of this noose-happy renegade R'hllorist cult is some cause for concern.

EB told Brienne the truth that Sandor never had Sansa, but he was with Arya until she left him on the bank of the Trident, which is a dead-end for leads on either Stark sister's current whereabouts; however, it is also not nothing, because Brienne is no longer on a wild goose chase of misinformation and misidentification. The trail may have gone cold for now, but that can easily change with new information.

The Quiet Isle has ravens and EB does get news from the outside world. If anything about Sansa or Arya pings his radar, he is going to take interest. He's already invested in the fates of both Stark sisters just by his investment of time and energy in Brienne and Sandor's stories.

EB has a call to action. In a short period of time, he's met two people who poured their hearts out about their inability to find/help Sansa Stark. When he tries to persuade Brienne that she should go home to her father, she adamantly refuses and says she must fulfill her oaths or die trying. EB was a knight in his old life, and the pull of those vows don't die easily. Case in point: he angrily refuses to forgive Ser Quincy Cox for his failure to protect the people of the Saltpans; however, EB also remained on the island while the massacre was going on. He was able to fight but chose not to as someone who has renounced violence. So his anger at Ser Quincy, who is a feeble old man, seems more like a projection of his own lame excuses and failure to act while innocents were getting slaughtered. That passage certainly isn't necessary to motivate Brienne, because she already knows what a true knight does and she's the one insisting she needs to fulfill her oaths or die trying. Nope, that story and Brienne sticking to her guns are there to motivate EB to act. Not the other way around.

And I would think, as a man of faith, he might take all this as a sign from his gods that he is being called upon to help in a just cause of finding Sansa before the bounty hunters do. Plus, he kinda owes Sandor big time for the Hound's helm fuck up.

And I think between Sansa and Brienne, I think Sansa is finally at a point in her development where she could interact with someone like Brienne without being shocked and judgemental. I go into that here (same as the first link I gave you if you haven't clicked it already). Sansa is more mature, she's taken the stick out of her butt, she's befriended more unconventional women, she's much warmer and more accepting instead of just being outwardly polite, etc. Some of Brienne's self-esteem issues have come from being rejected and mocked by the mean girls, so there's an opportunity here for some healing by someone like Sansa striking up a friendship with her. And I think Sansa would be genuinely curious about this lady knight that exemplifies Sansa's ideals. It would be beautiful to watch unfold.

And let's not forget, they are both halves of the two major B&tB themes going on. Not only that, they were both unknowingly in love with gay men who also happened to be a couple. But now they're over that and have moved on to... *gestures at my blog* They HAVE to meet. I mean, come on. They have way too much to talk about.

#brienne of tarth #sansa stark #sandor clegane #elder brother #septon meribald #twow spec #sansan #jaime x brienne #jb #my meta

[lemonlurkrr]

@aureateart​ ok. My favourite parts of twilight princess  (and some other random thoughts about TP sprinkled in there) taken from my monster TP word vomit google doc :

Link lmao

Ok but for real, I like this incarnation of Link :)

I love Ordon (it just seems like such a chill and cozy village)

ALSO love how easy it is to interpret Link as being a sort of older brother figure to the Ordon kiddos. It’s just,, super cute? AND GHHH nice nice good thanks nintendo for giving me characters to care about/characters that I can imagine Link caring about

He didn’t sign up for any of this (tbh, none of the Links really signed up for this jshdjsd). But I mean like, dude was just going to take a trip to castle town, drop a gift off for the royal family, and come back. But haHA oopsies he did get to castle town eventually but definitely not the way he expected hsjdhsd

He’s just a little dude?

AND FUCK. HE REALLY HAD NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF ORDON UNTIL ALL OF THAT

everything is new for the player AND Link

Midna

She’s cool :)

she really just

*teleports into your jail cell* hello whore.

I am no master at writing but AYYYY she do got a character arc!!!

She was actually pretty helpful sometimes, I ALWAYS checked in with her before turning to a game guide

Other NPCs

NICE

Love all of the TP character designs (ASHEI’S ARMOUR??? AOWOAOAOOAO)

Saving Zelda and all of Hyrule was important yea but thinking back maybe it was more like, the Ordonians and the kids were what was pushing Link to keep on going

I like the Resistance members :) Very video gamey of them to have one NPC assigned to each dungeon but hey!!! Kinda cool getting to see a little glimpse of each of em

Idk, it’s just fun to imagine Link popping into Telma’s bar after each dungeon and taking a little rest :) (or to celebrate? maybe just chat, idk, give this man some downtime!!)

Honestly it was just kind of nice that Link wasn’t entirely alone. I mean, I know Midna was there the whole time, but I am always for giving Link a big group of friends (see my love for hyrule warriors, age of calamity, and LU LMAO)

Hero’s shade, very very cool, kinda sad he died with regrets but HEY. He got to pass on his knowledge eventually

AND the connection to OoT?? AND assumed to be related by blood too????? GOOD SHIT

Ilia, I REALLY really wanted to like her (er, it’s not like I dislike her, she’s just,,, kinda there for me).

It definitely seems like Nintendo was pushing to make her the romantic interest, but GHHHHH they really threw that out of the window for me by having her lose her memories

I saw a text post a while ago that said it would have been interesting if Ilia was Link’s sister instead and YES!! That would have been cool too :0

Wish we got to know Zelda a little more

I feel like we barely know anything about her

Idk man, like I said earlier, I never really had any sort of drive to save Zelda during my playthroughs

She obviously knows Midna, so maybe if they gave us just a little bit more of that relationship I’d be more interested in her?

TP WORLD BUILDINGGGG

Botw has good world building too, but each race felt kinda,,, isolated? I absolutely love the different architecture and vibe each town has (and all the the weapons too) but ghhh yea everyone felt so separated. As far as I can remember, we don’t see tooo much of the races interacting with each other? Now that I’m typing that out maybe that’s to be expected because of the calamity but KLSJDKJFD ANYWAYS THIS IS ABOUT TP

The world feels nice and alive, love how populated everything is

Castle town I like castle town a lot, it feels dense and busy and I really like how you can’t talk to every NPC you see

Very cool very fun that we got to see the Gorons hanging out in multiple spots

kinda wish we got to see the Zoras a little more (I guess they are a bit limited since they need water but GHHHH the tp zoras are so prebby,,)

BUT HEY, I do remember seeing a zora or two hanging out in the hot springs around death mountain after beating the lakebed temple (I think, might have been a different dungeon) 

but aaaa would have been nice to see them in at least a couple of other places. I think it would have really added to the “congrats Link!! You’re restoring peace to Hyrule” feeling you get from seeing the Gorons hanging out in Kakariko and Castle Town

ORDON

Love how chill it is and how it’s kind of separate from Hyrule proper

They really do seem to be doing their own thing apart from the rest of Hyrule

Just kinda adds onto the “he’s just a regular dude minding his own business” kind of vibes I get from TP Link

Also I like Ordona :)

THE LIGHT SPIRITS,,

Love their design

And love how they’re not exactly like a pure white?

Different spirit representing each aspect of the triforce my beloved

But yes hi I think Ordona is very cool

Who are you, how did you get here, which goddess do you represent? Do you even represent one of the three golden goddesses? Do the Ordonians know about you? Have any of them ever SEEN you??? Do they worship you? Does anybody even know about the existence of the light spirits?? FUCK so many questions but ghhh I like how they broke the status quo a bit by throwing in a fourth spirit :)

I feel like this one is kinda weird but I like that voice sample they used in the light spirit music. It’s spooky and pretty at the same time :)  

cutscenes mmmmm

Ok ok, the spooky lanayru cutscene is very good

BUT THE “Link, Chosen Hero! Lend us the last of your power!” CUTSCENE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IT SO MUCH

IT just

Idk man

It just hit different

I like the music

And seeing the light spirits swimming around in the light juice water whatever it is

Summoning the light arrows?

AND HHHHH “Lend us the last of your power!” THIS IS IT. This is the final battle.

Seeing Zelda bow down, and then Link putting his hand out 👌👌👌

Link: ok bud, let’s do this together :)

Connection to OoT (did I already mention this? Maybe., Whatever)

Very cool nintendo :)

I love seeing connections between all the diff zelda games.

Because like, on one hand, they’re all separate from each other because of yknow, individual hero stuff. BUT ALSO, they’re all connected because of the reincarnation stuff

Grrrr walking through the sacred grove and going “The Hero of Time walked around here a long time ago” FUCK THATS SO COOL

Is the Hero’s Shade watching me? What does he think of me? DIsappointed? Proud? The Hero of Time went through HELL so this timeline didn’t have to deal with any of the shit Ganon was gonna pull with the triforce, better not fuck this UP Link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Midlink is cute

Kinda hurts that she smashed the mirror but that was probably so Nintendo didn’t have to worry about people going “but what about the twili??????” for any of the other games LMAO

BUT ALSO LIKE SKJDKLJFJ There are some pretty massive plot holes in TP anyway so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever it’s fine we’ll just use this for angst because GOD do y’all like angst

So is Shadlink

Honestly don’t know where this ship came from but it’s cute so whatever

THE MUSIC??

Love Midna’s theme and how they referenced the dark world theme from ALttP (I remember trying to learn the dark world theme on the piano and doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point meme at the little jingle I recognized from Midna’s theme)

Hyrule field theme SLAPS.

Apparently references a couple of the other over-world themes from the previous zelda games (I got this from 8-bit Music theory’s video on the over-world zelda themes, he talks about TP at around 11:40 but def recommend watching the whole video if you’re into music analysis stuff)

So there’s this bit of the Hyrule Field theme, I don’t know the official name for it but I remember seeing somewhere it being called the “at an advantage theme” since yeah, you hear it during the boss music whenever you expose their weak points. FUCKINGGG LOVE THAT. Didn’t notice it during my first playthrough, but hearing it during my second was like a little easter egg for my ears every time :)

Midna’s lament is very pretty (and fun to play on the piano)

COURAGE THEME.

I didn’t care for it too much when I started playing the game but hearing it in ZREO’s arrangement of the Hyrule Field theme literally makes me turn into a puddle of emotions. Also hearing it around and of the Ordon kids (I think it plays after Link saves Colin) AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Orchestra piece #1 and #2 HOLY SHIT???????????????? 

Literally, the first time I listened to those I just,,,, plugged in my headphones, volume 100, layed on the floor/against my desk and silently vibed. I don’t know what the hell it is, but those two just fit so well with TP?? I still avoid listening to them nowadays cause if I DO I definitely will get overwhelmed with the “god I love this game so FUCKING MUCH” kind of feels.

Wolf link sucks at singing

the first time I heard him howling Zelda’s Lullaby I lost my shit because LKSJLDKSGLKJFSKG god that was.,, Bad. Anyways, hearing him howl some of the songs from OoT was cute :)

TP STAFF ROLL??? 

VERY GOOD. IT’s like 10 minutes long and GOD do I love every single second of it. It doesn’t have the same energy as the skyward sword staff roll or the orchestra pieces but GOD does it hit good??

Nice and calm after that big exciting adventure. Maybe it would have been more fun or emotional to have a higher energy piece but it was really nice getting to sit back and watch the camera fly around Hyrule. Seeing like, the Gorons and the Zoras having a good time, the kids returning to Ordon? GOOD SHIT.

and AAAAA that end, when you hear the main Zelda theme and see Link riding off out of Faron woods on Epona… good shit. It gets you thinking, where the hell is he going? What is he doing? Off ot do more adventuring? Going to help out the resistance or something? Going to help Zelda? Or maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to restore the mirror of twilight? Whoooo knows.

hhHHHHhhh it’s just that final reminder that YES!!! YOU JUST PLAYED A ZELDA GAME. JUST ANOTHER STORY APART OF THE WHOLE EPIC OF THE ZELDA SERIES AS A WHOLE

I also want to acknowledge the instrument/samples they used for all the twili stuff.

They’re all just so unique and contrast SO well with the rest of the TP OST. LIKE FUCK!! Anytime I hear the screech from the Twilit Kargarok? Sends a shiver down my spine. I associate those sounds SO strongly with the twili realm. (Like, the same way you associate the BSHEWW VVWWMMM sounds with light sabers)

I love it so god damn much

literally any time there’s a certain sound or motif associated with something I lose my shit

Sacred grove sacred grove sacred gro-

lovely lovely lovely so much fun playing that on the piano. AND again, I did the Leonardo DiCaprio pointing meme when I heard the theme from the lost woods come in GHHHHHHHH

shoutout to TP Faron Woods for helping me study and get through all of my schoolwork

BLEGUUHHH can you tell that I really love music?

and also yea I guess TP is kinda cool too :\

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT THANKS I GUESS

#lemonspeakrr #LEMON SPEAKS 2K WORDS ABOUT TWILIGHT PRINCESS BECAUSE THEY ARE INSANE.

[prof-peach]

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

#if you dont want to use the refs #im really cool with it #just enjoy yourself buddy #pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks #prof.grey #pari #dotaku island #dotaku staff #PLEASE #just ask me if you dont know something #or feel i missed something in what i wrote

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

#kim doie perfect man bye #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct college au #moonwrites #okaaay idk what this is either #if you get annoyed midway thru the fic you are perfectly valid <3 #i will literally never write smth like this ever again 🤡🤡🤡 #if you notice inconsistency in character no u dont #(i had to fix up some earlier inconsistencies but it gave more inconsistencies maybe i should give up writing for good)